Missing: One Fish

I had a pretty good week, cult-wise. I stayed on plan, despite all the goodies that show up to eat where I'm freelancing (this week, a major cooking magazine, super-tempting), and made some smart choices in their cafeteria for lunch -- smart enough that I even had a few beers this week, as I passed some time, for one reason or another, at bars near train stations.

And when I showed up to my meeting this morning, I had lost 3.4 pounds, the weight of this smallmouth bass caught by fisheries biologist Shawn Crouse at Round Valley Reservoir in NJ. I hope he's okay with me using his photo.

It feels great to have lost that weight, though it's a little odd, too. Somewhere during the week, I'd gotten the idea that I was only 4 pounds heavier than the last time I joined Weight Watchers; turns out the difference was 8 pounds. So while I know I lost 3.4 pounds, my weight is actually .6 pounds more than what I thought it was all week. BUT SHUT UP, BRAIN! YOU ARE TRICKSY, BUT YOU WILL NOT TAKE THIS VICTORY FROM ME!

Plus, on the way back from the meeting, I stopped at this produce shop and picked up beets and sweet potatoes and wonton skins. I have an idea for some vegetarian dumplings for dinner. If it's genius, I'll tell you how I made them. If it's a disaster, we will never speak of such things again.

Rob

Once More Unto the Breach

So I’ve rejoined my cult.

I walked into Weight Watchers four pounds heavier than the last time I walked into Weight Watchers to start the plan. This’ll be my third time doing it; besides my attempt five years ago, I did it once in the 90s when I was still living in Pennsylvania, when the weight sloughed off easily, as I was, what, 24? Holy cow, I’m almost twice that now. Is there an Age Watchers meeting I can go to instead?

We’ll see how this goes. So far, I’ve been making pretty good choices...aside from a day of gaming where I blew through any leeway I had left in my week. So much… delicious… cheese. It was like Superman walking into a room of Kryptonite, back in the 70s when he lost his vulnerability to it and he could eat it.

Since then, I’ve been pretty good about my choices: veggie burgers, egg whites, lots of fruit. Lunch yesterday was some vegetable korma, some lentil daal, a little rice, and some stuff from the cafeteria’s raw food display -- a cucumber salad with yogurt, some fennel & arugula, and some pickled red onion. Plus fruit. Always fruit.

I weigh in again on Saturday morning. We’ll see how it goes.

Rob

Everyday Magic

We’d just touched down in New Orleans a few hours ago, so excited to be out of the cold that Kathy was taking pictures of palm trees in the cab ride from the airport. Now we were at a Pisces Party at the Blue Nile, a club on Frenchmen Street. The party was a zodiac-wide birthday party/concert, with a catered buffet we were too stuffed from our earlier dinner to take advantage of. The musicians -- including our pal Loren, who’d invited us -- were all born in Pisces, calling themselves Los Pescadores. Alvin Youngblood Hart was the headliner. The event was raising money for charity, to help fill in some of the cracks of mental health care than the Jindal administration had cut in its red-state zeal. Later, a pinata would be lowered -- a color printout of the governor’s face taped onto a mermaid’s body. Everyone took some whacks at it, spilling candy across the floor.

I was several beers in, and feeling euphoric. From the travel, from the drink, from the music and getting together with a distant friend. So when I pulled open the door to the men’s room and someone was pushing on the other side of it, I stepped back and said, “Whoa...it’s like magic.” (Like I said, euphoric. Easily amazed is another way to put it.)

He just smiled, in something of the same space. “Glory be to us, brother” he said, holding out a fist.

I bumped it. “Glory be to us.”

Can’t get more welcome than that.

Rob