Well, I dropped over that one pound mark. I'm back down to having lost 17 pounds again. I'm glad to be able to say that. I wore some capris and a top that I hadn't worn since last summer, and I could tell. The top was loose and comfortable.
I went down town yesterday. I was headed to a writer's seminar. I received an invitation in the mail some time ago. It was nice, with wine and crackers and cheese and strawberries and wonderful little desserts which I spent the evening trying to avoid. It was nice to sit and listen to an author talk about writing. A large portion of the talk covered writing the truth, but Reg Darling took pains to say that the truth was your perspective. He also talked about how a complete lie can be told telling nothing but the truth. I thought of Salman Rushdie's books and how the truth can be told using nothing but fictions, and silently agreed.
It was nice to sit there and talk about writing like it was real. I don't know how to say it better than that. It was nice to sit with people listening to the story of another respectfully. I listen to the stories of others, and I became part of their story, even as they became a part of my own, and the story swirled easily around us, and between us, and from us, gathering us all up in its threads. When it was done, my friend and I walked back to her house in the evening light, the words flowing easily and comfortably between us, the common threads in our own stories weaving us together, forming a friendship.