The Lazy Vegetarian Cooks

Recipe for Mac and Cheese
Time to prepare: 15 minutes

Laziness factor: energetic enough to turn on the stove and find a pot
Tasty factor: Yummy
 Yields: 2 servings

Ingredients:
Kraft Mac and Cheese. Don't trust any other brands. Seriously. Once I tried to save 57 cents by getting the generic kind, and it tasted awful.
1 tbs butter
water

Directions: Put some water in a pot. Don't bother measuring it. It doesn't matter. Put the pot on the stove and turn the heat on high.

Dump the macaroni into the pot. No need to wait for the water to boil first. My way saves time. After the noodles get fat and soft, drain the water from the pot and remove from heat.

You only need 1 tbs of butter. No need to indulge yourself. Skip the milk, because soupy mac and cheese is nasty.

Clean Up: Wash your one pot before things congeal and get hard to clean.

Izzy's Overload

Here I am on a Sunday afternoon, sitting in a booth at Izzy's, working on my second plate of delectable food. "I love America," I say to my sister and Travis, who are sitting across from me. Because in what other country is it socially acceptable to have three empty plates on your table and then go in for more? Certainly not Africa, which is actually more of a continent.

I am sitting here, proud that I am hungry. Happy that I have such a voracious appetite. See, the week prior I had been suffering from Stomach Rot. Stomach Rot is a non-medical term I just came up with to describe the wretched non-flu related pain and barfing that snatched hold of my body. It's when your intestines just kind of give up working and start to rot right inside your body. Not only does eating food make you sick, but not eating food makes you sick. You're trying to go about your daily life with your innards just rotting away. Occasionally you may throw some of them up, as I did. Doing this in sight of the school children you work with may disgust and worry them.

As far as I know, I'm the only known case of Stomach Rot, though I suspect pirates used to suffer from it. That, and Scurvy, but thanks to multivitamins most people (sailors included) no longer have that problem. I had to ease food very cautiously back into my diet. And here I was feeling fantastic, ready to really eat and make up for those five days of wretchedness.

I go in for another helping. This time I actually go to the salad bar. I use tongs to pick out pineapple and orange slices. I pile on the Caesar salad. Then I go back to the grill to get some more of those delicious vegetables. That's right, a second helping of vegetables. They have that grilled, barbecue flavor to them, and as I'm eating them I can't help but wonder why people love food that tastes smokey. Smoked cheese, smoked salmon, smokey burgers, smokey pizza....it all tastes delicious and I can't figure out why. I mean, when you are trapped in your house with the walls burning down around you, you hardly think "Oh, what a delicious flavor." Maybe it's because it's your own skin that's about to shrivel. Also, take fire pits for example. I love a good marshmallow roasting pit just as much as the next girl, but I abhor the smoke that wafts in my hair and stings my eyes. And cigarettes. That is the nastiness scent I know. But still, people like a good grilled meal.

When I used to be a teacher, there was a co-worker I knew who liked to pour smokey sauce into her V8 tomato juice to give it a better flavor. I personally found it disgusting. Tomato juice is gross on its own, but you are going to straight up drink smokey sauce with it? Yuck. Why don't you just add a pickle to the side while you're at it.

But back to Izzy's and its deliciousness. After three plates, I finally decided to go in for dessert. I get a little bowl full of Oreo pudding, a freshly hot cinnamon roll, two chocolate chip cookies, and one oatmeal cookie. I eat the pudding first, and while it is thick, creamy, and Oreo flavored, there is also something rather wrong about it. You know, the same sort of wrongness that Velveeta and Twinkies share. I continue eating the speckled delight, but imagine to myself that Izzy probably orders this pudding by the bucket full. It probably doesn't expire for five years and can sit open without getting moldy.

Worried about my impending health, I stab my fork into the heart of the cinnamon roll. Every body knows that the middle of the sticky bun is the best. I eat it first, because what if I get so full working my way to the middle that I can't even bring the center bit to my lips, and I have to leave it on the plate, wasted?

I look up at my sister and Travis, who both have decided to get soft serve ice cream (no toppings) as their only dessert. Are they mad? What kind of person chooses out-of-a-dispenser ice cream when they could be eating preservative chocked Oreo pudding or a hot cinnamon roll? This isn't Cold Stone. There isn't good ice cream coming out of that machine.

But people shouldn't be judged at Izzy's, so I say nothing. Instead I bite into my little oatmeal cookie and eat it very slowly. The three of us decide that we will all go take naps in our respective homes. There's nothing like a Sunday afternoon nap after a 12 pound buffet lunch.

I sit there, worried. I've still got two cookies sitting on my plate, and it would be a shame to waste them. I look back up at my sister. She understands.

"Darn, I forgot to line my purse with foil," I joke. But it's not really a joke. I prefer to use Ziploc baggies. You're able to keep the juices in that way.

