Resolutions seem to be made to be broken, so right off the bat I'm going to break one. A few weeks ago I vowed never to mention Weight Watchers again on this blog, but I'm so proud of myself that I have to break that vow. I lost 1.7 lbs. over Christmas week! Not that there wasn't temptation aplenty--Lisa made Norwegian hamburgers and sausage quiche, potato casserole and tortilla soup, chicken parmigiano and other delicacies. But I worked around it--I could have eaten three helpings of each but I settled for one modest helping (okay, I cheated on that darn potato casserole--it's so good and has everything bad in it from butter and cheese to sour cream and cream of chicken soup plus, of course, the potatoes and a buttery corn flake topping). But whereas Colin put his chicken parmagiano over noodles and doused it with pasta sauce, I had mine plain without noodles. (Jacob told Aunt Lisa it was the best chicken ever). So, yes, I'm bragging. And today I spent a small fortune at Central Market stocking up on fruit, lean lunch meat, yogurt, low-fat cottage cheese, etc. A New Year's resolution I hope to keep: lose 8-10 lbs.
And toward that goal, I did my first yoga tonight in almost a month. I quit when I had those painful displaced ribs, but I went back to it tonight and was pleased at how smoothly my routine came back to me and how well my muscles performed. The only pose that was really difficult was down dog--and it sort of is all the time.
I just blew all those resolutions and went with friends and neighbors to a new place called Hot-tubs Grotto. They thought it was a beer joint and ate before we went but I knew better and had delicious Kobe beef sliders--plus too much chardonnay. But we talked, laughed, and had a good time The chef is the son of my friend Rodger Preston and the stepson of my longtime good friend Linda--he came out to greet us. In fact, everyone in the place was friendly. It's a good place to put on the "go back" list.
Now it's late and all those deep thoughts I meant to share about writing and such stuff have flown. Maybe tomorrow . . . and maybe not, since Jacob and I will be ringing in the new year