Hello darlings! Sunday started off innocently. It tried to fool me with its tranquil blue skies and false pretenses of being filled with nothing more than a workout, homework and grocery shopping. But did it ever have something up its sleeve.
I awoke to a sun-drenched room before my alarm sounded. Strolling into the kitchen to make coffee, I wondered why each day couldn’t be made of frivolous shopping trips. I suppose that would take a bottomless bank account. I snapped back to my real life and selected oats as the best Sunday breakfast. I microwaved them out of sheer laziness, and was not disappointed in the results:
In the bowl: 1/3 C oats, 1 C water, tons of cinnamon, few scoops of sweet potato puree, a squirt of agave and finished with a peanut butter swirl. Banana was excluded also because of sheer laziness. It didn’t make a significant difference, as this tasted like Christmas in a bowl:
Muffin hopped off the elliptical earlier than I did in order to make it home and shower in time for a meeting. Alone, I read and ellipticized away. MamaJ called me on my last leg of my workout, announcing that a project for which I modeled was finally up and running.
After working on the abs, I flew out of the gym and into the library. I needed to see it immediately. Ladies and gentlemen, please click to see Kailey, the bikini-clad Avalanche Ice Queen. WHAT! I was shocked to see my nearly nude self on the ice company’s home page.
This added fuel to my fire, or snow to my baby snowball. I have made a decision. I will be going to Chicago on October 24 to audition for the Victoria’s Secret Runway Show. Call me crazy. Call me dumb. I don’t care. I’m 21, 5’10” and in my prime, and I’m not giving up on a wild dream. No matter what happens, it’s going to be a crazy experience that makes for great writing material, right?
Too excited to function, I strutted home to carry on with my present. A hot shower later, I fixed a cold plate for lunch:
On the plate: mushrooms, carrots, grapes and two Wasa’s smeared with not-Sabra hummus (which isn’t very good–I’m such a Sabra snob!) and topped with heirloom tomato slices and pepper. A bowl of salsa was eaten with this (used for dipping, of course). I followed this up with some hot Sugar Cookie Sleigh Ride tea.
I tried my best to get some reading finished in the afternoon. In addition to reading one short story, I managed to read 20+ blog posts. Senioritis, there is no way you can be doing this to me already. Please don’t!
Muffin swung by my house at 6:30pm so we could grocery shop together. Walmart disappointed me today: no whole wheat wraps, no whole wheat pitas and no Sugar Cookie Sleigh Ride. To prevent myself from falling into depression, I purchased Candy Cane Lane and Gingerbread Spice. Holiday paraphernalia, you get me every single time.
We sang a love song, and then went along, walking in a Walmart wonderland. And then we drove home, unpacked my groceries and separated. I threw together a quick salad for dinner component numero uno:
In the mix: baby lettuce, carrots, cucumber, banana peppers, chickpeas, salsa and balsamic vinaigrette. This blurry thing is obnoxious, sorry! For course numero due, I had something dessert-y:
Butternut squash is winning me over at the moment. Divine! I was full after this, but a new purchase was calling my name. I needed a Honeycrisp the way Anna Wintour needs her bob. I felt lost without it:
There was something wrong with this apple! It was juicy, sweet, gigantic, but it wasn’t a Honeycrisp. Jonagold, you’re OK, but you’re on the D-list when it comes to my apple ranking.
Monday’s agenda consists of a workout, class and major projects. This ice queen will be fantasizing about future travels, both this coming weekend and the weekend of the 24th. Big things poppin’, and lil’ things stoppin’!
Ciao for now,
QUESTION: What do you want to be when you grow up? What did your five-year-old self say, too?
Clearly, I want to be a writer and work in magazines. But I want to try so many other things, too! I thought I’d given up on modeling, but for some reason I can’t just yet. And eventually, I want to host my own show (crazy, I know). My five-year-old self would have said “pediatrician.” Not even kidding!
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