The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted: And Other Small Acts of by Elizabeth Berg
By Elizabeth Berg
Now with an extra story
Every from time to time, correct in the midst of a regular day, a lady kicks up her heels and commits a small act of liberation. What could you do if you happen to may perhaps shed the “shoulds” and do, say—and eat—whatever you actually wanted? pass AWOL from Weight Watchers and spend a complete day consuming each factor you will have? commence a relationship carrier for individuals over fifty to reclaim the razzle-dazzle on your life—or your marriage? search convenience within the face of getting older, search for love in the middle of loss, locate friendship within the so much awesome of areas? In those attractive, humorous tales, Elizabeth Berg takes us into the guts of the lives of ladies who do these kind of issues and more—confronting their real emotions, wants, and joys alongside the way.
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Additional info for The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted: And Other Small Acts of Liberation
He turned from closing the door. “Agnes. Hey! ” She ﬁngered the necklace. “Yes, well . . just trying this out. ” “It’s great. ” “Well, it’s . . ” “Keep it. ” “Well . . thank you, Harold. We’ll see. But . . sweetheart? ” He smiled, sheepish. “I don’t know. I left work early. ” “You did? Well, I’d love to, but it’s . ” She looked at her watch. ” Four! Her stomach tensed; she Returns and Exchanges 25 could feel the prickle of perspiration starting under her arms. “I thought you could knock off early, too.
There was not a thing in the world wrong with her old linoleum ﬂoor. But there was Marjorie Beauman over for lunch one day, talking about how there was a sale, talking about how tile could make over a whole room, that you could even get heated tiles! ” And Helen fell for it, even though she would rather be in her little Wisconsin town than Daytona Beach any day, summer or winter. So yes, Helen knows very well that Grandma Ute’s platter is gone, thrown out in the trash last year with the unwanted food left on the plates (so much cranberry sauce, after she’d gone to the trouble to make the garliccranberry chutney that that Susan Stamberg had raved about on NPR).
Yes, maybe so. She called the number back, and he picked up on the ﬁrst ring. She identiﬁed herself using her married name, Agnes Miller, the owner of 50 + 50. ” he said. ” Agnes did not. “Yes, I do,” she said. “There are several women in whom you may be interested. ” “Retired, rich, divorced, handsome, and healthy. ” “Bored” was the man’s word for lonely, that much Agnes had learned. ” she asked. “Well . . ” Agnes had no partners; she worked alone, but she thought the pronoun “we” offered a certain sense of legitimacy.