catheroominations

Here, have some kiwi.

You want to make this recipe. You do. Unless you are a vegetarian. And if you don’t eat red meat, you can use ground turkey. I suppose.

• 1/4 lb 96% lean ground beef
• 2 Tbsp brown rice - I recommend the Trader Joe’s brown rice. It microwaves in three minutes. Awesome.
• 1/4 tsp dried parsley
• 1/4 tsp Italian seasoning
• 1/4 tsp fennel seeds
• 1/8 tsp garlic powder
• 1/8 tsp red pepper flakes
• 1/8 tsp minced onion
• Pinch salt
• Pinch pepper
• 2 1/2 Tbsp chili sauce
• 1/8 tsp hot pepper sauce, or more to taste

This is the recipe for one serving. But even if you are dining solo, you should make enough for 2 servings. You will want it for lunch tomorrow. If there are two in your party, make enough for four. I’m serious. And bossy.

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees F, please. (I may be bossy, but I am also polite.)

In a medium bowl, combine beef, brown rice, dried parsley, Italian seasoning, fennel seeds, garlic powder, red pepper flakes, dried minced onion, salt, and pepper.

Mix well with clean hands or a fork. With a cookie scoop, or a spoon and your hands, form the beef mixture into 8 1-inch meatballs. Place meatballs in a single layer on a small nonstick baking sheet. Bake about 7 minutes, or until meatballs are just barely pink inside. Transfer to medium bowl.

In a small bowl, combine chili sauce and hot pepper sauce. Pour sauce over meatballs, and toss to coat. Serve immediately.

This recipe is from a Biggest Loser Couples Weight Loss Planner from Prevention Magazine. It’s got 206 calories, 23 grams of protein, 17 rams of carbs, 5 grams of fat (2 of them saturated), 60 mg cholesterol, <1 g fiber, 678 mg sodium.

Once upon a time, my friend Beth sent out a note about her upcoming 30th birthday celebration. She closed the note with “you’re all great fiends” or some similar sentiment. And yes, she left the ‘r’ out of friends.

It stuck. Ever since that note, my circle of friends has been known as Fiends. When our fiend Julie passed away, we started a Yahoo! group to keep in touch and email daily doses of support to everyone in the group. It was a perfect way to keep in touch, especially with those that were far away. Those first few months after Julie’s passing were difficult for us all, but having the support of each other got us through it. Slowly.

Life has been moving very fast for the Fiends lately and we don’t spend as much time together as we once did. It’s hard to get us all in the same place at the same time. But we’re still close and would drop anything to help one of us in need.

Tonight I got to spend time with 2 fiends, Tracey and June. We have all had some stress in our lives lately and it was good to just be together and talk about things, catching up with what’s been going on in each other’s lives. Tonight we didn’t want the loud “nn-tch nn-tch nn-tch” music of a bar, or to get all dressed up to go somewhere fancy. We just wanted to be. So we went to an old skool type place, that caters to a more mature crowd (the Blue Hairs, if you will).

Because I had already eaten a dinner of stir-fried chicken, asparagus and brown rice, I forwent (is that the past tense of forgo?) the meal and went along for the company, my camera in tow. I still had to shoot my last submission for the 7 Days group in Flickr. While they dined on the fine cuisine (note sarcasm), I had a glass of Cabernet. And because this was a night where comfort food was much in need, the girls ordered hot fudge sundaes. I still nursed my wine, and rather than knocking them over the head with the jar of sugar and stealing their sundaes, I shot a photo of one instead. Much fewer calories that way. The best part of the night though, was when we were discussing our trails and tribulations, the song that our beloved fiend Julie asked to be played at her funeral (Green Day’s Good Riddance/Time of Your Life) came on over the sound system. For some reason, that song comes on at the most appropriate times. And since we all became such close fiends because Julie brought us together, it was perfect that the song played tonight. It was like a little “Hey” from Julie. Interesting that I haven’t heard that song in awhile, nor had I spent quality time with my fiends in much too long.

Below is a photo of the delectable hot fudge sundae that I did not eat (nor did I taste! How’s that for will power?).

And this here is my last self-portrait of the week. Next go round, you should play with us. Click on the link to in my sidebar to join the 7 Days group. You’ll be glad you did!

I came across this today while signing up for…erm…Weight Watchers. I’m going to be old this year and hell if I’m starting my oldest year yet being a unable to fit into the majority of the clothes in my closet.

But really, is this necessary? Really?

I could use y’all’s support on my journey, so pardon me if this blog becomes a semi-journal of eating habits. Don’t worry, I’ll try to throw in a few cat stories here and there to make it extra entertaining!

Also, Team In Training has suggested that I mentor some runners next season, and how can I do that when I have to lug around all this junk in my trunk? I’m supposed to motivate people! But I guess it would be motivating to be able to run faster than one’s mentor. So maybe I should keep this extra cushion around me.

