That's me, today. Miss Sociability. I ate three meals out, with friends--and then I'm going to the doctor tomorrow where I'll have to step on the scale. I've tried to be good all day.
This morning, I met Mary Rogers for breakfast at the Old Neighborhood Grill (yes, that place in the Kelly O'Connell Mysteries). Mary is a writer, journalist, reader, and good friend.We talk books and writing--but grandchildren sometimes sneak into the conversation. She's just read a memoir she likes called Holy Ghost Girl and another book she didn't like as well, The Chemistry of Tears. I confessed that I'm stalled just barely into The Art Forger. It's my weekend project. I had one egg over easy, one piece of wheat toast, and one small pat of butter.
Good friend Jeannie and I went to The Lunch Box. We talk family, grandchildren, dogs, friends, health (ours and her husband's) and life in general. Today we talked a lot about retirement communities, which neither of us want to go to right now.I had tuna, cottage cheese, four thin slices each of avocado and orange.
Tonight was the killer. Betty and Carol Roark and I went to Babe's. Carol emailed some time ago to me and Kathie Allen, our usual occasional dinner threesome, that she wanted to go to Babe's and were we interested? I definitely was. Kathie definitely was not. Had been there recently and thought she paid too much for food she wouldn't normally eat and could have done better at home if she wanted to. Said even her husband didn't like it, though frankly I think he was being sweet. It's his kind of food. Anyway, scratch that idea.
So I enlisted Betty. Today when I told Jordan where I was going to dinner, she said, "Oh well, they have grilled chicken." I am NOT going to Babe's to eat grilled chicken or anything else except heavenly fried chicken. The only other time I was in the chain restaurant, my vegetarian granddaughter, Eden, only ate sides and I commented that I could do that and save eating fat. Jamie pointed out that the vegetables--corn, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans--had so much butter in them I might as well eat the chicken.
Tonight, I’m proud to say, I was good. I ate one piece of chicken (they cut it up funny, and I have no idea what piece it was), modest helpings of each of the vegetables, one small second helping of potatoes with gravy, no biscuit, no salad. I felt full but not uncomfortably so. Very proud of myself. Had a good time, though the place was so noisy (hard surfaces all around) that conversation was difficult.
Amidst all of this sociability, not one word written. I’m at 60,000 words and holding!