1. Killing Time
I didn't intend to kill time when I went biking with DH last night. I meant to get some more exercise and spend a little quality time with my husband. In the end, though, I did kill time, or at least my watch. Here's what happened. We were at a 4-way stop in the neighborhood we ride through. I had entered the intersection with my left arm dutifully stretched out to signal my turn when I noticed a car with a pizza delivery sign on top fast approaching on the cross road. It didn't seem to be slowing for the stop sign at all. After an instantaneous calculation involving speed, relative bearing drift, and the known proclivities of pizza delivery guys to drive recklessly, I slammed on my brakes. A half a second later I was on the road, my bike having responded to my braking command so quickly, that I hadn't gone as much as a foot farther into the intersection. Long story short, the pizza car did stop (12 feet or so past the stop sign), DH came back and helped me (and my pride) up off the street, and we proceeded on our way. When we arrived home I took an inventory of my losses: 2 bruised and scuffed palms, 1 skinned knee, 1 skinned ankle, 1 skinned elbow, a nasty looking bruise in the 'under-the-bathing-suit area' at the top of my thigh, and an unblemished spot, inside, under my left breast that hurts a bit when I move/breathe/laugh. Oh, and yes, a cracked, scuffed crystal on my favorite red watch. My little granddaughter, E, thought I needed a band-aide and chose one of her Hello Kitty ones for me.
2. La Pasta Whole Wheat Roasted Vegetable Ravioli
We had this with dinner last night. I got it at Whole Foods because it was convenient, made with whole wheat pasta, and had just roasted veggies, no cheese. I didn't look up the nutritional information until this morning, but, having shared a package among the three of us, I was pleased with the results.
3. Portion Lesson
Baby J. is 10 months old and is just starting to eat "finger foods,"
beyond Cheerios. This morning I decided that for his fruit he could have some strawberries (his mom had suggested that he liked them). So I got out the box and choose a few to chop up. The first was a big one, but not humongous. I washed it, removed the top and started chopping it into cheerio-sized pieces. Incredibly, that one strawberry served up more than a quarter cup of pieces. I measured. One strawberry was plenty for him. Lesson learned: I need to clean the slate (in my head) and really look at my portions anew, forgetting old patterns of 'knowing' appropriate portions of things.
