Confession time: I had a Caesar (as in an alcoholic beverage, and not a Roman emperor) before supper tonight.
I never have been one to drink much: partly due to my religious upbringing, partly due to personal taste, and partly due to a certain sense of responsibility. I don’t really have anything against the moderate consumption of alcohol, but it doesn’t particularly draw me. Not on a regular basis anyway. Occasionally, however, I choose to have a beer, a glass of wine, a cooler, or a Caesar. Very occasionally.
Along with several bottles of beer, three Caesars have sat in my fridge since Christmas. They exist primarily for company’s sake. Ordinarily, I might have consumed them at a slightly faster rate, but not much in all probability. However, in an effort to make healthier diet choices, I have been even less inclined than usual, if that’s possible, to imbibe alcohol.
It’s not just alcohol but my diet, in general. I am eating smaller portions and making better choices. It’s working. Progress is slow, but it’s progress nonetheless.
“Everything in moderation,” they say.
“Even dieting,” I say.
I am still being very careful, for more inches demand to be shed, but I am trying not to be too regimented. It’s summer in Canada after all. One needs to be out and to enjoy what this short season has to offer: fries at the waterfront; ice cream at the bridge; corn on the cob; and, even an occasional Caesar, or cooler, or … well … whatever.
I am not about to throw caution to the wind, but I mean to enjoy myself too, for life is to be lived, not gazed upon ... and it is summer in Canada after all.