If you’re new to this blog, let me recap for you. I’m middle-aged, out of shape, and I never sleep so I’m constantly linking and quoting old movies. My goal is to exercise every day and eat whole, unprocessed foods without any animal fat. I’m mostly…not…doing that.
This winter hasn’t been fabulous. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still crazy happy with the way things are going and I don’t have a single thing to complain about. But I have slid into some nasty habits.
I crave cheese puffs and Charmed reruns (Alyssa Milano was so hot back then). I lost motivation after the dog kicked it, back surgery, and other things I don’t really need to talk about because I still subscribe to the idea if I don’t talk about it, maybe it isn’t happening. Kind of like Warren Beatty’s comment to Madonna. If it happens off-camera, is it really happening?
Since we last checked in, I have been eating whatever I want. Some caveats:
I thoroughly enjoyed a Bag cheeseburger, but I view that as entirely acceptable since it’s part of a whole experience. Ski all day at Sugarloaf, walk into The Bag and order a Ballantine (some people call it a Bally, but much the same way I refuse to say veggie, I can’t get myself to abbrev like that) and a cheeseburger. A newer tradition, however, is to ski (or ride…I don’t judge) over to Bullwinkles and order a plate of wings. I can thank my friend Tony for that.
When I have friends over, I eat whatever I want, within reason. It is a fact on New Year’s Day with a house full of people, I ate a tub of pub cheese. Chub cheese, if you will. Oh. No. I won’t. I take that back.
But, listen (or, read, rather), if you’re driving all the way to my house and you’ve brought, say, delicious cheeses and meats from a small cheese shop in Rockland, ME (not Sweets and Meats because that closed, but another one), I’m going to eat it. Or, say, you show up the day after my Rockland friends and you are carrying a bag of meat, cheese, and bread from Formaggio, I am going to eat it. Did you cure your own corned beef? I will have a taste of that thank you very much. Are we all sitting around a plate of nachos and we have a long night ahead of us and there’s nothing else available? Don’t mind if I do. Is that a plate of carpaccio?! Hell yes.
In short, I eat what I want with two computer screens in my face and a TV blaring in the background, like Kevin Smith with bigger boobies and a lot fewer famous friends, and by fewer I mean none. All I need now is Perry’s wife to come in and scream at me.
I don’t know why I thought of Dudley Moore and Arthur right then (click the link above if you don’t catch the reference). Here’s a gratuitous Arthur clip for your enjoyment. For what it’s worth, I tend to vacillate between feeling like Arthur when I’m with Groom’s colleagues and feeling like Princess Gloria when I’m with his family.
For exercise, I walk to the ski trail near where we live in the winter (“It isn’t really ski in/ski out,” I said to Groom. “I have to walk, like, 50 feet.” Yes. I said that. For real. I owe a dollar.) and take a few runs before “walking” back to the condo to work. Occasionally, I’ll walk to the bar down the street.
This week, after my friend Erica commented that I am vegan “in theory,” I’ve gotten myself back on course. Just wait until I tell you about the fabulous mushroom/walnut faux meatloaf we had for dinner last night with mashed cauliflower potatoes.
That sounds so sad. It wasn’t. I swear.