Surreptitiously, Jess slides me a fresh napkin. I casually place my cookies on it. I look over my shoulder and scan the immediate area. It is safe from employees. I wrap the napkin up over the cookies, but leave it on the table for another moment. Jess fakes falling asleep right their in the booth. In a quick second, I put the napkin in my purse, like the 75 year old woman I am.

I don't know why people joke about old folks at buffets taking food home with them. In my experience, I've known a lot of young people try to take home whatever free food they can. Most of these individuals have been college students. High school students are nearly as zealous about taking left overs, because they are still living at home and at least half of them still have parents cooking dinner for them nightly or giving them lunch money. Many college students don't have that luxury. Like homeless people, they take food where they can get it. The difference is, a lot of college students have mini fridges to keep the stuff cold.

The fork lift finally arrives to scoop me, Jess, and Travis from our seat inside the restaurant to my car. In case you didn't know, Izzy's has a contract with Home Depot. You'd be surprised how many times patrons of Izzy complain that they can't move and need help to their cars. The Home Depot fork lift drivers make bank on this little service.

Once in the car, we drive home. I drop Jess and Travis off so that they can take a nap, then I go cuddle up on the World's Most Comfy Couch and sleep for three hours. I don't eat until the next morning.

Spiced Pumpkin Smoothie

My new fall kick is pumpkin smoothies. They are relatively healthy, and my version only has 145 calories.

Throw the following ingredients into a blender:
1/4 cup canned pumpkin (not pie filling)
1 tablespoon whipping cream. The kind that comes liquid in a carton, not in a can.
1 cup milk. Actually, that is a lie. I dislike milk, so I use 8th Continent Light Vanilla soy milk. Vanilla soy milk is delicious and I highly recommend it.
1 teaspoon sugar
1/2 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice

Blend it all up till it's smooth. Pour into a glass and serve with graham crackers (it brings in that pumpkin pie crust feel).

Honestly, I am a lazy cook and don't measure most of the time; I just kind of eye things up. Usually I end up putting in more than 1/4 cup pumpkin, which makes it thicker (use a bit more sugar if you do this). I use a straw for supreme suction when I make a thick drink, because otherwise you'll be staring at the deliciousness stuck to the bottom of your cup.

If you want it creamier then you can add in more whipping cream. The next time I make this I think I am going to try brown sugar instead of white sugar and see if it makes a difference.

If you want to get fancy, use some of that whipping cream and actually whip it for a tasty little dollop on top. If you've never made whipping cream, I suggest this. Because of my lazy factor, I only did this because it looks better photographed. Sprinkle a bit of cinnamon on top.

This recipe is just for one single serving (a bit over one cup), so if you are making it for more people, be sure to increase proportions. This is where adding fractions applies to real life. If you have a 4th grade student you should make them mix up 7 servings as homework. You can grade their efforts based on the resulting taste.

I like to make this for breakfast or for a snack. Dunking graham crackers in it is pretty tasty.

Make one and let me know how it turns out!

In Defense of Beans

As a vegetarian, I probably eat more beans that the average white American. American's love to make jokes about how Mexican food makes you fart, and how if you eat any amount of beans your are just going to become one gassy balloon ready to pop. I plan on eating even more legumes as usual because I am currently utterly fascinated by Timothy Ferriss' diet in his new book, The Four Hour Body.

 I basically just want to let you in on two pieces of information that you may or may not already know.

The reason that you are gassy after eating beans is because of the high amount of raffinose sugars that are hard for humans to digest. So if you eat canned beans (as I do, because I am too lazy to soak and cook my own), then rinse them off in cold water. This gets rid of the bubbly sugar junk, and also decreases the amount of sodium you consume. I rinse my beans off in this cute little Martha Stewart brand turquoise colander that my mother bought me for Christmas. It works perfectly. And you know, the purchase of it helped benefit Martha's post-prison life. So now she doesn't have to hammer out license plates and put cute designs in them with her craft punches.

 A note on gas producing sugars: raffinose, fructose, lactose, and sorbitol are the four to know about. If you want a simple article to read that talks more about different foods that have these sugars, read this. Or you know, Google something.  

Research has also shown that the digestive system can adapt to the consumption of beans if you eat them frequently. People who eat beans often fart less than those people who rarely eat beans. You might think to yourself "I don't want to be a gas filled fuel tank, I better not eat beans often." But really, if you just eat beans regularly, you're body will adjust and you will be fine, no Beano needed.

So my advice to you:
Rinse those beans and eat them frequently. And lay off the bean jokes. Also, read The Four Hour Body. It's fascinating.

Neon Signs Lie

I don't know about you, but if something is advertised in a glowing pink neon sign, then I think that establishment better have what they say they have. It's incredibly annoying when they don't. Let me explain. 

