Wednesday

Up at 5:30, meditation until 6:15; then blogs—including this one. While I’m thinking of it, guiltily, I should mention that I omitted an item in yesterday’s report on Tuesday night: with the half glass of sherry, I did take a “lightly salted” Brazil nut. Just the one. I felt virtuous in having chosen to leave the rest of the temptations in the jar.

7:00 AM. The usual English tea with a drop of milk and sweetener. A good walk around the hill with dogs, and breakfast at 9:00 AM. Two boiled eggs, two small pieces of toast (I figured this was my one piece “equivalent”) with butter. A large mug of coffee (instant) with milk and a dash of half-and-half—since it’s there, unusually, in the refrigerator. Ellie bought it for her soup, and used only a very small amount. Can’t berar to see it go to waste…

I did think, consciously, about my English marmalade. Well, Scottish, really. It’s Cooper’s. With my morning tea, it’s one of the two remaining English habits I have always insisted on. It sits there invitingly, also in the refrigerator, appealing almost irresistibly to my addiction. But I choose not to indulge. This morning.

Lunch time, 1PM. Broke an intention, but with forethought. I made myself a lox and cream cheese sandwich—again with two quite small pieces of bread. But that makes two equivalent. My excuse? Couldn’t find anything else. Later, of course, I realize that I could have had a cup of soup, because we’re not having that tonight. Also, an apple. Pippin. Not as good as the Cox’s Orange Pippins I remember from the tree in the rectory orchard at Aspley Guise, the village in Bedfordshire where I grew up—those had a freckly skin and a delightful orange touch to the flavor. Crisp, sweet and tart. But the Pippins in the market are the best I can find.

A cup of chai with milk and sweetener at four-ish, tea-time. Then very puckish by 6PM, with one of our artists’ groups due to arrive at & for a New Year’s feast. I made do with a couple of lightly salted almonds and three tiny tomatoes. Now I await the arrival of our artists, getting hungrier by the minute!

Ah, the evening! Should not be mentioned... My choices were, let's say, less than skillful--as is so often the case in social circumstances. I started out okay, with two half glasses of wine with the potluck dinner: chicken, green salad, rice salad, a dollop of humus and another of guacamole and, well, a handful of chips, because what can you do with guacamole unless you have a few chips to dip into it? And then the mindlessness began to kick in. Not exactly mindlessness: I was certainly aware that I was making choices whose consequences would run counter to the general intentions I have set up here: another couple of glasses of wine, then the cake arrived, and the other dessert items: little chocolate bottles filled with liqueur (mine had solidified, but it still tasted pretty good): cookies; chocolates...!

I ate them all. Well, a piece of virtually everything. And tried to be conscious of my gluttony.