I am very proud of myself for not only packing a lunch today, but also for packing a healthy lunch.
Today’s lunch was a chopped salad:
mixed greens
spinach
cilantro
feta
raisins
blueberries
raspberries
vinaigrette
I also packed a ham and cheese wrap on a whole wheat low-fat tortilla.
I’ve been eating out a lot. And I do mean a lot — every day, at least twice a day. I’m tired of eating out. I’m tired of that heavy food I’ve been consuming. I’m tired of the strain on my budget and my waistline.
I think the increased heat is making it worse. Everything is too hot, too salty, too blah.
I went to the groceries and bought salad stuff. Enough to last the week at one salad a day. We’ll see how the rest of the week goes.
Today, however, I’m enjoying my blueberry-spinach salad.
I started this post a few weeks ago and just finished it today, so I am finally posting it. No, it’s not Saturday. And, no, it wasn’t this week.
Photo from sunshinecity on Flickr.
I had a really great day. It was low-key and productive. The weather was great — bright but cool enough to enjoy. It was a good day in Houston. I enjoyed it. I haven’t let myself enjoy many. I’m trying to change that.
I had a manicure. This is something I started doing recently, getting my nails done at a salon. I’m a nail biter. I often tell people that I keep my nails short because long nails get in the way of keyboarding, but I know that that’s not the truth. If I really wanted to, I could get used to the long nails in increments. But I bite my nails, and I chip the polish, so I rarely give myself manicures, and I never grow them out.
There’s something different about getting a professional manicure. I bite at them, but I don’t actually bite them. I think it’s the gel they use as a cover. The thickness dissuades me, or just reminds my brain that I am not supposed to bite. Whatever it is, the manicure lasts. And I get it done every two or three weeks, depending on how busy I am.
I took my mother to lunch. We ended up at this little taquerÃa she likes. Parking is a nightmare there since it’s a very popular. You know the kind of place I mean — the waitresses barely speak English, even the English-speaking customers order in Spanish, most of the menu is a-la-carte. And the food is awesome! Often dripping in grease, but so tasty. And that’s why the parking lot is always full.
We had a rushed lunch since I had to go to work afterwards. Normally we linger over meals when it’s just the two of us. For some reason we tend to talk more when we’re alone. Today was no exception, but we didn’t have the time for the long conversation we normally have.
I went to work. Today was light duty, just taking photos of an event. Nothing strenuous or heavy. Nothing intense. But it was one more Saturday in a long string of working Saturdays. Have I mentioned that I am tired of working Saturdays, even if they do involve light duty?
After work I went to Rice Village to order a cake from Ruggles Bakery. I ordered a German chocolate cake to celebrate Mother’s Day tomorrow. My mother was out of town for Mother’s Day, so we are celebrating late. That means lunch tomorrow plus cake afterwards. And it can’t be just any cake. That’s not allowed. This means special-ordering something instead of just stopping by and picking up whatever they might have in stock.
As I walked up to the bakery I caught sight of my reflection in the window. I looked like a “local.” Middle-aged, squishy middle, dressed in casual wear, with a short chic haircut. I was wearing black cropped pants, a loose tangerine tee and black leather sandals, paired with a Coach clutch bag. I had that studied casual look that comes from effort, that doesn’t just happen, that doesn’t come cheap.
This is who I am. When did I become this woman? Amazing the thoughts that go through your brain in a split second. But then I stepped into the bakery and ordered the cake.