I once again participated in Friday Night Dinner with my sister, fake brother, cousin, and cousin's girlfriend. The designated restaurant of choice was Rockin' Rogers on Commercial Street. Heidi and Jess were both a bit concerned that I wouldn't be able to find anything to eat on the menu, what with me being an herbivore and all. I assured them I would be fine, because I was remembering back to the one previous time I had been at Rockin' Rogers, and how I ordered off of the breakfast menu.

I really love waffles and french toast for dinner, because usually I am much too apathetic to make them for either dinner or breakfast on a regular day. Which, you know, is probably a good thing, considering they are not exactly the star item on the food pyramid.

On the way to Rockin' Rogers I begin to plan everything I want to eat. It's already two hours past my regular meal time, I've just got out of the gym, and I am starving. I think about how I am going to order a whipped cream covered waffle and a side of fries and a milkshake, even though I fully had eaten a piece of cake at lunch. I was in the "Who cares if I gain three pounds over the weekend?" sort of mood. So we get to Rockin' Rogers and sit down. I thumb through the menu looking for greasy, fatty goodness.

I finally see what I want: a Belgian waffle with whipped cream and fresh strawberries. I ask my sister and Travis if they are planning on ordering any fries, and if so, did they think I could eat a few? Maybe, eleven? They are like hungry wolves, so they growl at me and tell me no. So I thumb through the menu to see if I can get a side of fries on the cheap...just like, a toddler sized portion. I've gotten over my milkshake craving by this point.

Our waitress, Amber, comes over and greets us. She's wearing the typical 50s diner outfit: white shirt, black skirt, pony-tail, and a bubbly smile. She asks everyone what they want. When she gets to me, I tell her I want the Belgian waffle (I've gotten over my fry craving by this point). She tells me that the cook actually stops making waffles after two. I look at her with an expression someone might have if you've just told them that the Federal Reserve is out of one dollar bills. Amber asks me if maybe I want a burger instead, because everyone else at the table has ordered a burger. I tell her I am a vegetarian and thus do not eat beef. I begin to go into a panic over the menu. Amber's standing there, waiting for me to make up my mind, and I've got four pairs of hungry eyes staring at me, urging me to hurry up so we can get our order in. I half think about getting the veggie omelet, but I reflect on how I really wanted that deluxe carb-loaded waffle.

"Can I get french toast with whipped cream and strawberries?" I ask. Amber says yes. Because they make french toast after two, what a concept. Then she asks me if I want just the french toast, or the french toast combo. I ask what the difference is. Apparently the combo comes with eggs and a side of bacon or sausage. I state once again that I am a vegetarian, and thus do not eat pig. My fry craving starts to return. "Can I get eggs and a side of hashbrowns instead?" I ask. You'd think I was asking her to peel the potatoes herself, because then she tells me "I could, but I'd have to charge you extra." I would just like to note that meat fully costs more than potatoes do. Come on. I decline and stick just with the french toast.

Next, Amber asks us if this is all on one check. Everyone at the table is quick to point out who's together. "Us two are on one check, and they're on another, and she--," they point to me "--is by herself." You know, like last time at Applebee's. But then things start to get funny.

"Do you think you could find a table of cute guys to buy her meal for her?" somebody asks Amber. My sister then points out the table of four guys who are sitting about eight feet away. Then Heidi and Jason are like "yeah, ask one of them, please, Amber? I'll give you a dollar if you just ask."

"I'll also give you a dollar to ask one of them."

"Hey, wait a minute, if you do that, you could pay for about half my meal," I say. But then my sister says, "If you get all of them to buy her dinner, then they each would only have to pay like two bucks."

Our server is starting to laugh at this point. I'm pretty sure she's fresh out of high school, and all of this is really entertaining for her. She's up for a bit of mischief.

"No, don't ask. Just tell the guy in the hat that he's buying her meal," my cousin Jason says.

Our waitress is in on the conspiracy, because she goes over and talks to the table of guys. I'm 99 percent sure they already know what's happening, on account of how we were all really loud and they probably overheard everything we just said. I try not to look at the other table, but the rest of my family is gaping at them.

"Now look over there and smile," my sister says. It's a good thing I was more amused than I was mortified, because I actually turned to look at them and gave a cheesy smile. If I could get someone else to pay for my dinner, what the heck? After I smiled at the guys, we all started laughing. By we all, I mean the people sitting at my table only.

After Amber was out of earshot, I lowered my voice, because I was still peeved about the whole no-waffle-after-two thing. "You should not have a pink neon sign glowing in the front window stating that you serve breakfast all day, when, in fact, you do not. Unless they added another neon sign that says in parentheses 'except for waffles after 2pm.' I mean, is making a waffle really all that difficult?"

