Some may think I may have married my husband for his cooking abilities. When I bit into my turkey sandwich at lunchtime today, his cooking ability was definitely one of the millions of reasons I married him.
Turkey on rye with a helping of stuffing and cranberry sauce for garnish. Perfection.
Burp.
It is a well-established fact that popcorn is my favorite food. I can eat popcorn for any occasion and quite frankly, I can even eat leftover popcorn and enjoy it very much. Popcorn was omnipresent on the supper table when I was growing up; soup, popcorn and hot dogs were a favorite for the hibernation months of winter. Grandma Country made popcorn every Saturday night for Gramps and there was always leftover popcorn in a big bowl on Sunday morning when we went over for coffee and donuts, a ritual that was called “Family Day”.
I was trained early on that the proper way to serve popcorn was in a big bowl so that it could be easily accessed by several people in the efforts of sharing. Multiple hands, dirty and clean, reached into the popcorn bowl back in the day and we all survived. There was no Purell present. We just used common sense.
Since hibernation season has officially begun with dark evenings, I thought it was appropriate that we have a big bowl of popcorn as Earl and I relaxed in the living room. This is what it looks like after about a half hour. The bowl was empty shortly after this picture was taken.
I was able to drive home my normal commuting route yesterday for the first time in a while. With all the flooding and such that has been going on this week many of the roads have been closed. I was happy to see that the Amish Baked Goods stand was open.
Another car pulled up to the small building ahead of me. They stopped to talk to one of the Amish men before making their way to the items for sale. As I looked over the goods, I noticed that there was just one pie for sale. It was an apple pie. I purchased that right away, along with a plate of chocolate chip cookies. The girl working the stand was the same girl that has been working there right along. She isn’t much of a conversationalist, but she did look me in the eyes when she said the only two words spoken to me, “You’re welcome”. I was happy to hear that we had progressed to two words, last time it was just “Yes”.
As I made gathered up the goodies and started back to the Jeep, the other couple made their way to the stand. I heard the woman exclaim, “Oh, pickles!”
I hope the stand is open for a few more weeks. The weather is perfect for a quick stop there before the weekend.
For when you’re having one of those days.
Copycat of Woolworth’s Macaroni and Cheese
Cook – 7 oz package of macaroni
Melt – 8 oz Velveeta
1 stick Margarine
½ cup milk
Add-
4 oz sharp grated cheddar cheese
Stir In –
1 can cream of celery
1 cup mayonnaise (DO NOT USE SALAD DRESSING)
Salt and pepper to taste
Cook until smooth on low stirring constantly.
Combine with macaroni and spoon into lightly buttered casserole.
Bake 15 minutes @ 350. Garnish top with pimento.. Woolworth used stuffed olives.
The headache was due to a wonky caloric thing. I just had a cheeseburger breadstick at Dunkin’ Donuts and the headache is gone. The cheeseburger breadstick suspiciously looks and acts like a HotPocket but I can deal.
I need to adjust something in the diet this week. It’s fun living as your own science experiment.
The DD site does not list the calorie information for this stuffed breadstick, so I’ll just assign in 300 calories and leave it at that. I have no idea if that’s accurate or not.
Today’s jump on the scale confirmed something that I had already suspected: I have started losing weight again. And this is a good thing.
The irony of the situation is that I started losing weight when I stopped trying. I’m eating normal meals in what I like to call “Leave It To Beaver sized” portions (eating serving sizes common in the 50s and 60s vs the gargantuan sized portions we eat today) and I have opted for less fat if in a situation where I have to eat a fast food meal (no fries, no mayo on the grilled chicken, etc.)
My body is liking being treated normally again. I have to admit that I’m quite pleased.
“I’m so sick of being hungry.” So be honest, if you’re watching your weight, how many times has that thought crossed your mind on any given day? It usually passes through on it’s way to the next thought, “My gods that ice cream sundae looks delicious” or “I’ll skip the pepperoni on these four slices of pizza so I can stick to my diet.”
I think I have figured out that if you’re hungry all the time your body is going to rebel against your dieting and start storing food because it’s kicked into survival mode. Go too far in the other direction and you’re quickly popping buttons all over the cubicle.
Where’s the balance?
As I grow older I find that I have to be more and more attentive to what I eat. The metabolism that burned two Big Macs, a large fries and a big pop during a trip for a McRib rusted out long ago. Now it’s all about celery, lettuce and Trader Joe’s rice noodles.
Let’s face it, dehydrated mushrooms are not sexy.
Long ago I lost a bunch of weight and I really don’t want to get back in that direction. It’s no secret that I enjoy beefy guys, after all I really love me some bear, but for some reason I have this self-image of me back when I weighed 160 and when I look in the mirror it can be a sobering reality check.
