I just had the realisation that there are about 47 posts on the tip of my brain, waiting to be spilled into the blogosphere… and that means that by the time I get to the 47th, it won’t be so newsie anymore… but let’s see what we can do.

First of all, for those of you who guessed what this is:

It’s chicken, not turkey. And this pic is actually a variant on what I ate, which was the Jamie Oliver “Parmesan Chicken Breast with Crispy Posh Ham“. “Crispy Posh Ham” is, to a man who names his son “Buddy Bear”, what the rest of us call prosciutto. What’s that kid going to do if he grows up to be a biker, by the by? PS: I’ve been watching Sons of Anarchy, hence the reference. Don’t judge me.

The point is, I ate it. And I ate it because I was invited to stay at my friend Karen’s house in Mount Maunganui, NZ, while her parents were visiting from Canada (for their first time ever), two days before she moved to Auckland. At a time like that, you hardly stick your neck out and say “um, birds are gross, eh?” So I ate it. And, HEY KATH! I LIKED IT! But you still won’t see me cooking it anytime soon. I also still opted out of the Christmas turkey, probably because I feel like I had already grown enough as an eater in the month of December.

Second of all, I haven’t finished my “detox” post, because it’s becoming a post about goals and New Year’s Resolutions. A relentless self-improver, am I… that’s for tomorrow. And I know I said that yesterday.

And third, I’ve been saying (partly in jest) for years that if I died without a waffle iron, my life would have been for naught. While we can’t have that, I also didn’t want some cheap, disposable waffle iron, like those frail plastic ones that you just *know* will shed their waffle-plates if you looked at ‘em sternly. The good ones have some heft, and there’s a move in my near future, so adding bulk to my fulsome kitchen was a deterrent… PLUS: it seemed like such an important decision that I approached it the same way I always approach major decisions that I don’t want to have remorse about: I avoided it.

I guess after about 7 years of this nonsense, the people around me are tired of hearing my sporadic comments about how a PhD, a people-affecting career, a not-overly-read blog, and whatever else I’ve done lately are all meaningless in the shadow of never having owned a waffle iron, because look what Santa and Mrs Claus (aka Tara and Kobie) left under the tree for me on Christmas morning:

Na na na na NA! LOOK! A WAFFLE IRON! And it stands UP! And looks like it has a FACE! (do you see it?!?) I love it. I love it a lot. I love it even more when it churns out gorgeousness like this:

This is my normal breakfast of pumpkin protein pancakes (though I amped the fibre content significantly)… only I waffle-ised it. And now, I have but two things to say: 1) I can die a good, meaningful death, and 2) there will be waffles.

Zing!

Pumpkin Protein Pancakes. Or Waffles. Whatever.

Inhalt:

• 1/2 cup egg whites
• 1/3 cup oats
• 1/2-1 Tbsp psyllium husks (WARNING: start with 1/2 tsp and build up slowly…)
• 1/2 Tbsp chia seeds
• 2 Tbsp flax meal
• 1/2 tsp each of cinnamon, allspice, ground ginger and nutmeg (or to taste, in which case I’d suggest less nutmeg and allspice…)
• 1/4 cup pumpkin purée

Method to the Madness:

• Put all the ingredients (except the pumpkin) in a small bowl, and stir well.
• Then stir in the pumpkin.
• Either: spoon out four evenly-sized pancakes and cook on a griddle at medium heat for about 4-5 minutes per side…
• OR: spoon out about 1/3 of the batter into three rectangular waffles, spreading the batter evenly. Close the lid and cook for about 6 minutes… and enjoy!

I love this topped with nut butter when it’s a pancake, but I decadently used organic amber Maple Syrup this morning, so I could feel like a real Canadian and because, even though I rotted my stomach lining with sugar this Christmas, I was jonesing for it bad this morning! I think I’m officially in sugar-weening…

But that’s OK, because if sugar takes me to the grave… IT WAS ALL WORTH IT.

