Independence Day for the Single Gal

I had one of the best holidays today.   I turned down every invitation to attend  pool parties, the Peachtree Road Race, a local parade and various fireworks displays around town.

Instead, I slept in a little, made an enormous pot of coffee, had farmers-market fresh blueberries with my yogurt this morning, watched a few historic gems on The History Channel, made a flower arrangement and when I was sure it was going to remain sunny all day, I packed a beachy tote with all the poolside necessities and walked to my neighborhood pool which was blissfully devoid of neighbors with kids.

The appreciation for the day is never lost on me, considering what a history buff I am, and today especially so as it was my first Independence Day that I didn't have to work in about five years.    I spent the day in the sun with my Kindle and then returned home, bronzed and relaxed, to make a very July 4th-appropriate dinner.  Grilled chicken, salad, corn on the cob and (unsweet) iced tea.  Just like the barbecues we used to have by my grandparents' pool when I was a kid, minus the deviled eggs, potato salad, baked beans and the apple pie.  Oh, I miss apple pie.  I'm watching my starches - the corn was a splurge.  Incidentally, "unsweet" is the correct way to say you'd like your iced tea without sugar in the South.  We do know that "unsweetened" is grammatically correct but lobbing off a syllable or two is what keeps us cool in the summer heat - talking too much and too fast has a cumulative negative effect on your body heat; it's not scientifically proven but it's a known fact.  And you never have to specify "iced" either, we rarely take it any other way.  That would be silly.

I live close enough to downtown Atlanta that I could hear the fireworks going off as I watched them on TV.  So I got to enjoy the display without the crowds and traffic.  Honestly, the only thing that would have made today better would be real surf and a few palm trees, but the pool and hot pink crepe myrtles that line it were just fine by me.

Don't Eat Your Feelings, Sally

I knew the ice cream was an ill-fated emotional purchase when I was at the store.  I knew the marshmallows, chocolate bars and graham crackers were a bad idea and that I would never actually make the s'mores, not to mention how bad they looked in context with everything else in my basket.  I knew that there was no way I could explain the THREE bags of potato chips to the cashier and was praying that she'd think I was preparing for some sort of sleep-over for my non-existent kids in my non-existent family.  I wondered what the personal trainer in front of me was thinking about my junk food on the conveyor.  But, hey, I also bought some granola bars and almonds.

And then I got home and was ticked that I let my feelings do the shopping.  I don't think I've ever, in my entire life, bought three bags of chips in one trip to the store.  At least I can say I didn't eat it all but for half a pint, I was pretty sure that Ben & Jerry were right there with me.  Defeated, disappointed, disillusioned, disenchanted, disastrously off the diet wagon; they feel my pain.

I've had a really rough couple of weeks and I'm starting to wonder if it's all rough weeks with just a few bright spots here-and-there.  And the bright spots are really only there so we don't all become a sisterhood of fat, hairy, angry old maids.  I'm sure things will look up if I can land a job, miraculously lose 15 pounds, win the lottery or, or.... buy more ice cream.  Too bad eating salads doesn't trigger serotonin production.  I'd be a waif.

Killer Diller

Not entirely unrelated to my last post, I just found out that my favorite snack food has been discontinued.  So long, Mt. Olive Petite Snack Crunchers!  I hate it when stuff I love gets discontinued. Like when you find the best nail lacquer or the perfect lip stick only to return to the store and not find it waiting excitedly for you to take it home with you.  I know there are better pickles out there, but I don't like a big, whole dill pickle and the cut pickles get kind of soggy and I don't like the texture of the inside part of the pickled cucumber so the petite whole pickle was made for me.

Guess I'll have to move on to gherkins.

Single Gal's Menu du Jour

Ever wonder what grown-up single ladies eat in a given day?  Too exciting for words, I'll let the images tell the whole story.

Don't be jealous.

I promise to eat a salad tomorrow.