I know I’m not alone in all this. I try not to whine about it that often, but counting calories and balancing fat grams and multiplying, dividing and doing basic algebra with carb counts is becoming quite tedious.
Tonight I jumped on my bike for maybe the second or third time of the season. It was my first time using my new cycling shoes and pedals. The ride was awesome, the shoes and pedals are excellent and my body feels really good after the 1 1/2 hour ride. Cycling gives me such a rush that I can not duplicate in the gym doing cardio, lifting weights or jumping on a trampoline.
I need to stay determined to cycle and to balance it all out, I need to keep doing the calorie mathematics.
Sigh.
A picture using the Linux computer. I feel good tonight. I hope it looks it.
Saturday night whilst in Virginia Beach Earl and I were walking the resort area looking for a place to eat. The last time we were there we ate at the Abbey Road something or other so we decided not to try that again. I’m not a big seafood person and being on the ocean and all, Virginia Beach has a lot to offer in the way of seafood. I was about to cave in and eat some scrod or whatever when we found Murphy’s Irish Pub. They used that celtic looking font and everything on the sign. We decided to give it a try.
We went entered Murphy’s the first thing we noticed was that Virginia still allows smoking in restaurants. I chuckle at the idea of “smoking” and “non-smoking” areas of buildings because if you really think about it, it’s like trying to have a “piss” and “no piss” section of a swimming pool. We kindly asked the hostess for a seat in the non-smoking section where she promptly took us to a different room and seated us at a very nice booth.
In the corner.
Next to a birthday party.
Where there were 30 people gathered around a very long table.
Said people were drunk.
And loud.
The party was apparently for an older gentleman, I assuming grandfather or father, it was hard to gauge which due to the huge amount of makeup on the party attendees. I had the feeling that the guest of honour had no idea where he was, who he was or what was going on because he had a vacant, bewildered look on his face the entire time.
A little annoyed but somewhat amused by the activity around our table, (the hot waiter climbed over a woman to get to our table to ask us what we wanted to drink), I asked Earl if he saw anything good on the menu. He yelled “WHAT?” as he couldn’t hear a word I said. It was then that we just started talking really loudly. People didn’t care.
We finally got the dinner ordered and whatnot and were enjoying the loud atmosphere when a band came in. They announced that they were an Irish band and after a few announcements and a chorus of “Happy Birthday” for the bewildered man, they promptly started singing “Take Me Home, Country Roads”. Now I don’t know if this is a requirement on the other side of the Mason-Dixon Line or what, but this is where the entire restaurant took on this really weird vibe and everyone started singing along with the band with the same fervor, warmth and intensity that is usually reserved for “Ava Maria” or “God Bless America”. One of the smattering of drunk women at the table screamed out “I love the south” and started weeping.
I think I said “Sweet Jesus” and went back to eating my supper.
It was then that Earl and I decided to have a political discussion. As a child I was trained to NEVER discuss politics at the supper table so this was treading into some unfamiliar territory for me. I’m not the best debater in the room, mostly because my brain doesn’t properly communicate to my mouth the words I want to say and that’s why I usually resort to writing my feelings down. To have this political discussion amongst the yelling, squealing and weeping at the recognition of Country Roads, Earl and I had to yell at the top of our voice at each other. Even before we started disagreeing.
There seems to be a rumour that I am anti-American. This is not true. I am not anti-American. Not at all. I love the United States of America and I think it’s a beautiful place and I think that we have freedoms and liberties that I take for granted but would nonetheless find nowhere else. It’s the people that drive me insane lately as it seems the American People have gone cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs over the past decade or so. Yes, I believe that the government has become entirely too intrusive in our lives, that there is an unreasonable amount of mingling of church and state in progress and that for the most part politicians can’t be trusted because they’re no longer in it for the greater good. However, I think the foundation of our country is solid and is a brilliant piece of fluid work. I don’t convey my arguments well, I’m the first to admit that, so when Earl and I were screaming at each other about gay rights, war prisoners, universal health care and the economy, the discussion got a little heated.
But the party around us never missed a beat. The bewildered man posed for pictures with a lot of floppy breasted women that were screaming and throwing beer and crawling over chairs to get to one another. Somewhere there is a MySpace page with a lot of photos of this event.
And one particular photo with a set of bunny ears being held up behind one of the women by the Yankee in the corner.
When all was said and done, it was an amusing, intense and somewhat enjoyable dinner.
On Earl’s way back from Buffalo yesterday he made an important stop in Canandaigua. And then all was right with my world.
A tasty treat in an otherwise bland day: Earl’s homemade chili with rice and a “secret ingredient”.
Fabulous.
Just a guy with a husband. We’ve been together 28 years and he still makes me see fireworks on a daily basis. Hiker. Storm Chaser. Private Pilot. Tech Guy. Hackerish.
Weird? Eccentric!