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| Before: Shaggy Sophie. After: slim and trim |
Well, I got my day
off to an exciting start today. I let the dog out before disabling the alarm;
then I made it worse by leaving the door ajar so she could come back in. The
alarm’s “voice from nowhere” was issuing me stern warnings while I stumbled
around to find the remote control. Then the siren went off. Sophie howled and
came barreling inside to pick up her chew toy from last night—I suspect her
thought was if there was an intruder, he was darn well not going to get her
treat. Finally, things got beyond the abilities of the remote, and I had to
deal with the actual control panel. But I did get it all stopped, so I could
make myself a soothing cup of tea.
I’ve been lax
about posting on the blog for a couple of evenings, but I have had such a good
excuse. Jordan has been out here talking to me most of the evening. We’ve talked
about family and friends, people who make us joyful and friends who disappoint,
birthdays and celebrations, dogs and kids—and of course food and menus. We
laughed and got teary-eyed. And yes, we drank a bit of wine.
One big topic of
discussion was Colin’s upcoming fiftieth birthday—a great jolt for me. But we
just got word yesterday that the children’s half-sister from California will
come for the celebration, and we’ve known for some time that Uncle Mark, Aunt
Amy, and cousin Emily from the Bronx will join us. A wonderful, rousing family affair.
I anticipate a lot of high jinx and laughter.
On one of these
evenings, Jordan looked at me and said, “I’m really upset with you.” My heart
sank. How had I overstepped the bounds of the mother-daughter relationship? But
I burst out laughing when she said, “It’s the biscuits. The whole cottage smells
like fresh-baked biscuits, and I can’t eat one.” I had baked a tube of
Pillsbury biscuits to stash in the freezer for my breakfasts. Jordan is on a
self-imposed “Whole 30” diet, so no carbs. I guess all is well in our
relationship, biscuits aside.
I dislike this
dieting that pops into our lives occasionally – Christian is on it too, and it
severely limits the things I can cook for Sunday dinner, rules out a lot of
things I’d like to cook. For this week, I gave them a list of possibles, hoping
they would choose trout or a lamb stew; Jordan chose one of two chicken dishes.
Christian hasn’t voted yet, but he did give everyone a good laugh when Jordan
caught him in the kitchen complaining, “I’m so hungry! I’m so weak!”
I’m just old-fashioned
enough to believe in a regular diet of three balanced and modest meals, and I
harbor a lingering suspicion that alternating dieting and splurging is not good
for the body. Of course, I was this fall in the enviable position of needing to
gain weight, and while I no longer have that excuse, my doctor still says, “Your
sodium is low. Eat all the salt you want.” Jordan and Christian came they are
in recovery from the excesses of the holidays and the rodeo season.
A former neighbor
was here for happy hour last night and kept saying how good I look, slim and with
a sparkle in my eye and a sharp new haircut. I wanted to urge her to continue,
but then she’d say, “You really look so much better. You didn’t look so good
the last time I saw you.” I’m sure my voice was weak when I asked, “How long
ago was that?” I don’t like to be reminded of my down periods.
For several weeks
now, friends coming into the cottage have exclaimed about the weight Sophie has
gained—I discarded the idea of putting her on the Whole 30 but did cut down on the
size of her supper. Today, she’s back to being slim and trim, all due to a
haircut. Bobo who grooms her said it was her winter coat, and he took it back a
little more than usual this time. She seems to know and prances around here as
if proud of herself.
A moment I wish I’d
had my phone to take a picture: when I went to brush my teeth last night,
Sophie lay between me and the commode, keeping guard. You must be protective
when your human is brushing her teeth! I love life with a dog.
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