He's so cute when he's carrying that thing around the house. Plus, when he's in the right mood, he'll play fetch-and-disembowel :)
Month: January 2007
So it snowed, apparently
I took this picture at 7:30 am. When I left for the office at 9:30, most of it was already gone. As I look out my office window now, it's all gone.
This is not proper snow.
Fooey.
No pain no gain (and no point)
No pain no gain (and no point)
Jeremy Clarkson
On the surface the human being appears to be a flawed design. Obviously our brains are magnificent and our thumbs enable us to use spanners. Something an elephant, for instance, cannot do.
However, there seems to be something wrong with our stomachs. It doesnt matter how many pints of refreshing beer we cram into them, they always want just one more roast potato. And then, instead of ejecting all the excess fat, they feed it to our hearts and veins, and we end up all dead.
Of course, we can use willpower to counter these demands, but this makes us dull and pointless. You need only look at the number of people in lonely hearts columns who neither drink nor smoke to know Im right. If they did, theyd have a husband. Its that simple.
What I tend to do when it comes to the business of being fit is not bother. I eat lots, and then I sit in a chair. The upside to this is that I have a happy family and many friends. The downside is that I wobble and wheeze extensively while going to the fridge for another chicken drumstick.
Unfortunately, all this now has to stop because in April Im going on an expedition. I cant tell you where because its a secret but I can tell you that its full of many perils, such as being eaten. And that if it all goes wrong, I may have to walk many miles over the most difficult terrain you can imagine.
Last week then, I was sent to a training camp, where the instructor, a former Royal Marine, simply could not fathom what unholy cocktail of lard and uselessness lay beneath my skin. The upshot was simple. Unless I did something dramatic about my general level of fitness, I would not be going. So I bought a rowing machine.
It cost a very great deal of money and is bigger than a small van. Modelled, I presume, on something from the KGBs cellars, you tie your feet to a couple of pedals and then move backwards and forwards until your shoulders are screaming so loudly that they are actually audible.
According to the digital readout powered by my exertions, I might add I had covered 35 yards. This was well short of the four kilometres Id planned, so I had to grit my teeth and plough on.
Eventually, after several hours, Id made enough electricity to power Glasgow and Id reached my goal, so I tried to dismount. But it was no good. My magnificent brain was so stunned by what had just happened that it had lost control of my legs. I also felt dizzy and sick. Fondly, I also imagined that I had a tingling in my left arm and chest pains.
Part of the problem is that to go on my expedition, I must be six pounds overweight. This means losing a stone so I have been living on a diet of carrots and Coke Zero, which simply doesnt provide enough calories to rock back and forth in my conservatory for half a day.
Actually, conservatory is the wrong word. I had produced so much sweat while moving about that, technically, it was a swimming pool.
Now, one of the things I should explain at this point is that I am always hugely enthusiastic about new projects, but only for a very short time. If I was to get fit and thin, it needed to be done fast, before I lost interest, so once some feeling had returned to my legs, I went for a walk. And since then time has passed in a muddy blur of cycling, trudging, rowing and discovering that its uphill to my local town, and uphill on the way back as well.
This has made me dull, thick and, because theres no beer or wine in my system at night, an even bigger insomniac. And all the while I have this sneaking suspicion that what Im doing is biologically unhealthy.
Pain is designed to tell the body something is wrong and that youd better do something fast to make it go away. So why would you get on a rowing machine and attempt to beat what God himself has put there as a warning? Thats like refusing to slow down when an overhead gantry on the motorway says Fog.
Today, then, my magnificent brain is questioning the whole philosophy of a fitness regime. If God had meant us to have a six-pack, why did He give us the six-pack? In the olden days, people had to run about to catch deer so they all had boy-band torsos and good teeth.
But now, we Darwin to work in a car. Trying to look like a 12th century African is as silly as a seal trying to regrow its legs.
No really. The thing about evolution is that each step along the way has a point. Cows developed udders so they could be plugged into milking machines. And humans developed the remote control television so they could spend more time sitting down.
Fitness fanatics should take a lead from nature. Nobody looks at water and suggests it would be more healthy if it spent 20 minutes a day trying to flow uphill and nobody suggests a lion could catch more wildebeest if it spent less of its day lounging around.
Plainly, then, our stomachs are designed to demand food and feed fat to our arteries for a reason. I dont know what the reason might be but I suspect it may have something to do with global warming. Everything else does.
Chocolate orange cupcakes
Chocolate Orange Cupcakes
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup cocoa powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1/4 cup butter, softened
1 cup sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 eggs, room temperature
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tbsp orange zest
1 cup milk (any kind)
Preheat oven to 350F. Line 12 muffin cups with paper liners.
