Over the weekend we went to visit our friends at Ma Petite Maison in Port Orford, Oregon (I wrote previously about their beautiful place here: “A Taste of France on the Oregon Coast“). Port Orford is a tiny town with about 1100 people, no stop lights, a handful of restaurants, and a lot of virtually empty beachfront. It’s an exceptional spot to visit if you want peace, quiet, long uninterrupted walks on the beach, and more than just a little local quirkiness.

Port Orford has it’s share of 4th of July weekend activities not unlike most places: a morning parade of local groups ranging from muscle cars and fire trucks to a family of 4-wheelers with kids dressed in camouflage shooting high-powered squirt guns (I was not aware that this was a symbol of patriotism, but I now know better); a man who wakes the town each year by driving a truck around with loudspeakers attached, proclaiming, “GOOOOOOOOD MORNING PORT ORFORD. SEVEN AM ON YET ANOTHER BEAUTIFUL FOURTH OF JULY!”; A craft fair and quilting exhibition; a pretty good fireworks display, and a variety of weekend food-related activities.

I decided to get up early with my almost-6-yr-old and take him to a pancake feed that was being presented at the community center. I didn’t think much about the food that would be available; I was more interested in doing something just as father and son, since his little sister being a feisty 3-yr-old often grabs much of the family’s attention.

When we arrived, we stood in line for a while waiting for the food, stomachs rumbling and my son hopping on one foot from time to time. I eavesdropped that the griddles were not getting very hot, and thus the wait – but folks didn’t seem to mind. Eventually we were handed our Styrofoam plates which laid the foundation for pancakes, scrambled eggs, and a slice or two of ham. From all appearances, this is a reasonable meal – unless you are a 5-yr-old in Real Food training.

I should pause for a moment to mention that our kids are not at all picky eaters. My son will eat almost anything, although he doesn’t care for mashed potatoes for some reason. He eats any kind of salad, beets, broccoli, fish, all cheeses including goat cheese and feta – and loves to try any hot sauce that I have, no matter how hot. We don’t cook separate meals for our kids; they eat what we eat (and yes, we count ourselves lucky).

After we sat down, I put the standard pat of mostly-frozen butter on my son’s pancakes, added a little syrup, and cut up a few pancake bites for him. The pancakes were what you might expect from a “pancake feed”; certainly made from water and generic pancake mix (consisting of a lot of I-don’t-wanna’-know-but-I’m-eating-it-anyway ingredients), and cooked completely through. On the other hand, the syrup was, to be honest, pretty awful. It was the cheapest you can get, and tasted like what I imagine burnt corn syrup and food coloring with a motor oil chaser tastes like. Not so good. It was incredibly sweet however – In fact I thought to myself, “ya know, if you just want ultra-sweet and can ignore the chemical aftertaste, this stuff is just the thing.” And lest I sound like a total snob here (oh who am I kidding), let me just say that nobody of any economic strata should eat that syrup, although I suspect it does keep dentists in business.

After a few minutes of eating, my son put his spork down and looked up at me.

“Dad…” he said quietly and with crinkled nose, “…Do you…like…the eggs?”

“They’re OK. A little undercooked I’d say.” The eggs were clearly “egg product” out of a carton – something he’s really never had before.

“Dad, I don’t like them. Maybe they need salt.”

He shook a little salt from the shaker onto the eggs, took a bite, and made a face like he was eating salty cooked dirt (probably the face he saw when I ate the syrup). At this point I noticed that he was right – these runny scrambled eggs were not only undercooked, but had almost no flavor at all. I added salt too.

He moved on to the ham.

He put the 4-inch medallion of glazed ham on his spork and started eating around the edges. I took a bite from my ham too and noticed that it was incredibly sweet – at home we eat a fair amount of pork that we buy from a local farmer, but never canned or honey-glazed from the grocery store.

