reality bites...

Life is ticking over at the moment - nothing exciting on the scales to share either. Mr C was away for a couple of days and I managed to keep on the straight and narrow, although I exercised in the gym with my ipad rather than the walking that we usually do. I got to indulge my love of cold rolls (or vietnamese rolls or whatever they are called in your country/region of choice) and had them several times. Mr C hates the look and texture of the rice paper; he thinks it resembles skin and calls them "flesh rolls", thus they are not usually on the menu in our shack.

I just know some poundage is about to drop; I seem to plateau pretty regularly and then suddenly drop a kilo or so over a day or two. I'm not even sure how this is possible but it seems pretty consistent. I'm getting used to it now but it can be really disheartening when I'm pushing on day after day and the scale doesn't show any change.

back to everydayness...

So our visitors have left and I'm left feeling a little uninspired with my exercisin'. It was almost easier than usual while they were here because after each session they would pump me up with compliments cheer-squad-style about how fantastic I am going to the gym. That combined with Mr C's astonishment that I was going even though we had friends staying had me feeling pretty darn slick in the motivation department.

Now there is no excuse not to do it and I'm coming up with floors that need scrubbing, silver than needs polishing and homework that needs doing, despite the fact we have no silver and I'm not longer at school and, while we do have floors, I am just not the scrub-on-my-hands-and-knees kind.

Exercise is my most fickle friend, or at least I am a fickle friend to Exercise; sometimes its tough and challenging but rewarding and I walk away from a visit thinking I can't wait for the next session; other times its being so hard to get along with that its easy for me to turn my back on Exercise and ignore it. For sure, having other really great friends around dilutes Exercise's more annoying habits and makes it far more palatable. So now, me and Exercise are hanging out alone once again and the things I don't like about it seem to be highlighted. I'm doing my best to be kind and easy to get on with because it is a good friend, despite it never coming to my house and doing the things I really like :)

I'm only going to the gym tonight because I want to watch tv on my ipad (I told you I was from the future) and I know Exercise really likes that too.

for the love of good friends...

It has been quiet at LandSoftly for the past couple of days - we have had the good fortune of having some visitors from afar visit with us.

Have somehow managed to not go off the rails and celebrate their company by stuffing them (and myself) with food. These friends are natural instinctive eaters and probably haven't missed my mis-placed attempt at making them feel welcome with copious indulgent dishes. I have come to realise that in the past I have tried to show people my love for them with food. Somehow, in my mind, the equation of "feed them well" equaled "love them well".

I remember with such clarity staying at my grandmothers; every morning I would wake up to the aroma of bacon and toast fresh in the air, I would pad into the kitchen and there she would be, my place at the kitchen table set and ready (usually with a  "Skippy the bush kangaroo" plate), some bacon and eggs on the hob and toast ready at a moment's notice with a dish of butter and a pot of jam. The Dragonlady would be there cradling a cup of tea, having been up chatting with her mum beforehand, and would give me a big cuddle and always say "ooo, you're as warm as toast". Looking back on it, I realise I felt so loved during this morning ritual; two amazing women seemingly waiting just for me, to feed me, hug me and tell me I resembled something as lovely and cosy as warm toast :)

I think on some level I have wanted to create this feeling for other people. But I am realising there are more important components to expressing my love than by making sure there is an endless supply of bacon for them. So, to all my friends, my love is big for you.

simple is as simple does...

Although I often pretend to be sophisticated by wearing proper shoes, carrying some kind of co-ordinating handbag and paying my bills on time, those who know me know that I am far from it; I love simple pleasures, going barefoot, wearing sweat pants, lovey dovey movies, trashy reality tv, vegemite on toast, dunking biscuits in my tea, reruns of happy days, playing computer games and, as I recently re-discovered, throwing (or "chucking" as we aussies would say) the frisbee.


Today I have completely embraced some simple indulgences and enjoyed a cheese and gerkin sandwich while I watched a documentary* on Bret Michaels. The pairing was a perfect match. If only every day could be so simple :)




*Documentary might be a strong word to use here, it was a Hollywood True Story on the E channel and had multiple ads for "Keeping up with the Kardashians", and you know I totally wanted to watch that too :)

ode to the egg...

One of my favourite conversations to have is the one where you discuss what food you would choose to eat if you could only eat that one food for the rest of your life. I like this conversation so much I have extended it into a whole range, including "which snack", "which meal", "which drink", "which protein, carb and fat combination" and so on. Sometimes I add in extra rules or limit choices if people's answers aren't to my liking or if I think they haven't given it an appropriate amount of thought - this is an important question friends, don't give your choice so quickly or willy nilly :)

The egg is usually my choice but I do glance at sweet potatoes (or yams as they're called in US) or regular potatoes at times, sometimes bread or cake seems super alluring. Mr C always chooses something suitably manly like steak or indulgent like cheese, but often he chooses the ever adaptable tater. When I say I'd choose an egg, he always says "ewwww, eggs? every day? ewwww".

But the egg is so good, I tell him. I love eggs in almost every way, scrambled, fried (sunny side up or over easy), boiled or my all time favourite, poached. And if I was only going to eat eggs I would finally learn how to poach the darn things properly.

It must be a free range egg to make it into my grocery basket - there seem to be some good eggeries around these here parts that have endorsements suffice to convince me the hens are happy when they lay these eggs. A few years ago I worked with a woman who had chickens at home, she sold the eggs for a mere $3/dozen and those must have been the happiest chickens ever - I stayed in the job much longer than I would have if it had not been for the steady supply of happiest-chicken-eggs. Ok, that is an exaggeration, but it was a consideration when I quit and I made sure it was after she'd brought in an extra dozen for me.

