Dear Reader,
There is a pain au chocolat in the kitchen, and just like that, breakfast this morning has become unnecessarily complicated.
Word Raccoon says it’s not complicated at all to her.
It began with the scale. Now, while I no longer allow that beastly thing to measure my self-worth, I do have an appointment with the rheumatologist coming up, so I’m trying to trend downward.
No, no, the scale was a gentleman and told me exactly what I wanted to hear. (Mostly.)
But my favorite denim shorts said, “Gorl, he a lie.”
Do I know which to believe as to my progress? Not really. What I do know is that I was anticipating that pastry, and now I need to rethink it.
Dammit.
(A hummingbird just blessed the flowers just outside the sunporch. What a gorgeous sight! They like the red and purple blossoms, I think. WR wanted to ride on its back. Silly animal. )
I had planned to pair the pain au chocolat with a string cheese for protein, and we have some strawberries that need to be eaten. (Need is not the word; they’re not punishment berries.)
Add to that the fact that when I told the mister I want to cut back a smidge on the sweets for the next few weeks, he immediately brought home not one, not two, but SIX small fruit pies!
Mamma mia! How am I supposed to convince these shorts differently now?
I have added a belt to the shorts just in case they decide to say “just kidding” at a most inconvenient moment.
But I’m struggling over what to have for breakfast now.
WR says I should just let her choose.
I beg your pardon, but I already know. You’d choose a chocolate-filled poem, wouldn’t you?
To breakfast decisions and weekends, dear reader.
Drema
P.S. And now an uninvited cup of gas station rice crispy treats has entered the chat! No thank you!
But I did write four pages on my novel BY HAND (seems lefty has forgiven me for all the painting stress for now) in first person.
Yes, that’s the stuff.
Also wrote a very rough draft of a poem, “Bonnets and Suspenders on the Beach.”
I hope you find something to admire in it. 😘
Bonnets and Suspenders on the Beach
The women’s hems skim across the sand
as they tote their babies over their arms like sacks of onions,
white bonnets alerting to the slight wind.
The men roll their pants bottoms.
Another man crosses the blue boardwalk,
wearing an embroidered sombrero the height of two.
Black hats and suspenders,
white bonnets and bare feet, stare.