The Eastern Ones

Friday night we decided it was time to actually go out and do something fun. I don't know what it was about this last week, but it seemed particularly brutal. Not for any specific reason, just generally busy and crazy, but that's nothing new around here. So we thought we'd treat ourselves to something we'd never done before.

We hooked up with some friends, whom we've been trying to get together with for months, but things just keep coming up. They are great fun, and they like Indian food. So we went along, because we're sheepish, and we follow what our friends tell us to do.

I'm asking you, why haven't we had Indian food until now? Why? It's delicious! Emma's best friend in Chicago was Indian, and we had dinner with them once, and she made pizza. Indian food fail. But this time, I actually went out on a limb and ordered something I knew would look disgusting, but it was delicious. Chicken Saag. Mmmmm. Green slimy cooked spinach with chunks of chicken over basmati rice. A little Naan, and I was good to go!

Problem with Indian food is that although delicious and very aromatic, the spices infiltrate your clothes and leave you and all your accessories smelling like Indian food. My phone smelled like it the next day. My necklace did too. Weird.

So next time we go to Taste of India, I'm wearing a rubber suit, and ordering the Chicken Saag with cheese Naan.

Because I'm Totally Failing

As you may notice, I have accumulated exactly 0 miles toward my goal of running 26.2 miles this month. I'm a winner. First month in and I'm already failing.

I have lots of good excuses, though. This reminds me of an ancient Chinese proverb that Sean reminds me of repeatedly.

"Excuses are like butt holes. Everyone has one, and they all stink."

Ahh, poetry.


In an attempt to quell the voices of failure that are rampant in my head right now, I am actually doing something good for my body. I am currently, as we speak, presently, eating a cup of fruit.

Eating would be a word I'm using loosely, because mostly I'm gagging it down one piece at a time.

I searched out a specific kind of fruit cup, the ones that are being advertised as being packed in 100% juice, because I thought they would be easier to eat than the ones packed in ooey gooey syrupy ick.

Turns out, the juice packed ones aren't making it that much easier on my fruit-phobic palate.

But it is thwarting the failure feeling inside me by distracting the voices from saying "nee nee nee nee nee, we knew you couldn't do it!" to a glom of confusion with this new healthy snack.

Just when I think the voices have triumphed, they are the ones that are failing! Take that, voices! Ha!

It's Really No Excuse

I understand it's the Holidays, and all, but this eating thing has seriously got to stop. Let me be clear. I'm not eating too much. I physically can't. But I can eat crap. Loads and loads of sugary sweetness and calorie laden crap.

People, I'm being honest here. I cannot remember the last time I ate fruit. Wait, yes I can. I had one raspberry off the top of my creme brulee the other night. Does that even count? I don't like fruit, therefore, I have a hard time eating it. See how that works?

But fo realz, what do I do? I feel like I can't make improvements in my eating habits because I'm so scared. That is just silly, I know. But it's true. There are a couple of variables to this problem. One, my kids. They complain about everything they eat. Unless it's macaroni and cheese. I might just drop kick one of them if they ask for mac and cheese one more time this week. And it's only Wednesday. Two, physically I'm not able to eat a lot of foods. Rice, out. Bread, out. Anything with a tortilla, iffy. Those things make me barf, and that's not good.

So where do I even begin? I know the best way to start off the day is with a good breakfast, but I can't physically eat breakfast, so I usually pop a couple of tums and have a glass of Ovaltine. Lunch is hit and miss, if I feel like it, I'll eat whatever the kids are eating (usually mac and cheese). Dinner time is the worst. My kids complain no matter what it is, and hubby will pretty much eat anything, so I usually defrost something and call it good. I can eat pretty well at dinner time, but sometimes I can't. If I still seem hungry later, I'll drown my sorrows with some Ben and Jerry's or some Milano cookies.

See? Bad. I need help. This is my rock bottom, I think.

What's For Lunch?

It's 10:30 ish at my house, and the kids are already asking for lunch. This is so funny to me. They get up at the butt crack of dawn, okay, like 7, eat a ton of cereal and yogurt, and then by 10:30 they want lunch. Man, it's a good thing they don't go to school, and have to wait until 12:30 for lunch, they would starve!

So for today's "lunch", we're having two things. Maggie is making her own quesadilla, which she loves to do since she has figured out how to use the 30 second button on the microwave. Fine with me, I don't mind giving her a little bit more independence. And Gretta is having Ravioli. Only the kind from the can. We bought some Roasted Pepper And Braised Short Rib Ravioli that came in a bag a few nights ago. I liked it. The kids? Not so much. They prefer Chef Boyardee. I guess their palates aren't ready for more than that yet.

Even though it's a little early for lunch, I don't mind too much. I have bowling today, and if the kids eat lunch here at home, that means less moolah I have to for over for bowling alley snacks later on. Win win, see? I bowl, they play, no greasy food. I do have to say that I don't agree with the bowling alley rule about now outside food or drink. I need my McDonald's coke, and the snack bar coke just isn't the same. Maybe I'll try and sneak it in. Do you think they'd revoke my league membership?

Probably not worth it for a little coke.

Lachanophobia

It seems I've been suffering with this phobia for some time now. And it has actually started to affect my daily life. I guess it's time to do something about it.

But what?

Well, for one, I could just get over it. I could seek therapy, or group counseling, but I doubt that will help.

I could make friends with some vegetarians, but then I would feel like they were being all judgy and whatnot because of my choices.

I could take a vitamin, but I can't swallow those giant horse pills.

So what's a girl with fear of vegetables to do?

I bought myself some liquid multivitamin drink stuff from Sam's Club.

