Yesterday I returned from a lovely five-day trip in NYC with my grandson Alex. We stayed with wonderful friends, Tom and Linda. Linda was my best friend from high school—do not ask how many years back that relationship goes. Suffice it to say: in the second half of the previous century.
Alex and I walked miles, travelled subways, investigated museums, etc. and so forth. I did not eat gluten or dairy, and I tried my best to stay on my diet by sticking with protein and vegetables/fruits.
You and I could quibble over my choice of honeyed peanuts instead of plain peanuts, but if I told you that I succumbed while waiting for a flight home that was three hours late, I’m sure you’d understand.
In other words, the Angel of Diets had taken generally good care of me. I had a piece of cake here and some coconut ice cream there, but my activity level was also sky-high. I figured that I hadn’t gotten off the diet track in any serious way.
But what is it they say about good intentions?