In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder and salt. In a large bowl, cream together butter and sugars until light and fluffy, then beat in the eggs one at a time. Add vanilla and orange zest.
Alternating in 3 additions, beat in the flour and the milk at low speed, ending with an addition of flour. Evenly distribute into prepared muffin tins and bake at 350F for 15-17 minutes, until a tester comes out clean and the cake springs back when lightly pressed.
Cool completely on a wire rack before frosting.
Chocolate Orange Cream Cheese Frosting
8-oz. cream cheese, softened
1/4 cup butter, softened
1/4 cup cocoa powder
1 tbsp orange zest
3 tbsp orange juice
2-3 cups powdered sugar (may need extra)
In a large bowl, beat together cream cheese and butter until well combined, then beat in cocoa powder, orange zest, orange juice and 2 cups powdered sugar until smooth. With the mixer on medium-high, add additional powdered sugar (1-2 more cups) until frosting is somewhat stiff but still easy to spread.
Apply to cooled cupcakes.
Why the internet is bad
Picture entry
Cause I haven't had one for a long time now.
That's what the moggie is looking like these days.
The flock of pissed-off geese that live on campus.
The flock of Bobbles that live in our bedroom.
Ginger pork and veg soba noodles in broth.
Nothing major to say…
I've been criticized for being quiet recently, so I figured I should go through the motions of updating. Life is fairly quiet at the moment. We're still licking our financial wounds from the end of last year, so we're not going out much, though I did buy myself half a kilo of nice tea and a little tea ball so that I could brew it at the office.
Had a bit of an allergy scare last week, but I think we have strong suspicions who the culprit is. We blame the office microwave. It reeks of curry. We've eaten most of the foods that were suspects and since I didn't die, we've ruled them out. I was a bit angsty and bummed from that, but that seems to be slowly going away.
Went to the gym once this weekend, and compensated for that by making a batch of the most decadent muffins you've ever seen. So yeah. That's useful. In my defence however, I was really productive this past weekend, doing umpteen loads of laundry and dishes and cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom. It seriously needed it.
The cat is now officially on adult food, and since we found a brand he'll actually eat and like, things are good on that front. We need to take him to the vet sometime in February to find out if he was only born with one ball or if it's simply not descended and will need surgery to remove.
We're going to start planning our weekend in Manchester soon. Anna and Rho are getting hitched (finally!) and that's cause for celebration.
As I said, I don't really have anything major to report on. This is a good thing though, because it means that things are finally settling down :)
Once more unto the breach.
I had my first allergic reaction serious enough to scare me yesterday in close to two years. I'm really not happy about it. In fact, angry, frustrated and scared would be better words.
I don't know how it happened, or why. They say that, statistically, a person with food allergies will react once every two years, no matter how paranoid you are. Something will slip through and bite you in the ass. Well, yesterday, I got bitten.
Sometime during the afternoon, about an hour after lunch, my right eye started to itch and swell up. When I went to the bathroom, I found that my face was red and blotchy. I think I scared my coworkers. I took some benadryl and started to wait it out. In the end, my nerves got the better of me and I asked for a coworker to drive me to Addenbrookes. In my heart of hearts though, I knew it was a waste of time because by that time, the benadryl was kicking in and the blotchiness was gone. I no longer itched and the swelling wasn't getting any worse. As I pretty much predicted, by the time I was seen by the triage nurse and told that “somebody would see me shortly”, I felt ok. I then proceeded to spend the next hour cooling my heels in the waiting room until Katy arrived to join me and we decided to just go home. By that time, most of the swelling in my eye was gone and there wasn't anything they would have done anyway.
What really frustrates me though is that I don't know what caused my reaction. What we had for lunch was leftovers from the previous night's dinner and that was perfectly fine. I was finally at a point in my life where I could happily (well, most of the time) live with my allergies. I was comfortable. Now, that's gone. I'm paranoid again about every thing I eat. I know I need to just jump back into the saddle and try and get over this as soon as I can, but it's easier said than done. Is it just something that I know I'm already allergic that slipped in somehow? Maybe it was something on the cup that I got from the cafeteria and later used to drink my tea. Maybe it was something that fell into the dish from the communal microwave. Maybe…. maybe… maybe.
Maybe my body decided to hate me some more and become allergic to something new, which will mean I'll need to overhaul my diet again and make it even more restrictive. Maybe… maybe… maybe.
*sigh*
I'll just have to work through the list of ingredients that I had for lunch and see if something comes up again. Hopefully, it won't. That'll mean it was just “one of those things” and I'll be able to leave it behind me and go back to living, instead of being afraid.
