The Daily EO: April 18th, 2012

There are some nights when dinner is tremendously unsatisfying.  And there are those special nights that you create something that is so fantastic that you can barely believe that you are a Materials Manager and not a celebrated chef.

Last night was such a night.  I made pizza.  But not just any pizza.  This pizza started two nights ago when I was craving pesto.  But your average pesto has pine nuts, olive oil, and parmesan cheese, and that usually adds up to 250 calories for a 1/4 cup.  More than we could afford in Fit April.  Undaunted, I hit the internet for some ideas.  When I typed in “oil-free pesto” I got thousands of hits.  Weirdly, most of the top results were Vegan oil-free pesto.  I guess the vegans don’t want oil either.

Anyways, reading a whole bunch of recipes on-line I came up with the following mish-mash of them all (and a nod to Oh She Glows particularly) – absolutely delicious pesto:

1/2 avocado
3/4 cup of white kidney beans
1/2 cup of basil (the entire PC herb container)
1/2 cup cilantro
3 cloves of garlic
2 tbsp nutritional yeast flakes (a weird vegan friendly item that I had left from Vegan January.  It adds a creamy cheesy taste with fewer calories and fat than cheese.)
2 tbsp lemon juice
20 g pine nuts (about 40)
6 walnut halves
and cilantro seasoning (a tube of cilantro paste with other seasonings that I had lying around – don’t know how much it added to it, but glad to be using it up).
salt and pepper, of course

Just throw everything in your food processor.  Done.  Serves about four.

The first night we had the pesto on Tofu Shirataki noodles and steamed broccoli coleslaw (all tossed together).  I sprinkled some parmesan cheese on mine, Emile went without.  It was delicious and the total dinner was 250 calories.

But now I had this 1/2 recipe of pesto in the fridge.  What could I do?  Well, I made pesto pizza.  I had some left over tofu which I marinated with balsamic glaze and dried oregano, 1 chicken breast cooked in a spicy tomato based sauce, red peppers, low-calorie pita bread cut in half (to make 2 rounds, not pockets), parmesan cheese, red onions, and of course, mushrooms and tomatoes for the boy.  Put them together, broil for 3 minutes and hello!  We ate it so fast that I couldn’t have taken a picture of it even if I had thought of it.  Two pizzas each and only about 350 calories total.  I am so good.  Want some now.  Sigh. . . no left overs.

Last time I bought mushrooms, it must have been from the oompa-loompas because they were gigantic.  In fact, for Emile’s two pizzas, he only used 1 mushroom.  That left just one mushroom which I threw into the fridge.   I was reviewing our calories intake for the day and noticed that with Emile’s low-calorie lunch and dinner coupled with his 5k run, he had not consumed enough calories for the day.  I told him he should eat something else.  He was annoyed by this.  Well, actually he was annoyed by this because I told him twice.. .  well. . . maybe three times.  He said he would get something to eat later.

Later that night, Emile pulled out that lonely mushroom, removed the stem, put probably .25 ounces of old cheddar cheese in it, turned on the broiler (apologized to me for wasting energy), and broiled his single – albeit large – stuffed mushroom.  Um, yeah, 28 calories wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, honey.

April 18th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  Making the pizza of my life.  Watching my husband’s single-mindedness focus on Fit April.

 

The Daily EO: April 17th, 2012

It’s mid April already.  May is coming.

I don’t like May.  Although relatively superstition free, a part of me believes that if something bad is going to happen to me, it is going to happen in May.  I’m quicker to tell Emile to drive carefully, less likely to engage in risky behavior (um, well. . . not that I normally do, but the likelihood of it goes down even further), and generally try to keep my head down until month end.  You see, my dad died in May and my mom fractured her skull – almost dying – in May.  And along the way, other bad – but less defining for me – things have happened in May.

