THREE MORE--I'M ON A ROLL NOW

Another week, another three pounds.  Down eight now. Hooray for me!

I did not cave with the wine and cheese at the beach.  When I made lasagna for the family, I ate a salad with grilled chicken, and then I sent the second tray next door (owed him because he did me a huge favor). I'm walking twice a week, going to the gym once a week and doing yoga on the other days. I'm brainwashed, and I feel great.

WITH DAYS LIKE THIS, WHO WOULD WANT TO GET UP IN THE MORNING?

EVERYTHING WENT WRONG TODAY.  EVERYTHING.

Let me just start out by saying that Philip is on a business trip and is gone all week.  Chloe is also away.  So, of course it is the perfect time for disaster to happen.

I was at the mall with Derek, and it was about 100 degrees out there, so we went to the movies, stopped for ice cream, etc.  When we walked to the van in the parking lot, we were hot and sweaty and I wanted to turn on the AC immediately, drive home and make the lasagna for the church picnic tomorrow.  Guess what happened?

The van did not start.

So here it is, hot as hell, and we're stranded at the mall.  I immediately called triple A, and then I found out that my membership was not found, or it was expired--I don't quite remember what the person said, because I was too busy watching beads of sweat blind my eyes.  It didn't help that Derek started to complain that it was hot.

After going over my options, I decided to see if Mark was home and test this new friendship of ours.  Thirty minutes later he arrived with some woman named Barbara or Becky or whatever her name was.  He told me that I was out of gas, but in my defense, he said that it was probably a gas gauge problem?  He said that he didn't mind bailing me out, but I could tell that I threw a wrench into his afternoon.

I finally made it home, and was a little late to start making the lasagnas.  I put on the oven to heat up, but it didn't heat up.  The stove was working, but not the oven.  I tried to call Chloe, but there was no answer,  Then I remembered that she was on vacation.  Then I remembered that someone else was home.

As I arrived with the uncooked lasagna, Becky or Barbara or whoever was walking out the door, mumbling obscenities under her breath.  Mark tried to convince her to stay, but there was no use.  I don't know what her problem was.  I was only using the kitchen.