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A few things happened today:

1) I was swimming with the old ladies and one of them told me I had a “svelte body.” I thought about this and how swimming with the old ladies is the greatest thing ever, until the old ladies got out and the aggressive swimmers got in. I had to share with a man who propped up a little training booklet at the end of our lane. The first page of his training booklet was titled, “FORCE.” Heavy sigh.

Salt Pig

2) I bought a salt pig, which I kept calling a salt cellar. The young woman at Sur La Table jumped right on that and said, “Ooooh let me show you my favorite salt cellars. THEY’RE BAMBOO.” And they were $50. And they had little twisty lids which would never work if you don’t measure salt while cooking and just grab it with your fingers and go. They were beautiful salt cellars made of bamboo, people. I’m not going to lie. But I said, “No, I want one shaped like this [hand motion].” And she said, “Ooooh what you want is a salt PIG.” And I said, “Indeed.” She had no favorite salt pigs so I bought this one. It’s a salt pig. And perfect for salting pasta water. Can we all take a pledge that we’ll all HEAVILY salt our pasta water from here on out? It should taste like the sea. Start salting your pasta water, people. And get a salt PIG to make the job easier.

3) While we’re taking pledges, can we also all pledge that we will never drop our children off at school in our jammies or cleaning the house clothes. Today I saw several women wearing what I can only describe as fleece rags paired with t-shirt tatters. A few wore no bras. One was sucking on a Starbucks to-go mug. If you had time for Starbucks (the nearest one to school is at least three miles) then you had time to put on jeans. And a pair of earrings. Also (pro-tip) chambray shirts look stylish and are comfortable. Pair it with a scarf and you’re on your way.

The bottom line is when I see people out in the world in their pajamas I can only think I’ve caught a glimpse deep into their personal lives. One that I didn’t want to see. Ever. And you might go home after you drop off your child and put back on your rags, but there’s no need to advertise to the world that you have absolutely nothing to do with a solid five hours of your day. Pretend! Pretend you’re going somewhere important! Pretend you’re not going to sit around eating bon bons! Pretend you haven’t given up. Please. And take the pledge in the comments of this post, if you don’t mind.