Sunday

I stepped on the scale this morning... and fancy that! (as my mother would say). The scale was broken. It's one of those digital things, and the read-out panel was blank. I guess it needs a new battery. So I can't report on progress this morning. Too bad, no? So, on to....

Sunday

A slow, steady rain in Southern California, very welcome after that dreadful dearth a year ago. We are now more than four inches ahead of our season norm in Los Angeles, I note from the Times today--and more than ten inches ahead of last year's total to date. Good news.

A cup of tea, then, and a small bowl of cereal with fruit and a little yogurt, to assure a quiet and reasonably contented belly at the meeting of our Sunday morning sitting group. A hungry stomach can cause quite a stir in a roomful of silence.

Breakfast at noon: English scrambled eggs, an onion bagel, cut in thirds and buttered, a dab of marmalade, coffee, and a small bowl of fruit salad.

I'll confess I watched the Superbowl in the afternoon. At half-time, I made myself a cup of chai and indulged in a chocolate-dipped dunker. During the second half, the traditional beer beckoned, and I finished a half can of Tecate that Ellie had started a couple of days ago, with the broken remnants of a bag of pizza chips--not many, really!--made palatable by a white bean humus dip.

For dinner, the last of the vegetable soup that Ellie concocted last week. A big bowl, enough unto itself--with a glass of Stonehedge Sauvignon Blanc. I chose not to eat dessert...