After the hangover/flu one-two punch the other week, I figured that this might be a good time to stop drinking. No, I don’t think I have a drinking problem, but soda hurts my stomach so I don’t drink it. Therefore I usually have a couple of beers with dinner at night, and a few more than that on the weekends. And that’s a whole lot of extra calories that I don’t really need. I’m substituting diet iced teas and lots of water.

I’d just about run out of other sources of empty calories to cut back on. I eat a lot of vegetables and not much processed or otherwise junky foods. I have to watch my portion control when I’m cooking for the kids, but when I’m on my own, I don’t eat much at all.

It’s not a moral decision, and I had a beer the other day when I was pressure washing the house. It tasted kind of funny after so long.

So between cutting back on the beer and forcing even more veggies down my hatch, I seem to be losing weight. I’ve been getting more than the usual amount of exercise prepping the house for painting, but when that’s done, I’ve promised myself to break out the Yoga tapes. That’s one of the rare forms of exercise that I’ve always enjoyed.

I don’t have a scale, but my pants are fitting loser and my watch has become downright annoying with the sliding around. I must be doing something right.

I mentioned that Big Jeff was probably getting deployed, right? Well, probably has turned into most definitely.

He’s understandably worried about keeping his businesses going while he’s gone. The water business is no problem; I can handle that, but his substitute DJ can only work every other week.

So he asked me to do it on the opposite weeks.

My first response was, “Are you out of your mind?” but then I got to thinking about it a little more. Hell, if I can announce a rodeo, how hard can playing a little music be? I picked the other guy’s brain too; he says karaoke night is the hardest, but Jeff says that’s not the night he wants me to work anyway.

I’m not the most outgoing person in the world, but I’m certainly not shy either. I’m definitely not what seems to attract these women to the bar (a hot guy) but what the hell. I’ll give it a shot at least. I may not have been his first choice for the job musically, but I’ll bet I was his most dependable option. I may not be very good at it, but by god, I’ll be there and on time, and he knows that about me.

If nothing else, I may be able to fill in for whoever else he can find to do it. The money’s good, but the hours sure suck, and I wouldn’t do a very good job if I had more than one or two beers while working. That’s one of the rare jobs where you can drink, but I don’t need to waste my whole weekends hung over.

So on Thursday night, I’m going down to the bar. Not to party, but for sort of a job interview. In this case, I’m interviewing him; watching to see how complicated it is and if it’s something that I think I can do. If not, he’ll need all the time he can get to line someone else up.

Should make for some interesting journal fodder if I do it though.