Today I sat at on the patio at Starbucks with a nice medium-sized dog, whose owner assured him she would be right back, she promised, very very soon, and he's gazing at her adoringly with a look of "I don't understand a word you are saying but I love you" and it was very cute, and then when she finally did come back, he was all over her face in a frenzy of licking joy, and she smiled at me and I said, "Listen, I have teenagers; nobody in my house is that happy to see me," and every person on the Starbucks patio guffawed.
Is it because I'm from California that I call that outdoor dining area a patio? I'm pretty sure that's not what Starbucks calls it, but I can't think of another word.
I have to go to Starbucks three more times before Thursday because of my Home Equity Line of Credit; I have these two credit cards (which are associated with our HELOC rate in some complicated way that I've decided not to understand), and I have to use each of them twice a month or I get charged $15. Apiece. And I don't have to use them at Starbucks, but at $2.41 for a large coffee, I can go a long time before I have to add money to either account, and one less account I have to add money to (the kids' lunch accounts, Mimosa's bus pass) is a good thing.
So. I'm hanging in there with the weight loss thing, dutifully logging my food, eschewing snacks that I might have eaten out of boredom, choosing protein and fiber, rah rah rah. Scale goes up, scale goes down. I'll weigh in on Sunday, as per usual. And tonight is zumba, but I'm seriously considering going tomorrow instead. It's been hot, I haven't been sleeping well, I'm fatigued, wah wah.
(I'm sure I'll go, it's just fun to consider playing hooky.)
I must admit, my Tuesday night class isn't as fun as it was. The population has changed, there's a new clique of front-row girls, and I don't like them as much; they're very posture-y. And the Italian Spitfire's routines feel less dancey and more exercisey; like, we do a dozen jumping jacks, and what's fun about that? Particularly if you're arthritic and (it turns out) a little incontinent.
In other news, why was I Googling random utterances? Because it's something I keep meaning to mention. Husband and I both do this — suddenly say these out-of-context things— and I find it hilarious, both the saying (which in my case is usually inadvertent — only after I say it do I realize how ridiculous it sounded) and the hearing. For example:
- Me: What are you giving me for Cinco de Mayo?
- Husband: What does a donkey know about fruit compote?
- Me: Do you think other people think much about our bathroom towels?
Me: Yes. Yes I do.
Husband: Do you think about other people's towels?
Me: When they're awful like ours are, I do.)
- Husband: Jackets for everyone!
Never knowing what the other person is going to say — it keeps life juicy-fresh!
Time to go change for zumba. Yeah, I'm totally going. Woo.
—Lady C, whose stomach is growling — and I'm just early enough in this new diet to be kind of thrilled by that (like, my fat might be eating itself right now!)