Without saying a word, he looked at it as if examining a new species of pink floppy tropical fish that he had just caught on an improvised spear, and before I could stop him he removed the ham and chucked it like a Frisbee several feet across the end of the table and into the Rubbermaid 40-gallon garbage can. This is certainly not behavior that I endorse, but it was all I could do not to laugh. He was right – the meat was questionable at best compared to the  pork he’s used to.

Finally, he dug into the pancakes. After 5 or 6 bites, he said, “Dad…I think I’m getting a stomach-egg…” – That’s stomach ache, for those not familiar with the vernacular. Stomach egg indeed.

“You don’t have to finish. Let’s get going.”

We cleaned up our spot, dropped the remains in the trash, and headed to the car. My son settled into his booster seat, buckled up, and looked out the window.

“Dad?”

“Yes?”

“I’m hungry.”

UPDATE: One little bit to clear up: Despite my attempt at some levity here, to be clear I am tremendously grateful for the work that is accomplished by the organization that put on the event. I deliberately left their name out of the piece originally because I didn’t want to offend, but turning it to the positive I think some good can come of mentioning the details. Specifically, thank you to the Rotary Club of Port Orford who generously put on this event and according to their President, Rick Francona, has “awarded almost $100,000 in scholarships through fundraisers just like this one.” Thank you, and my sincere apologies to any readers who found this offensive – that was far from the intent. (Maybe next time I’ll just bring my own syrup and keep my trap shut (see there I go again with the humor thing). )

Taking it a step further, I strongly and sincerely recommend donating to your local and national Rotary Club, or even better, volunteering – they are a secular, volunteer-run organization that does immensely good work globally. Here’s a link to their national Contribute page: http://www.rotary.org/EN/CONTRIBUTE/Pages/ridefault.aspx. From their site: “Since 1947, Rotarians have contributed more than US$2.4 billion to The Rotary Foundation to help Rotary do good in the world.”

Consider donating, won’t you?

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Welcome to Almost Fit. This is a guest post from Erin at FitBottomedGirls.com. As scandalous as their site name may sound (OK I admit it, I’m talking to my parents here – really – I read it for the articles) their site is great for inspiration, always conveys information with a great sense of humor, and is an excellent resource for all things fitness. After all, any site where the slogan is, “Keeping a lid on the junk in the trunk” can’t be all bad. :)

My dog does yoga all the time. Her favorite poses are Downward Dog and Upward Dog. Predictable, no? It wasn’t until I started practicing yoga regularly that it really struck me as funny: my little pug, doing yoga. She’s much better at yoga than I am. She makes Down Dog look easy, but after all, she “invented” the pose, so you’d expect her to be a natural. Plus, she’s not holding it for minutes like I do. And I assume her hamstrings aren’t as tight as mine. I’m not sure dogs even have hamstrings.

One evening after a stressful day of work, I pulled out my yoga mat to do one of my old faithful Rodney Yee videos, an FBG fave. I gave the pug a bone so I could clear my mind and get my deep stretches without doggie distractions. My Zen didn’t last for long. As I focused on a transition from Staff pose to Cobbler’s pose, I heard a slight retching sound. She’d thrown up all over my yoga mat, destroying my theory about her love for yoga.

Since that episode, she’s never thrown up on my yoga mat again, so I’m assuming her yoga aversion was a one-time occurrence. Nowadays, she’s all up in my yoga business. She camps out under my Downward Dog, licks my leg during Warrior poses, and jumps over my legs during Cobra. She doesn’t discriminate. You name the pose, she’s in on the action.

I’m sure she’d love these new dog yoga classes that seem to be popping up. I’m not so sure that she would stay within the boundaries of the mat to really clear her mind and practice yoga, though. And it wouldn’t be relaxing for me. Instead, I’d probably be in a twisty pose while she ran off to practice Inappropriate Sniffing pose or Stealing Yoga Wedge pose or Running Demon pose. For now, I think we’ll stick to home yoga. At least then, when she pukes on a mat, I know it’s mine. 