Honestly, I don't usually have a problem eating my veggies. It mostly fruit. I can't remember the last time I ate fruit. It seriously scares me. But lately my restless legs have gotten so bad, that even my medicine isn't touching it, which makes me a very nice person to live with, if you can imagine that.

So after some research, Sean found that low levels of iron and folic acid are sometimes a culprit in restless legs syndrome, and also the lack of fruits and vegetables in the diet. I'm desperate, so I'll try anything. I bought myself some V8 Fusion, you know, the yummy fruity drink that has a full serving of veggies in it too. I really like it! And it makes my poop pretty. I know you wanted to know that.

I'm hoping with the drink, combined with the multivitamin drink, combined with the iron supplement I'll be taking, things will have settled down ( I crack me up). Wish me luck.

Stuffed

Well, folks, we had it. Turkey dinner for 16 people. And I'm fairly sure that no one died of food poisoning during the weekend, so that makes me pretty happy.

It was a great day. 2 big turkeys. One roasted regular style, and one deep fried in canola oil. Mashed potatoes, stuffing, rolls, and gravy topped it all off, and it was delicious, if I do say so myself. We were treated to yams (sweet potatoes, whatever), jello salad, and 3 banana cream pies, too! Seriously, it was like a little slice of home right in my kitchen.

So thanks to all my peeps for showing up, and for not complaining that the gravy was a little greasy, or that the deep fried turkey was an hour late making its entrance. You guys are the best!

Fun For Friday

No picture today, sorry.

But I do have a story.

My friend Heidi, whom I love and adore, for she does all the things I only think about doing, has a post on her blog that reminded me of a great experience I had growing up. I actually started commenting on her blog, but then I realized I should just post it here. So here you go.

And to my sibs, please, fill in the gaps, for I'm sure my memory fails me.

When I was younger, say 12 or 13, my dad got this harebrained idea to raise live turkeys for Thanksgiving. The ultimate goal was to raise them to adulthood, then give the live turkeys away to the neighbors as gag gifts. Mean, I know, but my dad has that sort of personality.

So my dad and my brother fashioned the turkeys a little house out of metal, and we made them a cage that sat positioned between the shed and my dad's shop. It was a little swath of land, about 4 feet wide by 7 or 8 feet long. A cozy place to grow, if you're a turkey.

As I recall, we started out with maybe 10 or 11 turkeys. They were cute little chicks. (Is that what baby turkeys are called?) But then they started to grow. They grew fast, and they grew ugly. Turkeys are so weird looking. They get all matted and covered in poop, and their tiny heads are oddly out of proportion to their burgeoning busts. After the first few weeks, they quit being our cute pets, and became annoying stink bombs covered in feces.

Then the rain storms came. This was back in the day when it actually rained in Utah, and we didn't have the perpetual drought like we do now. Or maybe it was because I was a kid, and we only remember what we want to remember. Anyway, the rain came down. Not to worry, for the turkey's had their little piece of shelter in which to hide from the rains. We thought it no trouble. We had been out to dinner, Su Casa, if I remember correctly, and when we returned home, we had to do our duty and check on the turkeys.

The turkeys were dead. All but 1. There was no blood, no guts, no buckshot, nothing to lead us in the direction of their death. Until it started raining a little harder as we stood there. Then we realized the turkey house was near the down spout of the rain gutter. Now, a normal brained animal would think to run uphill, away from the water. The turkeys, however, stood their ground, and merely looked up at the torrent that poured down upon them. They looked up so intently, that they drown in the rain.

Yes, people, they died because the couldn't look away from the rain. They drown in the rain.

There was one lone remaining turkey, and it lived until Thanksgiving. We then boxed it up, put a bow on it, and gave it to the neighbor. Certainly this wasn't as funny as if the entire neighborhood had ended up with live turkey's on their doorsteps, but one was all we had to work with.

I forget who the recipient of the turkey was, so if it was a reader, please let me know. I owe you an apology, at the least.

So this year, when you're cooking up your big turkey feast, think about how many other turkey's had to die in the rain so your one could be saved.

Stupid bird brained turkeys.

Happy Friday!

Huevos

My kids are funny in the mornings. One of them is completely content with a sippy cup of milk, one of them thinks any sort of cereal is pretty cool, and the other one thinks she needs 2 eggs, scrambled, to start her day. I'll let you deduce which kid likes which.

Okay, I'll tell you.

When school first started this year, I was giving the kids cereal just like I have every other day for the last 4 years of school. Obviously this means Emma is my cereal kid. But with Mags, it wasn't doing the trick. She would come home from school and be in this weird zombie like state. Now, I don't mean just tired or bored, it was like she couldn't function. She would just sit and stare into space. And it would last for hours. At first I thought she just needed to get out of the house, so we started doing bike rides or walks around the block. It didn't really help that much. Then, after some great insight from my awesome mother in law, I decided it might be a sugar thing. So I started giving her eggs in the morning.

It was like a magic bullet.

The very first day we did eggs, she came home in a great mood, had much less desire to eat snacks all day, and she seemed like her normal self. It changed her whole demeanor. She was happy, engaged, and had more energy.

Luckily, whatever it is isn't serious, because I had her sugar checked at her Kindergarten physical (which is a whole nother post in itself). I guess it just took something like this for me to see first hand that what we put into our bodies really does make a difference.

But Emma, she's still perfectly content to eat cereal. And Gretta, she'll stick with her sippy cup, and sometimes she'll eat the leftover eggs.

Me, I'll have a Coke, please. I didn't say I needed to watch what I put into my body.