Christmas Break Updates

Wow, glad that X-Mas bile is out of my system, I was starting to dislike myself...



Christmas was, of course, perfectly wonderful, making me feel like a foolish harpy. Lola got many, many toys, including a doll house that actually made her step back and say "WOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!" She unwrapped a majority of her presents, my presents and Tee's presents, much improvement from last year when the paper itself held more wonder for her than the carefully chosen presents inside.



There was little to no whining, tamtrum-throwing or overtiredness (on her part or mine) and since I didn't have to attend more than two places this year (instead of 3+in previous years) it turned out to be the most relaxing Christmas on the books. Lo and Tee napped while I watched Willow, we ate leftover tostadas and then visited my aunt and uncle's home for enchiladas. I enjoy the Hispanic side of my family because they are accepting and loud and the kitchen's always hopping, and because they customized a whole role of enchiladas without meat especially for moi.



Next time you have 30-some crazy Mexican relatives over at your house and you are supervising/expertly filling/rolling tortillas in the enchilada chain gang, you tell me if you remember ONE/10,000 of your nieces doesn't eat meat. Love ya Uncle Dean.



Other things to note: Lola decided to eat crackers in bed one morning and I gave her my mostly unconsious go-ahead and fell back asleep. When I wake up, it was like a Ritz genocide in my bed. I had a whole role of buttery, delicious crackers sprinkled like crispy confetti, under my prostrate body, nestled between my tits, mooshed into my pillow, hiding in the crack between the bed and wall. Judging from how many there were in my bed, she probably ate about two and then realized how fun it was to shower Sleeping Butthead with them. I'm just glad she hasn't pulled one of those poop-smears, it could've been a lot worse.



On the Tee Front, we went to see The Spirit on Sunday and I believe that while absence makes the heart grow fonder, close proximity just makes us fucking annoyed with one another. If you have a cuddly, comfortable date-night in mind (as I did), keep dreaming. This was stiff and careful, almost formal without the pleasant nervousness of a date with someone you don't know that well. We were so anxious not to say the wrong thing, piss the other off, that we barely talked, smiled only a little, laughed not at all. This is stupid, why are we even trying?

Salivating...

1. Tonight I'm dining with a Lola fan, Beth. I'm going to give my Matogarzella foccacia one more tweaking tonight before unveiling it for a large crowd at Italian Night (#3). I'm going to pair my yeasty-wonder with stir-fry veggies and some tortelleni, not to impress my dinner date but because it sounds real good. Jeez, what a gracious hostess...

2. On Wednesday there is a Dylan tribute concert at Linnemanns in Riverwest. My famous second cousin and my father will be playing there, I'm skipping half my class and I'm going! I normally would count this as the most exciting thing to happen on my Wednesday: 20 bands! great cause! Bob Dylan songs! my family doin' some singing! BUT then I think about what awaits me after this concert... Upon returning home, I get to help my mama cook a Thanksgiving feast with lots of delicious meat-free recipes that I can't wait to try out: dilled green beans, cornbread, chard ravioli salad, golden-crusted brussel sprouts? I'm about to nut in my pants.

3. On Saturday, Meg and I are hosting Italian Night, in which she makes a few pans of meaty lasagna, and I make a pan of meatless lasagna with cottage AND ricotta cheese AND green pepper AND onion AND a few dollops of spinach. We'll whip up some salad a la Olive Garden, throw together an Oreo cheescake and round II of Matogarzella focaccia (hopefully prefected by then, crossing fingers!) and we'll have "food so good, it make you wanna slap yo mama!"

These three chow-days have got me so pumped! I can't wait to make a huge mess in the kitchen and hopefully have lots of glorious food emerge from the banging of pots, the "helping" of Lola and the swearing and laughter of yours truly. Tee hee, I sure love food.

#3 & #6 - Food and Belly Fat, I think they might go hand in hand?

This is certainly NOT my sign. My sign would convey the unwelcomeness of meat and my extreme love of cheap, dry, red wine. Something like: Live animals and wine-soaked bacchanalia ahead, Ettas welcome.



