So, after I met with my nutritionist (the lovely Nancy Bennett) in San Francisco, I walked a few blocks to the Ferry Building, which is in the shadow of the Bay Bridge. Yes, you can catch a ferry there, but most people go there to partake in the foodie experience.
Want gluten-free bread? Organic pomegranates? Overpriced–er, I mean gourmet–chocolates? No prob. There’s a wine bar and a tea place, and if you are feeling a quart low, a fancy olive oil joint.
Of course, being the Midwest girl that I am, it was the lure of “tasty salted pig parts” that stopped me in my tracks.
I came, I inhaled, I took a photo. But I did not eat the pig.
Instead, I got a glass of iced green tea and sat in the sunshine and looked at the Bay. It was a good day.
Sweets are not on my food plan, so when the little cookie-pushers in the green berets came to the door, I rebuffed them with a “Thanks, we already bought some.”
Then, Keeper called my bluff and demanded some Trefoils or Samoas or even some of those Lemon Creme Thingies. I had to admit I was lying.
it wasn’t over. We were accosted outside the supermarket this weekend and we gave into the chocolaty temptation known as Thin Mints. It is 4 days later and there are still a few left in that single box of succulent wafers, but only because of my white-knuckled willpower.
My aqua fitness teacher asked if I had ever had them frozen.”They’re scrumptious!” she declared.
No, I haven’t. I don’t need them to be more delectable. I need them to be way LESS yummy.
Girl Scouts, be gone! And take your overpriced boxes of sugary goodness with you!
We all know that being in a bad mood can lead to binge eating. Sometimes you need to take a walk to shake it, or call a friend, or slap yourself upside the head. OR you could just go to YouTube! Here is my latest favorite video with a Cute Factor that’s off the charts. I dare you to watch this and remain grumpy.
Sometimes a girl has to have some meat. Preferably, the highly processed kind that’s mostly fat and is laden with nitrates. Or nitrites. Or whatever.
Such a day was today, and I took myself to the Omelet House, which was deserted at 10 am except for people speaking Albanian and Japanese. I hunkered down with my breakfast while reading Hugh MacLeod’s “Ignore Everyone” and scarfed down the bacon, the English muffin, a couple forkfuls of hashbrowns, and some eggs.
I’ve been paying for it ever since. After two months on a new regime of mostly veggies, my body can’t digest animal fat and simple carbs. But, oh, what a nice, salty, crunchy plate of edible sin it was.
When I talked my husband into getting a dog, a process that involved much manipulation and some outright lying, the thing that persuaded him the most was my promise to get lots of exercise walking our new fur baby.
Two years later, I’m getting lots of exercise, but not with the dog.
Corky, our French Bulldog, is what can nicely be referred to as “untrainable.” In other words, she’s stupid. She still doesn’t understand that the halter and leash mean serious power walking, not a zig-zag nose-to-the-ground sniff fest. You’d be surprised how strong a 25-pound bulldog can be. She pulls me all over the neighborhood in search of the latest messages posted by other dogs on fence posts and car tires. Here’s a message for you: hurry up and squat!
True to the spirit of my promise, I am getting a lot more exercise now that we have a dog. Here’s how I do it. I take Corky out for a quick pee, put her in her crate and then get in the car and drive to the Y.
This week, it’s all about the noodle. I am learning to love aqua fitness and my fine foam friend, the aqua noodle.
I wish I had invented this guy (being demonstrated at left by a bunch of New Zealanders). Not only does it hold you up in the deep end of the pool in a much cooler way than, say, water wings, you can straddle it and ride it like a pony. Oh, yeah.
I do know who invented one kind of noodle – the instant ramen variety that sustains so many college students. It was Mokofuku Ando, the Japanese magnate who spent a year in a shed perfecting the drying process and giving birth to both instant ramen and Cup-O-Noodles. I know this because I just finished a fascinating memoir called “The Ramen King and I: How the Inventor of Instant Noodles Fixed My Love Life,” The author is funny guy and NPR commentator Andy Raskin, who (whom?) I had the pleasure of meeting when he spoke to our San Francisco writing club.
My world would be no different if Momofuku had failed to reach his goal of inventing this particular over-processed, high-sodium dehydrated food, but I can’t imagine life without my aqua noodle. Thanks, nameless person who thought of this. Hi ho Silver, away!
