Vol. Three No. Pounds
Home from the OBX which is why I’m late on the newsletter. I gotta say, this year was well-nigh perfect -- only rained a bit some nights, then absolutely perfect sunny days, not ever hellishly hot, incredible meals, birthdays galore, which, naturally, meant delish cakes, donuts, cupcakes, pies, by Tullios, of course, and the very best? NO DRAMA. Just imagine, 45 family members (both sides) and not a single shot was fired. What’s always amazing is people feel compelled to procreate so ages ranged from 2 to ancient.
Alas, I stepped on the scales at home and didn’t moan or gasp since it was rather expected – gained three pounds. My other half did moan, I heard him, which means both of us are on strict diets until the 4th. Ah, the wages of an awesome week-long continuous food binge-a-thon. (not thong-a-thon)
It was great flying home because we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge at nearly nine p.m. Sunday and it was still light. The only flight hang- up was at Dulles – the pilot was a no-show, something that’s never happened to us before. If people knew why, they weren’t talking, makes you wonder, what happened? Did the spouse catch you hanky pankying and beat you up? Or maybe you lost the house gambling online? Never found out, but a fresh new pilot showed up, bruise-free, only an hour late.
Can you believe the 4th of July is next week? If you’re vegan or a vegetarian (not as bad I know, since I live with one), you’ll just have to put up with watching the hot dogs and hamburgers being chowed down by relatives and supposed friends who are so insensitive to be carnivores in front of you. As a full-fledged, four-star carnivore let me at those hot dogs with French’s mustard and sweet relish.
Whatever you’re doing or planning on doing or planning on eating the 4th, think gusto – only way to go.
So it’s three pounds, who cares?
Catherine Coulter
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| Ichabod on the pier at OBX |