Dining Dilemma

Okay, so I'm in San Diego, I have 16 points left for dinner, and right around the corner from my hotel is a restaurant one of my students recommended highly- especially for their Pipian crusted brie (what the hell is a pipian?) with jalapeno jelly, honey roasted garlic, grilled nopales, and scallion flatbread. CRAP! Plus, they apparently have really good creme brulee, which is like my kryptonite. I think I may have to just live a little and use the rest of my weekly points in one shot. I hate using them up before the weekend (I've been using them towards a small oreo blizzard on Sundays), but when's the next time I get to dine in a fabulous restaurant in San Diego on the company's dime? Believe it or not, I rarely get to eat this well in other cities. These last few weeks in California have been such a treat, and I've been eating well, and still losing, so to hell with it! I'm totally gonna eat cheese and creme brulee!

I knew you all would understand, so thanks for your support.

6 Miles, Take 2!

It's been a whopping 4 months since I last ran 6 miles, but this morning I did it again (for those of you who measure your runs in feline sightings, it was a 12 cat run!). As you may remember, I don't tend to do well in the morning, but I was up at 6 this morning since B was on his way to ride the Portland Century (100 miles!). So I ate a Clif bar (blueberry crisp flavor...my new addiction), drank two cups of coffee, a big glass of water, and at 8 was out the door in my cute new spiffy green Oregon Ducks shorts (hey, you gotta look cute, ya know). Well, I think I hit upon a winning strategy for morning runs, because I felt great, and only stopped twice to walk briefly (for one minute). It must have been the Clif bar, because when I've run on just coffee, I tend to feel a little nauseous. And the key was to wait until the Clif bar left my tummy and do my....well, you know...business.

I'm still counting points and still losing steadily- another two pounds for last week. I had to wear a diaper pin to hold up my suit pants this past week (ladies suit pants rarely have belt loops- what's up with that?) Since I was in San Francisco this week (one of my favorite cities to teach in), I had saved up my weekly point allowance (35) for the trip, and boy did I have fun using them! I ate mini donuts on Pier 39 (holy crap, those should be outlawed), sourdough bread, and all sorts of chocolate. Totally worth it. I burned off quite a few points running along the Embarcadero, which is so much fun! Good people watching there. I felt like such a schlup though compared to all the foxy gals that look like they popped out of Vogue. I should really get my eyebrows waxed...

So this week I'm off to San Diego, which should have some good running spots. My hotel is right next to the harbor, so maybe I can run and look at boats!

How much does my gas weigh?

Seriously though, I'm amazed that I go to bed one weight and in the morning, I've lost 5 pounds! Apparently it has everything to do with water retention, but that still baffles me; I know I didn't pee 5 pounds worth of water last night. Whatever. I'm pretty sure it's because yesterday I made a concerted effort to drink more water than usual (funny how in order to lose the water weight, you have to drink more water, I think it's something to do with cell osmosis, or somethin...), which seems to have done the trick today, for I am down another couple of pounds. Excellent...

I'm astounded though cause recently I seem to have crossed some clothing size threshold even though I haven't lost that many pounds, and I'm now a comfortable (maybe even a bit loose) size 12. Yesterday I went to Nordstrom Rack (the outlet store for all the pootzy last season clothes) and bought some new threads, including a cute Ann Taylor suit for under 100.00, and I practically hooted with joy in the dressing room as I tried it on. Not something I would normally do in a dressing room. Weep, perhaps, but not hoot.

So, today I decided to go through clothes in my own closet (shudder) and see what treasures I could find that haven't seen the light for several years. Let me tell you: I can now fit into every single article in that closet (except for one anthropologie dress that was purchased way too small because it was on sale and so cute) , even some of my Star Bar days vintage dresses that, I don't care what Stacey and Clinton say, I will not get rid of. Yippee!!!!