Thanks Erin – I think it may be the first time that the word, “pukes,” has appeared on Almost Fit. Good going. In all seriousness, September is National Yoga Month – and worth your consideration. I am not a yoga enthusiast (yogist? Yogameister?) yet, but my wife is, and she loves it. She may convert me yet. But in the mean time while you hold your breath waiting for that to happen, check out FitBottomedGirls.com – it’s well worth the visit. And it’s safe for work.

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I placed FIRST in the World’s most revered foot race.

You read right. A self-described dorky-looking white guy (alternately described by some as “portly and stout” – to whom I simply say, “racists” -), running with a camera bag, a cell phone, and a trusty moleskin notebook, took the Blue Ribbon in America’s fiercest competition of the season, bar none: The Iowa Avenue Virtual 5K - Portland edition.

To quote that eloquent icon of my youth, Sir D. Duck: MINE. ALL. MINE.

How I redefined competitive sports as you know it

In case you’ve never visited Portland, you may be surprised to know that in addition to pouring an ungodly amount of coffee, having seedy strip joints and bars in every school district and flowered meadow, and having elected without a single hanging chad a Mayor who’s greatest electoral advantage was that his name mirrors a ubiquitous American beer (WHATTA’ Ballot entry tactic – “would you like to vote for this other boring guy with a dull name, or just have a beer? Ya know, on us? Your call, pal.”)(No offense Mr. Mayor Sir. Just the messenger.), Portland is also a great running town. You may have to buy a helmet cam from Oregon Scientific with the lens facing backwards to dodge hell-bent cyclists with an “I hate you ya’ stupid car driver” axe to grind, and a low-jack chip in your shoe for fear of the occasional loitering prison escapee (who may also be on a bicycle – it’s a free country after all), but beyond that, you are in a virtual runner’s paradise complete with ample sidewalks and coffee stops on most trails.

And the weather is perfect. Well, 4 months out of the year anyway.

I chose to participate in the highly anticipated and Nationally recognized Iowa Avenue Virtual 5K after a lengthy corporate courting process in which my team of agents and athletics consultants negotiated an amicable deal with IA. No small feat for an athlete of my considerable grace, stature, and ability. (I believe the word “prowess” may have been used. Their words.)

I was honored to receive the hand-hammered 75-pound stone-engraved invitation to be a celebrity participant via a one-legged Courier, and after a full legal review by my cadre of law professionals, with open arms and my incredibly powerful heart on my sleeve, I eagerly and unhesitatingly accepted. The immediate flood of sponsorship offers from major multinational athletic thought-leaders was a little overwhelming, but I decided early on that I would turn them all down in favor of having those dollars sent, as a charitable contribution, to the Jamaican Track team. A decision which I would later regret, after having nearly choked on an All-American cheese puff and my Kombucha during the Men’s 100 meter race (are we NOT checking for doping among other nations, gentlemen? Am I the only athlete forced to pee into an incredibly undersized plastic cup?).

At any rate, without further adieu, I present my photo essay of my victory. It was glorious. Portland, thou shalt tremble.

The Race of Champions

Here is a view of the route I planned to take:

And here is the ACTUAL route I wound up running (which is closer 5.98K):

You will note, on the route that I followed, that there are a number of switchbacks that occurred. This was for one simple reason: I wanted the competition to be fair, so as I pulled away, I often doubled back to let the others catch up. It was generous, but I didn’t want to be conspicuous (and it was in my contract). I assure you, I was not lost.

This sign was apparently a race prerequisite. I was GLAD, for once, that my name was not MAX. And thanks to my strict regimen of air, pine needles, and diuretics, my final weigh-in satisfied the requirement. It was shortly followed by this sign, which I felt was stifling to my performance, but a rule to which I did adhere:

Thanks to that sign, I did fall short of my world record and personal best, but rules are rules.

A shot of downtown Portland on the waterfront. You’ll notice that there is not a single competitor in view. They are all well behind me at this point, some utilizing heavy drugs and a shared defibrillator.

I found this sign laughable.

Obstacles in the form of art are no match for my footwork. And, the view is sans competitors, I might humbly add. Oh there’s one – Nope. Just a man of mystery, not unlike myself.

