I broke my fork on my salad

I broke my fork on my salad

“I broke my fork on my salad” is the saddest metaphor for healthy eating new year’s resolutions I’ve ever heard.

But, actually, while I *did* break my fork, the healthy eating is going well.  One of the things I’ve learned with my HSP-ness is that I get hungry quickly, and it makes me sooooo sad and cranky.  Steady-grazing is the way to a happy Erika…but that does mean I need to take care on what I’m grazing on.

I like salad.  I like this romaine/spinach/carrot/apple/almond salad I made up this morning especially.

My fork, however, cried uncle.  Plastic forks these days – no standards.

Honestly, I’m having some trouble with my usual new year optimism.  This holiday was rough.  Kai got sick on the 23rd, and then my Grandaddy passed away late that night.  I didn’t know until the morning of the 24th, at which point I felt really strange.  Figuring it was grief, I kept on keeping on, but finally decided not to go to Christmas Eve services I felt so off.

Woke up Christmas morning with a fever of 102.  Packed up for the road trip and left anyway.  It was good to be with all my family (it was a Planks-In-Louisville Year already), but the finely tuned dance of Christmas rituals we’ve worked out over the decades (this day at this house, this afternoon here, then we see this person, la la la) was completely disrupted by funeral plans and everything.  As they should have been, but it was exhausting, managing everyone’s feelings and striving to balance everything and still keeping the boys calm and give them some of the magic of Christmas.

I think they had a good time.  I’m not sure.

Anyway – new year’s.  Eating healthier, but not less.  (Dieting is for chumps.)

Note to self: invest in heartier forks.

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