So long!

Feb. 4, 2010

Chalean says I’m worth it. She says I deserve this hour. My God, what have I done?? If I’m going to die tomorrow, then so be it. I don’t think I can walk without looking like Parkinson’s patient. I’m serious. I was so shaky this morning, it’s a miracle I could put on eyeliner.
Today was “Burn 2.” Why this was so much more difficult than “Burn 1,” I have no idea. I’m inclined to blame the extra push-ups. I’m really curious about tomorrow’s “insane” workout… I mean, not curious enough to look ahead of time… I know better than that. I would snooze myself until Sunday, if not sometime in July, to avoid it, probably.
And speaking of snooze, I really should have opted for one this afternoon instead of visiting that still sadly mistakenly self-important sister of mine, but I was really excited to tell her I had vegetables for lunch. And some congratulations I got.
“Guess what?! I had broccoli for lunch! Aren’t you proud?”
“Yes. What else did you have?”
“Just tri-tip and broccoli casserole.” I grinned, pleased with myself.
“Hold on…you had Mom’s broccoli casserole?”
“Yep! There’s some left – you want it?”
“Ummmm, do you have any idea how much FAT is in that?”
“It’s bro-cco-li casserole…” I said it real slow so she could understand what I was trying to tell her.
“Yeah, and there’s a half a CUP of mayonnaise in it! And cheddar cheeeeese. Aaaaaand cream of chicken soup!”
“I didn’t eat a half a cup of mayonnaise.”
“Let’s look it up.”
“Let’s not.”
And so went our conversation until I was forced to sit there and wait like a little kid on time-out for her to finish rattling off (and looking up) all the bad things about my vegetable- and protein-rich lunch.
“What are you having for dinner?” she continued.
“I’m meeting a friend.”
“Where are you going?”
I paused, unsure of whether to tell her the truth or not. I went for it.
“Bertha Miranda’s. That’s allowed.”
She dropped it. Aha! I win. Miraculously, she didn’t recall the place. (It’s pretty much the best Mexican food in town and I was dead-set on a chimichanga, whatever she might say).
Half an hour later she asks, “Where is this Bethesda Matilda’s?”
I laughed for ten minutes. Then, regrettably, I told her. The ethnicity of the food also came about…
“Oh that’s fiiiiine,” she assured me.
I smiled. But it faltered as the look on her face transformed.
“You’re gonna die tomorrow anyway! Happy eating!”
I let a small groan escape.
“You better post all your blogs when you get home,” Laura added. “You say goodbye to your friends tonight!!”
O.K., well…so long!