Pumping ironies

Peter drove Josie and the kids to Hartford yesterday to visit his sister and her daughter, aka Tania and Kristina. They'll have to tell you more about that on their return. It sounds as though the visit was a great success, with Josie behaving like a lady and enjoying the picnic along with everyone else. While they were away, I thought I'd look I'd mention a new element in my life, the fitness buddy.

Alice is my fitness buddy, and has been ever since I saw those Cape Cod photos of us on the beach (too cold to immerse in the waves, so every bulge showed above the waterline). I have midriff issues; she wants stronger arms. She lives in Little Rock, I near NYC, so we exchange phone calls and spreadsheets. She boosted my vague food goals to "5 servings of fruit or veg a day" and "no more fizzy diet drinks" (they make you hungry and deposit aspartame in your mid-brain). The 5 servings a day have left me energized. Cutting the soda should have done the opposite: I loved that carbonated caffeine kick in the morning. But a week afterwards, my appetite had plummeted and my weight started inching downward. After a consolatory DDP left me hungry for a week, I'm back to iced tea.

We haven't exactly gotten derailed, but real life has gotten in the way.

Alice applied for a new job in Atlanta and is preparing her house for selling, so all the touch-up work is counting as arm exercises. A persistent staph infection discouraged her eating her 5, but helped her drop many pounds, so her waist is getting trimmer by the minute.

I've been eating my 5 (and Granny's pies and summer ice cream), but spend so much time with the physiotherapist doing shoulder and arm exercises that my midriff is no slimmer, but my arms are toning nicely. Should fitness buddies be living each other's goals like this?

Oh, and to top it off: Peter, who hasn't joined us in our healthy new goals, has dropped nearly fifteen pounds...