soap curry and yoga

Yesterday I suffered self-loathing over bad scale reading. Decided to drown sorrows in tea at Volcano Joes, and adorable idiot waitron gave me 2 cups by mistake. "You want the second one anyway, since I already put the tea bag in?" he grinned, eliciting a stupid flutter of eyelashes from me as I scooped them up and trotted back to my table. Complained to Mike about my body image while automatically dumping 6 packets of Splenda into the first cup of tea. Would have put in more had they been on the table. Slapped forehead, drank it anyway, pausing to pour the second cup in to dilute the sweetness halfway through. Mike mopped up the puddles and patted me. 

This morning felt embarrassed and vindicated as 2 pounds dropped off. Probably temporary fluctuation from all that darn salt on my crab poke Sunday night, bah. Spent morning at Emporium of Evil (Walmart), shopping for luggage and underpants. Found snappy red luggage set (Gavin wheeled the little suitcase up and down the aisles eagerly, "My suitcase for Lake George! I put aaaall my choos choos in here") and then noted alarming absence of  my favorite kind of underpants. What has the world come to? Sulked out of underpants section and into toys, where Gavin got very excited about Cars movie merchandise. He eyeballed all the giant remote-controlled toys before picking up a small matchbox-sized model of the main character (hey, he's not greedy). Besides the "never say no if he asks for produce" rule, there is also a "never say no if he asks for books" rule, and so he made it out with two Cars books as well. I am a sucker. 

Made cookies with butterscotch chips, then destroyed dinner. Thai curry tasted like Palmolive. Threw rice in pot with ground turkey and peanut butter sauce instead, leaving soapy curry on stove to think about what it had done wrong. Notice that it has still not thrown itself away. Pulled on my yoga pants and went to the gym. Twenty seconds into my drive, the engine light flashed on and I was under the hood on the side of the road tipping anti-freeze into the little yellow bubble thing. Got back in car and chewed on fingernails - wondered suddenly if the anti-freeze residue on my fingers would crystalize my kidneys and kill me. How long would that take? My mouth tingled. Maybe my tongue was crystalizing, signaling the disintegration of my cellular structure and sudden death. Arrived at gym alive. The substitute instructor was a small Barbie-shaped woman who laughed at her own jokes. She threw aside the microphone and chose to yell out the poses instead, leaving us all straining in place while chatting leisurely about proper positioning and yoga theology. Still, I felt a bit more optimistic as I left, having visions of magical morning yoga on the terrace of Lake George. Plus, the rolled mat would make a great pillow on the plane after I am flatly sedated by mini bottles of Bacardi. I hate flying. 

Contemplating chucking curry over the fence before pulling off my yoga pants and going to bed.