The Red weights on that bridge were raised into place in honor of my participation. They are usually at half-mast, but by request of undisclosed Royalty they were raised to full tilt in my honor. I am awash.

I couldn’t help but take a photo of this sign that was on the race route. It was a moment of hubris, I admit. But golly. Portland – Oh YOU!

I chose to avoid the footpath in favor of leaping from post to post, just to make it a little more fair. It did not seem to help my brothers in sweat, unfortunately. Poor souls. You can see one, there in the distance, resorting to a cart of some sort. Ah, competitive sporting world. Must I be the only witness to such traversal of the rules?

The Steel Bridge. I ran across this bridge with 3 long strides, barely spilling my cocktail.

A view from the Steel Bridge. If you squint, you can see the remnants of the skywriting that was presented by the State of Oregon in my honor.

Here is a sampling of the crowd of several million spectators (I didn’t want to carry my wide angle lens, so this is the best I could do). They were fervent, with the air absolutely electrified with a nearly effluvial roar as I whirred along, with a single waive and a nod. I believe the pink hair is part of my marketing campaign, but I can’t be sure.

Some of my fans’ work. This illustrates one of the reasons I love this town: Geek-Fiti. It takes some serious guts to walk along a bridge at night and write on something with a white marker. That’s So Street. I believe I am the one on the left.

I ran this stretch in .03 seconds. I always throw in a good sprint here and there during a race, just to mess with everyone’s heads. It apparently worked, as I see none of my race compatriots.

This sign I can only assume was a tactic that was used by my competition. I paid it no mind, as my staggering race time reflects.

Where are all of my competitors? Oh, there they are. WAAAAAY off in the distance, in my colloquial Dust. They look like Ants from here, don’t they?

And finally, here is a photo of my prize. I wanted to highlight in a photo the strong men and women who completed the race after me, however they unfortunately couldn’t make it – several of my publicists and viral bloggists say that the competition may have died shortly after the race presumably from exhaustion, doping, and awe. We all have our struggles.

The conclusion, and One last question

I hope you enjoyed my record of my successful participation in this event. All joking aside, I had a blast running one of the best routes in Downtown Portland, and loved the concept of a virtual 5K. I did indeed accidentally run 6K instead of 5, mostly because the route was new to me, and well, I was running it alone.

My actual reward for running the virtual race? A visit to Powell’s Books, where my reward was a book purchase. I bought a book on running.

Thanks for reading. I hope you got a laugh. But I do have one request from Readers:

Does anyone have Michael Phelps’ email address or phone number? I’ve never tried competitive swimming, but I think he should start worrying right about now.

Thanks for visiting Almost Fit. When I’m not otherwise occupied trying to impose my sense of humor on readers, Almost Fit is about losing weight and improving your health by eating real food in moderation. If you enjoy this entry, please consider sharing it via your favorite social media tool . Thanks.

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I found this fun little item over on Mark Salinas’ site, and thought I’d pitch my hat in the ring just for kicks. From Mark’s site:

“The site Very Good Taste posted a list of 100 things that they felt every good omnivore should try at least once in his or her life.”

I decided to share my list here – I was surprised at how many foods I’ve eaten. How about you?

So which foods have you eaten, or would you eat?

Copy this list into your blog, including these instructions.

Bold all items you’ve eaten.
Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.

Here’s my list – Have a look…..

