Last summer it was the raw, red onions that did me in. This summer, it’s the pasta with smoked mozzarella and basil salad. The chef makes it so hot with Cayenne pepper that my fillings melted. My mouth is on fire. I wonder, does he ever eat his own cooking? Does he at least taste it as he goes along? Yikes. I’ve had my fill of his chicken done every which way, and collard greens. Oh, let me not forget the fried green tomatoes. Trouble is when you live in a hotel and can’t cook for yourself you’re at the mercy of what you can find within walking distance.
They say that nothing is ever truly lost, but just waiting to return, and I know that includes body fat. Today I found the missing spongey covering for my ear bud that fell off when I caught it in the elliptical machine’s arm. I had looked for it inside the opening, and even tried to stick my fingers in to find it, but it had fallen to crevices not accessible to human fingers. I hoped it would fall out on its own, but after several weeks I gave up hoping for its resurrection and used another pair. Today I was facing the machine and happened to look down on the floor. Was that what I thought it was? Sure enough, there lay my spongey thing right up against the base. I sterilized it and re-united it with its mate. It’s a lot more comfortable than its replacement.
After learning that three husbands belonging to friends and a relative in my age group had died of a heart attack recently, I’ve decided I’m better off with men half my age, or somewhere in between. I need a man who still has some good tread left on him. When I kick his tires I don’t expect to have him keel over on me. I’ve waited too long for Mr. Right to come along only to have his engine die in idle just as I’ve gotten him warmed up. No, siree, I’ll take a younger model, no hybrids, with a great design and a full tank of gas.
Damn if I didn’t get in trouble again for NOT reporting the loud noise this past Saturday night when a party got too noisy. I’ve gotten too used to adjusting to it. Okay, next time if you want to throw someone out because they’re being disruptive to the entire floor, just call my room and say, “I know you’re in there. Come out from under the pillows over your head and call me back. I need you to complain.” How’s that?
I tried to give up the two cookies that were probably sabotaging my diet. I really tried. I did. But, I had to have something for dessert, so I switched to a vanilla cupcake. Don’t get your knickers in a bunch; I asked them to give me one without icing. It wasn’t quite the same. Icing gives it that little extra taste of something that makes it yummy. Why do they have to put so much on top of the cupcake, though? Icing gives me a rotten sugar headache. Cookies don’t. I think they’re healthier for you. I’m just saying.
They say that nothing is ever truly lost, but just waiting to return, and I know that includes body fat. Today I found the missing spongey covering for my ear bud that fell off when I caught it in the elliptical machine’s arm. I had looked for it inside the opening, and even tried to stick my fingers in to find it, but it had fallen to crevices not accessible to human fingers. I hoped it would fall out on its own, but after several weeks I gave up hoping for its resurrection and used another pair. Today I was facing the machine and happened to look down on the floor. Was that what I thought it was? Sure enough, there lay my spongey thing right up against the base. I sterilized it and re-united it with its mate. It’s a lot more comfortable than its replacement.
After learning that three husbands belonging to friends and a relative in my age group had died of a heart attack recently, I’ve decided I’m better off with men half my age, or somewhere in between. I need a man who still has some good tread left on him. When I kick his tires I don’t expect to have him keel over on me. I’ve waited too long for Mr. Right to come along only to have his engine die in idle just as I’ve gotten him warmed up. No, siree, I’ll take a younger model, no hybrids, with a great design and a full tank of gas.
Damn if I didn’t get in trouble again for NOT reporting the loud noise this past Saturday night when a party got too noisy. I’ve gotten too used to adjusting to it. Okay, next time if you want to throw someone out because they’re being disruptive to the entire floor, just call my room and say, “I know you’re in there. Come out from under the pillows over your head and call me back. I need you to complain.” How’s that?
I tried to give up the two cookies that were probably sabotaging my diet. I really tried. I did. But, I had to have something for dessert, so I switched to a vanilla cupcake. Don’t get your knickers in a bunch; I asked them to give me one without icing. It wasn’t quite the same. Icing gives it that little extra taste of something that makes it yummy. Why do they have to put so much on top of the cupcake, though? Icing gives me a rotten sugar headache. Cookies don’t. I think they’re healthier for you. I’m just saying.