I’ve been meeting with a new-to-me group of girls during the week.  The hostess of the group said to me, “Make us your Wednesday group. You sit with the others on Thursday, but you can sit with us every Wednesday.”  And you know what?  I just might do that.  I’m thinking about collecting a group for every day of the week.  Just like those days of the week underwears. 

At this very moment of writing, I’m waiting for the sunset prayer call.  You see, I’ve been doing this cleanse (shh.. secret!) but then my body shuddered when I took a sip of that awful lemon juice/maple syrup concoction, so I quit the cleanse.  I kept fasting, though, because I’m comitted like that.  I am also culturally intertwined.  So while I don’t fast like my neighbours (no water or food from sunrise to sunset, but eating/drinking is permitted at night) I’m going to break my fast the way that they do.  When the prayer call goes off, I’ll pray, and then dive into the plate of cut veggies and homemade hummus that I have prepared.  It’s sitting right over there.  I can see it.

But do you know what?  There is a part of me that’s a little sad to be breaking my fast.  It’s a strange feeling, one that I’ve never experienced before.  Usually, I’m so ready to sink my teeth into some lovely carbs.  At the end of my last fast, I ate a bowl of vegetable soup, then a cooked potato, then a piece of bread, and I think even a cookie.  I was only supposed to eat the vegetable soup.  I kind of failed at the fast ending.  This time, I’ve been trying to prepare myself mentally. 

Oh my gosh!  There it goes!  The prayer call.  Mm… zucchini and hummus.  So delicious.  Feels weird to be chewing again.