The Dude abides. Mostly.

my Lilybug

I was better at this blogging thing last year.  Actually, I was better at the whole no dairy thing last year.  I have stuck to it, but there have been a few near misses, even after the pizza incident.  There's been a lot of stress, and a few days when I thought I would kill someone for some damn macaroni with parmesan cheese--my go-to comfort food since before I could cook my own meals.

It seems like I must have had a lot of stress a year ago, too--I was facing grad school auditions, a recital, too much work, every weekend booked up with concerts or trips, and clearing out the condo to move.  That was *before* my best friend stopped talking to me, I got wrapped up in drama in my brass band, I didn't get into grad school, I got bedbugs, my mom had surgery, I had to move to Texas, I got a crappy job, and my grandma died.  Have I mentioned that 2011 really sucked?  Maybe I haven't mentioned that here.  :)

Anyway!  I'm getting ready for another audition, and I have mixed feelings about that--strongest feeling is "holy shit, I have to practice"; I posted my brass band journal about a month late and had to juggle some inquiries; I don't dig my job; I have ridiculous allergies; I haven't been doing that great in the mental health department.  I was hanging in there.

And then last week happened.

I went to the old apartment complex to give some food to my old patio cats, and (long story short), I brought The Dude home with me.  I'd decided to leave her, because there were at least two other people in the neighborhood who were feeding and loving on the cats.  She was looking skinny, though, and she was happy to see me, so I went to the apartment of one of the cat ladies and told her I was taking the tabby cat with me.  (She was happy.)  Then I scooped up The Dude, and all hell broke loose.  She was freaked out about my car, and she bit the crap out of my hand.  I've been nommed by cats my whole life, okay, I am not the type to freak out about a cat bite, but she REALLY bit me.  She got her teeth around the base of my right index finger knuckle and just grabbed on, hard, and wouldn't let go.  When I got loose, it was a typical cat bite: couple of punctures, nothing too impressive, but there's a reason why vets are afraid of cat bites.  Cats have dirty mouths, and those puncture wounds are impossible to clean out.

I did my best, took some ibuprofen, went to bed.  Oh, you know what I did first?  I brought the cat to my house and fed it.  That's right, folks.  Over the next few days, I was forced to tell the story to many, many people, and each one of them looked incredulous when I said that not only had I not kicked or killed the cat, I adopted her.  I resolved not to piss her off again, and to keep my hands away from her mouth!--but she's living happily now in my back yard.

Anyway, when I went to work the next day, my finger was swelling and I couldn't do much with it.  By lunchtime, the entire back of my hand, all the way to my wrist, was red, swollen and hot.  My supervisor sent me home early and I went to the ER.  There, I had x-rays, IV antibiotics and toradol for the pain, a tetanus shot, and an earful of the REAL problems suffered by the girl sharing my room--she'd come to the ER for anxiety attacks after her husband got deported.  I got bitten by a mostly-tame cat.

Anyway, they sent me home with a bunch of prescriptions for antibiotics, vicodin, and phenergan to help the nausea from the vicodin.  They also gave me a note to get out of work for three days, and I had the following day off, so I spent four days taking painkillers and trying to eat at the right times to avoid getting sick from the meds.  I also finished my brass band journal, although I feel like I should go back and take a look at my editorial column now that I'm not on the drugs, heh.

The swelling is gone, the finger doesn't hurt except when I try to bend that joint.  I'm supposed to call a hand specialist, but I haven't yet.  I'm still taking the antibiotics, and hating every minute of it--man, those things mess with me.  I may or may not get a call from Animal Control about The Dude, since the ER had to report the bite.  San Antonio Animal Control did call me and said I could either claim the cat and pay $250-300 to have her quarantined, or I could NOT claim the cat and she would be euthanized, but then they called back and said I live just over the line in Leon Valley, so I'm in a different jurisdiction.  Leon Valley Animal Control has not called, and if they do, I will tell them I was on GODDAMN VICODIN and I forgot to call them.  Also, I've had the cat for almost ten days since the bite, and she has not died or shown signs of rabies.  So there.

