vita mors est.

Well, if anyone read my blog in the last 24 hours, they may be curious why I choose to translate some homoerotic Medieval verse yesterday. I didn't really know, either, other than that I was curious to try my hand.

Well, today I know. The poem has a very self-centered view on loss--"Don't leave me or cheat on me, because then I'll be sad." However, in another way, I think the poem could be read to say, "I don't want you to leave or love another, but I know you're going to, so I'm just going to have to deal with it."

Anyways, my sweet baby turtle died. I think it was too late in the year to leave a baby turtle outside for any time at all and expect it to make it. I've learned my lesson, and hopefully, next year, there'll be more babies. I think the comforting thing about our particular brand of mystery religion is the singular mystery.

VITA MORS EST.
This can be restated in question and answer format.

Q. What is your only comfort in life and in death?
A. That I am not my own,
but belong—
body and soul,
in life and in death—
to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ.

He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood,
and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil.
He also watches over me in such a way
that not a hair can fall from my head
without the will of my Father in heaven:
in fact, all things must work together for my salvation.

Because I belong to him,
Christ, by his Holy Spirit,
assures me of eternal life
and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready
from now on to live for him.

I've lost 25 pounds. However, I've been eating faithfully at McDonald's® and Burger King®. Of course, the key is portion control. The "medium" Whopper Jr.® meal is actually only 4-5 starches. The "regular" Chicken Strips® meal at McDonald's® is also 4-5. As I was eating at Burger King today, they had signs out advertising their new pies. One said, "An Apple Pie a Day..." Of course, inviting one to complete the puzzle by adding, "...will slowly rot you from the inside out," or something similar. I realize that as a recovering foodaholic, it's like going to a fast food restaurant full of bad foods, and then being tempted to eat them. However, I have a secret weapon, and it's not weaponized anthrax (which would be a really lame secret weapon anyways). The metformin has drastically affected my appetite, to the point where I am actually full after eating a Whopper Jr.® meal. Praise God for big Pharma. So screw you, Morgan Spurlock.