Leg presses happened in the gym yesterday and now there is a muscle in my right cheek, not the one on my face, that keeps jumping. Not sure if it's from the workout or something else, but it seems to jump in time with a nerve in my left eye. Well, now that I have shared the odd butt twitching that is happening as I type this, we can move on.
The Butter cream is still in my fridge and even though I am feeling okay emotionally; Physically, I am so exhausted I can barely walk in a straight line. So Exhaustion, voiced today by Eddie Izzard, keeps telling me that the answer to my problems is in the fridge, with a spoon. The gritty creamy butter and powered sugar will give me enough energy, he says, I'll have the energy to stand up to the British inquisition, "Cake or Death?". I have resisted, for the most part, sort of, you know what, sometimes Eddie can be very persuasive.
In 202 news I am only 2 lbs away from opening my food processor. I gazed longingly at it while grinding chickpeas by hand in my mortar and pestle yesterday. Randy was right, it will mean more and serve as good motivation if I leave it sitting in the box until I reach my goal. 200 is not that far away and if I can stay away from the damned frosting, I will make it by next week.
Oh! Its Wednesday, so...
- I wish I could sing. I blend well enough but a solo voice would be awesome.
- I wish that I will lose 2 pounds by Thursday so I don't have to make black bean patties by hand, I need that freaking food processor.
- I wish I could throw the damned icing away
- I wish I could sleep better, more, soundly, uninterrupted, some kind of different way than I am sleeping now.
2 comments:
That icing's gotta go. As long as it sits in the fridge, you'll hear it plaintively whispering your name from time to time, and the icing (like death and taxes) always wins in the end. I'm sure that part of the reason I'm losing weight lately is doubtlessly because I've been too damned busy to shop. The only indulgences calling my name at night are wilted lettuce, stale crackers, and cold chicken and their voices aren't quite as seductive.
Ask your Munches what to do with the icing. I'm sure they'll find some creative purpose for it!
Hahaha, Randy, I'm pretty sure that asking the 4 and 2 year old what to do with icing will result in an enormous sticky disaster mess.
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