fat camp

The stress has come home to roost. And when I say "come home" I mean on my thighs.

I may or may not have been eating Now and Laters and Fritos into the wee hours of the evening on more than one occasion.

So.

I was totally game when I came downstairs to find that Natalie, a.k.a. Rosie, had typed up a weight loss plan for me. Evidently she was a little tired of hearing me complain about tight jeans as I stuffed as much bread pudding into my mouth as possible.

I was genuinely excited about our twice a day work-outs and smaller portions of healthier food.

"And", she added, "Only one sweet per week."

"Yes. Yes. You're right. No more bread pudding! Skinny jeans here I come!" I was really getting pumped up.

"And..." she held up her hand to calm me, "and I hid your secret chocolate stash."

Excusez moi si vous plait?

When Rosie was little, her taste buds didn't develop correctly and she doesn't like chocolate so she had no idea what she had done. I stood in stunned silence and watched her prepare to eat her lunch.

That chocolate stash was there for my health! I heard once on Oprah that eating an ounce of dark chocolate everyday was like taking a vitamin and I have lived that gospel for some years now.

I tapped my finger on the counter and slowed my breathing.

"Okay then, put the moussaka back in the fridge." I said right before she took her first bite.

"Really?"

"Yes really. Healthier food. Remember?"

So far, I'm up two pounds.

köszönöm!

A little something delightful came in the post.

It was from Julie. I met Julie, here, on Suaviloquy. Julie is from Hungary. She makes killer goulash. To make killer goulash you must have special Hungarian paprika. Julie is a nice girl. She sent me some special Hungarian paprika so I can make her killer goulash. I really like Julie. I think I will like her goulash even more.

To Julie:

Kedves barátom-
köszönöm a tréfa csomag! Nem tudom várja, hogy az ön recept. Ha ön születésnap? Én már egy másik kis vmit!

No, I don't speak Hungarian, although I would like you to think that I do. I cheated and used an online translator. I sincerely hope that it translates correctly with no inadvertant curse words. Luckily, Julie not only makes killer goulash, she also speaks English. Talented girl that Julie.


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As far as I'm concerned, one of the best things about being a kid was coming home to a mom-made after school snack. My own mother was the master o' cinnamon rolls. I tell ya, there is nothing like coming through the back door when my mom's been baking cinnamon rolls. You simply float 3 inches off the ground til you find yourself in the kitchen with one of those big curls of heaven placed before you. And I think it sufficient to say that there are very few places in life where you will experience the same rush of endorphins that wash over you when you actually take a bite. Your scalp tingles.

I try. I really do try to have a yummy homemade treat waiting for the boy when he returns, weary, from his day of painting, running, singing, counting and experimenting. Some days he is really tuckered.

So I made the Pink Lemonade Cupcake recipe. At this time I would like to make a public service announcement and say that these cupcakes are absolutely of the devil. I warn you.

Here you see them in their sweet innocence. Don't they look harmless? Cute even?


Here is the revised photo which reveals their true Las Vegas nature. They are sour and tangy and SINFUL and ADDICTIVE and those of you with a weak resolve ought to run for the hills because heaven knows I've already snarfed down more than I'd rather admit. But you know what they say. What happens with these cupcakes, says with the cupcakes.

And on your thighs.

Thom and I shared an existenial moment as we ate our cupcakes. And believe you me, this is as close to Las Vegas as this boy is getting as long as I have a say.

sugar free

As hard as I try, I can't seem to keep stress from creeping in during the holidays. I feel it crawling up my back and pinching the back of my neck. And the worst part is, I'm off sweets. Yes, the time has come to crack down and loose some pounds.

I know you must be thinking "Silly girl, doesn't she know it is Christmas!?" Yes, I am all too aware. I am aware of every ounce of sugar in my house. But, the time has come, and so I must go forth, without.

Until Christmas day of course, then all bets are off.

forbidden fruit à la mode

I have been thinking lately. I have been thinking, that is, about food, specially sweets, because this is what I do when I try to diet. I think about sweets ALL THE TIME.

So I was thinking about Eve. You know, Eve of the Bible. Quite frankly, I'm not buying the forbidden apple story. I have serious doubts that it was any kind of fruit at all. I mean really, she choose to fall from grace over a piece of fruit? Was it sugared or poached? Was it served à la mode? I think what the bible really means by "forbidden fruit", is the fruit of the labors of a baker who was indeed an angel and thus made the most heavenly, most delicious confections to be found. I'm guessing it was chocolate, some kind of moist, gooey, rich dark chocolate ganache torte. That would do it.

I have a small confession to make. Yesterday, or really since I posted on Tuesday and mentioned coconut cupcakes, I have been craving them. I had a moment of weakness and broke out the muffin pan. I made myself feel a little better by taking half of them to a friend who is nursing and was just told she can't have chocolate anymore. I ate one after dinner last night and another first thing when I got up this morning. I am a weak, foolish woman when it comes to sweets. Thank goodness Thom just finished the last one.