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile – Wow I don’t know about this one…What does the ethics council say?
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush – LOVE Baba ghanoush almost as much as I love saying, “Baba ghanoush”
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. Peanut butter and jelly sandwich
14. Aloo gobi – a weakness of mine
15. Hot dog from a street cart – the best
16. Epoisses – I love cheese
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns

20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes – yesterday, actually
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn or head cheese – not yet, but I’m working my way up to it
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper – not sure actually
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda – another favorite
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl – right on the San Francisco Pier
33. Salted lassi – love lassi
34. Sauerkraut – always with the hot dog from the cart, above
35. Root beer float – Proustian memory for sure
36. Cognac with a big fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly – not yet, but great idea
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat – not yet
42. Whole insects – I would try this, believe it or not
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu – not yet, but I’d try it
47. Chicken tikka masala – my Favorite Indian dish
48. Eel – love eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut – too many to count
50. Sea urchin – not yet, but it’s on my list
51. Prickly pear

52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal – Too many of these, sad to say
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine- yes
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads – not yet, but someday
63. Kaolin – not sure what this is
64. Currywurst – sounds wonderful
65. Durian- I’m up for any fruit
66. Frogs’ legs – tastes like chicken
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake – all yes, yes, too much, yes
68. Haggis – you know, I think it sounds disgusting, but I would try it. once.
69. Fried plantain – Love them
70. Chitterlings or andouillette - not as bad as I expected. Kinda’ liked it, honestly.
71. Gazpacho – my Father-in-law’s specialty
72. Caviar and blini – If responsibly harvested
73. Louche absinthe – DEFINITELY
74. Gjetost or brunost – for sure
75. Roadkill – depends on how fresh…. (gasp!)
76. Baijiu – good stuff
77. Hostess Fruit Pie - too many, sad to say
78. Snail - actually quite good
79. Lapsang souchong – excellent tea
80. Bellini

81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky – More Proust for me
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers – one of the most underrated salad accoutrements
89. Horse – If I was in Paris, and really drunk
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam – A Guamanian staple (part of my heritage)
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano – my wife’s favorite
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake – I would…believe it or not.

Looks like there is just about nothing I won’t eat………..And I’ve tried the majority of the list I think!

Which foods are on, or off, your list?

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Life, these last couple of months, has been a gel-filled stress-ball’s squeeze-frenzied nightmare.

Here’s a little something about me: As I’ve said before, when the pressure is on, simple carbohydrates are my lifelong addiction buddies – the ones I hung out with when I was younger and more metabolically advantaged, and in whose company I dove head first into the shallow end of the dietary trouble pool. Simple carbs are the overly accepting old friends that I have to avoid if I want to “stay on the wagon” with real food.

Some people take a walk with Lassie to regain their center of gravity; I on the other hand, tend to take a drive to Taco Bell, hoping that they’ve finally figured out the Holy Grail of fast food: the lascivious matrimonial union of sugar, preservatives, hormones, antibiotics, and dirt-cheap meat.

Pulling around the finely crafted drive-thru arc of asphalt and concrete curb that says, enter dear friend, but know that there is but one way out, I think to myself: “What sweet and savory surprise awaits me on the shimmering ordering board this time, my old corn syrupy compadre? Is it a newly-conceived melding of steaming hot “cheese-ish” sauce, oddly and excessively chopped ground beef-like meat, and powdered jelly donuts? All wrapped in a freezer-burnt artificially-colored tortilla? Maybe I’ll be greeted by the hearty handshake of yet another Blast flavor of soda-lovin’-in-a-bucket, calling my name when I roll up to the crusty drive-thru microphone?”

I’ll go out on a limb here: If there is one place in the world that can stick just about anything into a tortilla and turn disgusting into sellable, it’s Taco Bell. Believe me.

So have I given up this whole real food thing? Am I now indulging in mystery beef bathed in succulent cheesy goo? Say it isn’t so!

Do you have something you’d like to share with the class?

First things first: I’m obviously a few weeks overdue for May’s check-in. As I’ve said in the past, part of the power of blogging is the accountability. So here I am, fessing up on that ever familiar childhood question, “where have you been, young man?”

Well, just like that the time when I mysteriously lost my Seventh Grade Pre-Algebra report card, I have a bunch of really good excuses, but this time in the form of a test (my parents didn’t buy the, “Uh, I don’t know…How about you guess?” routine).

Almost Fit Rationalization Pop Quiz for May

There is just one question on today’s test, and it’s multiple choice. See if you can figure out the “real” excuse – points double if you leave a comment.

