Laffy Taffy

I pulled my lower back over two weeks ago and I’m abiding inertia with a great degree of obstinacy. I have two large, painful knots on my back, which I call my buttons. Each night I ask Matt if he’ll push them. I’ve become the poster child for Aleve.

I found a pond near the house and Matt and I ran there all summer, but I pushed myself past one too many whistling illegal fishermen and I’m now paying the price. I’ve cut out weekday drinking and snacking (except for that delicious cherry Laffy Taffy Matt bought over the weekend, damn him) because I refuse to watch the summer 4 turn into a winter 6. I’m fattening Matt up by cooking a lot (bless thee, Cooking Network) but we both need to get in shape for skiing.

He just emailed me this: I’m eating donuts…I give up.

Thank God for high metabolism.

Last weekend we ate at Santorini’s in Fountain Square. I kind of left out the part about how I once got violently ill after eating there, but that was two boyfriends ago, so I figured it was safe now. We had a great bottle of Greek wine called—wait, I still have the cork in my purse—Domaine Harlaftis. No food poisoning.

We went to Deano’s Vinos afterward and I ordered a French varietal while simultaneously saying, “Watch, they won’t have it,” which they didn’t. We settled for a bottle of Cline old vine zin and Deano, the owner, came rushing over to our table to exclaim his unwavering adoration for my selection.

We buy the same bottle for $15 at Trader Joe’s all the time; he, of course, charged us $30. If you’re going to own a place with “Vino” on the sign, I suggest you take some wine lessons. (They do have a very cool table top made from the tops of foil wine labels, featured here. The only great one is Chalk Hill.)

We were on the cusp of considering ever returning there again, when suddenly the band nailed our cut-throat decision into the coffin: a trio was playing Karma Chameleon in the next room…on mandolin. I suggested we run for our lives.

We high-tailed it to Radio Radio where I proceeded to get more intoxicated, and then I drove home. This is where the Laffy Taffy came into play and, I have to say, it saved me.

But no more snacks until I can run again. I can’t speak for Matt.