Fear and bloating

RIP, gonzo journalist Hunter S. Thompson, who died yesterday by suicide. His writing was not my cup of Wild Turkey, but I suppose it's the end of an era.

As for fear: How I gnashed my teeth at having to attend my second Weight Watchers meeting today! How thrilling to see that my eleventh-hour panicky eating this past week resulted in a gain of two pounds. (groan)

I am trying to practice positive thinking. Several of my friends are in my group, including dear Peter who has lost nearly 54 pounds since this fall. I have plenty of support and good role models. Tonight I ate baked fresh Coho salmon with olive oil and lemon juice, and a salad with fat-free dressing. Dessert: a cup of sugar-free Jell-o. Alas, I keep wanting to lunge at the fridge for some cheese. Those habits die hard.

On a cheerier note, our two oldest kids got dressed up for their high school's Winter Ball on Feb. 4. It was Melinda's first formal dance, and we had fun doing the mother-daughter shopping-and-accessory thing. She went with friends, and Andrés with girlfriend Robyn, who endeared herself to me by buying pink flats so she wouldn't look taller.


Melinda (right) with her friend Torey before the dance, at our house.


Robyn and Andrés, good to go.

One more, because my daughter has such a sweet profile.