I am morally, ethically, spiritually, physically, positively, absolutely, un-de-niably and re-liably in love. Certifiably. With the High Line, that is. That delightful park built upon the elevated track right next to the Hudson River, along the west side of Manhattan.

Last week, Section 2 of the High Line opened up to the public. I have been waiting for just the right time to experience it myself. I usually walk in the early morning, both because it fits into my schedule and because there are usually very few people up there at that time. It always thrills me – whatever the season. But, man, they have dressed my High Line up for this particular moment. Like a grand dame all dolled up for the ball. The trees are lush, the flowers blooming, even the grasses are puffed up like peacocks.
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It’s always strange that last day (or at least last FULL day in Roma).

On one hand,  I want to eat everything I think I won’t be eating for awhile.  Although,  in fact,  it will be as if tomorrow when I will be here again.  It has been soltanto — only — a week that I’ve been here (or as the baristas in the coffee bar across from “my” apartmento said:  “poco, poco“).

In Piazza San Pietro

And – as you have read — I have eaten many wonderful Italian delights.  I am certain at no cost to the avoirdupois because I have eaten like the Italians.  Nothing in between my basic,  albeit indulgent,  repasts.  Un caffé and pastry in the morning.  Pasta, panino or pizza for lunch.  Usually one,  okay,  sometimes two,  gelato per day.  And light dinner if it was a heavy lunch and vice versa.   In between: camino, camino, camino. Walking walking walking.

So, on this “last” day,  I shall treat it like any other day in Roma.  Mangia bene and camino.

Oh, wait. I think it’s time for gelato!

Here I am, in the land of the Danes now, staying with my friend, the priest.  He lives in the center of beautiful Copenhagen.

Upon my arrival from Gatwick, 90 minutes from the land of mushy peas and crisps, I am greeted with a lunch, Danish style.  It came with instructions.  Thank God.  An appropriate thought, when lunching with a man of the cloth.  I recognized most of the ingredients of our repast.  It was in the design of the eating, I found fascination.

On that table was smoked salmon, some kind of sliced pork with swirls of parsley and pepper, dense dark bread, a sweeter type bread with golden raisins, cheese, tomatoes (that would be toe-MAH-toes), cucumbers, sliced sweet pickles and a bottle of Italian beer.

Now the instructions.

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And, we’re not talking those donut-shaped tiny little oat cereals.  I am posting from London, baby!  The land of fish & chips, fab Indian food, and baps (big ol’ luscious looking rolls).  Yum!

A glimpse into Janet Eats on vacay.  Vacations can, of course, be challenging on the food front.  There is a wonderful technique in Weight Watchers® that enables you beforehand to consider your weight goal.  Three choices: lose, stay the same, gain.  If gain, how much?  Lose?  Really!?  On vacation?!!!  You are a better man than I if you can make that your goal.  But, hey, it is YOUR weight loss journey.  I usually choose gain two-three pounds.  Generally, it works.  Especially if you add walking to the equation.  I tend to pick walking cities.  And, certainly London qualifies for that.  Even the little towns outside of London, which happens to be where I am staying with a friend.

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Mt. Saint Helens

You know you don’t have to climb every mountain.  Or, follow every rainbow.  But, if you are trying to set yourself realistic goals, then you can probably should add ford every stream to your list: one stream at a time, anyway.

When you decide you want to make a change in your life that will really stick, keep it simple.  Don’t go getting all grandiose about it.  “I want to lose weight” is not a good goal.

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