Okay, maybe that was a little overdramatic.
I have a confession. I have been a bad vegan. I haven't been eating enough veggies. I've been turning to pasta, pancakes, and french toast for sustenance lately. It's horrible, I know. I turn to carbs for comfort. Money troubles? Have some pancakes. Not dating? Pass the french toast. Life got ya down? Here's a loaf of sourdough bread. :D It makes me happy, but I don't feel nourished. At all. *lol* Bad vegan!
Last night, there was a show called The Veg Edge on the Cooking channel. It showcased vegetarian food around the country. Austin, NYC, Seattle, LA, and Portland. Portland made a great showing, I was so proud. It was so inspiring to see all the amazing dishes. It reminded me of how much I loved cooking, and of how wonderful vegetables are. I'm sure they'll re-air it throughout the month, I highly recommend everyone check it out. Here's a snippet:
Luckily, we already have a good amount of dried beans, pastas, russet potatoes, oats, rice, the basics on hand. I had $20 to spend on groceries today, most of which I spent on fresh vegetables. I got purple kale, mustard greens, carrots, onions, garlic, herbs, a turnip, a parsnip, scallions, radishes, and some small red potatoes. I'm going to make a bean & potato salad today, Mom is going to make a hearty soup this weekend, it's going to be glorious. It's a shame that it took a financial squeeze and a TV show to bring me back to healthier eating again, but in this case I think it's the end that matters, not the means. It's not expensive to eat healthily, you just have to put in a little time in the kitchen.
I even worked out last night. Finally.
I can't wait to get in the kitchen later today. :)
Friday, December 10, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
The universe is a literalist
I've come to realize that the infamous "Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it," advice doesn't go nearly far enough. You need to be careful with day to day thoughts at all times. If you drop your guard, the powers that be will snatch the ideas that you thought were private and will proceed to wreak havoc in the cosmos with them. How do I know this? Because I broke Ben Roethlisberger's nose on Sunday.
I shall explain.
My reason for not blogging lately is I've been distracted by a family crisis. A series of bad decisions by one individual is making life impressively shitty for all of us, and the last thing anyone needs is for me to whine about it online. This past weekend was very tense and I was angry. So angry, in fact, that when I sat down to watch Sunday Night Football, Steelers vs. Ravens, I thought to myself, "I want to see someone get hurt tonight."
Please believe me when I say I don't watch football for the violence, I swear. I watch it for the skill and determination of the teams, the highlight-worthy plays, and the mental chess match going on between the coaches. And... I... er... I have a great appreciation of the male form when it is in peak condition and operating at maximum capacity. *ahem*
But I was pissed that night, and I wanted to see someone get effed up. Evidently someone heard me because less than five minutes into the first quarter Haloti Ngata plowed into Big Ben, got an arm in, and broke his nose. Ta da! Blood was pouring out of his face, a face that definitely did not look right, seriously. Now, I hate the Steelers, and I certainly have no love for Mr. Sexual Assault, so please don't think less of me for not feeling any regret at the misfortune my evil mind brought him. To my own credit, at least I didn't smile. That counts for something, right? Anyway, the Ravens lost that game and I punched the floor a few times in misery, but it is what it is. So yeah, we broke Ben's nose. Haloti Ngata and I together.
Last night I was feeling lazy, as I have been for the last 3 months or so. While perusing the DVR for something to watch, I decided to delete the workout I had saved because surely there was no way I was going to get off my ass this week to move any more than was absolutely necessary. Just no way. I went to bed and forgot all about it. Today I had a huge burst of energy which rode in on the heels of a bad mood, and after tidying up the kitchen I decided the best way to use this energy would be in a workout. I changed into a t-shirt and shorts, got some cans to use as weights, and hopped in front of the TV.
Only to remember that I deleted my workout. Crap! No worries, I went into the On-Demand menu and selected a workout. All right, let's do this! An apology then flashed on the screen, letting me know that my selection couldn't be processed at this time, and that I should try again later or call the number given for assistance. What?! I don't call anyone for anything, ever. I'd even have a hard time calling 9-1-1 if someone shot me, so you know I didn't call the cable company. My impatience finally overflowed and I just took a shower instead. But see, my self-fulfilling prophecy strikes again!
It only seems to work with negative ideas. I highly doubt I can wish myself to an awesome book deal or a really great boyfriend.
If only.
I shall explain.
My reason for not blogging lately is I've been distracted by a family crisis. A series of bad decisions by one individual is making life impressively shitty for all of us, and the last thing anyone needs is for me to whine about it online. This past weekend was very tense and I was angry. So angry, in fact, that when I sat down to watch Sunday Night Football, Steelers vs. Ravens, I thought to myself, "I want to see someone get hurt tonight."
Please believe me when I say I don't watch football for the violence, I swear. I watch it for the skill and determination of the teams, the highlight-worthy plays, and the mental chess match going on between the coaches. And... I... er... I have a great appreciation of the male form when it is in peak condition and operating at maximum capacity. *ahem*
But I was pissed that night, and I wanted to see someone get effed up. Evidently someone heard me because less than five minutes into the first quarter Haloti Ngata plowed into Big Ben, got an arm in, and broke his nose. Ta da! Blood was pouring out of his face, a face that definitely did not look right, seriously. Now, I hate the Steelers, and I certainly have no love for Mr. Sexual Assault, so please don't think less of me for not feeling any regret at the misfortune my evil mind brought him. To my own credit, at least I didn't smile. That counts for something, right? Anyway, the Ravens lost that game and I punched the floor a few times in misery, but it is what it is. So yeah, we broke Ben's nose. Haloti Ngata and I together.
Last night I was feeling lazy, as I have been for the last 3 months or so. While perusing the DVR for something to watch, I decided to delete the workout I had saved because surely there was no way I was going to get off my ass this week to move any more than was absolutely necessary. Just no way. I went to bed and forgot all about it. Today I had a huge burst of energy which rode in on the heels of a bad mood, and after tidying up the kitchen I decided the best way to use this energy would be in a workout. I changed into a t-shirt and shorts, got some cans to use as weights, and hopped in front of the TV.
Only to remember that I deleted my workout. Crap! No worries, I went into the On-Demand menu and selected a workout. All right, let's do this! An apology then flashed on the screen, letting me know that my selection couldn't be processed at this time, and that I should try again later or call the number given for assistance. What?! I don't call anyone for anything, ever. I'd even have a hard time calling 9-1-1 if someone shot me, so you know I didn't call the cable company. My impatience finally overflowed and I just took a shower instead. But see, my self-fulfilling prophecy strikes again!
It only seems to work with negative ideas. I highly doubt I can wish myself to an awesome book deal or a really great boyfriend.
If only.
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