The Dude, meanwhile, is living it up in the back yard.  She really wants to come inside, but other than that she's loving life.  She's got her own food and water that she doesn't have to share with the other patio cats, she has a big yard to gallop around in, although I've never seen her gallop. She plays patty-cake on the glass door every day with Lily.  She climbs the wooden fence and sits on my bedroom window ledge; she goes around to the front yard to check stuff out.  She has a box with a towel to sleep in--she'll get a real house after I've taken her to the vet and made sure she's sticking around.  I think the little hussy might be pregnant, but I just can't deal with it at the moment, you know what I mean?

Oh--for the record--my sinuses are clearer than I can remember in the last several months, and my work pants fit me better than they did a month ago.  That's a big deal, and it helps to remember that when I'm staring at the milkshake menu at the Alamo Drafthouse.  Not every single thing in my life is going wrong. :)

Huh.

Does goat cheese count as dairy?  It just occurred to me to wonder that.

Annus horribilis

I made a Texas-shaped pancake.

It's a pumpkin pancake.  I've made them a few times recently because I have a whole can of pumpkin to use up.  The first time, I added pomegranate arils--pumpkin-pomegranate pancakes sound so exotic, don't they?  I need to add more spices; the pumpkin turns out rather bland without cinnamon and nutmeg.

I haven't reported on my meals lately because there's not that much to share.  I get up at 5:30 in the morning and eat cereal with soy milk; I go to work and sometimes have a morning snack of half a bagel with peanut butter, or some dry shredded wheat.  I have lunch at work--early; lunch comes early when you start at 7:00--and it's usually a pile of lettuce with a couple of veggies and some chickpeas or beans, a small piece of fish or pork, and either jello or fruit.  On exciting days, there will be chili or shredded chicken that I just put on top of the lettuce. I get home around 4:00 and nibble on crackers or an apple, or maybe a grapefruit, and then I sit around awhile, eat dinner and go to bed.  If John's around, we might make chili or something, or we might go out.  Last night we went out for Chinese; no dairy challenges there.

Tonight I have an overnight shift because two of the overnight people went on vacation together.  (I guess that's what happens when you stay up all night every night with the same person.)  The cafeteria closes at 8:30, so late shift and graveyard shift workers get different food.  It's actually better.  There's a chef's special that comes from the hotel restaurant, and I would like to try it sometime, but I don't do overnight often so I don't know how to order it.  If you don't get the special, you get something from the coffee shop, which is where I work.  We have prepared sandwiches and pizzas, both of which are pretty good for take-away type food.  Obviously, I won't be eating the pizza this month.  The sandwiches are boring, but I put the buns in the toaster, take off the cheese, substitute mustard for the pesto- or cherry-enhanced mayo that comes with some of them, and eat them anyway.  I usually eat dinner before I go to the overnight shift, so this ends up being my fourth meal of the day--combine that with little-or-no sleep because I don't work graveyard often enough to be able to sleep during the day, and I am on my way to a big fat ass, if I'm not careful.

I got a phone call from someone today...I'm not sure whether to refer to him as a friend or an acquaintance, because he's somewhere in between.  We're friends who meet up a couple of times a year, have a Coke, and talk about band, but we don't really get into personal stuff.  He called because I've been slacking on my newsletter; I thought he was going to ask what was up and I'd tell him the same bull that I tell everyone else: busy, bought a house, depressing job, etc., and I'd promise to get it done soon.  As it turns out, he didn't really care about the newsletter, but he'd guessed from the fact that I haven't done it that there is a lot of shit going on here.  He just wanted to talk about the shit.  I ended up telling him all the crap that I dealt with last year.  He empathized, clucked over me for a while, and diagnosed my 2011 as an annus horribilis--a year of horrors.  My problems aren't solved, but it feels better to have listed them for someone; maybe I'll figure out a way to get going on 2012, instead of dwelling on my horrible 2011.

Cookies

1 cup peanut butter
1 cup sugar
1 egg

6-8 minutes at 350 degrees

Seriously.

Potluck

We had a department meeting at work today and the managers decided to make it a potluck.  Everyone had to sign up to bring something to the mandatory potluck.  I almost signed up for the easiest thing I could think of--Rice Krispie Treats--but at the last minute I decided to make cornbread instead.  I have a great recipe for cornbread that I used to make at my friend Rich's house when I worked for him.  Of course, it contains butter, buttermilk and cheese.