Later, after Jason's appetizer has arrived and I've mooched a mozzarella stick and an onion ring off of him, I notice that the table of guys has left. I point this out to my compadres. "Wait, is one of them going to buy my dinner or not?" I joke. Amber hasn't come by since, and we never actually overheard what the guys' response was.

When our waitress refills our water glasses, we ask. She says, "Well, they did say that the two on the end were single, and one of them left this."

I added that mustache so you wouldn't be able to see his number and call him to tell him about this blog. Notice the reflection of the lying neon pink sign?

Thanks, Keith, but I didn't want your number. I wanted my meal paid for. Travis, Jess, Jason, and Heidi all start to analyze the receipt, and they're like "Look, he only tipped one buck! No wonder he didn't pay, he's cheap!"

I cut my losses and consumed every slice of french toast and every spoonful of whipped cream. I would also like to point out at this time that Rockin' Rogers' advertisement of "fresh strawberries" literally means a load of strawberry flavored sauce with two actual strawberry halves in it. This was an additional disappointment.

As the meal was winding down, Jason gave me his plate with leftover fries on it. I ate some of  them and was glad I had not ordered any. They were the super skinny type fries saturated in grease. I prefer the fatty sized fries. You know, the ones that are 1/8th of a potato? I ate a few more, nonetheless, just to show you the sort of self-control I have.

Jess/Travis and Jason/Heidi apparently go to Rockin' Rogers a lot, and I told them that this just wasn't going to work for me, due to the restaurant's lack of good food. I really appreciated Heidi's enthusiasm to have me keep coming to Friday night dinners, because she started to brainstorm with me a list of better places we could go to eat. We'll just have to wait and see what happens next time.

Applebee's Invasion

So I finally attended Friday night dinner last evening. Friday night dinner always occurs at 7pm and it consists of my sister Jess, her husband Travis, my cousin Jason, and his girlfriend Heidi. I finally found out about it two or three weeks ago and was like "why have you never invited me?" And okay, I get it, sometimes fifth wheels can be awkward, but not with your sister, brother in law, and cousin. So I weaseled my way into an invite. Then I was unable to attend due to prior obligations and sickness. But I went yesterday.

The chosen location was Applebee's. We show up at 7:02 and the place is packed. Like I'm talking packed. You know those Styrofoam peanuts that come in UPS boxes? Well, there were more people in that restaurant than there were packing peanuts in the box your Great Aunt Marge sent you for Christmas. We think about turning around, but we ask the guy at the front how long of a wait will it be? He says something, and then I am all "Oh, just two hours?" But he actually said twenty minutes, which is a long time if you are hungry and didn't eat your 3:30 after school snack. We stand in the door for a while contemplating our stomachs, and then Brenden (I'm a name tag reader) says, "Actually, it's only ten." To which I'm kind of like "are you just saying that because you want us to stay?" So I check the time on my phone and tell Brenden it is 7:04. Then Heidi says, "so we expect a table by 7:14." She's pretty demanding. I would like to fully note that we waited for 18.5 minutes until we were seated, which rounded up is closer to twenty, not ten. But whatever, maybe Brenden failed math class. Most of my fourth grade students can't round either.

After we were seated, we decided to give our server hell. By hell, I mostly mean we talked a lot and asked a zillion questions, like how much the beverages cost because we're all tightwads. That's the thing I hate about restaurants. Why can't you just say how much your margarita costs? Is it a secret? I mean, it's not like the margarita is a woman who will be offended if you ask her how much she weighs. Though I was fully asked by Heidi at dinner how much I weigh. I told her if she were a more observant reader, she'd know, because I fully revealed it in my vegetarian diet post. Apparently every Friday night dinner begins with disclosure of everyone's weight, though this is anything but Weight Watchers.

I really struggled over the menu because I don't eat meat, and Applebee's took away the spinach pizza they used to have like four years ago. Which sort of leaves me with salad. I don't really go out to eat a salad. I prefer to purchase food that I am too lazy to make at home. I ended up getting mozzarella sticks and a salad, because every Friday night sort of requires greasy goodness. I would just like to fully note that Applebee's does not do half order mozzarella sticks, but Red Robin does. This is because Applebee's knows I have no self-control and can't order a full plate of mozzarella sticks and only eat half. They're trying to fatten me up so I want to return every Friday night.

Heidi ordered raspberry lemonade or ice tea or whatever. Really, she wanted pomegranate lemonade, but our server, Robert, was honest with her and told her that pomegranate tastes like used berry mouthwash. Actually, he didn't say that at all, but I could tell he was thinking it. So Heidi got raspberry. On her third glass, she promptly complained that she could not taste the raspberry flavoring. This glass was brought by the general manager. I should back up.

