Domesticity

Mardi Gras: so Hank made me gumbo and we played Scrabble last night. Frighteningly domestic - I might as well be sixty-five. I lost at Scrabble. I'm a better loser than most people - games are games, it takes special circumstances to make me feel bad about losing. I feel bad about failing in life, but not losing a game.

I can't help feeling a little guilty at how much fun something simple like our evening was: kick-ass, slow-cooked gumbo (chicken, sausage, AND shrimp), and a friendly round of word jamming. It is actually word jamming, since we play on a Travel Scrabble, which makes you snap the tiles into place so sudden movement won't jar them.

Part of the fun of the evening was allowing myself to eat. I am dieting - back on the wagon today - because I head off to NYC for some auditions in late March and want to look my best. I don't consider myself fat, not at all, but I'm trying to be as trim as is possible. It's a cattle call - I refuse to be dismissed for an extra five pounds. So the poundage is on its way off. I took a break in the diet for Mardi Gras, however. While I was at it, I made sure to eat pancakes yesterday, too. It was heaven. I've been making supremely healthy choices for about two weeks now, I can't tell you how gratifying it was to eat without compunction. Raaaahhhh.

So now I'm back to being good for the next three weeks. It's not torture, I don't starve myself. In fact, it's nice to put the brakes on for a change. Then, when the diet is lifted, food tastes so scrumptious, so decadent.

I'm looking forward to eating bacon again. Apologies to the Jews and Muslims, but bacon is delicious.