Searching for calories to replace what I burned at the end of my jog, I find them (and then some) at a Sonic Drive In. Perfect. I didn’t even have to put my t shirt on. The car hop brought it outside to my steel mesh table. This was in need of a good steam clean and I felt a tinge of O.C.D. (ala Tony Shalhoubis) as I considered putting a napkin down for each elbow to rest upon. Instead, I left behind my own sweaty schmutz added to the layers.
CS! Speaking of jogging (at a slower pace), I’m following your example and walking through the Fig Garden neighborhood rather than round and round the CSUF track. It’s loverly — the neighborhood, not the track.