I chose the most lightweight of list topics today, har har, that was a really bad pun.

It's particularly pun-ish(ing) because I'm not lightweight, I'm heavyweight and in serious need of exercise, toning and tightening. I would be having A LOT more sex if I felt more confident in my body and I want MORE SEX in my life. Do you hear me sex gods? More!

Soooo, I've decided to hike every weekend until a true WI winter sets in and then I'll treadmill it. I'm going to walk this ass, belly and lovehandles right off. I've pretty weak willpower but if I can keep in mind the ultimate goal here, need I remind you, then I think it'll spur me on enough to accomplish my sex. Oops, goals, I meant goals.

With that said, I'd like to transition to my favorite topic: food.

I love food. I love artistic, wholesome, stick to your sides food. Which is why I have lovehandles... I'm a vegetarian who gives in to carb cravings far too often. I eat pretty darn healthy though, lots of fruits, vegetables, whole grains but everything is made in the Midwest style. Tomato soup is made with heavy cream. My cracked wheat bread is slathered with mayo before being loaded with veggies.

BACKSTORY: "Ummm, I'm kinda picky." This is a phrase I utter often when first meeting people. It's my version of a personal just-met-you confession and warning, rolled into one. They usually laugh, offer up a personal anecdote in which they too seem picky and that's that. Until we get to eating. They soon realize between my "can you exchange the Gouda for dill Harvati" and the "minus the spinach but add extra tomatos and is there anyway to get some fresh garlic on the side?" that I'm pretty fucking serious. So much so that I feel bad eating with someone that embarrasses easily, I leave hefty tips though, anybody who deals with gracefully with me deserves one.

I'm the scourge of waitstaff everywhere. I don't eat fastfood, but if I did, I'd surely be kicked out of the drive thru for "teasing" the order taker. And I believe Wisconsin is openly antagonistic to vegetarians statewide. We are a meat-eating state. You know how we have lots of cows? The dairy and cheese state? Cheeseheads? Any of this ringing a bell? Well. When those cows get too old to be milked, we eat em. Along with ass-loads of pork and chicken. Our hispanic population (quite large by the way) eats goat. Our Greeks (much smaller) eat lamb. Our Hmongs (36,000 and GROWING) are rumored to eat dog, but I don't believe that one.

What I'm trying to get it, badly, is that we are a very carnivorous state! Hey, you cushy out of state vegs. come to WI, go to any random cafe. Order a cold sandwich and then say: "but without the turkey..." and just you wait for the incredulous and/or dirty looks you'll receive. 9 times out of 10 your server will say something like this (adopt shitty attitude, head cock and fake incredulity) "so you're telling me that you want the Cranberry Bog on foccacia with cranberry cream cheese, provolone, walnuts and red peppers... but no turkey? You know I still have to charge you full price right?"

Umm, yes Fucker, full price it is. Why do they automatically assume that I'm ordering no meat to bring the price down? Is it so inconceivable that I don't like meat that any other reason for my irrational request is automatically preferable? Arrgh, I am SO sick of being treated with like a lunatic for not eating meat. I would mostly rather eat at home where I can make everything perfectly my way than be faced with the ordering process sometimes. Especially if I know that particular restaurant is adverse to subsituting. My diet can be a real pain in the ass at times.

BACK TO POINT: I know that other veggies living in the Midwest have the same troubles as I. I know that they probably have stronger willpower. They probably don't add cheese to cheeseless sandwiches (what? I live in WI!?) I know that my jelly-roll is my own damn fault and not excercising is stupid, unhealthy and needs to be changed. I know that my genes have the capacity for great weight gain, especially after children come along, and I have the build (hipbones connected to the tit-rack) for heaviness so I'll have to be careful.

I'm not perfect, I've got a large ass, disturbing upper arm pudge and thunderthighs. But I feel as if I'm fighting the good fight with my diet and my impending exercise regimen and subsequent weight loss will only heighten my conviction. So there.