Our morning walk took us around the hill on which we live--I guess a good mile, perhaps a mile and a half, quite strenuous for the first half, walking up to the top of the hill, then a brisk pace from there back home. Breakfast at nine-ish, by myself. Ellie had a medical appointment, and ate later. I toasted an English muffin (lo-fat!) and scrambled three eggs--two for me, one for the two dogs to share, more or less--in a skillet. That's unusual for me. I usually do my scrambled eggs English-style, in a saucepan. Still tasted good, though. And I chose NOT to read the NY Times as I ate, even though alone, so the temptation was great.
Before leaving for our weekend cottage, I made us each a half-tortilla sandwich, mine with two slices of packaged Havarti cheese (l0-fat!) and a few rounds of Amana summer sausage (fat!) to munch on in the car on the way south. And we stopped for a medium-sized (grande? I always forget) cup of Starbucks coffee to go with. AND... Ellie had packed some chips in our shared brown bag. I ate a handful. A small handful.
We had to wait for dinner, expecting the Geek Squad to advise us on a TV-DVD-stereo problem we've been having in the cottage; and then were invited down to our neighbors, the Joneses, for a glass of wine. Mary poured me a very LARGE glass of Pinot Noir. I did not say no. But it got its revenge on me by triggering an allergy attack, as some red wines do. I snuffled all the way home.
Dinner at last--late for us, over Real Time with Bill Maher. A Trader Joe's frozen spinach pie. We don't often do this, but sometimes, when we're tired and lack the energy and inspiration and there's nothing else in the refrigerator, well... And it was really quite good. I chose to indulge in a second, half slice. And Ellie made a green salad. AND I chose to add insult to injury with a second (small!) glass of wine, this time a Sauvignon Blanc, already opened. And besides, it was Friday.
I chose to pass on dessert.
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