I’m going for cocktail with a coworker/friend tomorrow after work. Something about doing that – going directly from work to an establishment to consume liquor with a girlfriend – makes me feel so carefree and a little bit full of myself. Even though I had to do some serious planning and pre-organizing for it to be able to happen. And I know I will pay dearly for it when I get home and the kids are running free-range around the house, naked, screaming, having been fed nothing but sugar, and refusing to sleep at bedtime just when my buzz will be wearing off.
I was in the “twelve items or less” lineup at the grocery store on Sunday, waiting patiently for the slow cashier to get to my less-than-twelve items. When it was nearly my turn to be next I noticed that the man standing behind me only had one carton of milk on the conveyor. I looked at him and said, “Oh! You might as well just go ahead of me, with your one carton of milk.” And so he did. Without smiling. Or saying thank you. Or even without making eye contact for that matter. He just stepped ahead of me, paid and walked away with his miserable, mean, old man face. I probably looked like an idiot standing with my jaw hanging open in "I live in a bubble" shock. I wish the rage had hit me sooner so I could have said, “Have a nice day, FUCKFACE!!!” to his actual face instead of saying it over and over to myself as I stormed all the way back to my van.
I’m feeling good and strong back on WW. Very glad I made the choice to get back on the wagon. We’ll see how badly I can blow that all to shit tomorrow after work. (See above).
Steve came home last night after being out for a few cocktails himself. He was in a great mood and informed me of all of the happy plans he has made for us for this weekend. He is in a golf tournament all day Saturday for which he had previously told me to consider him a “write off” for the entire day and night. Apparently though, when he gets home from that event he and I and the kids (who will likely have been in bed and sleeping for a good two hours) are going to friends’ house for a BBQ. It’s ok! He’ll make it work. Then the following day we’re going to another friends’ house for a BBQ – at noon - but we’re also going to an airshow (an airshow??), which is a two hour drive in the opposite direction of the BBQ. I’m not sure how that all works, but if I happen to shed a little light on the unrealisticness of doing all these things in one weekend I become the Big Bad Bitch (I always wreck all the fun stuff!). So I’ll leave it in his hands and see how it all shakes down.
We bought two itty bitty tomato plants a few months ago. Putting cages on them seemed ridiculous at the time because they were so small – and also because with my black thumb and my two kids who can’t keep their hands out of the pots, I really had very little hope that they’d survive a month. But now, a couple of months later they are huge and busting out of their cages and there are so many new tomatoes on them, I can’t even count them all! I can’t wait to start harvesting them and eating them and making fresh salsa with them!
And with salsa comes nacho chips and with nacho chips comes beer. Ice cold beer. Come on tomatoes, Mama wants a Corona!