Twice-Baked Sweet Potato Egg Boats
How's your fitness going lately?
After illness, a battle with my menstrual cup (I'll spare you details), and some other issues, I've had three weeks now where I've only exercised once per week in a hot yoga class. In some ways it was a good break — my knees were a wreck and it gave them a chance to rest. But it also got me out of my morning workout habit. I don't know why, but whenever I take a break, I get anxious about starting up my workouts again! It's like I think I won't be able to do it after taking some time off. This morning, though, I finally got myself to the gym to lift weights for the first time in three weeks.
Chipotle Shrimp Twice-Baked Sweet Potatoes
Shopping thoughts lately:
A. If my Target would put in a Starbucks, I could go ahead and move in.
B. The fact that I got out of Target without leaving my phone on a shelf somewhere where I was smelling 800 scented candles, evaluating whether or not I'm a "water carafe" kind of person, or hypocritically judging people who would buy fake succulents (I literally own fake succulents, but cognitive dissonance...) was a miracle. #ADHD
Chile Baked Salmon with Lime Butter
In case you've never experienced social anxiety, here's a handy snapshot of it:
While I place my order for a sandwich at my local coffee shop, I make eye contact with the cashier to be polite. The eye contact flusters me, though, so I immediately look down and pretend my wallet is very interesting. The counter next to me is also intriguing. The floor is simply fascinating.
While the cashier scans my card, I worry about whether or not my face looks weird and whether or not I’m doing the right thing with my hands. What’s the right thing to do with your hands? I don’t know, but probably not whatever I’m doing. I shuffle them every few seconds to try to increase the likelihood that they’ll be doing the right thing whenever someone glances. Or, wait, does that decrease the likelihood? I stop shuffling. I start again.
Once my order is placed, I sit down in a booth with a sigh of relief and wait for them to call my name when my sandwich is ready. But something is bothering me. I’m a little deaf and it’s kind of loud in here. What if I can't hear them call my name? My brain conveniently replays a full technicolor memory of a time I did miss my name being called at a restaurant and was snarked at, which made me want to melt into a storm drain and live out the rest of my life as the inconspicuous layer of sewer scum that I apparently was. So that was pleasant.