Partway through our meal, the general manager (Corey...not that I'm naming names) and some woman came to check on us and bring us refills and whatnot. I am fairly certain that the only reason they did this was because Robert told them how completely needy and annoying we were being. So the manager had to check and see just how bad these customers were. Our group pretended to be pleasant, and Heidi even put in the good word for Robert so maybe he could get a raise or something and finally buy that dream car he's always been wanting.

Later in the meal, my brother in law Travis spilled his Coke all down his pants because he was trying to flick a chip at Heidi and his plan went horribly wrong. So then we all had to scoot down the circular booth so that Travis could sit in a dry spot. I passed him the plastic barf bag that Applebee's provided us with prior to our meal, so he could use it as a bib. It may have actually been a bag to put your take out food in, but it was likely in case anyone ordered the pomegranate lemonade.

Early into the meal, I made a puzzled expression. My sister asked "What are you looking at?" I had that look of confusion that you get when you realize you've seen someone before, and they look familiar, but you have no idea where you've seen them. I noticed another one of the male servers working in the area, and I knew that I had seen him on several occasions, but I couldn't place it. I knew it wasn't at Applebee's, because I rarely go to Applebee's on account of how all I can order is dessert, salad, or fatty mozzarella sticks. He also didn't get close enough for me to read his name tag, so that was of no help. More on him later. But it drives me crazy when I recognize people and don't know where I've seen them before.

Part of the entertainment of the night was provided by some people Heidi knew. This couple sat at a booth that was positioned for optimal viewing. We were fascinated by this couple, because mostly the date could also qualify as a felony. The girl, whom I will refer to as "Minor", and the guy, whom I will refer to as "Old Fart" (even though he was actually my age), spent time gazing into each others eyes. I am sorry, but if you are 9 years younger than your date, and you are still in high school, that is wrong. I am a mandatory reporter, so I sort of feel like I should have called DHS or something. Part of my fascination was with their conversation. I really wish I could have eavesdropped on it. I mean, what do you talk about if you are still in high school?

I asked Heidi where Minor and Old Fart had met each other, and I found out they met at church. So like, maybe Old Fart was teaching Sunday School and Minor fell in love with him because of his flannelgraph presentation. But this whole mentioning of church totally jogged my memory and I remembered where I had seen familiar-server-guy. He goes to my church. I have seen him at church. So mystery solved. Though the name tag thing is still bugging me. I think it was like, E--ooy---w--or you know, Edwardo. But not Eduardo, which would make more sense spelling wise. My eyesight wasn't that good though, and I didn't even have on my fake glasses to give me a vision boost.

When Robert came by later to listen to our complaining, he revealed to us that his manager is a pretentious jerk...er, I mean...I could totally tell that his manager was a pretentious jerk without even asking Robert. The manager totally did not pay attention to detail. For example, when he brought Travis a new Coke to replace the one he spilled down his pants, he forgot to bring a straw. Obviously, Travis really needs a straw, or like, a sippy cup. Plus, he failed to give Heidi the shot of raspberry flavored high fructose corn syrup that she so desperately wanted.

Eventually we had to leave, because my sister had ODed on penne pasta. In fact, she named her food baby Penny. Plus, you know, Travis needed to change his diaper. We apologized for our behavior, paid, and then left the premises, at which point our server Robert said "Oh thank you Jesus." Only I left my blog card on the table, so that way he could read this post and relive everything all over again, from our perspective.

So Robert, if you're reading this, I apologize again. We had a fun time even though we were bothersome and you had a zillion other people to take care of. Also, I am totally still going to fill out that manager complaint on-line. Do they give you coupons? Because Panda Express totally gives you a coupon code every time you answer a survey about your visit.

A Veggie Diet

This post is dedicated to my cousin's girlfriend, Heidi, because she's really curious about what I eat since I'm a vegetarian. I actually do not eat a lot of vegetables, but I am trying. Please do not read this and think this is what most vegetarians eat. They probably are way different from me. And just so we can advertise everything to the entire world, I am five feet tall and I've weighed 101 pounds for the past four weeks, though usually I weigh about 108 pounds. I don't really know what happened.

I feel like this post could bring a lot of judgment, so I am going to tell you the following information: Based on the Harris-Benedict principle, my body needs 1,254 calories just to function. Adding in how much activity I do, I need 1,630 if I am being lazy about going to the gym, and I need 1,755 calories if I go to the gym about 4 times a week. I did not add up how many calories I actually ate every day because like I care or have that kind of dedication.

I posted everything I've eaten since last Sunday, but I would also like you to know that every day for lunch I packed more food than what is listed. Either I wasn't hungry enough to eat it, or I was hungry but ran out of time because teachers do not exactly get their full 30 minute lunch break. Like, ever. 

Let the judgment begin.