So I guess countin' points is workin. By the way, B lost three more this week, so we're pretty stoked. Here is a lunchtime favorite I've been making when I'm in town and a sandwich doesn't sound appealing (I've included point values for WW folks that might stumble in here):

7 Point Lavash Pepperoni Pizza
This is a single serving extra thin cracker-crust pizza- great when craving a 'bad' pizza

• 1/2 Trader Joe's lavash (2 pt) sprayed lightly with olive oil and broiled until starts to turn brown.
• Flip lavash upside down (oil side down- this helps keep it firm rather than soggy)
• Thinly spread favorite tomato sauce (I like Newman's Own Sockarooni - 1 pt)
• Add turkey pepperoni (and/or whatever veggies you like- 10 slices of the pepperoni is 2 pt. I add garlic, red pepper flakes, and onions)
• Sprinkle 1/4 cup of 2% mozzerella cheese (2 pt- if you like a bit more, add 1 more pt)
• Place under broiler until cheese is bubbly and beginning to brown.
• Enjoy!
  

Hobo Cats

Oh. My. God. My two favorite topics, hobos and cats, have a cartoon. I found this link from my favorite website EVER. Why didn't I know about this sooner!?

The Laugh-Out-Loud Cats.


This is even better than the Mutts Shtinky cat (unless Shtinky is singing about his treasured "lil pink shock!" it's a cat with a lisp and sock fetish, get it?)

My, your points sure do look tasty....

Hey everybody! (said in my best Will Ferrel does Harry Caray voice)

So I've just returned from my San Jose leg, and barely squeaked through the last few days without totally blowing my points. One of my 'tricks' is to eat packets of oatmeal in the hotel room for breakfast (4 points), avoiding the minefield of points that is the hotel breakfast buffet. Also, that stuff is nasty. I don't care how many stars a place has, the eggs are always weird and rubbery, the bacon is so thin it's transparent, and whatever you do, don't eat the muffins! They have been in that case since 1983!

So for lunches on the road I usually have to rely on the sandwich cafe found in many of the buildings I teach, but if I order a turkey on wheat with mustard and all the veggies they have, I can keep my lunch down to 6 points, which leaves me with 14-20 points for dinner (grilled or broiled fish/chicken/pork and steamed veggies plus popcorn for dessert!) depending on whether I exercised or not that day. Still, turkey gets really old. So, for this last trip I thought I would be smart and request a microwave and fridge in my room so I could bring my famous (okay not really, but it makes it sound tastier) 4 point black beans and brown rice from home to eat for lunches instead of sandwiches, and it would have worked beautifully had it not been for the increasingly ridiculous dog and pony show that is the TSA. There was liquid in my beans! (which were in my carry-on luggage) So they took my beautiful homemade with enough garlic to kill a camel cuban-style beans! Sigh. Next time, I plan on freezing the beans and checking them. Stupid liquid rules.

*****

In case you're wondering about my current running status... I am still running diligently, have worked up to 5 miles again, and am getting faster! My 'normal' pace is now a 11.5 minute mile. Before I know it, I'll be at the 10 minute mile, which is where I will be happy, and the point at which I'll feel comfortable enough to join the local runners club.

When I'm not running, I'm still riding the blue beast. Our most recent outing was the Bridge Pedal, an annual event where the city pretty much shuts down all the major bridges over the Willamette River to most vehicles except for bikes (and peds) for a few hours on a Sunday morning. It's an organized ride which requires registration and a donation to the Bicycle Transportation Alliance (BTA) here in Portland, and this year close to 20,000 bicycle riders showed up, from the wee'est of kids to the gramps and grannys, the lycra clad, and hipsters, clowns, and everything in between.

(Doncha just love the groovy vest we had to wear?)

We chose the 10 bridge option which was close to a 40 mile ride, but we got to ride on bridges that are normally too scary for me to ride in traffic, and on a few of the bigger bridges, there were parties! Food, music (bagpipers!), and Starbucks! Check out the line!

It was a very hard ride, and I like to have died the last few miles, but boy was it worth it. Worth at least 15 points, anyway.