When I lived in Midland and driving to Port Carling for work, there was memorial to a young man on the side of Highway 10.  I don’t know the story, only that there was a graduation picture of him and the name “Benny” written on the 10 inch cross.  I assumed he died in a car accident on that spot.  There was a large collection of things – weather worn, but changed seasonality.  At Christmas, a wreath showed up, in the summer flowers came.  A laminated poster board with pictures wilted in the rain.  There even was a little bridge built to enable people to walk across the ditch.

Occasionally, I’d see his mother (presumably) maintaining the area.  Every time I saw her, I wanted to pull over and talk to her.  But frankly, I didn’t have the guts to.  I didn’t think she’d want to hear what I had to say – or whether I would have the words to say it.   Because I wanted to tell her that her son didn’t live here on the side of the road, this is where it ended.  Create a memorial where he lived, a scholarship, a new facility, something that others could remember how he lived.  Not where and how he died.  If you need to know he will not be forgotten, then work towards that in the way you think Benny might have.

And as I thought of the impending start of May this year, I realized to a certain extent I do the same thing.  I worry about May, relive all those bad things that happened to me, worry about what will happen next and on focus on the worst parts.  I know I always will think of my Dad on the day of his death and I don’t want that to change.  From all the stories and memories of my Dad, he was interested, engaged, social, and appreciative.  Why do I not celebrate that?  My mom believes that people are the most important thing in life.  Why not remember that in May?

It is time to Take Back May and with a 30 day challenge and try to associate it with some positive memories.

I have some ideas on what this challenge will be, but I would love to hear your suggestions on what I could do!

April 17th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  Realizing that the lessons I have to teach, I need to learn myself first.

 

The Daily EO: April 16th, 2012

When I started work at Dairy Queen at 14 it was my first experience handling a lot of money.  Mom would give me cash to go to the mall – and a ride too – but it was usually something like $7 and it would disappear quickly.  Usually on something useless like make-up (which to this day I cannot apply – you’d think its instinctual)

When I started at Dairy Queen, I learned how to clean tables, fill drinks and run orders.  Then Prep2, Ice Cream, and to the pivotal position of Prep1.  I eventually earned my way to Till2, then Till1, then Drive-thru.  When training on till, I learned how to handle money, count back change and basic math.  I should say I had to use math, as mother had made me attend school and get good grades.  However, Dairy Queens can not make that assumption about all employees.  So basic math – or how to use the till to tell you what the correct change was – was taught.

My quasi-friend outside of work and my supervisor at work taught me how the money was stored in the tills – and I have never forgot that lesson.  Heads together at the back of the till, top of the bill on the left hand side.  But, always heads together at the back at till.

To this day I obsessively store money heads together facing forward.  If you give me a couple of $20s, I feel uncomfortable until I twist them together to line up.  If I get money of different denominations, I must stack them highest value to lowest value (highest on the bottom).  Heads together.  This money is then stored with the higher denominations at the back of my wallet – heads on the left, top of bills at the top of my wallet.

It was a real problem for me when the currency design changed in the early 2000s to move the heads from the right side to the left.  What won out?  Having the heads together or having the bills right side up?  (FYI, bills right side up wins.)  Fortunately, most of the old bills have now been taken out of circulation, and this is no longer a decision I have to make regularly.

Today I went to the bank to get $200 to pay for our two massages this week.   I got ten $20 bills from the Royal Bank Automatic Teller Machine at the Huntsville Royal Bank Branch.  They were upside down, backwards, and the heads were definitely not together.  Tension.  15 seconds.  Aaah, much better.

April 16th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  Having a better organizing system for money than the Royal Bank (or whoever tells those Brinks fellows to fill the machine).