Sunday (This is basically the throw-away-day where I eat loads of unhealthy things)
breakfast: apple cinnamon flavored oatmeal
snack: chocolate chip granola bar
lunch: Protein shake (1 cup skim milk, 1 banana, chocolate flavored whey protein powder, 1 tbs peanut butter). This thing has like, 700 calories, I swear. Plus I ate a few handfuls of this popcorn I got in a tin from one of my students.
snack: 3 Ritz peanut butter chocolate covered cookies that my Grandma Jo makes. They are delicious. I have a giant bag of them in the freezer.
dinner: Top Ramen with egg. I know, impressive cooking skills, right? But this dinner cost me like 14 cents.
even more dinner: Like 8 or 9 mozzarella sticks from Applebees. But they were half off the regular price! Oh goodness. I just looked up the nutritional information on-line, and those cheese sticks were 940 calories. But also had 45 grams of protein. So I should be good for like, all of Monday. I could basically fast on Monday. But I won't.
vegetables consumed: none

Monday No School! Thanks MLK.

breakfast: a bowl of Cheerios
lunch: leftover Top Ramen and a vegetarian hot dog (without the bun). Weird meal I know, but I was trying to clean out the fridge.
snack: granola bar and pear fruit cup
dinner: steamed broccoli, hard boiled egg 

Tuesday

breakfast: apple cinnamon flavored oatmeal
snack: chocolate chip granola bar and a handful of goldfish crackers
lunch: soy chicken patty (not real meat, duh), cup of green beans and edamame, blackberry yogurt
snack: Like 3 handfuls of goldfish crackers, maybe more. I ate them during the course of an hour long meeting.
dinner: hard boiled egg, Portabella mushroom veggie patty with ketchup, banana, 2 of those delicious Ritz-PB-chocolate covered cookies

Wednesday

breakfast: apple cinnamon flavored oatmeal
snack: chocolate chip granola bar
lunch: peanut butter and jelly sandwich, apple, strawberry yogurt
snack: string cheese, goldfish crackers
dinner: protein shake (again, like 700 calories and 42 grams of protein), carrots. I didn't get home till after nine, so I had to pack this food with me.

Thursday

breakfast: granola bar. I wanted to eat more, but I had a staff meeting I forgot about, and it started right at 8:00 am.
snack: honey roasted cashews and peanuts
lunch: Fettuccine Alfredo and broccoli Smart Ones meal, raspberry yogurt
snack: string cheese, goldfish crackers
dinner: quesadilla and Southwest Mexi mix on the side (corn, black beans, salsa, red peppers).
even later: I went to Casey's house and ate a nice big chunk of chocolate. She had one of those giant Hershey's kisses and she sliced it up. Then I ate part of it. Yum!

Friday

breakfast: apple cinnamon flavored oatmeal
snack: chocolate chip granola bar
lunch: Southwest Mexi mix leftovers with tortilla chips
snack: 3 of Grandma's scrumptious cookies (and I've still got more in the freezer)
dinner: cherry-vanilla yogurt, cheese ravioli, pear fruit cup, Dove chocolate
even later: Some of that popcorn out of the tin my student Julio gave me.

Saturday
morning: I went to a brunch at my church, so it was kind of hard to remember everything I ate, but I think it was some grapes, a few pieces of pineapple, some orange, a muffin that had craisins in it, and a slice of this really delicious bread that sort of had like peanut butter baked into it or something, with crumbly sugar on the top. Plus black chai tea.
Chocolate Fest: A lot of chocolate samples. Like a truffle, a bit of red velvet cake, toffee, caramel, licorice, and a chocolate martini
dinner: fake chicken burger (with bun and lettuce). Fake meat is called a meat analog, in case you didn't know. My favorites are made by Morning Star.
Casey's house: her really delicious salsa and chips, carrots and hummus, some apple slices and that marshmallow/cream cheese/heath bar dip.


Now you know some of the most intimate details of my life, like how often I eat chocolate. If you are wondering why I am a vegetarian, that is another post for another time. But I've been one for nine years.

Christmas Traditions: The Meal

One of my fondest Christmas Eve memories is of all the cousins sitting at the card table, choking down the super nasty green pea soup that went cold from sitting in the bowl so long. The green peas were like alien eyeballs, staring up at us from a liquid miasmic mess.

There was one reason and one reason only that we ate that slime: presents. The adults informed us that we could not open gifts until our dinner was eaten. Usually my younger cousins managed to swallow the stuff first, and they would leave me and Jess at the table, begging for more buttered rolls to help with the unpleasantness of the soup.

For about the first 12 years of my life, Christmas Eve was the same. Everybody would come to our house. Aunt Lori, Uncle Jeff, Gracie, and Matthew would drive down from Washington, as would Aunt Brenda, Uncle Ronnie, and cousin Chris. My Papa would come, and my Grandma Terrie. Aunt Bink and Uncle Chris, too. We always had Christmas Eve at my house, and we always had to choke down that disgusting green soup before we could open our presents. After the poison was consumed, we’d get to open up all of our gifts, and Santa would come the next morning bringing our last present.

