A good friend of mine is going through some rough spots in her life right now, so she’s coming to spend the night at the Kitty Den. We have grand, ambitious plans to go to the Kitty Den Gym (to earn our wine!) before sitting around munching veggies and catching up on girl talk. She’s trying to lose weight and I’m trying to lose a bit myself, so I spent an hour last night chopping up baby bok choy for stir fry and cucumbers and celery to join the grape tomatoes, carrots and broccoli for delicious Fat-Free-Ranch dipping. (I know. My culinary skills are several orders of magnitude short of , say, Rachel Ray. Whatever.)
*Side note: I don’t need to lose any weight for the wedding, but I swear if I gain even an ounce I won’t be able to breathe in my dress. I’ve thus been getting back into running — I can now go 1.5 miles before I have to stop for a breather, and I usually do another two miles alternating jogging and walking. What’s interesting is that I find jogging easier nowadays then I did when I was a hardcore Track-and-Fielder back in high school; I was a pure sprinter and specialized in 100-meter races (the high hurdles and the 4X100). Now that I’m trying to jog on a regular basis, the concept of pawback makes my life a lot easier. /side note
I’m not doing a hardcore Jay G-type dietary regimen, just trying to eat more veggies and less carbs. Most of the day it works okay — I pack a lot more FOOD for lunch than I used to, because it’s stuff like salad and reduced-fat string cheese and pickles and fat-free yogurt, rather than a simple-but-high-carb sandwich.
Once I get home, I have to run the Gauntlet of Doom.
You can only access the second floor by using the elevators (the staircases don’t have key access from the ground floor). And almost every day the little side table by the elevators boasts a delectable buttery plate of COOKIES. SUGAR COOKIES. OR OATMEAL RAISIN COOKIES. And I just want to DIVE IN. I WANT TO GO TO COOKIELAND AND ROLL AROUND IN DOUGH.
If you were to make an artistic rendering of my intense hedonistic desire at that moment, it would look something like this:
GET THEE BEHIND ME, COOKIES!!!
That is all
P.S. Don’t worry, Rajah’s not allowed to really eat pudding; I thoroughly scrape it out with a spoon before I let him lick the tiny scraps that remain.