The Daily EO: April 15th, 2012

I love bad books and bad movies.  Those that make you laugh at the wrong time and likely find tremendously satisfying because in some fantasy world somewhere, things just work out no matter how far-fetched.  Also, bad is black and white – there is no deeper depth to the villain – they are bad through and through and when they get what is coming to them you want to cheer.   But not really bad movies and books.  What is the difference between bad and really bad?  It has to do with levels of believability; level of gratuitous nudity, gore or violence; and how you feel when you watch it.  Some examples of bad movies: Burlesque (romance-drama-musical-Stanley Tucci-ridiculous-evil villian), The Holiday (Christmas sappiness-stupid men-Kate Winslet-english accents-two happy relationships), and Triple X (Vin Diesel-unbelievable stunts exceeding the limits of human strength-awful dialogue).    Bad books:  Early Shopoholic Series (english charm-stupid spunky girl-rich charming fellow saves the day), and Hotel Vendôme (classic Steel-rarified world-“complicated” problems of prestigious and rich-beautiful and classy heroine).

Now, I may be insulting the authors and directors here, but I think they know what they are making.  We want it, but don’t try to tell me for a minute that it is high cinema or academic writing.  It’s not.  It’s like eating a plate of whole wheat pasta.  You know it is better for you than white pasta, but really?  You should be eating lean protein, whole grains and a whole swack of vegetables instead.  But spaghetti is what you want.  You’ve skipped the garlic bread, you worked out this morning.   You’re doing pretty good, right?  Totally healthy will be done another day.

Today I was a bit tired, and restless, and bored.  I was crabby, and generally Emile was trying to stay well away from me.  I don’t blame him.  I needed my literary/cinematic gorging.  I downloaded a new e-book on my reader.  I sat down and read it cover to cover until 1 in the morning.  Ahhhhh.  Goodbye shades of gray, hello black and white, ridiculous storylines and – yes, really – a “Stop this wedding” scene.

April 15th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  Consuming exactly what you want when you want.

The Daily EO: April 14th, 2012

Swimming at the public pool.  I haven’t been in more years than I can remember.  We are having a sleepover with one of my friend’s kids and we needed a cheap and fun activity.  He loves swimming, and it was $10 for all of us, so we went.  Yes, Tony Clement spent our Canadian Taxpayer’s Money somewhat frivolously and unfettered, but he did build the town of Huntsville a nice pool and Summit Center.  There are two pools, two arenas, a walking/running track, space for events, a coffee shop, a fitness center, space for classes and an active living centre all with beautiful Muskoka architecture.  Now did Obama or Sarkozy really care about the pool after spending six hours in our town for the G8?  I don’t think it made any difference to the any of them.  I’m betting that they spent their time in limos on the highway – did their photo-op on the lawn at Deerhurst Resort, met for an hour for appearances and then headed back to Toronto for the G20.  But given I have not yet heard back on my Secret Service application, I cannot be sure.  Nonetheless, Huntsville got all of this stuff that really was not warranted for the G8.  Is anyone here complaining?  Of course not.  Why would we?

The pool is a fairly standard; high ceilings, made of cinder blocks with that cavernous feeling.   It is amazing how swimming pool technology has not changed – it is the same round lane dividers, the same lap clock with the same coloured arrows that I have yet to understand completely, and the same black t-bar lanes on the bottom.  At the end of the large pool there is an expensive large scoreboard – wonder where the CBC’s funding went? – and the little mini swim meet diving boards.  The toys for the kids were robust and ample, and three of the four walls have windows for viewing on the high- or low-level.  There is even a bleacher balcony inside the area so fans can cheer on the racers.  There is a large whirlpool and a smaller pool for the younger kids to learn.  All, and all a wonderful facility.

The hot humid air, the echos, and the smell took me back to swimming lessons in the Cranbrook public pool with Mrs. Hayes.  Pool swimming has always been so much more comfortable to me.  Yes, I live in Muskoka now, and I swim in the lakes here, but I am always slightly paranoid of my wedding rings sliding off to never be found, water spiders attacking me from the dock, touching seaweed (lakeweed?), getting trapped under a dock, or being hit by a boat.  No so much that I cannot enjoy a day on the lake, but these are all cares that do not fetter pool swimming  All of my neuroses slip away, and I can float, dive, and swim to my heart’s content.

