I need to find me some cowboys here.

West Marin has lots of horse farms, with an emphasis on Arabians, mostly, among private horse farms. Here's the hang out in the heart of that country: [link] There's also a Morgan Horse ranch where they raise Morgans for the U.S. Park Service. They have good open houses: [link] If you want to ride, the horses here have decent mouths: [link] (ask for a slim horse IMHO if you don't want to be aching at the end of a ride, ow ow ow.) You can go here, it's down the road, or the trails out from Five Brooks are great. [link] Here's a good diner in the heart of artisan ranch and farming: [link]

Yah Verizon caused me the most anguish out of all the companies that dicked me around when my sister decided to cancel all of our services instead of allowing me to call up and get them transferred to my name.

Verizon is why I don't do automatic bill pay. The one time I had it (with Verizon), they mis-billed a bunch of international calls and I never got all my money back. They had no incentive to correct it since I had already paid them.

ETA:

I need to find me some cowboys here.

That sounds good.

Well, these aren't cowboys in the ride horses and rope shit vein. These are your sly, drink and play guitar and generally raise hell in front of a crowd of people while singing Pussy Control Waylon style cowboys.

:: places take-out order for several dozen DJ-style cowboys ::

These are your sly, drink and play guitar and generally raise hell in front of a crowd of people while singing Pussy Control Waylon style cowboys.

Those are EXACTLY my kind of cowboys. 'Specially if they look good in tight jeans and cowboy boots.

Pussy wha?? Sorry, my ears perk up when I hear that word.

These are your sly, drink and play guitar and generally raise hell in front of a crowd of people while singing Pussy Control Waylon style cowboys.

like Prince's Pussy Control? That scares me.

guh. I'll be in my bunk. For like, a year.

I yelped and scared the dog.

Holy crap. I just checked my phone messages from yesterday. There's one from a headhunter. I'm being headhunted! They're hunting my head!

Clearly they've heard that you give great head!

...what? Oh, come on, you were all thinking it.

guh. I'll be in my bunk. For like, a year.

Oh, Torchwood, how I love thee. It makes me feel all patriotic and proud to be British. It is my very own cracktastic Pervy Polyamorous Big Gay Space Alien Show! Huzzah! Go Team!

So, still ignoring the carbs, despite the fact that kids keep offering me cookies, and today is a Cake Sale. But I've not yet been able to find any weighing scales - I'm vaguely conscious that I should probably be measuring portions. Not that I'm eating big portions - quite the reverse, actually. But I'm really not even thinking about that carb-counting side of things. Hmm. We'll see. Quite frustrating, with the not-weighing-myself thing, but I think it's much better to wait a week. Or 2, if I can manage that.

Meanwhile, yesterday I (1) went to the gym straight after the work (the secret, as it was before, is to go straight to the gym, do not pass go, do not collect a hundred pounds, do not, for the love of God, SIT DOWN or you are buggered) and then (2) went for a walk around Lumpini Park (our modest version of Central Park) with my neighbour, which was an hour and a half of brisk walking on top of the 15 min walk to work and the half hour in the gym.

And I haven't actually officially started an exercise routine yet!

I am VERY GOOD INDEED! Somebody give me my gold star, stat!

Star

eta: woo! it worked - you should be damned proud of yourself my dear