I mean. I don't NOT feel better. Getting up easily, going to bed early, having my clothes fit again. FINE. IT'S BETTER, OK? You know what else? Coffee isn't better black. Nope. I'll drink it, but I feel like I accomplished something if I finished a cup. "Oooh, I did it! I drank a whole mug of burnt water from Starbucks. Good for me!" Fuck you, it's better my way.
So does that mean I liked the coffee-flavored sugar and cream better? YES. Yes it does. Fine. But I never asked them to change that so they can stop looking all smug now. Stupid book people in my mind as I slowly go insane stupid.
I make up for it by having chocolate pudding for breakfast. This time, we didn't have enough dates to sweeten it, so we added a banana. I added coconut cream for kicks because I have a problem. When it's refrigerated, it tastes like you're adding hunks of butter to chocolate. Something I never knew I needed in my mouth until I had it.
Yeah, we're still doing phrasing. And I'm still a ten year old boy. Hooray!
The delicious curried cream of broccoli soup was lunch. Dinner...dinner was terrifying. It was frustrating. It was...
A First. World. Problem.
I was going to make this Mango Chicken with Coconut Cauliflower Rice. I needed a few things for the house, plus specific things to make it, so I chose the Instacart route.
I ordered. They showed up. I started to cook. I realized I was missing something. I was missing a lot of somethings.
I called the number that belonged to whomever was texting me about replacements during the shopping trip, and admonishing me for not responding right away. Couldn't WAIT to talk to that guy. He seemed a peach. But instead of getting Chad McFussypants when I called, the number lead me to Instacart customer service.
THAT call lead to me almost jumping out the window. But were in a garden unit, so I'd have to climb up, ruining the new flowers, and it would be a whole thing so I didn't bother.
I asked them where the other bag of groceries was. They put me on hold for 15 minutes, and then came back and said they were just gonna re-send the whole order, but no one could deliver it until the next day. "Is there anything I can do?" the half-dead meat sack on the other end of the line inquired.
"Um. Yeah. You can find the driver and ask if he left a bag of my stuff in his car that he charged me for. Are you kidding? There's lots you can do."
I was on hold for another 15 minutes. They didn't know how to get in touch with the driver. I also stopped this zombie from sending my entire order over again, and somehow made it clear that I was only missing some groceries. Not all of them. Like she sounded as though she was losing some of her will to live working there. Not all of it. I got refunded. I hung up. I wanted to go to bed.
Whatever. I had cooking and parenting to do. I got the bird off to bed, and I improvised and changed the recipe a bit. It was delicious. IT WAS ALSO 10:30PM. Buuuut ya know. Do what you can? I guess?
Ahhh the beginning of May. The bird's favorite month, she says, because it's warm. Poor thing. It isn't warm in May in Chicago. Doesn't she know by now? She's lived here for 5 years.
Both me and my husband have reached peak crankiness. Like angry tigers being poked with sticks and forced into a photo op.
So that made the day awesome.
Breakfast was some of these egg cups I threw together the night before. I used uncured, sugar-free bacon, kale and and bell peppers. You can add whatever you want, which is handy.
Lunch was leftovers for the husband, and a lot of hustle for me. I had an audition downtown, so I had two of these with some coffee at the local coffee shop while I worked.
Yes. I ate the accomplishments of a dung beetle.
No. I ate blueberry energy balls from The Common Cup that are not only Whole30 compliant, but DELICIOUS. My kid even likes them, and she's basically living on waffles and raspberries right now. So.
I went downtown, taped my audition talking about food I can't eat right now, and then went downstairs to work in the coffee shop. Did I mention I'm in a lot of coffee shops? I wanted all the pastry they had. I got this instead.
Hard boiled eggs, black coffee, a pressed fruit bar with chia seeds, and half of a juice since I don't think those are technically allowed. WHO AM I? WHAT HAVE I BECOME?
I got home with the bird and set to making dinner, which was these beautiful things:
Yep. It was time for stuffed peppers. Keep in mind that link is to someone else's blog trying to make the peppers from the book, which is what I did. I just can't link to the recipe from the book. So these people were nice enough to write it out for us.
