The Whitney Chronicles. Judy Baer

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СКАЧАТЬ thousand three hundred and sixteen calories?

      I have to stay calm. Running screaming into the street would not help. I ran by it again…. I’m on a 1200-calorie-a-day diet; 7316 divided by 1200 equals…six days. That means I can’t eat again until September 21!

      Stay calm. Start over. Tomorrow will be a clean slate. I’ll utilize all I’ve learned so that I don’t make those mistakes again. Can rubber bands stretch enough to compensate for today?

      My prayers for tonight: For a successful trip to Las Vegas, for my boss and officemates (as undeserving as they may be—just kidding!), Mom’s hot flashes, Dad’s sanity, Eric’s memory and my life as a thirty-something. Where do You want me in this new decade of my life, Lord? And gratitude—for all of the above and for Your Son, Who loved me more than I can ever imagine.

      Humbly,

      Whitney

      CHAPTER 2

      God wants everyone to eat and drink and be Happy in His work. These are gifts from God.

      —Ecclesiastes 3:13

      September 20

      I’m getting the hang of this journal thing. It’s like telling a close personal friend about my day. I haven’t made much progress in the self-improvement area other than managing to get the zipper closed on my fat pants.

      I returned the black blouse. Since I’d put the blouse on my credit card, I didn’t really feel I’d spent any money—or gained any when I returned it. So, being financially even, I went shopping, bought shoes and, naturally, charged them. There is something to be said for the tactile quality of cash. It is definitely much harder to pry out of my hand than plastic.

      My feet are pretty much the only things on my body that don’t change size. Of course, my mother did tell me if I didn’t wear shoes, my arches would fall and I’d be flat-footed for the rest of my life. She also taught me that if I didn’t quit crossing my eyes, they would freeze that way, and if I drank coffee, it would stunt my growth. It’s a wonder I’m alive today considering all the risks I took.

      September 21

      Dad has begun hiding out to get away from Mother and her wildly fluctuating body temperature. He offered to come over and fix my plumbing (which isn’t broken), build me a piece of furniture (something he’s never done before in his life) and repaint my ceilings. He is one desperate man, so I invited him over for a visit. I thought I might cheer him up.

      “Have you got something for me to do?” were his first words. “Please?”

      “What’s Mother up to today?”

      “Cleaning closets. She rented a Dumpster and is emptying everything we own into it. I expect to go home to an empty house.”

      “Don’t worry. There’s probably a lot of junk you needed to get rid of by now.”

      Dad scowled at me. “It’s only ‘junk’ until you throw it away. Have you noticed that as soon as the garbagemen leave the neighborhood, we have to replace everything we never thought we’d use again? Your mother is going to send me into bankruptcy!”

      “It can’t be that bad. What harm can she do? Try to be more open-minded about this phase of her life,” I encouraged.

      “‘Open-minded?’ Whitney, if I’m any more open-minded where your mother is concerned, my brains will fall out!”

      I have the greatest father in the world. He’s odd, unique and one of a kind, but he’s also tenderhearted and very patient where his “little girl” and his wife are concerned. Mom is wonderful, but she can be opinionated, single-minded, stubborn and, these days, totally off-the-wall. If their strengths and weaknesses were blended together, they’d make one amazing parent—and one delightfully wacky one. They met as teenagers and it was love at first sight—on my dad’s part. Mom had taken longer to come around. Tiny, extroverted and beautiful, she’d had men circling her like planes over Dallas, and it had taken her a while to fit Dad onto her radar screen. Dad said she was the most popular girl on campus. Another thing I can’t relate with Mom about….

      “Coffee, Dad?”

      “Are you kidding? It’s two o’clock in the afternoon! Do you want me to be up all night? Do you know what caffeine does to me? Combine that with your mother jumping up to turn on the air conditioner and me having to go to the bathroom….” He shook his head so dismally, my heart nearly broke.

      “It’s not that bad, Dad. She’ll get over this, things will be better soon. Don’t think of your glass as half empty. Think of it as half full.”

      He gave me a wry grin. “Yeah, and before long I’ll have my teeth floating in it.”

      September 22

      I thought Harry (and, by association, Betty) would become hysterical when Kim and I outlined the plans for getting a late booth into the technology show in Las Vegas. The ideas were feasible, even downright brilliant…but also expensive. Unfortunately, Harry’s hobby is pinching pennies until they scream. I had to pay full price for airline tickets, and coach was booked, which meant an upgrade to first class. There was only one room left in the conference hotel, and that was a suite. Add to that the cost of the booth, getting signage and entertaining a client list (who, being called at the last moment, would need to be treated with extra—read expensive—care) and Harry might as well have invested in a small gold mine. But you can’t pull something together in a week for the cost of something planned months in advance. Unfortunately we who already knew this had to suffer right along in Harry’s learning curve.

      The good news is that his tantrum was short-circuited by an incredibly handsome new client arriving at the office between “Do you know how much this is going to cost” and—my favorite—“Next time plan ahead for these unplanned surprises.”

      Handsome Client had a great smile, dark brown hair and eyes so green they remind me of the Emerald Isle. (The one I’ve seen in travel magazines. I want to see it in person soon—add that to Yearly Goals.) And he was six feet tall, athletically slim and wore the best suit I’ve seen outside of GQ. I found myself wondering if he was nice, Christian and single. Mother would have been so proud.

      Harry called me into his office to introduce me to Matthew Lambert, CEO of a small but successful firm that roasts peanuts, pecans and the like. Lambert also makes nut butters, glazed and candied nuts and a dozen other calorie-laden items.

      Matthew Lambert must have noticed me licking my lips in response to his job description, because he commented on my apparent enthusiasm for the project. Actually, all I’d had for lunch was a pathetic pile of tuna and three slices of melba toast.

      Lambert is building a completely automated and computerized plant and wants Harry to design some specialized software. Apparently he wants a computer that can roast peanuts. If technology can provide a way to burn CDs, it seems like roasting a peanut should be a snap.

      Harry always calls me in for the preliminaries. This is usually best for all concerned, as I have some social graces. I take over while Harry disappears with his stable of computer geeks to work his software magic. He has a deft hand on a mouse and the ability to memorize all of the numbers in a phone book. I, on the other hand, have a personality.

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