Some days are meant to end in Chocolate.

So day one of the new diet started out so wonderful and productive.  Oly and I took a long walk this morning with Syd, then while babygirl napped I moved a big pile of crap out to the garage  thereby freeing up precious space in our oh-so-tiny house.  After her nap, I grabbed Olio and we headed into town. I gave a quick haircut, then we dropped off some documents for Oly’s health insurance, and finally we delivered maternity clothes to a friend.  We are so happy and efficient I thought as we cruised along in the volvo with the windows down,  Oly just grabbed her toes and squealed in agreement. One more quick stop at the store with no breakdowns, and home.

So how does this super mom keep herself nourished you must ask.  Surely someone so put together must plan out her meals so she can adhere to her dietary goals without a hitch.  (This is where my day starts to unravel.) Let me explain… I did start out ok, simple breakfast, a few hard boiled eggs and coffee.  But even though I enthusiastically prepped my chicken soup last night to begin day one of the Specific Carbohydrate Diet , it takes four hours to cook and I really wanted to go for a walk.  No problemo I thought, I will cook it when I come home and have it for dinner.  I planned on a nice broiled beef patty for lunch with a little honey (gives it a little something extra).  What I didn’t plan for was running into the plate of chocolate chip cookie bars from last night.  Ok, so a little trouble, we’ll start over in the afternoon.

Upon returning from our errands, I fired up the stove to cook the soup in my very crappy soup pot, exactly as I did last week when I started the SCD program the first time. (Luckily this blog was not in existence then so there is no written record of that difficult period in my life.) However this time I loaded the pot wrong I guess or messed up the magic words  because I horribly burned the bottom of my soup, filling my house with the not pleasant smell of scorched metal and chicken flesh.  Can you really blame me for turning to chocolate? Is there any other hope for me?

One pitiful phone call to Thaddy later,  I had arranged a trade.  He came with gyros for dinner and I made Nordstrom Nordy Bars for dessert.  And I have a new plan. I call it the Go To Bed and Try again Tomorrow Plan.



My big question is  why can’t the toothpaste container have a lid? The first thing my sweet boyfriend William does when I bring home a fresh tube of toothpaste is to move the cap to a hidden location in our tiny bathroom. I spend days wishing I could complete my teethbrushing ritual by securing the lid. Then when I finally find it in some dirty corner I wonder where it has been during its time apart, and always it seems tainted.  So I throw it away, vowing that with the next tube I will be more vigilant.

I just showered with the hugest mosquito eater in the world and he alone knows the secret of  that which was cleaned from under my toenails.

Just give me the dang house already…

My girlfriend Sydney and I went to look at the house William and I are trying…desperately, to buy.  I do this a lot these days.  I take the baby and we go peer into the windows of our beautiful future house and imagine. Curtains. And an island with a butcher slab standing proudly in our BIG kitchen.  Sometimes we go alone and laze about in our future grass, pointing at (very low and noisy) airplanes. Other times we make others go with us and hope they have the good sense to say only nice things about our house, lest they not get invited over for soup after we move in. Well, Sydney was splendid and saw the house as I did, perfect. Now that we have placed our final offer in this long and mentally exhausting ballet, the house is a short sale, we have only to wait while the bank dudes play with their calculators and fidget and sweat and decide our fate.  Wish us luck. There is only elation or tragedy to come.