The good news though is that I know I'm surrounded by people who care and will look after me if bad things happen. This helps a lot.
[Recipe] Chicken and red lentil curry
2 tbsp Sunflower Oil
2 onions, finely sliced
2 tsp cumin/coriander powder
1 tsp turmeric
1 tsp chilli powder
1 tsp whole cumin seeds
2 tbsp tomato paste
1 pack (500g) mini chicken fillets
500ml chicken stock
175g dried red lentils
6 tbsp greek-style yogurt
Instructions
Heat oil in a large pan and fry the cumin seeds until they start to pop. Add onion. Cook over gentle heat, stirring occasionally, until softened. Mix all the remaining spices and tomato paste into a paste. Dilute slightly with 1 tbsp of the chicken stock add to pot. Cook for 1-2 minutes more.
And the chicken, and cook for 2-3 minutes each side until coated in the spice mixture. Stir in the stock and lentils, bring to the boil then cover and simmer for 25 minutes, stirring occasionally until the lentils are tender and the chicken is thoroughly cooked.
Stir in the yogurt and cover, then simmer for a further 5 minutes.
Spoon the curry into individual bowls over steamed basmati rice.
People are officially insane
Invitations were a bar of chocolate with a bespoke printed wrapper and a golden ticket inside. Every seven-year-old in the country was desperate to receive one. Those who did not were inconsolable.
On the day itself, the lucky few were brought up the drive of the Gloucester stately home in candy-coloured golfcarts. Inside the circus tent on the back lawn was an acrobatic Willy Wonka and his troupe of oompa-loompas, who performed every half-hour.
'There were three chocolate fountains, one with marshmallows, one with strawberries and one with biscuits,' said Caroline Hurley, director of Quintessentially Events, who organised the party earlier this month. 'We also installed a giant gobstopper pond as well as circus games, a miniature bumper-car track and a carousel.'
Parents were plied with champagne and canapes, and each of the 30 children was given a party bag bulging with sweets before they left. The total cost of the party was £20,000.
Children's birthday parties once meant a slice of cake, a bowl of jelly and a quick game of pass-the-parcel at someone's house. Now parties are more of an annual exam for parents. 'Children's parties have become the acme of competitive parenting,' said Hurley. 'It's not unusual for 60 children to be invited and the cost to reach £50,000.'
According to recent research by sweet-maker Haribo, even the average family forks out £129 for their little one's special day. Flora White, of Concierge London, regularly sees parents spend far more. 'We have organised children's parties costing £250,000,' she said. 'We've held football tournaments where the “coaches” were well-known footballers. We also flew a West End musical star across Europe to sing “Happy Birthday” to a 13-year-old girl.'
The BBC is dedicating a new six-part series to this phenomenon: on Tuesday evening The Madness of Modern Parenting looks at how even the most sensible parent gets sucked in.
According to Illana Salem, whose sons Sammy and Louis are 10 and seven years old: 'It's like the speech day of parenting: it's your moment to shine, to prove what a fabulous parent you are. It's the moment when you're judged. I suppose it's like a dog show.' Besides finding the perfect venue, parents have to decide who to invite, which entertainers to book and what food to serve. 'Proper children's party food is full of E numbers and illegal colourants. But junk is bad; the food of hoodies,' said Salem.
In all this, the children themselves are often forgotten. 'We were invited to a party and it was so much about impressing the parents that the kids got forgotten completely,' said Jo Haywood, who lives in York with her seven-year-old son Jack and daughter Mia, aged three. 'There was no food for the children at all. At three o'clock we left and went to a Little Chef.'
And what of the entertainment? Stephen Rowlings, who runs exotic animal company Tropical Inc, said he believed competitive parenting was at the heart of the surge in demand his company has seen. 'In the last two years, I have gone from doing no children's parties to doing eight every weekend,' he said. 'Parents are desperate to throw the biggest and grandest parties.'
And when it seems to be all over, there is the final test: the party bag. 'That is how the other parents are going to judge you,' said Haywood. 'In that one tiny bag they are going to form a picture of your whole lifestyle.' On www.mumsnet.com, entire conversation threads are dedicated to this thorny issue. 'My two went to a party where everyone got sent home with a goldfish!', one wrote.
The only way to resist the temptation to compete is, it seems, not to throw a party at all. 'We've done the fairy party, the bouncy-castle party, the pottery party, bowling party, disco party and the Brighton Pier party,' said Gina Deferrer, whose daughters Olivia and Isabelle are 12 and nine. 'Then last year I thought, “I really can't cope – we're going to go abroad!” So, yes, we went to France just to get out of doing a birthday party.'