A couple nights ago, Dave and I were chopping vegetables for dinner. He was behind the kitchen island, working on jalapenos, and I was on the other side (by the stools) working on onions, garlic and green peppers. I turned to my left to walk to the sink and rinse my knife, and walked hard into the stool next to me. One of the legs slammed between two of my toes and I screamed, swore, hopped up and down. I set down the knife and said some choice words about your mother. I kept going – I slammed the stool across the kitchen, then walked over and slammed the other stool next to it, swearing a blue streak the whole time. The cats, who had been milling about, hoping for an early dinner, watched me with wide eyes and then quietly disappeared. My husband, who was silent during my whole display, watched with upraised eyebrows. I know, because I could see him from the corner of my eye. I was too embarrassed to make eye contact. I knew, I knew, that I was being ridiculous once I reached the point of slamming the stools across the kitchen. (It was their fault, you see, not mine!) Even as I swore and freaked out, toes throbbing, I thought to myself, “Hmmm…this is a bit much and it’s not like you. You really should stop before you embarrass yourself.”
Once it all ended and I ran out of curse words, I felt like an idiot. Do you do this too? You know you’ve completely overreacted in the presence of another person, and now it’s over and…what do you do? Do you acknowledge it, or brush it off and act like it didn’t happen, or keep up the aggrieved attitude to save face? What I wouldn’t give for a rewind button! This was really out of character for me and the look on Dave’s face confirmed that. He didn’t say much though, just asked how my foot was and expressed concern. I gave in and let him look at my foot and make sure nothing was seriously wrong, and that gave me a chance to catch my breath and re-enter my body, so to speak, after this out-of-body freak-out. I finally told him I was completely embarrassed by my overreaction, and we laughed about it, but damn, I hate when that happens.
We finally got a real snowfall Sunday night, and we woke Monday to a few inches on the ground. We had to go out (ship some packages, do our grocery shopping) so we figured shoveling snow would take care of our morning exercise. I know it sounds crazy, but it was kind of fun – good exercise, easy snow to shovel (light and fluffy, not heavy and wet).
I was getting all my snow-shoveling clothes on (good gloves, waterproof boots, warm coat) and knew I wanted to wear a hat. Except that really screws up my hair, and I didn’t want to have to re-style it before we went out. Then I hit on a genius, if dorky-looking, idea. I don’t wash my hair every day, so if I know I’m not washing my hair the next day, I wear this satin sleep cap to bed. It looks ridiculous on me, like a tiny black afro, but it works so well. It keeps my curls intact without flattening them, and all I have to do the next day is take off the cap, fluff and rearrange my curls. Done! I was already wearing my satin cap, and instead of taking it off I just left it on inside my winter hat. My hair stayed dry, and when I was done shoveling I just did my usual routine to get my curls back into place. No ‘hat hair,’ no frizz. I have no idea why I never thought of that before.
Dave and I celebrated our 11 year anniversary on Saturday, and to celebrate we went to the kitchen store at the mall to buy things made of stainless steel, since steel is the traditional 11 year gift. We had a blast, and came away with the following stainless steel items: a spatula, a grapefruit spoon, a 1 quart saucepan (with lid) and 8” skillet. We’re lucky that we have similar interests and both got such a kick out of this trip – we bought sensibly, and we’re looking forward to finally trying out a stainless steel skillet.
So anyway, we splurged food-wise and made a heart-shaped chocolate cake for dessert, with chocolate buttercream frosting. For dinner, we splurged again and got Lou Malnati’s pizza. This meant that we ate dinner around 6:30 and dessert around 8:00 that night. We’d been faithfully following the intermittent fasting eating plan up until this night, and we thoroughly regretted eating that late at night. I mean, we were both groaning at bedtime, cursing our overly-full bellies. I also noticed that I couldn’t eat as much as I used to, pizza-wise. I wasn’t really sure if this eating plan was changing my appetite but this proved it – I had to have Dave finish my pizza. So, while the food was utterly delicious, it was not worth it to go to bed with full stomachs. For the first time in my life, I looked forward to getting back to … well, it’s not a diet, but you know what I mean. So we’re happy with it, and I’ve lost five pounds over two weeks (even including the pizza and cake!) which seems reasonable.