A) Have you ever pined for a kitchen appliance? B) Are you making New Year’s resolutions? C) what do YOU do when each photo your sexy new camera takes is 3 MB, and you’re running out of disk space?

Happy New Year’s Eve, or New Year’s to the Anitpodeans!

Anyone familiar with Groundhog Day?

Specifically, this part of the film:

(source)

I love this part—it’s Bill Murray at his best, when he says to Punxsutawney Phil (the groundhog) as they drive into the quarry to, hilariously and impermanently, commit suicide: “That’s not bad for a quadruped. You gotta check your mirrors, just the side of your eye… That’s it! They’re chasing us! Come on, make it fun! Don’t drive angry.” It is from there that this post has its title.

Because a little comic relief was DEFINITELY in order when I pulled into the Hinterlands tonight. On the plus side, no traffic around Vancouver-Abbotsford-Chiliwack meant that I did the drive in 8 hours.

Yay.

The minus side, however… oh dear. +4°C in West Van became -12°C in the Hinterlands. OK, I can deal… I got my favourite Indian food for dinner—from the only restaurant I eat at in the Hinterlands, ever since my fish allergy drove me away from the awesome sushi place… and I was told by the delightful owner, “I’ve sold. I’m going to work at my husband’s restaurant. Oh—he doesn’t do Mattar Paneer like this though.” Suddenly, Alina, I felt like we were one stomach dwelling in two bodies, in terms of your pad thai quest. Now, I SO FEEL YOUR PAIN.

I pulled into my back alley to find that my neighbours had not only helped themselves to my parking place, but a guest of theirs had also blocked my access. Nice. If they ever ASKED to use the place, I’d say yes, and tell them when I’m coming home so they wouldn’t obstruct my unpacking, as they do EVERY. TIME. I go AWAY. I’m a right bitch about it, and so I then parked my car to obstruct their guest, and went inside to eat my last mattar paneer.

I braced for cold…

… and was greeted with tropical warmth the likes of which I hadn’t felt since New Zealand, a few weeks ago… there, however, it was natural: this was a hot and humid day… my fave!

My mind whirred back to my departure, when I set the temperature for 55°F (12.78°C). No one was going to be home, so that seemed reasonable.

Then it whirred again, to when I strolled through the grocery store in Auckland and my phone rang… it was my landlord, so I answered it. I said, tersely (since he KNEW I was in NZ, and this could only be bad news): “George, I’m in New Zealand—what’s wrong?” He said “oh, nothing! Just wanted to let you know that the furnace guy is coming in to do some work this week!” I said: “great. I won’t be there. If there’s no emergency, this is expensive… bye!”

Furnaceman changed my thermostat from Fahrenheit (which, after 3.5 years in my house, I still don’t understand) to Celsius. Sweet! But he also left the temperature at 19°. See? On the left? Shit.

On the right you see *my* set temperature… for when I’m AT HOME. Not galivanting around the world. I’m REALLY miserly about the heat, and I’m epically pissed that now, I have to pay for 23 days of my furnace revving the house up to 19°C. AND I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO FROLIC BAREFOOT IN IT!!!!

(PS: furnace man also clogged my kitchen sink…) Ookie.

Lest you think I just took to the blogosphere to vent my spleen, I actually am turning these lemons into… well, not lemonade, something stronger. Maybe a Mike’s Hard?

I took all this negativity and am turning it into a HUGE positive: TONIGHT, finally, I’m restarting my nightly meditation. Clearly, I need it , but I’m also calling it Step One in my “Back to Basics” detox… so if I haven’t turned you off with my anger (think Punxsatawney Phil instead!!), I hope you’ll please come back tomorrow and play the interactive game of giving your two sense for how to find what’s important and stick with it…

Because, unlike the Bill Murray / Punxsatawney Phil suicide pact, I’m going to work this out.

Not bad for a biped!

Tomorrow, my month of reprieve is over.

I’m driving back to the Hinterlands. Boo! I look forward to a few things, mind you, like snow! XC skiing! Getting on top of work! Getting back to my gym and workout routines! But most of all… oh, man.

