Immediately post-workout. Famished.

I took an hour-long aerobic weightlifting class this evening. I took my own dumbell sets because there are seldom enough to go around. The instructor, a monster in the guise of a tiny powerhouse of a woman, whupped us all good. Then I took my two sets of dumbells and hoofed it home, forcing myself to walk to the beat of whatever fast song was playing on my iPod. Result: I am exhilarated, exhausted, and starving. We have not grocery shopped. So I broke out some freezer stashes of Trader Joe's cioppino and started it simmering. Food was not happening fast enough, so I made up a small bowl of olives and various pickles, and am snarfing them down. Please don't be harsh with me, but I think pickled okra (Talk O' Texas brand) is one of the better brine-preserved foods around (second only to anchovy-stuffed olives from Spain). And lucky for me, my husband won't go near okra. Which means that whenever I stock up on jars of salty okra goodness, I get them all to myself. mwah-hah-hah...munch munch munch...