Nah. I’d rather be hawt, and kick my mentees’ butts all over the place.

Because if I have to have a white, dimpled ball in my throat, it had better be a high-end one. Since Monday afternoon, I have been feeling like I am trying to swallow a golf ball every time I…well, swallow. Monday night and Tuesday, I had a fever and was so achy I could barely get up off the couch. Today the fever and aches are gone, but there still seems to be a golf ball trying to make its way down my esophagus. This is not fun because I like to eat and it’s hard to eat when each bite has to battle for space in my throat. The damn golf ball will NOT go down already.

It’s not the kind of sore throat that makes my voice sound hotter, like Demi Moore in her Jackie Templeton days, either. There’s a bit of a dry cough with it, and other than the golf ball sitting back there annoying me, I feel ok. My glands aren’t even swollen.

Because it hurts to eat, I must choose my food wisely. It needs to be worth the pain to eat it. I find that chocolate chip cookies work well. Ok, they hurt a little when I swallow, but they’re so good I don’t care. But even better are Firecrackers. I also think a milkshake would be nice. But Daniel Day Lewis took it.

Now that I think about it, mashed potatoes. Those would be ok, I think. Tiramisu would work. Oh, and crème brûlée. (Are those the correct accents? I pasted it in from Google.)

Definitely out are Brussels sprouts (much too golf ball-like, besides tasting like ass) and anything like vegetables, which offer nutritional value.

I think I need some macaroni and cheese.

And maybe some Maker’s Mark. That’ll erode that @#$%ing golf ball, if I drink enough of it.

Just after I posted this, I had a sudden change of attitude. I guess it took spewing it out on my blog to realize that the day was going to be only as bad as I allowed it to be. Sure, getting a speeding ticket sucked, but whatever. What’s done is done. And yeah, I ached after the long run, but I had a choice. I could sit on the couch, watching bad TV and whimpering while missing a fun wine tasting birthday party, or I could suck it up.

Aches and pains be damned! I sucked it up.

I quickly showered, got ready, and looked up the wineries that were included in the bus tour everyone was on. I had enough time to meet the party at the second winery, so I headed back down Hwy 17, passing the scene of my earlier crime. This time, I passed it going just over 50 miles per hour with the cruise control on.

As soon as I saw everyone on the gazebo, I knew I’d made the right decision by getting off my sorry ass and joining the party. Everyone was happy to see me, as Matte had told them about my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. No one expected me to show up, but I surprised everyone by doing so. And I love surprising people. Someone said “you should sit down!” so I did, while sipping a lovely Burrell School pinot noir. And then someone handed me some lusciously rich dark chocolate. Awesome.

The next stop on the bus tour was Savannah Chanelle, but Matte and I took my car so I wouldn’t have to pick it up at Burrell School later. At Savannah Chanelle we got to hear the interesting history of the winery, and saw a split-root tree on the property that sits RIGHT ON the San Andreas fault. Friggin’ cool. I tried jumping up and down to trigger it, but I don’t think I was able to make it rumble.

Wine-tasted out, we headed for Rachel (the birthday girl) and Shawn’s house for some eats. The menu consisted of gazpacho (I blew on the first spoonful in case it was too hot, out of soup-eating habit. But duh.) and paella (with sausage, chicken, shrimp, and bigger shrimp). Sweet Jeebus, that was some mighty fine food! We drank more wine…a fabulous 1991 something-I-can’t-recall-nor-pronounce-but-was-Spanish. Dinner was followed by a creme brulee-like dessert (also Spanish, the name of which is also escaping me). I was almost falling asleep into my dessert (at 7:30 pm), so Matte and I left for home so I could get a foot massage.

My day ended so much better than it started. Because I was not going to let the crappy day stay crappy. I would not let it beat me. And today I am sore, but it’s the good kind of sore, that reminds me that I went beyond my physical comfort zone and ran double-digits yesterday.

Oh, RATS! The Department of Health has closed down Serendipity 3 for multiple vomitrocious health code violations. The inspector found mouse droppings, fly infestations, bad sewage, and more than 100 live cockroaches. Maybe Serendipity should have invested more in pest control and less on the gold and diamond bracelet that graces the base of the golden-lined goblet containing 28 different kinds of cocoa in their $25,000 Frrozen Haute Chocolate.

Maybe they should also give me that bracelet since they no longer need it.

I went to Serendipity a couple of years ago. People pack the sidewalk outside the restaurant, waiting for a table. We were there for their famous Frrrozen Hot Chocolate, but when we saw they offered a foot-long hot dog, well, I had to get one of those too. And my friends and I giggled about it. Because it was a full 12 inches. And it was a hot dog. And we are mature.