April 14th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  Safe from imagined dangers – and I am sure germs – at the public swimming pool.

The Daily EO: April 13th, 2012

Today I binged.  No, I didn’t bing.  I binge-d.

I was at the grocery store and I noticed that Cadbury Mini Eggs were on sale for $.49.  I love Cadbury Mini Eggs.  I picked up the package of the eggs and noted that each package (which are getting smaller and smaller) had 180 calories.  Considering now I can eat only 793 calories a day (if I don’t exercise), that is a significant portion of my daily intake.

I had a couple of choices:  I could skip on by without buying, smugly noting my extraordinary willpower.  I could buy one package and share it with Emile when he got home from work (thinking the divvying up would have been a little lopsided).  I could buy a package, take a run, then eat them all.  I could buy two packages, take a loooong run, then eat them all.

In November 2007, I contracted tonsilitis.  It started Monday am while I was at work.  I just didn’t feel good, and I knew in my bones that I was really sick.  Not a flu, not a cold, but sick.  Emile was not a supportive as he could be at first – while at least that is how my illness addled mind remembers it.  It wasn’t until I went to the emergency room on Tuesday at 2 am because I thought my throat was going to close up, that he understood how sick I was.  The doctor on duty immediately diagnosed tonsilitis and prescribed medication.  He told me to stay away from people, sleep, eat and drink when I could, and avoid caffeine.  At that point I was addicted to both caffeine and diet coke.  I couldn’t get rolling in the morning without the hit and I would drink up to 4 or 5 cans of diet cola a day.  As I couldn’t possibly imagine feeling any worse than I did, I decided to stop caffeine and diet coke right then and there.  The headaches and irritability were nothing compared to the tonsilitis.

And since then, I have not drank a Diet Coke and generally I drink decaf tea.  (although while I write this, Emile is making me Earl Grey full-bore tea).  There is two exceptions to this:  When we were in Europe, I wanted to try Coke Light and see how that differed from Diet Coke.  (I had a sip of Emile’s)  And once someone complained about the Diet Coke when I was serving, so I took a sip to try to figure out what the problem was.  In its place, I drink tea, soda water, water, or sometimes other diet drinks.

So, faced with the flaming desire to eat Mini Eggs until I was sick, I instead headed to the pop aisle.  I bought a 2 litre of A&W Diet Root Beer.  And I drank it all in 4 hours.  Yes, 2 litres of Diet Root Beer.  (Well, that is a lie for a better story.  There is in fact 1 glass remaining).  Sugary sweetness.  Carbonated goodness.  As I lay there bloated, burping and well . ..  honestly a little out the other end too . .*blush*,  I felt pretty good.

April 13th 2012 Extra-Ordinary:   Afterall, I didn’t buy those damn Cadbury Mini Eggs.

The Daily EO: April 12th, 2012

WordPress has a lot of statistics that you can review to understand who is reading your blog.  It is interesting and addictive.   When I wake up in the morning, four thoughts go through my head:

1.  Is it late enough to consider getting up?

2.  I wonder if my morning post-pee weight will be down from yesterday.

3. Did I get any e-mails?

4. Did I get any WordPress views, comments or followers overnight?

The stats available are things like the country the views were from (so far today 2 x South Korea, 2 x UK, 1 x Canada, 1 x USA), what tags are the most popular (1. Food 2.  Religion 3. Fitness), and who referred the person to the site (if applicable).  (PS, these stats do not include those of you who get this via e-mail unless you visit the blog).  It also shows search engine terms that resulted in a person finding you and coming to the blog.  Today a search engine referred someone to this blog because they typed in “daily eo”.  Wow!  Someone actually typed in “Daily EO” into a search engine.  Wait a minute!  That means I am in search engines!  I checked Yahoo! and Google, and there I am – The Daily EO, if you type in the “daily eo”.  (if Google doesn’t help you out by changing it to “daily word”).