My New Favorite Thing

Haagen-dazs fat free raspberry sorbet vanilla yogurt bars. 100 calories, zero fat, and only 2 points.

It's the best thing ever.

The Popcorn Incident

So, I promised I'd post about the Popcorn Incident of 2007, an event in the continuing saga of the not-so-savvy traveler, yours truly. Although it's really not so much an illustration of poor travel choices, but rather a demonstration of how cranky I get when I try to diet. But first a little background...

I began counting Weight Watcher points last week in an effort to finally once and for all get down to my drivers license weight. I had naively thought that running alone would do it, but I had reached a plateau since losing the 20 post-quit-smoking pounds. So B and I decided that if we can quit smoking together, then surely we can lose weight together (especially since we're still living together as roommates, and often eating together), so now we're in this together, which makes it sooo much easier. Especially since I don't go to the meetings, which engenders accountability and support, but can be really annoying. In the (almost) three years that we've lived with each other, I have attempted to diet approximately 12 times, and not to place blame on B, but my efforts have always been easily derailed by the innocent bag of cheese puffs lying on his desk, or the "hey, you wanna make some chili-cheese dip?" Very tough to resist. So imagine my delight (and surprise) when B (after seeing a shirtless picture of himself), decided to make a concerted effort to diet with me.

For those of you unfamiliar with the points system, it's Weight Watcher's proprietary method for calculating daily food limits- it combines calories, fat, and fiber to develop a point value for any given food item. And based on a chart of weight ranges, you are assigned a daily points target (mine is 24). Many have found it's actually more effective than just counting calories.

So we started last Sunday, and my first big test was in Los Angeles. So before departing, I stocked up on 100 calorie snack packs, fruit, instant oatmeal, and mini bags of low fat Kettle Corn popcorn (only 2 points per bag!). The popcorn being the most significant item, in case you haven't figured it out already. So my second night at the ghetto hotel, I got the munchies. And normally, I'd have plugged some change into one of the vending machines (part of the reason I can't seem to lose weight. go figure), but I remembered I'd packed a delicious low point treat: microwave popcorn! But, alas! No microwave in the room. So, I called down to the front desk to see if there were any microwaves in the building, and they told me the restaurant kitchen was the only place with microwaves, so I bopped down to the restaurant (it was after the dinner rush at this point), and asked one of the staff if there was any way they would be kind enough to pop my bag for 1 minute/thirty seconds. "We don't have no microwaves" (Huh?) "But, the front desk...", "We got a microwave in the employee lounge, but it's off limits to guests" (umm, thinking at this point, I'm paying 150.00 a night, and you won't let me use your damn microwave?) "Listen, I'm on a special diet and I'd really appreciate it if you could help me out here", "Well...okay, I get Tony to go up there for you", "Hey Tony!" So, Tony takes my bag (with a look that suggests he'd rather be text-messaging his pals, instead of helping this crazy chic) and nods his head when I say "just a minute and a half is all it takes, and thank you so much!" So, 5 minutes later (do you see where this is going?) he returns, sheepishly, with a bag that looks vaguely like mine, only if it had been torched to a crisp. He apologizes for burning my popcorn, but they will be happy to give me a bag of chips in return. I shake my head no, and take my shriveled, smelly bag out to the lobby and stuff it into the garbage, and trudge back to my room, fighting back tears (I'm telling you, the first week of a diet is hell on my emotions). I call B in a fit of rage and rant about the damn popcorn, and probably scare him a little. After I get off the phone, I dig through my stores, and wait! here's another bag! So, I head out to my rental, drive up to the 7-eleven, and pop my popcorn in their microwave, drive back to the hotel, and eat my damn popcorn. Looking back on it now, I see clearly that I am a crazy person. But dammit! It shouldn't be that hard to pop a damn bag of popcorn!

And yes, from now on I plan on requesting a microwave in my hotel rooms.

*****

And in case you're wondering - in a week I have lost two pounds and B has lost four. So unfair.

