Man, Alysia is mean. I mean, sure, I agreed with her several weeks ago that after she closed her business, we'd go to the gym together. I even agreed to her mad plan to try to lose ten pounds each by Christmas. But it's snowing outside! Well, maybe not snowing, precisely, but it's cold and rainy and icy and yucky. Go to the gym? Ugh!

But she made me go. She even made me get reweighed and measured, just to be on a fresh start; I haven't been there in a while, what with house-selling and wisdom teeth and other crises. Tell me this: how can my measurements go down, but my weight go up? The only place I didn't lose inches was my chest. I blame the added pounds on milk weight; Sam must not have nursed enough this morning. Yeah, that's the ticket.

We didn't get a full workout, though. While Sam is quite content in the playroom, her Zach is rather less comfortable being away from her; once they caught sight of us coming to check on them, he announced that he was more than ready to be the Heck out of Dodge. We'll have to be more surreptitious with our checks in the future.

It's nice to have a workout buddy. I get so bored on the cardio machines, which is why I end up doing mostly weight machines and end up not losing weight. Having somebody to whom I can chat while biking or walking makes the time pass faster. Interestingly, I was much more able to keep up my pace while talking than I am when I try to kill the time by reading or watching one of the televisions. Maybe that's because I'm such a charismatic speaker. (I heard that snort.)

So, yeah, no real snow with our first official snow forecast of the year. Having bought all that snowgear yesterday, I'm a trifle disappointed. I'm also a little down because, really, the house would look so much nicer for Sunday's Open House with a yard full of snow rather than slushy mushy puddles. I hate the pre-snow wet weather routine. It makes everything depressing and dull.

On the plus side, my brother may be able to come up for a visit this weekend, which he may not have been able to do with the snow. That will be nice, as we won't be able to do that sort of thing after we and he move (his job in Dayton is ending soon, and he's looking at a possible new job in Albany). Sam has been chattering about family ever since our Thanksgiving visit; he asks whether Zach is his cousin, or sometimes just repeats "Uncle Bryan, Uncle Bryan" over and over. Today I got out our wedding pictures and video to let him practice naming his relatives.

Having Cory here will be a treat, though it will make it a little more complicated to clean in preparation of the Open House. Cory travels light, though, so it's not as though we'll have to worry about his luggage the way we would with my parents. Anyway, I'm thinking of making gingerbread cookie dough tonight, and then we can make the cookies with Cory tomorrow after the dough has chilled. I need a good recipe for Royal Icing, though; the best cookbook I have wants me to use something called "meringue powder," which I haven't been able to find in any store. I've made other icings in the past that have sufficed, but I'd like something good this time - shiny, nice and hard when it dries, easy to work with when wet.

Of course, that may be the least of my worries; Sam may need to be restrained from simply eating every bit of dough that comes within arm's reach.

For now, though, Sam's just driving me crazy, more quickly than usual. He's making deliberate messes, yelling, turning off the TV and the stereo whenever Eric tried to use them, getting into the pantry when he's just eaten dinner, and just never stopping the madness. Eric shouts at him, which I don't like, though I've done it myself on more than one occasion. Time-outs just make him mad, but don't seem to stop the behavior. He's distractible, but only insofar as that he can easily move on to another type of destruction. I swear, sometimes I just want to tie him down!

I crack up laughing when people who see him in public refer to him as "quiet." He's only quiet when there are bigger kids around to observe, or else when he's deliberately trying to avoid my notice. He's happy, he's charming, but he's beyond rambunctious sometimes - like tonight, for example.

Someday, he'll be a big boy who knows how to sit still. I keep telling myself that. Someday, I may have to beg him to get off the couch and go outside. I should be grateful that he's so active and energetic. I just wish that our energy levels could match, you know?