PURGE THE SUGAR!

Travel tends to be a bit of a starchy festival for me, because starches don’t need refrigeration (like lots of proteins do), and they don’t crush in transit—produce just doesn’t pack well!—but pack a cereal, a sandwich, and no problemo. Nourishment in motion!

I stopped eating cereal for breakfast in, oh, September, and sandwiches only occasionally make an appearance in my normal roster—they’re sure not a daily (or twice daily!) event… but there they both were, roaring back as I drove across North Island…

But you know what? I was in New ZEALAND! Who cared?

Well… I cared, actually—more to the point, my stomach cared. There was some upset, even though I tried to do what I could to keep up the patterns that work for me… I didn’t want to avoid experiences for the sake of rigidity, though, so that was something I was willing to handle.

I once thought that the endlessly charming HEAB had a tough line: she doesn’t budge much from her norm, needing to be able to plan even restaurant meals in advance of her visits. I like a bit of experimenting and variety… but after these last weeks, I can TOTALLY see what Heather’s about. Dare I say it, but… bring back the routine!

I am in NO WAY ungrateful for my fabulous yule, mind you! Staying in Vancouver with my friend Tara for Christmas was great—I also did it 13 years ago, in fact. Then, it was my first Christmas away from my family, and Tara and I bundled into her Tracker and drove from Calgary to Edmonton to spend Christmas with her family, back before that meant her husband and three kids. The year was 1997, I was a fat kid , and I braved Boxing Day shopping at the WEST EDMONTON MALL, because Tara is a killer shopper and finds deals the way truffle pigs ferret our truffles, though she will undoubtedly object to that metaphor… (hi Tara! Thanks for reading!)

This time around, we got the awesome efforts of her mom, Veronica, who had baked in advance, and also did the whole prep for Christmas eve AND Christmas dinner. Wow. And yum. And between the duelling deliciousness of the sweets and savouries, I got on the carb train and rode it hard. My stomach feels absolutely raw from the sugar… so while I’m seriously sad about leaving the delightful Brandts and the glories of West Van, I’m feeling pretty good about a major, major detox.

So bring on the veggies! The legumes! The fibre! The avocados (which I saw advertised in rural NZ at 10 for NZ$3—wow)!

And while I’m at it… I don’t think I told you what else I did in New Zealand.

Here’s a hint:

(source)

With a new year looming… is it time to bring on the bird?

Have you stayed true to your normal patterns, or are you in need of a holiday detox, too? What’s your plan for that?

I didn’t run as much as I’d thought I would in NZ… but running was still really on my mind. Mostly because when I first got to Auckland, I was staying at a FABULOUS B&B (I highly recommend Beaumontstay, if you have the choice!) and my walk to work took me past Victoria Park Market… with a Nike store.

I went in. I’m a hard-core New Balance girl from way back, but barefoot running is interesting… apparently Nike’s been onto this for years, and the result of the trials-and-errors are the Nike Free Run.

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When I first slipped it on, my feet were tired from heels and sandals that *always* rub blisters the first times I wear them, so the Free Run felt like a warm hug on a cold day. The sole is super-flexible—and SO light! I was enticed! But for NZ$200, I just wasn’t going to commit.

I want these shoes enough that I braved Boxing Day shopping to try to find a pair on sale, but I only encountered the hideous colours and the wrong sizes. Boo! Luckily, Tara’s mom is flying back to Calgary tomorrow and is going to see what she can find there… and Alberta has only GST (5%) as opposed to the loathed HST of British Columbia (15%).

Soon I might not be a New Balance girl anymore—and it feels strange to switch brands. It’s not just loyalty, it’s about knowing how the gear works for me… I swear! But I’m also not willing to buy these shoes at regular price, because it is a risk trying something out of my tried-and-true norm. Or maybe I’m resisting change for cosmetic purposes? Hm!

Do you stick with one particular brand… but not for good reason?