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[Note: This was originally scribbled onto a legal pad two days ago; I have since, miraculously, dropped back down the two pounds, but there are still lessons to be taken, I'm sure.]

This morning I clocked in at 112.6 lbs., two pounds heavier than I was at the end of last week.

Now, had I overindulged this weekend I would understand the uptick, but I was right on point. And I was only slightly less active than usual (I used Patrick's recovery from his wisdom tooth surgery as a good excuse to stay indoors when I wasn't exercising).

I'll try to write this off as normal fluctuation, but with an overall weight-loss goal of seven pounds, it's hard to see a two-pound gain as anything other than a step backward.

Out of this mild frustration, I'm going to make a few proclamations:

1. Amend my ww spreadsheet to include calories in addition to points. I've always resisted being a calorie-counter, but I've come to understand that what you don't know can hurt you. And whether we are truly in touch with this or not, humans are little energy machines. We need only as many calories as we use each day. I just want to tap into what those numbers are and be true to them.

2. Adjust my exercise to include weights. And I mean that when I go on my 70-minute walks, I'm gonna strap on my ankle weights, and maybe even carry little dumbbells. Yes. I'll be one of those women -- swinging my arms enthusiastically, and looking none too in touch with how corny I look.

3. I'm also thinking about creating a spreadsheet (or perhaps further adjusting my current spreadsheet) to include daily weigh-ins. This won't be in the name of obsession, but for the purpose of seeing any correlations between my weight and eating habits.

Put this all together and suddenly I'm someone I never expected to be: I am exceedingly interested in health and my weight without feeling burdened by it.

I had always associated this kind of attention to weight and food with an unhealthy obsession. That if I dared to cross the line into counting calories or pushing myself to the next level in my exercise, it would mean that I had lost control. And certainly it can go that way. This is just a different way. A more reasonable one. I kinda like it.

No. 44 tasked me with creating a spreadsheet to keep track of my progress with my 101s. Though I've decided to measure success not by the number of boxes checked of but instead by how my life looks at the end of my 1001 days, this will still be a good tool for staying on top of the the weekly and monthly goals I had for myself, and remind me of the long-term goals I'm after.

Long story short, here's the spreadsheet. I'm not sure why Google things that just because you're into numbers you aren't also into style. The colors they provide are garish or bland, and whenever I make a spreadsheet using google docs it comes out looking like a sad combination of those two things.

I'll work on colors over the next little bit, but I consider this task complete enough to strike off my list.

Tada!

I listed No. 68 out of a sense of duty to the environment, our budget, and my own sense of responsibility. If there's a way for me to avoid bringing home plastic that I'll turn around and trash, I want to follow that way.

But I think No. 68 is about more than using mesh bags for my grocery shopping, or buying in bulk to avoid the over-packaging of one-off items.

There is a whole world of goods in our home that I could make myself. Foods, tools, art. What, exactly, am I getting out of buying those things from a store other than convenience? And do I really need the convenience? My life isn't overwhelmed; I'm not hurting for free time. And though I overthink my life in general, I am not so mentally stretched that I couldn't pick up a few extra projects.

So I'd like to list some ways I feel I could make our home more do-it-ourselves and trash-free(ish):

1. Knit our own dishrags (we have plenty now; when they wear out, I'll investigate the best yarn and have at it).
2. Bake our own:
    * breads
    * cookies
    * crackers?! Can you bake your own crackers? Surely. Why not give it a go?
    * pastries
    * tortillas
3. Make our own:
    * shampoo (I've seen recipes. They'll require rigorous testing.)
    * soap
    * yogurt (from which we can make soft cheese!)
    * snacks (chips, granola, trail mix)
    * cereal (?!)
    * sauces
    * soups
    * pasta
    * jam
    * butter
4. Compost
5. Recycle

I want this list to grow, a lot. And I don't know if I'm setting myself up for disappointment or heartache or the most amazing new life or what. But if I could feel like we relied as little as possible on processed, prepackaged goods, I'd feel pretty good about it.

I am a list-maker and list-item-checker. But I think it would be misguided of me to insist that a 101 goal be checked off before I can consider it a success.

I have skipped a couple of days of flossing. I haven't picked up all my weekly tasks. I'm halfway through my first month on the list and I'm still not sure what all I'm supposed to have finished by the end of it. Imagine the pressure of failure I'd feel if I were already berating myself over these little things.

Life changes aren't supposed to be sudden.

And for that reason, I have decided to measure my success this way: If, by the end of my 1001 days, an item on my list is part of my life, then I'll consider that I did it right.

I've stumbled into 23/ Go one week without visiting a pop blog.

Last Friday, I declared I'd do it: I am simply too persuaded by the lives of others. I see a thin so-and-so and want to be like her. Instead of wanting to be like me. I am perfectly wonderful, so I'm not sure exactly what I'm thinking. Clearly I have a problem.

So there I went and started on No. 23.

What I've found is that I'm not particularly pining for the pop-culture content. Nevertheless, I have to try very hard not to visit my regular sites. My conclusion: There are several times during my day that I am flat-out bored. And what I have done over the past, oh, several years, is visit these sites to fill in the gaps.

These are gaps in my brain! That I'm filling with celebrity trivia!

Now, I truly don't have anything against keeping in touch with pop culture. And when I finish No. 23 (and then No. 24: going a month without the blogs), I'll likely resume visiting them on some kind of regular basis.

The thing is, I need to pay heed to the fact that over and over, I turn my brain to something not very productive at all when I could be using my gaps to do something intellectual/energizing/helpful/enriching. If, at least sometimes, I forgo the blogs for whatever those things end up being, then Nos. 23 and 24 will have served a higher purpose, and my life will be ever so more robust because of it.

I've just finished my first monthly reading. "The Last Editor," by Jim Bellows. It was, to say the least, a pleasure.

He recounted his last fifty years in journalism. He was a pit bull, always the underdog and always fighting the big guy. His papers (and other endeavors -- save for his work with Entertainment Tonight) came to some crashing end, but all he could recount about them was the joy and excitement of being in the midst of the struggle.

And he sounded like one g-ddamned good editor. Someone who inspired the ranks. Who had the energy and passion to know when and how to go get the story.

Now, I don't have a lot of experience chasing stories, or getting anyone else to chase them, but I so identified with Bellows' character that I finished the book convinced I could start my own newspaper and gather just the right people to make is something really special.

That makes the book, and Bellows, more than a pleasure. It makes it an inspiration. It makes me curious why it would take a book to uncover that kind of self-confidence, but maybe that's the kind of thing I'll just let be.

For anyone else who likes newspapers, or just likes reading good yarns (Bellows has plenty -- he was drugged by Ku Klux Klan members early in his career, to name just one), I'd recommend picking up "The Last Editor." You may find Bellows strays a little into some self-adulation, but maybe that's not so bad for a man who often thought of himself as the little guy in the room. It sounds like he earned any praise that's thrown his way, even if it's by him. And anyway, by the end of the book, that fades into the background. It did for me anyway. I was left simply admiring a man who, when he wrote the book at 80, was still looking for the next hurdle to leap over.

I think every 1001 days after this first set could seem just a little less exciting without a list of 101 things to accomplish.

The 101

She's apparently got a freezer full of venison, brought home by her husband. And I know nothing about Casper or Wyoming, so this has all the makings of the most adventurous trip yet.

The 101