I pulled out the Le Creuset casserole and got to work softening the peppers in the oven while I made the filling. Once both were done, I just had to fill them and pop them back in the oven.
My husband wouldn't be home until late that night, so he would be able to heat these up easily. The best part was, while I was eating, my kid was pretending to be evil and making a potion so that "no one could stop her." Between bites, we'd both cackle wickedly and she put her hand on her hip to show she meant business.
Everything is better when you evil laugh your way through it.
I also made a soup for the next day. A turkey, cauliflower, and kale soup. Check it.
I burned breakfast. See, the day before I had to prep this slow cooker breakfast frittata. But remember how I said we were the crankiest people you've ever met? My breadless rage clouded my vision and I put the crock pot on high instead of low. Fortunately, I smelled it before the whole thing was ruined, but it was close. I salvaged most of it and put it in the saddest tupperware you've ever seen.
We had the turkey, kale, and cauliflower soup for lunch. I'm pretty sure I spent the rest of that day making lists and freaking out about finishing this plan up properly after my knee surgery. Just as I started to panic, the Village stepped up. No, not the creepy movie kind, the It-Takes-A kind. A dear friend not only volunteered to clean the house while I was getting my knee replaced, she was slated to come over on Monday and cook for us for the week. THE WEEK. Angels exist, and they walk among us. I was floored. Grateful. Worried that I might not do all that for someone else. Now I gotta. I have to pay that forward. Ok, now I'm actually mad at her. Cause now I gotta do stuff. What a jerk.
For dinner, we had ghee. Just...straight out of the jar.
Ok. Not exactly. But we had this, and replaced the butter in the recipe with ghee (clarified butter), and I felt like I just greased myself up to do a Slip n Slide on land. Here's a selfie I took:
I went to rehearsal smelling like a million frying pans cried out in anguish and suddenly fell silent. IDC IDC IT WAS DELICIOUS. I REGRET NOTHING.
I came home and tried to towel some of the butter off me, but I decided against it because my skin finally had that glow all the commercials tell me I should have. Who knew it was just butter?
I also had prep to do. I had to rinse and soak my almonds for the next day's breakfast. I promptly dropped them in the sink, fished them out and rinsed them again. Go, me!
Less talk. More cook. OK FINE.
This morning, we had a grain free breakfast porridge. In other words, this:
That is the middle step of a breakfast porridge. The first was soaking the nuts overnight. Yep. Had to do a good job soakin m'nuts.
I told you, I will never change.
Then you blend a bunch of stuff together, cook it, and devour it.
Lunch was that soup again, and it was also worry. I consumed lots of nervousness and worry. See, the next day was May the Fourth. While that sounds like an awesome day to celebrate like the nerd I am, it was also the day I got my knee replaced.
This blog will wrap up in a haze of vegetables, meat, and Hydrocodone. It should be short and make even less sense than I'm making now.
In case my anxiety wasn't quite at its peak, I had to get the bird from school early and take her to her 5 year doctor appointment. Husband had enough time between jobs to take us there. She did great. She responded to the doctor, we saw where she was on percentiles, we talked about behavioral stuff and sleep. Just...super smooth. Until the doctor left the room. She said, on her way out, "Just one shot today. Polio." She then shut the door behind her.
Then the crying and screaming began, and it would continue unabated for about 40 minutes. I had to hold her facing me because she clung too tightly for me to turn her outward. I had to hold her arms with my arms as she wailed and managed to break free, almost hitting the needle with her arm. She kept looking at the mirror, which allowed her to see the needle and made her more upset.
Finally, it was over. It took a while to calm down. Finally, she said, "I didn't like that."
No one did, baby girl. Especially you. Poor thing.
There's a Treasure Island in her doc's office building, so we went there to get her a treat. She wanted the purple macaron, even though I warned her it was lavender. She took one bite, hated it, and I gave them three dollars.
Honestly, she went through so many bars (tasting and discarding), baguettes, and other snacks, I don't remember what we had for dinner. Probably fear. And pain. Let's go with that.
Next up: The final entry, where I will attempt to wrap this thing up in some kind of entertaining way, as I stay on-plan after knee replacement surgery. Because I'm an idiot.