I suspect I’m one of the luckier ones – only a four-pound gain over the holidaze. Consider it like a glaze - as temporary and absorbing as what you use to marinate meats.
If I were to lay out all of my recipes prepared over two weeks I suspect I’d be astounded by the quantities of flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, broth/stock, cream, and store-bought breads. These bad boys metastasize and attach to your arteries and intestines like Spackle.
I’m not in denial about the adult beverage intake I just refuse to think about it.
My cooking clothing gained some weight, too. But it was a tasty gain. (Guy’s still struggle with that splatter-guard (apron) thing.)
We throw caution and calories to the wind during holidays, going from once-a-week desserts to every night – from once-a-week appetizers to every night – from two portions per plate to three - from once-a-month baked (or bought) snacks to 2-3 temptations per day.
If you’re like my household, Santa isn’t the only annual visitor. Say hello to the Cold Family. Guests usually come bearing gifts, including germs. There should be a new rule – guests can only cross your threshold after they’ve been cleared by the CDC (Center for Disease Control). The cold endemic precludes any visits to LA Fitness to fend off encroaching pounds.
Last Monday was cold Turkey time, and not just the leftovers. The offending recipes were drowned in a vat of holiday grease. If any of the calorie-laden leftovers had not been consumed, they were tossed. (I found some week-old mashed potatoes this morning.) I whipped up some fresh Basil Oil Dressing (see previous blog about Basil) for the regular rigueur of salads. Seasonings replace sauces, though vodka remained the preferred sauce of the day. The bread bin was emptied. Desserts will return to their regularly scheduled birthdays. The third plated item returns to Friday and Saturday nights. Snacks are banned, other than the ones PJ sneaks at work, or when I’m not looking.
Just to make the ladies fume, after three days (and two gym visits) my four-pound holiday bonus was eradicated. Women hate guys for that, even while preferring us studly. But it also might have something to do with that snack sneaking – a habit stuffed into their genes, and jeans.
Drum roll please – introducing an occasional feature of the Domestic Engineer Guy Blog – the Male Moron Award. In reviewing all of the recent candidates, it was pretty easy to settle on the first occasional honoree – Heath Campbell. Heath (no doubt not named after the Heath Bar) said that he named his son after Adolf Hitler because he liked the name and because (based on a Yahoo News story) “no one else in the world would have that name.” Heath boy – there is a reason that quote is true.
The Saudi judge who told an eight-year-old girl that she could not divorce her 58-year-old husband came in a close second. The girl’s 58-year-old husband takes the bronze.
Check out future blogs for some recession-survival tips, even if they verge on depressing. It will be a while before we create our new normal.
If you have a Male Moron nominee, or a survival tip, weigh in - after you’ve lost that holidaze glaze.
* Not Normal, IL