Last week, I picked up my first stranger follower (hey there, healthdemystified!).  Not that he is strange, just that I don’t know him.  As well, I got 3 stranger likes.  (likes on a post from someone I don’t know).   So, now I am writing for friends, acquaintances and strangers.  And for some reason that seems more pressure filled.  Somehow I now have to be more entertaining, more witty, funnier, and more insightful than I have before.

A couple of days ago, I was speaking with a friend and we were discussing our husbands.  We were wondering why we both are successful managers who are calm and respectful to our team members almost all of the time, but why we go over edge when our husbands put dirty dishes on the dishwasher.  (WHY!!?  WHY!?  Just put it in the dishwasher!  You got this far, just put it in!!!   *deep breath*)  Why do we treat those we love worse than those who are not as precious to us?  Are we more secure in those relationships?  Are can we be the authentic selves because we know we are loved?

Why do I have to be better for strangers than I am for those I care most about?

April 12th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  Looking for the answer, but knowing that asking the question is just as important.

The Daily EO: April 11th, 2012

I have a Punch List.  You may think that is a list of people I want to punch, but really I don’t have a list like that.  Really.  I don’t.  It would be too much energy to keep a list.  If you were going to punch a bunch of people, I’d say, do it right when they deserve it. Don’t save it up – get it over with and move on.  No lists.  Unless you want to keep a Punched List – then you can relive the punches.  No, a Punch List – and I’ll admit I made the name made up – is a list of all the things I want once I am Punching the Clock again.

“You will work again” I have been told.  (I sometimes have my doubts).   There may be some of you out there who have been unemployed when you really want the opposite.  What a demoralizing process:  No.  No.  No.  No thank you.  No, you don’t meet the criteria.  No.  Yes. . . actually No.  Nah.  No. No.  And the best of all: ”          “.   It is constant.  So, when you need to be your best to impress a potential employer, you are surrounded by people telling – or implying by their silence – that you are not good enough.   Really hard on the soul.

On my Punch List today is a new Kate Spade wallet, meet with a dietician/nutritionist, finally finding a financial adviser (who does not work on commission), hire a personal shopper, regularly threaded eyebrows at Gee Beauty, and a new can opener.   Just note, if you ask me my Punch List tomorrow, it may differ – that’s because it is an organic entity that has never been recorded anywhere until today.   It’s just something that I use when I am annoyed.  Like  – ack, I hate plucking my eyebrows, I want a professional – and boom, a new entry on the Punch List.  Or when I am sorrowful.  Like, don’t think about that denied opportunity, oh!  You know what I need?  A new wallet that isn’t scuffed.

Yes, call me materialistic, I am okay with that.  I am to a certain extent.  Aren’t we all a little?  Tell me Ghandi didn’t covet a new robe.

I just added the can opener today.  It shouldn’t feel like I have arthritis when I am opening a can – it should just glide, don’t you think?  That was not meant as a metaphor for life.  I just need to find my can opener or get a new one.  Stop reading so much into things, guys!

April 11th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  Filling up the Punch List & focusing on the good.  Not those that you want to punch.

 

The Daily EO: April 10th, 2012

Today I visited Kitchener for a food show.  It was not for the public, but rather for customers of a particular restaurant food supplier.  No, I haven’t decided to open up a restaurant, but rather I attended with a friend who does own a restaurant (Well Fed in Gravenhurst).   I haven’t been to Kitchener-Waterloo for a very long time.  In fact, I think the last time may have been a bus trip to Oktoberfest when I was at McMaster University for my MBA.  We rented a school bus – god those are terribly uncomfortable, why do we treat our nation’s children like this? – but I am not sure why we had to drive from Hamilton to K/W to drink beer as plenty was consumed on the bus.  In fact, so much that we had to make an emergency pit stop on the side of the road for some gentlemen to relieve themselves.  Needless to say, they did not get the privacy they likely desired as we all hung out the windows heckling them while cars whizzed by on the other side.  (no pun intended).

