Started the South Beach diet last night. Dorothea and I went shopping to get enough stuff to cook meals for three days. And we cooked together. And she has started cooking. I have breakfast, morning snack, lunch, and afternoon snack in my bag.
I noticed greeting cards the other day at my other favorite coffeeshop, the one that now has a national chain coffeeshop opening across the street. Then I noticed that the were photos by the same guy that did the cards with the scenes from around Nina’s. That is pretty smart.
Night before last I dreamed about going to a music store, electric guitars, amps, drums, but not buying anything because I didn’t have enough money. Just like when I was a kid.
And last night I dreamed about meetings at work where I either didn’t know where the meeting was and/or when I got there wasn’t up to speed, like I couldn’t read my own notes or make sense of them to answer when asked a question. Lucky, I don’t think that I am as muddled in real life as I was in the dream.
I may have overdone it though with the lifting of groceries. I woke up last night and could hardly make it down the hall to good pee because of my back. D. brought me some motrin. I am up and functioning now, thanks in large part to the pain relief of the motrin and tylenol. I saunaed, hottubbed, and stretched at the Y.
When we went over to my mom’s yesterday morning late after checking out of the hotel, we found a bunch of people ready to go to Buffet King. My brother Gary’s influence, no dount. There was a group of women there wearing red hats and purple shirts.