And I'm sensitive about potlucks.  I always want to do a test run, especially for baking, and especially when I'm still not quite used to my oven.  I bought all the ingredients to make cornbread twice, figuring I'd make it Saturday and then again on Monday.  I know it's silly--other people just brought grocery store danishes and quart containers of potato salad.  I don't like putting all the effort into baking unless it's going to come out right.  I'm careful.

At some point, I realized nobody except John would be eating the test run cornbread.  I thought I might, since it's just INGREDIENTS in the bread that are dairy, but I was justifying.  There are lots of visible cheesy bits in it.  I decided to take the chance and only make it Monday.

It came out all right, though it's thick and I never seem to get the middle done as well as the edges.  I may have to try tweaking the temperature and cooking time a little.  After all that, I got to the potluck about ten minutes late (because I was working my shift at the time) and people had already gotten their food and sat down.  About three people ate the cornbread.  The rest went anonymously to the Stewarding department.  I never tasted it, not even while I was cooking.  That turned out to be a huge challenge--and eating the potluck lunch was a challenge, too.  So many cheesy pasta salads and potato salads.  And rolls.  Ugh.

Carne guisada

Carne guisada at Nicha's, Loop 410 and Evers.

We decided to go out last night, and we both really wanted to go to Nicha's.  It's our default Mexican place: good food, not expensive and close to home.  The only question was whether I could find something with no cheese, but I prepared myself to request they leave the cheese off some tacos (just in case there was nothing else) and we went.

That photo on the left is exactly what I got when I ordered, "carne guisada."  No requests, no special instructions.  It's perfect, not even a little puddle of cheese on the refried beans.  To the right of the carne guisada you can see the fresh flour tortillas that come with every entree in many Mexican restaurants here.  Just looking at them makes me want to go out for Mexican RIGHT NOW.

What is carne guisada?  It's a plate full of awesome, that's what it is.  It's pretty much Tex-Mex pot roast: chunks of roast beef--the beef in the photo was so tender, it fell apart on my fork--stewed in gravy.  There's a great description (and a recipe I'm going to try) here.

Exercise

Growing up in Michigan, one never thinks one will ever spend a January afternoon raking leaves in a t-shirt.  That's what I did today, though.  Raked and bagged and the front lawn is all pretty now.  I'm ready for bed, which is just as well, since I have to get up to work in the morning.

Food?  Hmm...last night we had pork chops with red potatoes and brussels sprouts.  (Brussel sprouts?  Brustle sprouts?  My spell check doesn't like that word; how is it spelled? ...OOhhhh, capital b: Brussels sprouts.  Got it.)

Today, I had bread and apple slices for breakfast, skipped lunch because I was powering through the leaf-raking, and eggs for an early dinner.  I try to eat more vegetables, but I've been feeling too crappy to go to the grocery store.  Tonight would be a good night to get some practicing in, or work on the December newsletter I haven't yet published, but, man.  Crappiness.  I will probably stare at the tv for a little while and then crawl in bed.  Bleh.

It's all downhill from here.

Last night, I had my first real No Dairy January challenge.  Like, the kind where I consider throwing in the towel.  It wasn't a craving; it wasn't a big, beautiful, FREE slice of cheesecake.  It was just dinner.

I was starving, John was starving, and we decided to save the pork chops for another night and order pizza. Don't analyze the logic here; I KNOW cooking the pork chops would have been faster than ordering pizza, but it felt right at the time.  Anyway, it took forever for me to negotiate the online ordering system, but eventually I ordered one of those meal deals where you get two medium pizzas and some other stuff, breadsticks, etc.  One medium pizza and breadsticks would have been fine for us, but of course, I couldn't eat the cheese, and John couldn't face pizza without cheese.  So, two mediums.

