A Weight Watcher’s Reverse Resolutions

1. I won’t eat cold beans from a can.

2. I won’t hide in the pantry when I lick icing off the beaters.

3. I won’t complain about audacious fast food. That would be lying.

4. I won’t condemn that new Friendly’s 1,500-calorie grilled cheeseburger melt — a burger encased in two grilled cheese sandwiches. They’ve installed defibrillators under the seats, worst-case-scenario.

• • • I wish I'd thought of it • • •

5. I won’t store a Snicker’s bar in my glove compartment to prevent starvation in case I’m stranded in snow or have to wait a long time at a red light.

6. I won’t buy canned frosting and ask my boyfriend to eat it while I watch.

7. I won’t substitute Spam for my Easter ham. Period. End of discussion.

8. I won’t serve poutine (more when you get to No. 13) to guests.

9. I won’t pry the lithium battery out of my Weight Watcher’s scale again this year.

10. I won’t buy peanut butter. Sorry. Scratch that.

11. I won’t eat peanut butter from a butcher knife. A bread knife is OK though.

12. I won’t promise anything I can’t do. So No. 2, the one about poutine, I’m having some second thoughts. Cooking Light has a great recipe for poutine, an ingenious French Canadian dish made of French fries, brown gravy and cheese curds. It’s a good workout for the heart muscle, I’m pretty sure. So poutine’s OK too.

Happy Birthday Jim! and Happy Anniversary Rae! and a little more Free Fall

A fabulous picture of Jim,
who celebrates a birthday today.
Credit: Ruth Schneider,
photographer and good friend

Jim:

Our first time alone together was on the phone. It had never been just you and me.

I was at the beach in Rockport and you were in your Chelsea apartment eating toast. Hurrah for the cell phone. We planned the call after you sent an email on December 2, 2005, that said, “I want to talk.” I thought, “Oh how sexy is that?” Two days later, December 4, we talked. It was, as you well know, unseasonably warm.

Before I forget the obvious: Lots has happened since. Lots has changed.

What has not?

Try this exercise: Say anything. Go ahead. Say it’s raining. Say you are running out to put quarters in the meter. Say my vegetable soup is fuckin’ delicious. I look at you and think, “How sexy is that?” You talk. I like.

I credit your 67^th birthday with our love affair. It’s the anniversary of your birth, yes, but also of ours. For as long as we are a “we,” I will love your birthday. Cake! A martini!

So sad that I’m in Rockport and you are in Chelsea. What’s a martini without Jim? You know the answer. I abstain.

2010. Five fast years hence. I knew it would be like this, speedy and fun and a little daunting with all the changes.

2010, where “new” is supplanted by “cherish.” Where the sound of your voice lives in me like a second heartbeat. Where “voice” continues to be the glue. Where, when I hear your tired voice on the phone saying “sleep well” late at night, I hear your sexy bed voice.

December 2. Happy Birthday. Happy Anniversary. Happy. For as long as we are.