Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Work Day #3--Almost Half Done

At the end of business today I'll have half of my 6-day week of work completed. See? I knew it would fly by, but I do love to complain. After work I'll stop at Subway for a sandwich and then I'm meeting Cookie at St. James Park for the City Band Jazz & Swing concert. Once this is posted I plan to call Skully to see if I can't coerce her to ditch her beading group tonight and join us. I give myself 50/50 odds of being her latest "bad" companion. (A-a-and I just got interrupted by today's first customer.) Back to being a bad companion. Durwood and I are tackling the new Weight Watchers program trying to cipher out how to figure what we're eating and make it fit the plan. The bad companion part is that I can't seem to stop buying candy, so I'm my own bad companion. If anyone knows of a 0 points chocolate dessert/candy type food, please let me know. Durwood is thrilled and I'm surprised (okay, shocked) to discover that winter squash (acorn, butternut, spaghetti, etc.) now counts as a 0 point veggie, and corn and peas are veggies too. I wonder if parsnips have gone from bread to veggie? I do love me some parsnips. Can I still count beans and chickpeas as either a bread or protein? More research is needed. And how come Tony Roma's isn't in the Dining Out book, huh? Can anyone tell me that??? It's Durwood's 72nd birthday on Friday and he wants to go to Tony Roma's for supper (he has a coupon for a free meal) so you know we will and I'll throw a big, BBQ sauce covered wrench in my diet for a day and then figure "what the hell" and get some of that yummy corn casserole stuff. Back to square one on Saturday. I think I should be used to that by now. I'm nearly 60 years old (only 4 weeks and 1 day until the big day) and still haven't figured out how to eat right.

August 2--Amadeo Modigliani, Woman's Head. She felt his eyes like hands smoothing down her cheeks, his thumbs tracing her nose and caressing her pursed lips. She had never considered herself a beauty and so was startled when he ran up to her in the piazza last week begging her to pose for him. He cajoled her when she hesitated saying he wanted to sculpt her classical face, to preserve her beauty forever in limestone. "But I am not taking my clothes off," she had said. For just a millisecond his face had fallen but he quickly recovered. "Oh, no no, signorina, of course not." She had looked into his glittering gray eyes and nodded her agreement. So here she sat in his sunlit studio, perched on a hard chair, totally clad. He had run his hands over her face like a lover's caress as he posed her. His strong fingers had skimmed her back and arms when he told her how he wanted the tension in her body to communicate to her face and neck. A thrill ran through her when he touched her. Perhaps she could loosen her bodice and let her sleeves slide down her arms, let him see the perfection of her skin. He did think she was beautiful enough to sculpt, after all.

Oh, she is totally going to get naked before the day is over. Hussy.

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