Coffee isn't better black. Nope. I'll drink it, but I feel like I accomplishedsomething 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.
Look. I'm behind. I'm hopped up on painkillers for a knee replacement at the moment, so if I'm gonna try to remember one or two days, let's just cram in four. I have no sense of boundaries right now. LET'S DO IT ALL. I'll keep em brief.
This is pre-surgery, so I'm not hallucinating at this point. I mean, not any more than the usual dreams of swimming in rivers of linguine while chugging a Manhattan and toweling myself off with a baguette. But I went for braised short ribs with eggs instead. Afterward, I was gonna -- GODDAMNIT.
I just went ahead and set it all on fire. That was fastest.
I got the bird to school, and then sat down to work: new monologue commissions, telling people to come to Write Club, telling people about free vocal coaching, and a bunch of other stuff. I had enough energy to keep writing for hours...just not that pilot I'm supposed to be finishing. Apparently, I'll just let that sit until it's done. Let it ripen. I'm sure that's how it works.
Lunch was chicken salad on top of some veggies (seriously, throwing these things together is getting easier all the time). This is why I don't food blog regularly. I can't make what I ate all that suspenseful and interesting.
Dinner was this amazingness. Again, there are quotes in this title, because someone decided that no one would understand , "Thai Chicken With Spicy Sunbutter Sauce." Or just....sauce. Nope. You have to say, "Spicy 'Peanut' Sauce." I mean, they have to. I'm not doing this quoted food business.
Now, as I've mentioned, we don't have the bird on this plan. Because she's 5. Plus, she's picky and fickle because 5. She's currently in a phase where everything she's previously enjoyed is now disgusting to her. We can no longer clean her plate for her (the Scraps of My Daughter dinner special), so we save it, or throw it away if it will go bad soon. What I'm saying is, LOOK AT THIS PLATE OF BULLSHIT.
Yep. That's a fried chicken patty and tater tots. That she asked for. In her defense, she ate all of the fruit and most of her carrots. I quietly wept as I put these leftovers into the refrigerator. Later, I would give away all of our fried things stash and boxes of mac and cheese to a friend to take home. She no longer digs them, and they are CALLING MY NAME. They're LOUD.
All this heroic resistance - shut up, I'll call it what I want - made me tired. This plan has me getting up easier, but also wanting to call it a day at about 9. It's probably my body's defense mechanism. "GET HER TO SLEEP BEFORE SHE EATS CEREAL AND CHEESE. AGAIN."
You know that kind of tired where you lay down and you're just so damned excited? For sleep? Like, you wish you could be awake for your falling asleep because it's gonna be so awesome? Like you're telling yourself, "Oh, you are gonna LOVE this." No? Just me? Fine.
I made sweet Meuslove to my bowl. I AM SO SORRY. I'll figure out an appropriate way to talk about this dish someday. Today is not that day.
The husband got a surprise freezer soup for lunch. I was running out of room, and I saw this container of soup. It had to be at least mostly compliant, I thought. So I did the generous thing and made him find out. Hey, honey, was it ok?
I packed up most of my belongings so I could go see My Fair Lady at the Lyric Opera and then head to rehearsal. See, my writing partner and bestie is amazing, and she gets to be in that shit while I write about what I ate. I keep waiting for her to get famous so I can just ride her coattails. It's really inconsiderate of her not to have done that by now. I digress.
I bolted as soon as the show was over and made it to rehearsal...so that I could be relieved from rehearsal 10 minutes later. I'm a professional, I tell you. Good thing I spent $35 on a cab to get there. Between that and the grocery bill, these entries will all be written from our spot under the viaduct. Mama needs a recurring role or writers' room work if she's gonna keep this up.
Since I was home for dinner, I decided to make one. Easy roasted salmon. from Mark Bittman, replacing the butter with ghee. Ever notice that "ghee" sounds like "glee?" And tastes like joy? No? Again. Just me?
I made another round of cauliflower mash because I love it so. This time...something went wrong. I mean, it looked great.
I bit into the cauliflower mash and wanted to cry. This was my revenge for sending the husband off with mystery lunch. See, when you boil the cauliflower, you also boil the garlic cloves. I forgot that part, and just added the cloves straight to the food processor. RAW GARLIC. So we won't have colds, upset stomachs, vampires...or friends...anytime soon.
Good damn night.
Ohhhhh this day wanted me dead. I'm sure of it. I started it off beautifully. It started off with sweet potato, chicken, and eggs. I know. I said I didn't photograph it anymore. i lied to you.
That might have been the last good thing that happened that day. My child has decided that 5 is a GREAT age to start having tantrums. Never did it before, and just...suddenly...perfected it. Over nothing. Girl was mad I couldn't wear my computer glasses to take her to school because they'll give me a headache. She made me AN HOUR LATE for a meeting with a client who wants help writing a book. Sure. Cause I don't need any income. Just keep scream crying and be inconsolable. No job necessary. We'll live on my charm!
W'ed be dead in two days.
Finally got to the meeting, and it went relatively well considering the everything else, and then wanted to eat again because I stress burned through that whole breakfast. I ordered a modified version of something I've had at this cafe lots of times, and I was delighted that could do it. They've encountered crazy people before! Crazy people who almost sold their child to the gypsies!
Dinner was this curried cream of broccoli soup . This means delicious smelling things in my prized Le Creuset.
The soup contains coconut cream, which is what I want to eat for the rest of my life.
And that was my Friday night. Remember when Friday nights were spent out? Drinking and laughing? This no longer exists. It is only kitchen. Only eating. This is all there is.
This was a Test the Restaurants day. We had food at Replay in Andersonville. Husband got a salad, and I got a turkey burger without a bun. Meanwhile , the bird ran around and played video games, cause that's the point of the place. I had an actual factual date with my husband later. We saw 3C at A Red Orchid Theatre. Good Lord. That show was the bestworst thing I've ever seen. I sang the opening and closing song, which was a take on the Three's Company theme song. The show, however, was nowhere near that cheerful. Funny, wonderful, and disturbing as hell. But not cheerful.
After that, we went to Kamahachi for sushi with no soy products. Please don't ask me how we pulled it off, cause I was too busy pretending my mouth was Pike Place Market and throwing raw fish into it.
I think we triumphed. I'm pretty sure. Actually, I don't know anymore. HOW DO I WIN THIS? IS THERE A PRIZE? IS THE PRIZE PIZZA?
I had to work and then hit the store, because I have a cot in the back where I nap now. Just a place to, you know, collect my thoughts while I spend half my life there. They're real cool about it. It's right behind the butcher counter, and I just walk in, wave hello to George while he whacks an animal into parts, and I just lie down under my dreamcatcher. It's peaceful.
We've been cast out into the cruel, cruel world. Alone. To forage.
Eating all the fat while cooking up some fat to garnish the fat.
Can't stop won't stop...cooking and washing dishes like it's 19fucking50.
I am a mountain eater. I am the stuff of nightmares.
I just bought a case of baby food, rinsed out two jars and filled them with ranch dressing to chug. EVERYTHING IS TOTALLY NORMAL.
No one in Rogers Park cares about my Whole30 goals. No one is impressed. Here's some soup bones and you know what? Here's some neck bones, too. That'll be about four damn dollars. Go away.
I am doing the Whole30 so I can maaaayyyybe not be in pain 24/7. I'll try 10/4. As someone who loves nothing more than pasta and bread (and booze), this is no small feat. Therefore, I will conquer this with humor, long-windedness, and open mockery. Welcome.