Pleasure and Penance

Dearest Rachel –

After Daniel passed his driving test (which I’ve never had to take a second time, so even I would worry about missing a key thing or two), I thought it would be worth going out to eat to celebrate. It’s not like either of the boys weren’t already thinking about lunch, as it was already somewhere between two and three in the afternoon; and besides, we were in territory we rarely venture to (if you set aside the fact that we’d just been in the area the week before). Besides, and I think you know this, eating out is something of a love language for me; I enjoy food too much for it not to be – I could probably make a whole essay abut that fact, and the why of it all, but not today, thanks – and restaurants save me the trouble of preparation and (more importantly) cleanup.

But we’d just gone next door to the Korean market, so that was… not quite out of the question, but at the very least, low on the list of possible options because of having been there. So what else was there for us to consider?

That’s a question born not out of any lack of choices, but rather a surfeit; Golf Road in Schaumburg has an abundance of retail outlets along its considerable length between the Route 53 underpass and Roselle Road. Starting with the Woodfield Mall that spang up in my childhood (in the middle of what was essentially nowhere at the time), the place has become lousy with auto dealerships, big-box stores… and restaurants. Name the style, specialty or ethnicity, and you’re likely to find something close nearby. So it’s a difficult decision not because you can’t find anything, but because you can find anything. It’s all there; now, you’re stuck having to choose something.

As it happened, there was a Mexican place nearby; I’d been introduced to it (in a different location, to be sure) by Lars, of all places – which is ironic in way that I’ll explain in a moment – and took Daniel to yet another location while we were at Anime Central earlier this year, but Logan hadn’t been to any location before. So at least we had one person to introduce to the place.

And introduce we did; I’d forgotten how substantial the entrees (and how addictive the chips and salsa) are. This is why it’s odd to think that Lars took me to a place like this; it’s not a place to go if you’re watching what you eat (unless you count making sure that you don’t drop salsa onto your shirt). But maybe he didn’t know that any better than I did; or, like myself this time around, he’d forgotten about that.

Meanwhile, Daniel got himself a drink that I still have to wonder about, combining cucumbers, grapefruit and… jalapeños. Well, it is a Mexican place, after all. He claimed that it was refreshing, regardless, but wasn’t sure about what to make of a savory beverage. So he’s not likely to start in on Bloody Marys going forward or anything.

In any event, we had a pleasant enough time, although we all felt a little more full than intended as we wobbled our way out. Then again, what could be expected from a place called “Fat Rosie’s,” even if it is supposedly named after some old farmer’s beloved donkey?

By morning, I still felt like I’d eaten a donkey, and the bathroom scale verified it. Not only had I crossed a line I hadn’t wanted to since returning from our last trip, I was over it by several pounds. To be sure, a couple of pounds doesn’t even count as a single percentage of my weight, but even that is plenty disconcerting.

Despite the fact that I rarely do this on Saturday (mostly due to the men’s Bible study, which so happens to be taking a hiatus during August), since I had fallen asleep mostly dressed, I just swapped out parts for shorts, and polo for t-shirt, and headed to the gym. After Friday’s indulgence, it was necessary to engage in a little penance; six miles of uphill treading, enough to drop me back in line with where I feel I ought to be.

It’s actually kind of annoying; barely a couple of days previously, I had not only gotten below my license weight, but was on the verge of breaking through the next level below that. And now, here I was, ten pounds heavier in less than half a week, trying to claw back to the place I’d been hovering at for months. It’s an uncomfortable balancing act between pleasure and penance; I don’t feel like perpetually denying myself enjoyment (and indeed, Daniel’s success rather demanded celebration), but I can’t say I like where it takes me on this journey, either. I’m back in a better place for the moment – and there’s more that happened along the way, but that’s for another letter – but who knows how long that will last.

So with that said, honey, I’d ask that you keep an eye on me, and wish me well as I keep trying to get… somewhere with all this. I’m going to need it.