Long story short, the pizzas arrived and both had cheese.  The receipt read that both should have cheese.  The manager, when I called the store, told me that I'd ordered both pizzas with cheese.  Maybe that's true, but I made a serious effort to get one without cheese, and their order pages confused me, with all the flipping back and forth from one pizza to the other pizza and separate pages for toppings, sauce and cheese...I KNOW I clicked "no cheese" at least three times, but apparently I didn't click it at the RIGHT time, or I reloaded the page wrong, or something.  Whatever.  The manager was a little turd, and basically said he would make me a large pizza at full price, with full delivery charges, and that's it--and no, I can't have a medium, and no, I can't have the same deal as before, and...I gave up.

So I'm starving, with a whole, cheesy, extra-saucy, pepperoni-onion-green pepper pizza sitting in front of me.  It's perfect; I didn't even have to compromise and let John put mushrooms on it.  Even the breadsticks had little dots on them that John promised me were garlic, but I knew better.  I am a card-carrying Parmesan cheese lover, and I know Parmesan when I see it.

Of course I thought about eating it.  I also thought about making John eat pizza for lunch for the next week.  Finally, I picked off the cheese and all the toppings.  I'm sure there were a couple of tiny pieces baked onto the crust, but I made an effort to eat just saucy bread.  And I learned my lesson about ordering special-request pizzas through an online system.  I can't imagine a more difficult challenge during NDJ--for the rest of the month, when I'm faced with a dairy emergency, I can remind myself of the Pizza Incident.

Damn that turdly little pizza manager.  I should have asked him if he ever contemplates the life choices that led to his managing a pizza franchise at his age.

Texas food

Is there another state that is so into its own shape?  I know Michigan has that mitten gag, but it's mostly a reference thing, like calling it "The Mitten," or pointing out where you're from on your own hand.  (I'm from the squishy part under your thumb, right over that bumpy wrist bone.)  Texas just seems to like shaping things like Texas.  I think it's hilarious--especially the food.  Here are two additions to my collection of Texas-shaped food.

I found these Texas-shaped crackers at the grocery store.  They're actually a store brand, and there's nothing on the box except a picture of the crackers and some nutritional info.  They're actually pretty good; they just might become a regular snack item around here.

And then...well, this one is my own fault.  I told John IN JEST that I wanted a Texas-shaped cake pan for Christmas.  He made an effort to find one, and came up with this cookie cutter instead.  I think it's great.  He also gave me a KitchenAid stand mixer.  THE stand mixer.  The red one.  You know what I'm talking about.  This mixer will destroy my ass, and I am fully comfortable with that, mostly.

Day 3

Yesterday and today started out in similar ways--and tomorrow will, as well--I worked from early in the morning until mid-afternoon.  This is a challenge I didn't have last year, when my schedule was built of lessons and free periods, and I could bring my food or plan where to get it.  When I work, I eat in the hotel cafeteria.  I could bring my food, but let's be honest: at 5:45 in the morning, I'm not figuring out what to eat later, or remembering to get something out of the fridge.  Just putting one foot in front of the other.

***I keep reminding myself that I've had teaching jobs where I had to get up this early and drive for two hours before teaching all day.  I liked the work; I liked my students.  Maybe most importantly, I'd set my own schedule, and I felt in control.  But wait!--I remind myself again: I had to get up at 4:30 when I worked in that other coffee shop, and I went to sleep a lot later back then.  That was a different job, and I was in a different place.  Maybe I'm just in a self-pitying place now.  There's nothing wrong with that.***

Anyway, breakfast at work is free, but limited to pastries, bagels and boxed cereal.  The milk machine only has whole and 2%, not even skim, so I sometimes eat shredded wheat dry.  That sounds worse than it is; dry shredded wheat is a pretty typical snack for me.  Today I ate some toast with peanut butter, then said to hell with it and ate some Froot Loops.  No milk, of course.  I haven't eaten Froot Loops in at least two decades. They were just as bland and styrofoamy as I remember.

Lunch is $1.50, and it's difficult to navigate if you have any kind of dietary restriction.  It's not great food to begin with--well, maybe when it BEGAN, it was okay, but a lot of our lunchroom food starts out as banquet food for events at the hotel.  Then it gets sent down to the cafeteria, where they serve permutations of it until it's gone.  There are dishes prepared especially for the employees, like Enchilada Wednesdays, but a lot of times we're looking at over-baked salmon and chicken cutlets...the next day we have over-baked salmon and stir-fried chicken pieces...the next day the salmon may have disappeared, but there will still be shredded chicken tacos.  There are occasional surprises: last week they made menudo.  Some of the Mexican employees told me the menudo was really good.  I elected not to try it.

