Alright it's actually embarrasing to get on here since it has been so long since I've updated everyone on this crazy little idea of mine, but I decided to just bite the bullet and do it. Because that's the kind of girl I am; brutally honest, overly ambitious and a little bit crazy...ok a lot bit crazy. Here goes.
I have had some great successes and some great failures, but all-in-all my freezer and my pantry are less crowded than they were six weeks ago so I think we are making progress! Also I have not gained any weight. All you ladies out there appreciate the significance of this benchmark!
Anyhow, a few of my most memorable moments of late involve nearly choking to death, rotten ranch dressing and a trip to Sam's Club... It is probably best if I explain further.
The choking incident is still fresh on my mind since it happened LAST night so I will begin there. First of all, it's important to understand the level of love that my husband has for hunting and fishing. It's serious. It's committed. It's insane. Like for real he's crazy. Ask any shrink out there and they will agree that he has a problem. My husband says I am crazy because I always think about running and I counter with something along the lines of "you think I am crazy for wanting to take care of my body with regular exercise? I think you are crazy because you spend hours on end out in the frickin' freezing cold trying to kill things most of which could be purchased in a grocery store or at a restaurant" We've agreed to disagree about our definitions of crazy (for now at least although I suspect we will revisit this topic the next time I ask to go running or he asks to go ice fishing). Anyhow, back to the story. So this weekend my husband finely agreed to get on board with this challenge thing which was totally exciting to me on so many levels. He actually offered to cook fish for the family (that has been in our freezer for a very long time so I was SUPER excited to rid the freezer of this terrible burden). Anyhow, when Jeff does a fish fry he does it right; it requires no less than the use of 6 pans, 8 gadgets, over a gallon of oil, several spices and a partridge in a pear tree (oops wrong story). Anyhow, it is a production of monumental proportions and while I get a break from cooking my role is to clean up the aftermath (not sure yet if the break from cooking is worth it I will let you know). Anyhow, once this process had completed itself (with Jeff working his behind the scene magic) we said our prayers and started eating the delicious dinner. My very first bite lodged a fairly significant sized fish bone into my throat which led to a gagging attack that lasted for at least 10 minutes. I had to call Jeff to the bathroom to assist me because I actually thought I was dying (in true mother fashion I didnt want to alarm the kids or give them any reason to stop eating their dinner so I gently tapped Jeff on the shoulder and quietly asked him to help me in the other room). After a thorough inspection of my throat (with the help of a maglight flashlight I might add) Jeff claimed "there is nothing in there. You are crazy". You see where this could have taken us back to another discussion about mental health definitions, but I was actually still gagging too much to argue with his logic so I told him to leave me to die in the bathroom ALONE and go check on the kids. I drank a large glass of water and could still feel the bone in my throat so I did the only logical thing to do in the situation and I ate a large serving of the french fries hoping they would help push the fish along its natural path (aka my esophogas). I had to force myself to continue eating despite my natural gag reflex that kept kicking in and I had to eat a lot of french fries you know so I wouldn't die and finally I felt it give way and I was free from the gagging, near-death, fishbone experience. Anyhow, it will be a long time before I eat fish again.
Now about that rotten ranch dressing this is how that went down. Trying to be the well-balanced, healthy house wife does not come without a I price I might add as you will clearly see demonstrated in this next story. Honestly, in trying to use stuff up I may occasionally get a little out of control or overzealous. The most recent example of this was when I tried to feed jeff pizza casserole that had gone bad. In my defense once he said it tasted funny I allowed him to feed it to our chickens because I realized it was just over two weeks old, not one like I had originally calculated. Math never was my strong suit. Chickens are like pigs; they will eat anything. I do love our chickens for many reasons the least of which is not the fact that they eat all of our rotten stuff so I dont have to throw it away and feel wasteful. Ranch dressing... stay focused on the ranch dressing, Veronica. The incident with the ranch dressing was a straight forward make your husband a dinner salad to help improve his overall health and accidentally poison him with ranch dressing that expired in 2011 kind of incident. There is really not much more to it than that. I seriously had no idea it was that old until he said it tasted funny which prompted an inspection of the bottle and sure enough January 2011 was its expiration date. Yikes! Who knew. And yes we threw it out it wasn't even chicken worthy!
Okay for the bit about Sam's club, I really did have a good reason for going there (I am on thyroid pills and my prescription had to be filled), but I can't really explain away the frozen pizzas and the muffins that I bought. Or the icecream and cheese. Man, I really blew it while I was there, but had I not gone I would probably be comatose right now from thyroid imbalance so I guess you have to be willing to fail occasionally in the interest of survival!
Vern Out
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