I'm sitting here in my pink turtleneck and my dark blue sweatpants, which is a delightful combination and I don't look at all like I should be talking to myself and gesturing wildly while I push my shopping cart filled with old baby shoes and cat litter or anything.
While changing clothes for my run, I remembered I hadn't blogged all day, so it seemed like writing in my health blog was a great excuse to put off running.
I have been keeping up with my Weight Watchers really well. Of course, we are on day two, so let's not give me the Weight Watcher Purple Heart or whatever just yet.
Last night, I had a craving for blueberry waffles, and I had points left, so I made some. Marvin Gardensalad decided that blueberry waffles sounded good at 9 p.m., as well, so he started making some, too. I had my waffles all ready, and as I turned toward the living room, and they FLEW off my plate and right onto Marvin's pajamas. The maple syrup sort of froze them in place.
He was pleased.
I am happy to say that he gave me HIS waffles, as he was suddenly out of the mood for them. They were delish. His pajamas thought so, too.
If I hadn't been eating well all day, I would never in a million years have craved blueberry waffles, by the way. It's just not a food I think of.
That is about all I can tell you, except that I had a delightful time today having tea with one of the women in town. I went over there because her husband accidentally got a letter addressed to him at the church. In fact, it referred to him as "reverend," which was news to both of us. Anyway, it was a gray, rainy day here, and when I brought over the letter, she opened the door to her 1920s Craftsman home, and a fire was burning, and there was dark wood everywhere, and a grandfather clock was chiming and oh! you could just curl up there all day.
She made me some really good ginger peach tea, and we had such a good talk. Turns out we both have always wished to go to Mardi Gras and also to Times Square on New Year's Eve.
When I was in college, all my roommates decided at the last minute to get in the car and drive to New Orleans to go to Mardi Gras. I didn't go because I had a QUIZ. A quiz. Is that the saddest thing ever? Not going to Mardi Gras with my housemates is my biggest regret in life. And you know Mardi Gras at 21 would have been way more fun than Mardi Gras at 42.
We talked about how everyone always tells you you really DON'T want to be in Times Square at New Year's, and the same with Mardi Gras, but neither of us think that is true.
She does not, however, share my lifelong dream to have been a go-go dancer in the '60s. I do not know why not.
So I had a good time with "the reverend's" wife. We are still waiting for him to tell us when he snuck in that divinity school.
Okay, I have told you my life story. I guess I have no choice but to run now.