You’d think with all of the relatives in attendance, my mother would think to make something a little bit more appetizing than pea soup. Like, how about some mashed potatoes and honey ham? Or Shepherd’s pie. Or even pizza. Why couldn’t we eat pizza on Christmas Eve? As a child, I watched as my aunts and uncles relished in consuming their bowl of soup. I didn’t understand it. It was like they were Oliver Twist and they wanted some more. All I knew was that Christmas soup haunted my life, and it stood in between me and American Girl doll clothes.

Here is actual documentation of the torture. Do you see how my cousin Grace looks sort of happy, but I look like a prisoner? Also, do you notice the advent calendar hanging in the background on the closet door? That's the one I wrote about in my last Christmas post.

 After a decade of frosty white Decembers, things changed. More cousins were born, and the location of Christmas Eve and those in attendance changed. Another thing changed as well. My sister and I started to tolerate that soup. We could actually eat it without gagging.

A few more years passed and something more amazing than a miracle on 34^th Street happened: we started to love Christmas Soup. We wanted seconds. We wanted leftovers on Christmas Day. My sister and I realized that it wasn’t just pea soup. It had broccoli in it, and chicken, and it was down right scrumptious. Paired with a warm roll, it was heavenly. I ate Christmas Soup until I was 17, because then I became a vegetarian. My mother didn’t bother to make the soup without the chicken, and so I wouldn’t eat it. My first Christmas as an herbivore, I looked longingly at that soup. I remembered it and how much I had both loathed and loved it. I even tried to pull the chicken chunks out so I could eat it. Alas, it was ruined. I can’t bear both to eat it and not to eat it. It’s become an internal moral struggle.

The best part of Christmas Eve dinner is not what I eat, or the presents I get to open up after, it’s the family members I share it with. I am very blessed to have such wonderful aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. I’d eat a cold bowl of green alien eyes just to spend the evening with them.

Check back Wednesday for an exciting post about how Santa set off the alarm one year.

Bread People

I have this student, let's call him Drew. Yes, the same Drew from Nerd Power. He has autism. And even though Drew exasperates me everyday with his lack of self direction and poor awareness that his teacher is mad and wants him to be quiet, Drew does things that brighten my life. As Drew would say "look at this, it's comedy gold!"

So during lunch last week Drew was like "Miss G, tell Caleb to stop coming over here. He's jealous of my bread people." I look at Drew's tray to see what he's talking about. There they are. The bread people. He mushed his sandwich bread into lumps, and then shaped them into different things, such as a squirrel, a person, a rhino, and a lizard. All out of bread, all very realistic. And all in twenty minutes. Then Drew set up a forest of broccoli on his tray. It's quite scenic.

I fully would have taken a picture of it with my cell phone, but food sculpture is not exactly a behavior I want to encourage. But still, it was funny.

Weekend Recovery??

The weekend is a really great time to drown out the horrible reality of my life. So what I did was on Friday night I watched an episode of Covert Affairs on Hulu, and then I watched the pilot of Nikita (of which I will devote an entire post to soon, like maybe Monday or Tuesday). And while staring at my computer screen, I rapidly put peanut butter M&Ms in my mouth. They are my Jack Daniels. I also searched various websites for job openings, and found ducklings for sale on Craigslist. Then I went to bed at 9:15.

On Saturday I did two really great things for myself, to help get my life back on track. The first thing I did was put away the mound of clothes that I had worn in the past two weeks. Plus I did laundry. The second good thing I did for myself was actually brush my hair. I was about to jump in the shower, and was like "hmmm, maybe I should comb through this mane before washing it." Only I don't have a comb or a brush, I have a pick. You know, like for afros. The teeth are very much spaced apart, kind of like in the mouths of people from select towns in Alabama. While combing through my hair with a large amount of difficulty, I started to realize something. I hadn't brushed my hair probably in four days. Because what I do is take showers at night, go to bed with wet hair that I don't comb, wake up, and fix the curls. I didn't wear my hair straight one day last week, because it is a lot of work. So there I am, pulling through my strands, losing enough hair to make a wig, thinking this is not so good. But don't worry too much, because I still have enough hair for the both of us.

Then later on Saturday I went to the Oktoberfest with my sister in the pouring rain, but we were ready for it in ponchos, galoshes, and umbrellas. Okay, so actually just a light jacket, we're Oregonians. When I got home from eating deep fried mushrooms and strawberry shortcake (which comforts the soul), I did something that is not so great. I watched Teen Mom on MTV.

The thing about watching Teen Mom is, it really cheered me up. Because I don't have a step-father named Butch who has a mullet and is also my boyfriend's father, and I don't have a baby, and I'm not living in a ghetto apartment. Plus, I fully have my high school diploma. So watching Teen Mom really makes a person feel better about their crappy life.

