Commuter breakie, triple cookie, fro-yo-ho-ho

Breakfast on the hoof (or rather, in the Explorer, on the way to the train): a single reheated Pillsbury cinnamon bun. Also a can of diet cola.

Lunch was the last batch of chicken/rice/mayo. The work day was punctuated by cookie/Coke Zero breaks, three each. Three! Water I found no time for.

At North Station, I picked up a diet Mountain Dew and a raisin bran muffin for the train. Dinner, at around 9, was a leg of rotisserie chicken, and a heaping cupful of leftover salad -- cukes, tomatoes, onions. I had a glass of water with dinner, and then made J. and myself a pitcher of piña colada, same recipe as earlier this week. Were we doing this as a subconscious celebration of Obama's visit to Puerto Rico? Freud only knows.

Thinking of my health and safety, J. smuggled a half-gallon carton of cookies-'n'-cream frozen yogurt through the fences and into the freezer. I had a bowl of three scoops, and went to sleep.

Waffles, leftovers, a late dinner

Breakfast was waffles! I'm telling you folks, this kind of decadence can't be sustainable. Oleo, syrup (not low-cal: we'll have to remedy that), blueberries, and bananas. The original stack was two, but when my back was turned, a third was added. I have a suspect in mind. I drank, most predictably, a can of diet Mountain Dew.

Lunch was another piece of leftover chicken, with a cup of the same rice pilaf, and again a teaspoon of the olive-oil mayo. Tasty. Also during the workday, a few refills of my water mug, a can of Coke Zero, and two of the princess sugar cookies.

After work, I went to the gym, and drank a bottle of water there. At the Melville apartment, I had a few spoonfuls of the macaroni-chicken-turmeric-pea dish from the other night, just to ward off the quiet ache of stomach grumbling.

A very late dinner (11ish?) while watching Seinfeld when I got back to Lunenburg -- two bowlfuls of J's pasta dish, consisting of whole-wheat elbows, mushrooms, spinach, and a sauce consisting of low-fat sour cream and... other things, which in my haste to inhale the meal I did not consider too carefully. At the chef's suggestion, I added much salt. Also a leftover hot dog with mustard (no bun); a can of Coke Zero, and half of J's bottle of fizzy water.

Hot buns to start, but an otherwise restrained day

Breakfast on the run to the train: two Pillsbury cinnamon buns, with a can of diet root beer.

Lunch: a cup of rice pilaf, reheated, with a piece of grilled chicken, skin-on. I mixed a teaspoon of reduced-fat, olive-oil-adulterated mayo into the dish. Kate stopped by and ate her lunch wrap from the Campus Trolley here, and gave me a bite, so that's what, one-tenth of a serving of lettuce and tomato.


Dinner was 1.5 hot dogs on grilled rolls, with mustard, ketchup, and finely-diced red onion; salad with spinach, tomatoes, red and green peppers, and onions, with a little raspberry vinaigrette; and cheese tortellini tossed in olive oil and pasta cheese. I drank diet Mountain Dew, surprising no one.


We made bagel chips with the leftover mini-bagels from Saturday's shower, and only tasted them; I'll probably make dipping paste with white beans or chick peas or maybe cucumber. J. and I, while we sliced bagels into thin little bagel proto-chips, shared a mini pecan roll that had snuck into the bagel box.

We went to the gym, and split a bottle of kiwi-raspberry water there, stayin' hydrated. Back at the house, we refueled with pina colada -- Bacardi rum, a banana, canned chunk pineapple with the can juice, crema de coco, some white wine, and the ice. It was great, plus, potassium.

J. and I split a pretty-pretty-princess sugar cookie in the shape of a crown (another leftover from the shower) while we watched some of the Bruins game.

Bridal shower crumb-collecting, and pizza for two different reasons

In the morning, I swigged half a bottle of kiwi-strawberry fizzy water from the nightstand. Also a chocolate truffle from a dish in the kitchen... they were just there.

Foregoing a real breakfast -- perhaps discouraged from eating by the crap habits of the past two days? -- I was next made to feed when Joe and I stopped by the aftermath of J.'s sister's bridal shower. I had a mouthful of warm mimosa that taste and smelled like cooled sweat; a glass of cranberry juice and another of water; a vanilla bridal shower cupcake; an Italian anise cookie; a bite or two of pecan roll; a wheat mini-bagel with cream cheese; some kind of ruggalah-like pastry; and a bite of an intensely pink, crumbly Italian cookie. Realizing that man was not meant to live on cookies alone, I walked next door and bought a slice (well, they come in orders of two slices each) of barbecue-chicken pizza from Sal's, and had a bottle of diet cola with that.

We went to a movie, J. and I, and avoided buying concessions: a small victory. AFTER, though, we stopped at Taco Bell, and I had a "Fresca"-style chicken burrito, and my part of a large diet cola.

Back at the house, we snacked late in the afternoon. I had two slices of reheated pizza, and a sip or two of J.'s chicken-and-stars Soup at Hand product. Also half of a peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich on wheat bread.

At around ten o'clock, a knock on the door was heard knocking on the door -- J's mother wanting to know if we want some of the food they'd brought back from Texas Roadhouse. So, J. and I toddled downstairs, and split a plate of chicken-fried-chicken and mashed potatoes, covered (not heavily) with a white gravy. I had a can of diet Mountain Dew, just like I did earlier in the day with that reheated pizza.

As I'm typing this entry (and as I experience a flush of consternation, at how erratic today's eating was, and how unhealthy), I'm looking forward to a midnight snack of water and vanilla-frosted cookie.

Bun scraps, French-Cambodian fusery, the whole damn cookie

Part of the "rind" or outer whorl of a Pillsbury cinnamon bun, rejected by J. in a fit of culinary pique. A Pillsbury biscuit, left over from dinner the night before, with oleo and apple butter. A can of diet Mountain Dew.

A work lunch at Elephant Walk, Brookline -- salad of spring greens, pamplemousse with a drizzle of balsamic, and a goat cheese galette. Entree, a pan-roasted cod fillet over a raft of spinach, with cheddar cheese gnocchi and a cheddar-wine sauce. Also five pieces of the little baguette-ette bread they brought to the table, with butter, and five glasses of water. Five!

At the Clarion meeting at Panera at six, a toffee-chip cookie, recommended by the counter girl as "the best kind'.

At 10:30, when we had arrived back in Lunenburg (following a failed attempt to redeem a gift certificate at Texas Roadhouse in Leominster -- they'd closed early!), dinner was two inches of (I think chicken) kielbasa with a half cup or so of vegetables -- red potatoes, mushrooms, green beans. We hotted up some fish sticks in the microwave to augment our meager portions: four for each of us, with a 'tartar sauce' concocted out of bottles I found in the fridge -- a smidge of cream horseradish, some buttermilk ranch dressing, some sweet pickle relish, a dollop of asiago-peppercorn dressing.

Feeling my oats, I had a WHOLE vanilla-frosted cookie before bed. Also another glass of water.

*

J. has been calling me out for explaining this or that trait or preference as "faux flaws", that is, things I'm actually proud of but about which I'd feel boastful if I didn't seem to apologize for them. I think she's full of beans, as a rule, but it is a useful thing to watch out for. Maybe it is a faux flaw, this affected report of having been tortured by the feelings accompanying my consumption of an ENTIRE cookie? Or maybe I'm trying to perform indignation, so that my relationship with food eventually changes to align with my false outrage. Maybe a cookie would help me think about this.