Rick Steves I am Not

Sometimes, I'm not the most savvy traveler. Like when I double book myself at two hotels (of the same chain) in the same city, stay at the ghetto one unawares until the day I'm to leave, when I look through my email and notice a confirmation from the better hotel that I somehow missed, so I have to call the better hotel and explain that I wasn't exactly a no-show, I just ended up at their other (ghetto) property across the street, for four days. I'm not going to name names, but the hotel name starts with "S" and ends with "N" and in the middle "herato". The 4 Points is the ghetto version. And this hotel does everything wrong. From the cigarette burned carpets, to the repulsive potpourri "plug-ins" in the lobby (I guess to cover up the stale cigarette smell), to the lack of microwaves in the rooms (or anywhere else in the hotel, which incidentally led to the "Popcorn Incident" which I'll describe in a later post- yes it deserves its own post), to the surly attitude of the front desk staff, to the air conditioner that rattled so loud I asked to move to another room, only to discover the rattle was a feature in the new room too! No extra charge! To the shower head that didn't work properly, ect..... Don't even get me started with the fitness room that has the treadmill shoved into a corner, so that you're facing a wall, with a stationary bike directly behind it, that will inevitably be occupied as soon as you think you've got the room to yourself, get on the treadmill to stare at the wall, only to find that someone else has just come in and is now on the exercise bike directly behind you staring at your bouncing bum. Which then leads you to quickly dismount the treadmill after 5 minutes and head outside to run in the urban blight of a wasteland that is the LAX neighborhood. I'm lucky I wasn't shot. At least I didn't have to look at a wall. Anyway, what a shitty trip this has been. And it only gets better....

I'm now in LAX waiting for my 8:30 (but delayed) flight home to Portland with a growly stomach. This has got to be the most miserable airport in the whole wide world. It just sucks the soul out of you like one of those dementors. Now, I have a routine on my last day in a city, where I leave the lab after class, head directly to the airport, and find a nice sit-down restaurant to eat and relax in until it's time to head to the gate. So, I take my bag to the check-in counter, and the lady behind the desk informs me that my flight is delayed by 30 minutes, which is fine with me since I'm going to have a nice leisurely dinner at one of the restaurants in the terminal. I have 2.5 hours now before my flight leaves, so I head through security anticipating a not-great, but somewhat decent dinner, since I can expense it. Well, the terminal I'm in has no nice restaurants. Burger King, a sausage stand, and a noisy, packed sports bar with tvs everywhere. Have I mentioned that I'm doing Weight Watchers again? (I'm just counting points- not going to meetings) So, not too many healthy choices. But I have to eat, so I order a chicken sausage dog, and look for a place to eat it. But all the places to sit are taken up with other people who's flights have been delayed, canceled, ect. So I end up sitting on the floor. I take a bite of the dog and immediately throw it away it's so repulsive. I try my luck again with a pre-made chicken sandwich, and wouldn't you know it, can't eat more than a few bites it's so soggy and nasty. So while I'm wandering around hoping to find something edible, I hear an announcement for a final boarding call to Portland. Huh? Oh shit. There was an earlier flight I could have flown out on. I usually check with the check in counter people to see if there are any earlier flights, but I was so hungry, I wasn't as concerned with getting out on an earlier flight. So at this point, I'm so mad and upset, I'd punch a unicorn, both at myself, and at the bitch at the check in counter who didn't mention an earlier flight I could have tried to get on rather than be delayed in smelly LAX. So I decide to vent in an email to a friend, and damn! after sending it I reread it and realized how insane I sound. Below is an excerpt from my rant:

i can literally feel my blood pressure spiking to new heights. you
thought the popcorn incident was bad? the only thing that's keeping me from bursting into tears is that i can't decide whether to throw myself on this rotten foul carpet and burst into tears, or take a garbage can and throw it at the @#$%^&* behind the counter. so, i'm trying to decide which public spectacle would make me feel better: a childish temper tantrum, or a violent act that will surely make me instantly famous.

So, I thought maybe it would be more constructive to post to the blog, since I haven't posted all week, and it will keep me busy until the danger of my making a scene passes.

