The Daily EO: March 17th, 2013

Today is my mother’s actual birthday – St. Patrick’s Day.  So after an hour at the downtown Vancouver parade, we heading to Burnaby to have lunch with more of the family.  My grandpa loves Me-n-Ed’s pizza and it is right near by his place, so we decided pizza was the place to go.  The six of us shared 3 large pizzas and one order of nachos with only 3 slices to take home for leftovers.

As tradition dictates, we visited McDonald’s for dessert where we purchase Shamrock Shakes for dessert.  When they asked which size, my mom said “Large” without remembering the super size epidemic that swept North America.  So, we were left with 6 gigantic shakes that were tasty in their bad for you way.  So full, yet so shamrocky and delicious at the same time.

After such a large lunch the followed by some ridiculous amount of shake we started to suffer the ill effects, but I the most:

Shamrock Shaked
Shamrock Shaked

I should also tell you that I almost killed Emile earlier that day when I brought the truck of our hatchback car down upon his head.  Given we didn’t have any pain relievers in the restaurant, he proceeded to drink quite a few non-green beers to dull the pain.

March 17th, 2013 Extra-Ordinary:  I managed to drag my Shamrocked ass off the floor and drive my nearly concussed husband home.  No-one ate dinner that night.

The Daily EO: November 23rd, 2012

We have 3 elevators in our building.  Coming through the lobby I found a line about 20 people waiting for the elevator.  Turns out, 1 was in service for someone moving out and the other had broken down.  Leaving one – albeit high-speed – elevator for a building with 43 floors.  Our building is very secure, many of the floors cannot be accessed by the stairs.  I live on the 41st floor and I can access my floor from the stairs.

The longer I stood in line waiting the elevator, the more I felt guilty for not taking the opportunity for a workout.  But I had been out and about all  day already probably walked 15 kms.  I didn’t want to take the stairs – and the shower that I’d need afterwards.

So I stood there.  And listened to each new person who joined the queue to ask what was going on.  The poor concierge was beside himself trying to appear like he was doing something, but of course, there was nothing for him to do, other than opening the door for the stairs for those of us who were not lazy (and could access their floor).

One of the residents was standing in the lobby with his Dominos pizza order – including cheese bread – and the smell wafted out to hungry people who were just trying to get home.  The elevator arrived and a bunch of people piled on to it.  When the elevator left without taking everyone in the lobby, the mood shifted suddenly and what was truly only a minor inconvenience began to stretch into a major problem.  People had places to go, things to get to and they wanted to go home.

At one point, the in service elevator stopped on the ground floor by accident.  The poor sap who was moving – with an elevator of his things – had to stand and stare at us for 10 seconds while the door remained open.  He smiled, half shrugged and then casually hammered on the close door button.

Another 10 minutes of waiting and finally the elevator returned to the lobby level – but this time carrying one man destined for the parking garage – it was going down.  But nobody was willing to let the elevator journey on without them and jumped on.  I was about 5th in line and as I saw people filling it up, decided that I too needed to get on this elevator.

In a span of about 5 seconds, 15 different floors were pressed and the system couldn’t handle the inputs and reset.   But it started moving and we were on the 5th floor before anyone noticed what had happened.  For those of us on the upper floors, it didn’t matter, we just simply repressed our buttons.

But for the girl who lived on the second floor, the gentleman (I used that term loosely) who was trying to get to the basement and a visitor who didn’t have scan access to get where we was going.. . . .  They started to lose their minds.

Second Floor Girl says “I hate everything and everyone”

Garage Guy says  “All you people f*cked me!!”

Visitor Girl says  “Please press 18!  18?  Anyone on the 18th floor??  TRY 18!!”

And it went downhill from there.  Second floor girl starts telling off garage guy.  And everyone in a full elevator is trying to help out need hysterical visitor girl, but none of us have access to that floor.

Garage Guy “All of you people need to consider your actions on others.  You f*cked me.  All of you”

Second Floor Girl “None of us did it on purpose!!  Do you think we wanted this to happen? I’m trying to get to the 2nd floor!”

Garage guy “Whatever.  You need to wait.  This is crap.  You need to consider your actions.”

Visitor Girl “Oh my god!  What am I going to do?  Can I get off somewhere?”

The rest of us:  Do not make eye contact, do not speak.

Hurry, hurry, elevator.

November 23rd, 2012 Extra-Ordinary:  We are only 30 minutes away from Lord of the Flies, people.  Lord of the Flies with only 1 large pizza and cheesy bread to share amongst.

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.