Tuesday, June 5, 2007


I've been pretty good on my new eating system (note how I avoid the dreaded d-word).

But it's moments like this, when I've spent hours trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with my newsletter and still get an unapologetic "We've encountered a problem and will have to shut down" that I want to pitch the computer out the window and chow down on the nearest bag of chips.

Crunchy, salty, that's me. You can keep your ice cream and pudding, all those soft, creamy treats that are the downfall of so many. I can politely decline. But oh, those salty, savory snacks!I used to go out with the girls and everyone would order ice cream sundaes and I'd get fries.

I haven't weighed myself in a couple of days because I'm told you shouldn't do that. But according to my little log, which I've kept faithfully, I've been good for three out of the past five days. Friday night was another "day from hell" and we ordered pizza.

WARNING: Whining ahead. I talked to my boss for a few minutes overtime on Friday, which meant that I was late out the door and caught the worst of the traffic on the way home. Once off the highway, I ran a few errands. Library, store, gas station, nothing exciting, but about four places. Finally I got home, exhausted.

DH had taken the day off and puttered around the house. He went to collect DS from his after-school place about half an hour earlier than usual, and the two of them were sprawled in the living room watching the Star Wars special on TV when I arrived. They said hello.

I started to say something, and then got sucked into watching the TV. It was a good show. After a moment I sat down. That felt pretty good.

After I few minutes, I shook myself and said, "So are you guys hungry?"

"Well, yeah," DH said indignantly.

I stared at him, thinking, which one of us just worked for nine hours straight, battled traffic, and then ran four boring but necessary errands? And which one of us lounged around the house all day?

So we ordered pizza. And it was good.