Even before I started No Dairy, I learned to eat most of my lunch from the salad end of the bar.  The salad toppings are disappointing at best--often there are a couple of random veggie options, some tuna or chicken salad (chicken salad the day after chicken tacos), two different kinds of cheese (one of which is slices, in case you want to make a chicken sandwich), croutons, lemon wedges--basically, whatever they could find.  I like the days when they have chickpeas.  I avoid the meats, usually, but I want to get enough protein so I'm not starving by the end of my shift.  Chickpeas on my salad are the best, but those little bastards are impossible to stab with a plastic fork.

You know how I got a free turkey for Thanksgiving?  Obviously, there were a bunch of leftover turkeys from employees who didn't want or need them.  The hotel donated some, but we also had turkey for lunch EVERY STINKING DAY for weeks and weeks.

The desserts are fantastic.  Remember, these are leftover banquet dishes.  We get yummy chocolate cakes, carrot cakes, cheesecakes, berry tartlets, petits fours, and big yummy cookies.  Sadly, there aren't too many non-dairy options on the dessert line.

So, today's lunch was lettuce with fat-free Italian dressing (there were no chickpeas today, and the veggie choices were, like, onions, black olives and cauliflower), a baked potato with chili, and jello.

Dinner at home: turkey sandwich on sourdough with gravy.

Just like last year, I seem to be easing into this by just avoiding obvious dairy, but not worrying too much about dairy as a minor ingredient.  I don't know how strict I'll get by the end of the month.  It's hard to tell if there are any immediate changes as a result of cutting the dairy--I'm still getting over this cold, so my sinuses are crapped up, anyway.  I gained an indecent amount of weight last year because of stress and, you know, eating.  I didn't feel like weighing myself this weekend, but I suppose I should unpack the scale and see where we stand.

I'm a little sad that I can't do Enchilada Wednesday tomorrow.  Those things are pretty good, but they're all cheesy.  Salad and jello it is.

No Dairy January!

Wow, I knew it had been a while since I posted, but I didn't realize it had been two months.  Oops.

No sense in explaining where I've been...that would be boring and, well, I'd have to relive it, which I don't really feel like doing.  I'm fighting a cold--a real one this time, not Texas-inspired allergies--and I generally feel crappy.  Even without the cold.  My job makes me get up at 5:30 am and stand up all day pretending to be busy, except about twice a week when it makes me stay up super-late (which really makes me love those early morning alarms).  When my co-workers ask which shift I like better, I tell them I like the morning shift and people better, but I hate getting up early.  When my FRIENDS ask me which shift I like better, I tell them that the evening shift makes me hate my job, but the morning shift makes me hate my life.

Also, we bought a house.  The house is awesome.  Right now, I'm too tired to do anything with it, but it seems to understand.

Anyway, I know why we're all here: it's time for No Dairy January!  Everybody watch while Betsy attempts to go 30 days without cheese while living in the Tex-Mex capital of, well, Texas.

For day one, I slept forever (worked until 2 last night) and ate a couple of leftover cookies for breakfast--stunning vision of health, that's me.  Later, I ate some crackers shaped like Texas.  You know how I love Texas-shaped food!  For dinner, John roasted a turkey that has lived in our freezer since Thanksgiving.  My work gave me a turkey along with my paycheck--it was great carrying that home on the bus--and we couldn't face cooking it in our little rental kitchen.  He made some stuffing, too, but that was the extent of our fancy meal.  I usually do more with the side dishes, and I just couldn't get my ass out of bed long enough to do it.  We had leftover apple pie for dessert.

As I was finishing my second helping of turkey, I said something to John about the flavor of the turkey.  He said, "It's all that butter that I basted it with all day!"   My fork froze on its way to my mouth.  Then John's fork froze, too, and he said, "I mean, it's all that non-dairy margarine that I basted...."

No Dairy January score: Butter, 1; Betsy, 0.  Live to fight another day.