Question: Why is my progress report is late?

A. Because I’m pretty sure that my scale is broken, so I couldn’t report. Or at least it is really, really stuck. It’s GOTTA be. Although I was not aware that this could happen to a digital.

B. Because I’ve simply been too busy reading all of your blogs to write my own entries. 24 hours a day, that is all I seem to do – read, read, read. I am a machine! That one glorious task has kept me from doing anything else. Other than, uh, baking bread. And working. And planting organic vegetables. And watching the National Geographic channel.

C. Because…See answer J

D. Because it is an election year, and I have been so distracted by television ad campaigns and the ridiculous crop of landfill-destined roadside placards that I have forgotten my blog account information. Or what the Internet is. Which made me want an Apple Fritter.

E. Because of Global Warming

F. Because things are really heating up on Top Chef, and boy is that making me hungry

G. Because according to Cesar Milan (the Dog Whisperer), I am letting my refrigerator be pack leader

H. On account of it’s been really hot here in Oregon, which forces me to eat ice cream. A lot. And not write, because of the dripping problem.

I. Because, well, I am Iron Man

J. Because my weight loss this month has slowed, and I’ve been putting the report off hoping that the hosts of the new show on TLC, I Can Melt Fat Telekinetically, would show up and give me the instant shortcut I’ve been looking for. So far no dice. Uggh.

It’s a tough quiz, but please leave a comment and tell me which one makes the most sense. My vote is option I – I indeed, may very well be, Iron Man.

When in doubt, Pick C (or, Here’s my weightloss check-in for May)

Here is the truth: For the year, I am now down 25.6 lbs – which to be blunt feels, “just ok”. On the surface the good news is this is my lowest weight in a few years. The last time I was in this weight zone was the day after a successful half marathon, where I shed water weight like Jackson Pollock reincarnated as a wet Irish Sheepdog. The time before that where I was in this weight category? My wedding.

The less good? That means since the last check-in I’m only down 3.6 lbs. Spread that out over 6 weeks, and that is not exactly the pace of 1-2 lbs. a week that I’m shooting for.

So in the words of my virtual internal therapist (who, amazingly enough in my head sounds strikingly similar to Sean Connery) I ask myself: “So…How does that make you…feel, Indy?”

(He also at times says random things like, “The sensation you’re feeling is the Quickening”, “One. Ping. Only.”, and often calls me “Indy”. None of which bothers me. Though I rarely talk about it.)

After giving it some thought [OK maybe a better word choice here might be "rationalization", but I'm going with "thought"], I’ve come to the following conclusion:

Despite the slowed pace, I still have to consider this a success.

Why does 3.6 lbs count as a success? I mean, had I been keeping the pace I intend, I’d have been easily 6 lbs or so lighter, if not more. So how can I consider 3.6 lbs a positive report?

A Victory of Omission

To summarize, for this period of time what is most important is what didn’t happen.

In previous attempts that were strictly aimed at losing weight (health being a secondary consideration, if at all), I normally would have been well on my way to erasing the progress I’d made. I would have abandoned real food in favor of a shiny foil package of non-spoiling, comforting delight. But the emphasis this time is on would have. As in, I did not give in to fake food.

As I’ve whined about excessively in other posts, I am emerging from the most overworked that I have been possibly ever with my current employer. 16-hour days for several months on end, 7 days a week. Ah, the glory of software development for a large corporation. Under normal circumstances, that would have put me squarely in the sights of the old, “gaining it all back and then some” routine. That, simply put, DID NOT HAPPEN.

Back on (the) Track

In the end, what am I doing about it?

1. Exercise. Running is on my agenda this week, and with good weather finally here in Oregon, I will have no excuses. Thus, the heading of this section is Back on THE track.

2. Moderation. I need to simply redouble my efforts to focus on eating smaller portions. That focus has slipped a bit, particularly when I’ve been eating meals to facilitate my work schedule, rather than eating for eating’s sake.

