Silence

Today is not meant for talking.

In-house

It is a understatement to say that I am extremely excited. The trapeze rigger just left. We discussed installing a static trapeze in my apartment. It is completely doable, and it should be all done by January end.

What does this have to do with the theme of this blog? Well, this means I will have my daily dose of workout, and hence will go towards 0 at a faster pace, maybe even going towards it rather than away from it.

Fada

There is a restaurant one block from my new place. It's called Fada. It's French. Very French. The steak au poivre with fries I had on Sunday night with R. was very French. It was also fatteningly fattening. And no red wine to conterbalance its effects.

Skinny Bunny gave me a set of healthy foods to either apologize for having woken me up last night or to thank me for having opened my door to give her the keys to her place, that she had given me when we used to live a stone throw from each other, as it appears she had locked herself out. The present was touching. I had felt a dip in our relationship after the last trapeze class. It seemed our eating habits were diverging. But we are now back in the best of terms, and the walnuts, porcini mushrooms, wholewheat crackers, fingerling potatoes and others that I found in my little present are a sign of the renewed friendship.

A new record, and a new cafe

I know I shouldn't look at individual numbers. I know I shouldn't mind nor celebrate that my body fat was 16.4% this morning.

On the other hand, I know I shouldn't guilty that, faced with a grand opening of a new cafe at work, with a resident chef exactly like at the headquarters, I ate a little too much: endives with cheese, vegetables marinara, beef bourguignon, salmon curry, cassoulet, potato gratin, all this in no small quantities.

Housewarming Party

Housewarming party last night. Apparently a success -- I wouldn't know: I was to busy to notice. About seventy people, and many cakes, lemon pies, cookies. I am left with three half cakes of the sweetest kind. They are looking at me, like Dori: "Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!" I had bought a box of cut vegetables -- the healthy choice -- for a heavy price at Fresh Direct. This morning, I discovered I had forgotten it on the balcony. I ate celery all day today.

A recipe to lose weight: organize a party, dance all night, go to bed late, drink a bit maybe: by the next morning, you are three pounds lighter. Dehydration, Skinny Bunny tells me.

Too much of Self

Two days ago, I received the video of my static trapeze show. I watched it. I watched it again. The laughters heard over the music during the performance, the applause at the end. Intoxicating.

Last night, I digitized it and put it on YouTube. It got immediately three viewings: all by me. Alas, the initial elation is now replaced by pain: a low-level, internal pain, each time I fail to keep my legs completely straight, each time my feet flex, each time the trapeze wobbles. And of course each time my tight T-shirt chooses to tighten over a blob than over a taut muscle.

I also learn that gestures can be bigger, that I can slow down. All important information, to be applied to my next show, where I will explore my priestly side.

Temptations

Friday night to Saturday night at M&B: coffee, chocolate, sugar, risotto by the pound. But also some exercise: helped them build their closet, fixed some doors, readjusted the curtains.