We went out to eat last night.
We went to Christo’s, here in Plymouth. We’d been once before and liked it well enough. Last night though, was not so great. It seems we feel this way just about every time we go out to eat, which is not often at all. We come home thinking that we could have cooked something better.
No, we don’t have delusions of grandeur about our cooking. But when you cook for yourself, you can choose the ingredients, the freshness, the quality, and you can cook at your own pace in a comfortable, clean place, uninstitutionalized. We think we’d rather buy something special, like ribs or fish, and cook it ourselves instead of going out next time.
Or maybe we just need to think of a dinner out mostly as a nice break from cooking and cleaning, and not expect it to be something fabulous.
Speaking of a break, the dining hall has that and other advantages, and some disadvantages.
We can eat there free any meal, as often as we want. There is decent salad, tapioca pudding, and the meals are usually decent-tasting. Most of the time we run into another family we know, so we get to socialize. It’s especially nice on days when Mark has dorm duty or has to work a football game (he does the scoreboard), so that we all get to spend a little time together even on those days.
On the other hand, it’s difficult to make healthy choices. Sometimes there really aren’t any healthy options, and other times the less healthy stuff is especially tempting. And it’s a big hall, which means loud, which means it’s hard to carry on conversations. And sometimes parking is a bit tough to find.
While we’re on the subject of disadvantages, teaching definitely has some.
It is wonderful to have a job that is meaningful, that you care about, and that you’re pretty good at. And this particular school is great in a lot of ways.
But it’s very hard to manage your time when you’re a teacher. Stuff has to be graded, planned, prepared, collected, and so on. You can’t cut corners — you don’t want to. You can’t procrastinate or you fall behind. So you get extra stress and late nights, even on weekends, catching up on school work after a few hours spent with your daughter — because you can’t and don’t want to cheat your family OR your students. (Guess what Mark’s doing right now?)
Weekends, eh? That means church.
We’re still iffy on church. Grace Reformed is more like us in doctrine and in demeanor. But it’s far away, and we don’t see the need / feel the desire for a second service or a potluck *every* week, and — it’s far away. We will visit the Evangelical Free again tomorrow, even though we are a little wary about the culture there. (Is it too superficial, too surface-y, too many Christian bookstore stickers-y?)
I got stuck this morning.
With a needle. This is health screening weekend for our insurance. My blood pressure is good. I didn’t have any issues with having blood drawn. My body fat percentage is supposedly 32.8, which is a-couple-points-off-the-chart poor. According to that chart I’m obese.
And yeesh I hate health insurance and all the pigeon-holing and the prying. If I’d been limited to insurance coverage during PPD, I would have been shuffled in and out of therapy as quick as can be, with a fix-it focus that leaves no room for individuality or understanding. (I’m so thankful we were able to pay for Joe.) I hate the self-righteousness oozing out of the survey questions poking at me about my exercise and eating habits. Because unless I do exactly as everyone is supposed to do (hello, cookie-cutter world), I am to be condemned. Nutrition and activity are very complicated things, not all that amenable to a few multiple-choice questions.
Yes, I know, I do not get enough exercise. But I hate the thought of exercise for its own sake — it should be part of regular life. I guess there’s just not enough in my regular life that works my body sufficiently; you’d think carrying around almost twenty pounds of squirmy kid would help.
Speaking of sufficient, that’s about enough for now.