I don't know if I would recommend writing every day to anyone. Actually, I'm sure that I wouldn't. I'm grateful for this challenge and I'm so close to the end that I can't in good conscience quit, especially since it isn't really harming me at all. It's just sort of a nuisance that I don't think has very much sway over my writing ability or drive. I mean, I guess it's just rote exercise, like the crunches I used to do on the floor of my bedroom as a skinny teenager, trying to add some muscle definition. Healthy, but ultimately I stopped and it was sort of useless.
I used to listen to Baha Men when I had these private workout sessions. I had a whole routine! I would skip forward to the second to last track on the CD to "Who Let The Dogs Out (Barking Mad Remix)". It infused me with so much energy which, okay, I guess. It made me happy, I felt like I was doing something good for myself. I did jumping jacks, crunches, push-ups, and a whole lot of other fast body movements I've forgotten the names for. Burpees, maybe. By the end of the song I was completely drenched in sweat and riddled with endorphins. I don't know how long that phase lasted. I've always been an exercise nut, but in phases. I guess that's less nut and more, just. Noncommittal.
We started watching Trainwreck but Eric fell asleep and I sort of lost interest after Amy Schumer and Bill Heder had that comedic back-and-forth about liking black people, and then he asks her to pull out her phone and show him pictures with all the black friends she claims to have, and I get it - edgy humor! - but it was weird. I don't think I'm offended, because they didn't actually say anything offensive, but, eh. Sometimes I think about what people say behind closed doors and am glad that there are doors that indeed close.
Anyway, we tried the Pattie LaBelle pie and it honestly was pretty good, but not as good as the homemade pie made by Brittany's mom. I usually hate sweet potato, but the pie was excellent. Maybe my taste buds are still maturing. I try to eat a lot of different kinds of foods so that the trace amounts of flavor Eve gets through my milk will bend her taste buds to my will. (This is a thing; look it up.) I was a terrible eater as a child, unless I had mashed potatoes and sardines (I KNOW, I know, just leave it, don't try to understand) or macaroni and cheese on my plate. I hated eating; I always thought there were better things I could be doing. I used to hold food in my mouth until my parents let me be excused and I would spit it into the toilet. My mom had the lunch ladies watching me like a hawk to make sure I finished my food. It was embarrassing. Ms. Hagopian was our head lunch lady; she was old and crotchety and she terrified me. I wonder if she's still alive. Maybe she's watching Netflix right now. Maybe she watched that scene in Trainwreck and laughed, surrounded by her grandkids and cats or whatever. Maybe they're eating Patti pie.