So far, so good. I've calmed down quite a bit. I think the gate agent is now out of danger.

So, what lame excuse do you use?

For not exercising that is. I got a whole sleeve and hat full of 'em- we all do apparently (this has been a topic of conversation with friends and family lately). But this morning I was planning to tell myself to f*** off and get over it already and get the hell out of bed. So, it sorta worked since I actually went running this morning on a treadmill, at my hotel. See, normally I run in the late afternoon/evening, at home and on the road, cause I have a really hard time getting up in the morning early when I'm traveling, due to time zone shiftiness, and trouble falling asleep before midnight. But my new half marathon training calls for running 5 days a week, which means that I have to run on the road more than I'm used to, and that means the occasional morning run before I teach.

Anyway, this morning I had set my alarm to 5:30, planning on doing 3 miles, which would leave me just enough time to shower, change, and drink coffee, before my taxi arrived at 7:15. That would have worked beautifully if I had actually woken up at 5:30. When the phone started ringing (don't trust wake-up calls), the bad Peachy grabbed the alarm clock and somehow managed to wake up enough to turn it off and reschedule it for 6:15 (a pretty complicated maneuver, I might add), so the bad Peachy fell back asleep while the good Peachy attempted, unsuccessfully, to guilt the bad peachy into waking up to run. Well, it didn't work so well. But! When the 6:15 alarm went off, good Peachy punished bad Peachy by forcing her to put on running clothes and head straight down to the treadmill with no coffee for a quick run. Boy, was bad Peachy pissed. But, it turned out for the best, good and bad reconciled because the run was actually really good (although only managed two miles due to compromise with bad Peachy). I was sad to have to cut it off early, but also glad that I finally broke out of the old lame excuse of yore. So, I am going to try it again next week! In the meantime, I'm stickin to my usual early evening schedule, since I seem to do best at this time of day, although you never know, I may become a morning runner yet...

By the way, have I mentioned how much I hate the airlines? All of them. I was posting this entry at the Indianapolis airport when I heard my flight home was going to be way too late for me to make my connection home, so they kindly put me up for the night in a fleabag. At least I'm next to an Awful Waffle, which I've missed since leaving the South, so I just HAD to order a scattered, covered, smothered, and peppered, cooked very well. Yum. And Eww, all at the same time! How is that possible?

Aquafina is Tap Water

Wake up people, and stop buying tap water from these snake oil salesman.

Here's the article

Updated: Unless you're in Florida or South Georgia, because your tap water tastes like butt.

Hobo-globes

Hey! Take a look at some of my hobo-globes (now hyphenated thanks to someone who thought it said "hobgoblins"). Check out the pirate scratchin his butt (mom found him at a flea market).

Bike Camping

A few weeks ago we went bike camping for the first time with B's friend Reese from Seattle to Oxbow Park. Were stayed only one night since it was a last minute, day before "hey let's try camping by bike!" impulsive thing. We loaded everything up on the bikes, including 345 pound cooler (with absolutely no alcoholic beverages because they aren't allowed), camp chairs, and other heavy non-essential comfort items (because I'm a pansy girl). B volunteered to haul the trailer (since he's the strongest rider), while Reese and I had less heavy (but by no means insubstantial) panniers on our bikes...

Note the running shoes tied to my bike , just in case the 25 miles of HUGE HILLS weren't enough friggin exercise.

He was cussin up a storm the whole time, but I couldn't blame him since he was hauling the equivalent of a baby elephant up and down these hellacious hills. We'd have broken up... if we hadn't already.
That's Reese from Seattle. He has cool tattoos.


I did manage to get a few shots of the country side, but not as many as I'd have liked because we were either flying down hills at 40 mph, or painfully slogging up hills cussing murderously at each other and passing cars.

I'd do it again, but to do over I'd need some of that lightweight backpacker gear, cause my stuff is too damn heavy. And I'm gonna have to learn to camp without the inflatable mattress...