After watching MTV and finishing off the large bag of peanut butter M&Ms, I finished reading my overdue library book. I'm not even going to tell you the title of it, because it was about a girl who had her brain swapped with a super model, so now she's living in this really hot body. Only her employer is trying to murder her, and the actual super model wants her body back, and the girl has a computer hacker boyfriend who wears fingerless leather gloves. Which is enough to make me say, "hey girl, maybe this guy is a bit sketch." But I probably shouldn't be so judgmental of people's clothes because he ended up saving her life three times. At any rate, you probably don't want to read it, and the only reason I did was because it was the last in a series (yep, I read more of them prior), and it was written by one of my favorite authors.

On Sunday I went to church and then spent four hours in my dungeon-like classroom. Which brings us to now. Now I am sitting in front of my computer about to hate life all over again, because tomorrow is Monday and I'll have to go back to work.

Hope you're doing better.

Two Thumbs Up

As a vegetarian, I do not often frequent fast food restaurants. I mean, I do like Taco Bell and enjoy a trip to Wendy's after a long day of Target shopping, but after reading Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser a few years ago, I realized how atrocious the whole operation is. I was a vegetarian back then (have been since 2002), just one whole liked to eat a whole lot of fries.

The goal for this post is not to convert you. What I want to tell you is that among all of the burger places you could eat at, Burgerville is actually a legit operation. This is partly because their food is local, hence the delicious seasonal milkshakes. They are more expensive than McDonald's, but when you eat there you are doing yourself and the earth a favor. So I actually support Burgerville.

What I mainly want to show you is my receipt from my last trip. I was in The Dalles, coming back from a weekend wedding trip. What I found on my receipt was so cool that I had to snag my sister's receipt as well. Check this out.

 It tells you the nutritional information right there. And okay, it is probably actually quite shocking to learn how many calories are in things, but I would prefer to be informed. I think every restaurant should give Nutricate receipts. People wouldn't live in ignorance.

I really like this about Burgerville. You know what else I like? When I was there I got a free blackberry milkshake, because Cesar G got confused and my sister (who ordered before me) ended up with two. He tried to give the second one to me because I look like her. He realized his mistake, but decided that since it was already made, he would just leave it with us. So I downed an additional 550 calories along with my Yukon Basil Burger, which is totally vegetarian friendly.

And okay, maybe I'll have to do some extra cardio, but at least I know. Plus, it was delicious. Also, the manager was super dedicated to his customers and cleared our food tray off the table for us, even though we were fully sitting three feet away from a garbage receptacle.

Support Burgerville.

I'm Black and Blue....for yooouuuu (not)

I more or less lost my middle finger today at work. It is all very disturbing. I dropped my urchins off at recess, went into the staff room to microwave my lunch, and felt that the first joint in my middle finger was really itchy. Two minutes later I sat down at the table and looked at my finger again. It had turned blue. I showed this shaded phenomenon to the other teachers, who were equally as concerned. They told me to take my ring off and asked what it was made of. I replied that I wore this ring all the time, it wasn't some weird reaction. Nevertheless, I switched the ring onto a different finger, and it was a good thing too. I kid you not, three minutes later my middle finger started to loose feeling. I looked at it and it had swelled up like a sausage. I completely had a bratwurst as a middle finger. This really freaked me out, and Gia told me to go get some ice. I went to the office, got an ice pack, and told Yolanda what had happened. Her guess was that I got bit by a spider and was having a reaction, considering the initial itching. I carried ice around on my finger while teaching for an hour, and the swelling has gone down, but my finger is really purple/blue. Plus, I have been feeling itchy all day long since thinking about having a spider crawling on me unknowingly. I need to wake up about five minutes earlier tomorrow, because I predict my finger will fall off tonight while I am sleeping and I will need that extra time to search for the detached phalange in the morning.

Unrelated, but sort of related: my naughtiest child went home early today due to a facial rash. Natalie, I know we talked about this. I had nothing to do with it.

Completely unrelated confession, but sort of related because I just ate dinner. This is a tiny bit embarrassing, but I will admit to you that I like to eat maple sugar baked beans. I grew up with them at family potlucks, however, often times carnivorous relatives mix slices of hot dogs in with them, making it inedible. My other preferred bean is the black bean, and I eat it a lot with corn and tortillas. Additionally, my most favorite bean is the human bean. I think they're cute.

I have a really big rant to get into, but I won't go there today. Possibly tomorrow, unless something more interesting happens, like I lose an entire arm due to an invisible hobo spider bite.

FYI There is a beached whale near Florence at Heceta Head. It perished over the weekend, and the beach has been closed until the carcass can be buried. Apparently officials decided not to blow it up, like last time.