I am not someone who subscribes to using egg whites - I use the whole thing, cholesterol and all - the more dark yellow the yolk the better. Something I haven't quite come around to is the liter or half liter carton of ready-beaten-eggs that are popular in the US. I guess being able to pour out an "amount" of omelette or scrambled eggs as opposed to having a multiple of whole eggs dictate your egg-dish size makes some sense. But I love cracking open an egg and using it straight from the shell in whatever dish my belly is yearning for.

When I told Mr C I was writing this blog, he said "ewwww eggs?" but then he asked if I might offend some vegans out there with my love for the egg and my willingness to live solely off them for the rest of my days. I really hope this is not the case :)

quick check in...

We have finally had some sun in Seattle - it has gone straight to my and Mr C's head like bubbled sunshine on ice and we have been running around with a tonne more energy than usual.

I'll get another post out soon but just checking in with the scale - currently at X+21 and getting excited about hitting 30kgs down.

for the love of the read...

I bought and devoured The Amazing Adventures of Dietgirl this weekend (on my e-book reader because I am from the future and don't know how to use paper).

I have to admit I was hesitant to get this book, thus my much delayed purchase; I adore Dietgirl, have read her blog for a long, long time and was worried this book wouldn't live up to my expectations, because I harbour big expectations after reading her blog and adoring her the way I do.

I finally came out of my blog-loving closet via email to her earlier this year and we have penned several notes back and forth (or tapped them out in qwerty anyway, because as I say I am from the future and don't know how to "note"). I also adore Dietgirl in Two Fit Chicks, as I have previously waxed lyrical, and have been in communicado with them too. Yup, I am livin large and have personal communications with my idols.

So anyway, the purpose of my silly ranting here, is that the distance between the character of Dietgirl and the reality of a weight loss blogger like Dietgirl has become a lot less since I outed myself and began my own blog - and my opinion of said superhero has only grown. So I felt it was time to tackle the book and incorporate whatever feelings I had about it into my evolving appreciation of her.

And I flipping loved loved loved the book - so much so that I chose to read it two nights in a row over doing crosswords with Mr C, which is one of most favourite pass times ever. I have loved reading more details of the scottish romance of the century and appreciated her honesty about how she felt throughout her crusade. I have cried and laughed at parts that spoke to me and had The Lightbulb switch on several times. Its an easy read, supremely entertaining and motivational to boot. Thanks Dietgirl, borrowing your own words, you rock!

the craving...

A craving for coconut ice is gnawing away at me...the texture, the taste, the cute layers of pink and white...ah...my belly wants some very badly. I am prowling the neighbourhood keeping an eye out for school fetes or places of the sort that might have some coconut ice. I could then get some for my craving and support some local foundation of goodness at the same time, I feel this would help balance coconut ice on the famous evil-condensed-milk-containing-slice vs supporting-local-do-gooders scale and I would feel slightly better about consuming more of it :)

I had an awesome cook book when I was a child that my grandmother gave me - in fact she gave it to me twice because I lost (and then found) the first copy. It was aimed at kids and had themed sections, such as a section for "mothers day breakfast" that included pancakes and coffee cake and things that mothers would like on mother's day. It also had a section for making toffee and slices for contributing to school fetes and giving neighbours as peace offerings when you had broken their windows with cricket balls or accidentally called their children names you shouldn't (like "poof" but I honestly didn't know what it meant and once my parents explained it to me I didn't go using it willy nilly anymore). The toffee section had a big warning about how you needed adult help for melting and pouring molten sugar - that never appealed to me as it sounded like too much potential for messing up and not being able to eat the end product (and I think my folks were kind of glad they didn't need to stand over a small child boiling sugar on the stove). There was a family favourite recipe for melting moments in the "afternoon tea" section that my parents would bribe me to make them.

The coconut ice recipe was so easy - no baking even necessary - and had the lucky side benefit of a using tin of condensed milk, which would mean there was an empty tin for cleaning up with my child sized finger to get every last drip and drop out, mmmm. I remember my dad telling me that when he was a recruit in the navy a tube of condensed milk would be part of their survival kit. They would add it to their coffee in place of milk or just squeeze it right from the tube into their mouths when they needed some sugar; perhaps the naval life might have potential afterall. I only the made the slice a couple of times, but each time I would make sure it had crumbly edges and wasn't too careful with it so that, once sliced, there was more that wasn't good enough to give away and more that could go into my belly :)

the joys...

So we all know the joys, meant in the most sarcastic way, that being a woman can hold. My boobs have expanded by probably 5gallons each in the last 24hours - seriously they might explode if they swell anymore.


The only benefit of this monthly swelling is that they seem slightly less saggy during this joyous time; they have become quite saggy over the weight loss journey, deflating bit by bit and sadly heading further south than I'd like. I have whined to the bff about said saggyness and she kindly and tactfully asked if it might be due to getting older - I could act indignant about this but, well, that quite possibly is playing a roll here too. I think though, they have been stretched above and beyond their intended limit in the past and seem somewhat resistance to bouncing back into former pertness.


Just because I feel like indulging my inner temper-tantrum-throwing-angsty-teenage-esce persona and may as well get it over with, they are bloody sore too - even doing weights tonight that didn't involved any chest muscles whatsoever made them ache. And you know when this fluid dissipates their saggyness will re-appear with even more notice-ability.