I may have visited a supplier there once too, but I cannot remember which one or why I was there.  Isn’t it interesting how you think you’ll never forget all of this stuff, and you totally do?

The food show was interesting for me.  It’s fascinating to see how much of the products are pre-done for restaurants.  You can buy pretty much anything you wish – already made for you.  Usually it arrives frozen,  you just defrost and sell.  Which really takes the romance out of it for me.  I like to think about the chefs and cooks across our land cooking and baking everything from scratch, with love in each stroke and cut.   All of this pre-done thing was disappointing for me, but definitely understandable.

It isn’t feasible – do you pay a chef for 4 hours to prep the veggies for dinner service or do you buy them already done?  Do you make vegetable broth by boiling your leftover veggies for hours or simply buy it from someone who has already made the effort and even condensed it into a bowl?   Bake your own cheesecake or simply buy one of the many pre-made desserts?   With the narrow margins in restaurants, most simply cannot command the price that all the absolutely from scratch would cost.

Best thing I tasted today is the Red Velvet Cake from a rep that had a mullet and bit of a belly.  It was VIVID red with cream cheese icing.  I haven’t had any sweets for a while and this for the first taste of cake in 3 weeks.  It was delicious.  So sugary, so sweet, so sticky.  I would have eaten 16 sample pieces if social grace had not prevailed.   I asked if they got the bright red colour from beets or red food colouring.  He seemed taken aback and almost sheepishly said “Red colouring”.  That’s a shame, don’t you think?  I mean Red Velvet Cake is not supposed to be vivid red – it is supposed to be brown with a deep red tinge to it.   The red (anthocyans) was naturally occurring when vinegar (acid) mixed with unprocessed cocoa.  Once the Dutch ruined it with their new cocoa processing techniques, the new more alkaline cocoa didn’t react red like it used to.  So let the dying begin!

This particular sample was white cake dyed dark red.  And it reminded me when I worked at Dairy Queen 20 years ago.   The supplier had to control the amount of red gel icing we purchased to decorate ice cream cakes because red dye was a possible carcinogen.  That is what I was told, who knows if that was the truth?  But it takes the love out of all of those valentine heart-y cakes doesn’t it?

April 10th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  The best red velvet cake ever made.  Followed by 10+ other samples at the show.   Sometimes you just have to be first – not the best.

PS  Well Fed does not purchase anything already pre-made but makes everything from mostly scratch.  Yes, they buy some things pre-prepped, but that is just good business sense!

The Daily EO: April 9th, 2012

I tend to stay clothed in most situations.  I am not one of those people who think nudity is natural.  Nudists make me feel uncomfortable.  I don’t really want to see much more than your limbs, face and perhaps chest.  Please leave your clothes on, and I will leave mine on for you.  Think of it as proper etiquette.

Today I got the most amazing massage.  Unlike most of the massages I have received in the past, this one was earned.  My aching hips, my poor thighs, my screaming calves.  And apparently my shoulders and lower back also were tight with knots.  (these knots were discovered after a gut wrenching traverse across my back).  My therapist wondered what was going on.  I explained Damn You Fit April and noted I the extra exercise recently.

I like the ritual of massage – the therapist leaves, you take off your clothes save your underwear and leap under the blanket.  The therapist then knocks, enters the room and proceeds to massage you with only one body part visible at a time.  Half way through, the therapist lifts the blanket covering their face so you can flip over.  It works well.  No full nudity needed.

After I was safely clothed again, I paid (ha ha!  Take that Emile’s company!!).   And slowly returned out to my car focused only on how much better my body felt.   Word of advice, don’t wear short sleeves for a massage overwise you get oil all over the inside of your coat.  And don’t plan anything except home after a massage as your hair looks like you’re a silly girl who grew up in the suburbs who has decided to grow deadlocks to make some sort of statement about government and corporate pigs ruining the world.

April 9th, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  “You’re looking good.”  from the objective person in your life who sees you almost naked regularly.  Yeah You Fit April!