3. Get more sleep. I’ve had several people ask how I’m able to keep up with Almost Fit (barely) and still work the hours I’ve been working. The answer is essentially cheating myself out of sleep. On this schedule I have been sleeping about 5 hours a night on average, which is simply not enough. The problem is by 1:30AM I am hungry again, so I eat, again. I think this has more to do with the weight loss slowdown than any other single factor.

4. Cut down on the snacking habits - even the healthy ones. I tend to reach for a quick bite between meals when I’m stressed, bored, or pondering how to fix something (like when I’m trying to solve a work objective). The types of snacks I’m choosing are fine – typically fruit and nuts, which are great, but if you do that all day and into the night off and on, it does catch up to you when you are not mindful of the portion sizes in your “regular” meals. The nuts in particular. It’s a little too easy to grab a handful here and there, and then repeat that multiple times mindlessly.

5. Stop eating at my computer. When work is crazy, I tend to revert back to my old ways of eating while working. I’ve got to stop that. Eating is about health, and health is about living. And for me, living is NOT about work.

6. Refocus on eating slower. I’ve slipped back into speed-eating at times.

7. Remember to eat on a reasonably predictable schedule/quit skipping meals because I’m “too busy”.

8. Avoid juice. Even 100% unsweetened grapefruit juice (my favorite), even mixed with water. Although I think that on a day-to-day basis this is just fine, while I’m trying to lose weight the juice is deadly. It turns on my cravings for sugar, and it really is a whole set of calories that I truly do not need. It’s an easy sacrifice, and barely a sacrifice at all.

So all that said, you can see why I am happy with the 3.6 lbs, in particular the NOT GAINING IT BACK part. Still no fast food indulgence. Just a little too much of the real food, too often, and a few too many occasional indulgences if weight loss is the goal. My eating habits are allowing me to be stable weight-wise, and health-wise, but for right now, I want to focus on losing weight a little more aggressively.

New Math – Reality check, anyone?

I also have to remember: I am shooting for 6-8 lbs a month. That means from Jan-April (4 months, last I checked), at the low end of the progress scale I would be at 24 lbs lost (avg. 6 lbs a month), which is literally where I was at at the end of April. While the “dieter” in me neurotically wants to see my progress hit the high end, realistically, 6 lbs per month is probably the wiser pace.

That said, I’m getting back on the faster bus.

And one last thing?

The answer? On Taco Bell?

NO. Didn’t do it. Not gonna’ do it. Na, Ga, Da, as Dana Carvey once famously said. Because this is about comedy. And/Or, my health.

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This morning I had a little reminder of just how old I am (at least I HOPE it is age related).

To buy dog food I generally go to the farm supply store, which I did this morning after I dropped Jonah off at preschool. In fairness I looked kind of haggard – I was up until 2AM last night working to make a deadline, as I have been doing for a week now, so this morning I skipped the shower before I left in favor of a few more minutes of sleep.

At the farm supply store, in the dog food area there was an average mid to late teens-looking girl, stocking the dog food shelves. Let’s call her, “associate.”

Associate: “Can I help you find anything?”
J: “[distracted] – Uh, no…I’m fine, I think I found it.”
Associate: “What were you looking for?”
J: “Well I came here for dog food, but Wow – there are Chicks here!”
Associate: [with a teen look of what-everrrr on her face] “Uh, OK…?”
J: “Man I’ve gotta bring my son back here, he’ll love this!”
Associate, silent, eyebrows raised and looking away, presumably reaches for her pepper spray…
J: “Oh and my wife too!”

Realizing the tension, I grab the dog food and leave quickly.

Here’s the thing: there were horse troughs, right there, full of baby chickens and ducks, cheeping and hopping away. You know, CHICKS? On my way out of the store, dog food in hand, I thought to myself that had I instead said Gallus Domesticus Infantus, maybe I would have sounded less creepy, but I think in general using Latin names is in itself it’s own veritable creep-fest.

Ah, to be old and crusty among the young and naive.

There’s your Monday morning story.

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