At work: cup of decaf coffee with half and half, a couple of swallows of strawberry-pineapple juice, cup of regular coffee with half and half. A customer ordered something they called a "London Fog"-- then described it as steamed milk with Earl Grey tea in it-- so I had a few leftover sips of that too, since it sounded interesting.
Lunch (3:45 pm, brought home from the restaurant): the cooks made me a mega-serving of the food I ordered-- japchae with bulgogi on top and some extra asian-style green beans thrown in. I appreciate that they like me (some of my coworkers complain of being given tiny servings), but, as I keep telling them, they are going to make me fat. I told Mrs. Park that I would eat some and save the rest for breakfast, but of course I ate it all.
We waited to eat dinner until late, after we went to see a musical (Caroline, or Change) assistant-directed by my stepson. It was an interesting show that we had to talk about afterwards, and also there were some stellar singers. The talking took place at the Metro 29 Diner in Arlington, so aggressively air-conditioned that my husband had to give me his shirt to wrap around myself. I wanted something small, just a sandwich and decaf. But all sandwiches that were of any interest to me came with fries. I wanted a tuna melt. I asked if I could substitute anything for the fries, decided on coleslaw, and received a massive platter with an open-face tuna melt (meaning about double the tuna and cheese you would normally find on the sandwich), a pile of lettuce and tomatoes on the side, a small cup of coleslaw, a much larger dish of additional coleslaw, a pickle, and four onion rings. My husband did want a sandwich and fries, received a large sandwich, a huge pile of fries, a small cup of coleslaw, a pickle, and four onion rings. We took home two big styrofoam boxes, one with some of his fries and most of the onion rings, and the other with half a tuna melt, an additional pile of tuna-with-cheese that I had scraped off the other half of the open-face sandwich so that I could put the two pieces of bread together, and a giant pile of coleslaw. I think we wasted my husband's pickle, as he doesn't like them and we didn't take it home. My husband speculated about what foreigners would say about ridiculous American serving sizes if they ate at the Metro 29. Speaking of American wastefulness, even the waitress, who was working hard, complained of being cold in this over-air-conditioned restaurant. My Korean immigrant employer, who was today complaining to me about how much food Americans waste, and also keeps his restaurant at a tropical 82 degrees, would be appalled.
Other snacks: cup of decaf coffee with half and half in the afternoon after work.