Pants on the Ground

I once updated my Facebook status that "pants on the ground" is becoming the story of my life.  Someone thought I was complaining that Buzz wasn't hanging up his clothes, but what I meant was that as groovy as losing weight is (and it is sooooooo groooooovy) um, having pants YOU JUST BOUGHT not fit a mere two weeks later is a HUGE pain.

When I was in Nashville I had the opportunity to shop at one of my favourite stores where, in preparation for summer, I bought two very sweet pairs of capri pants - one in khaki and one in WHITE.  I have never owned a pair of white pants in my life.

That was 5 weeks ago.

Neither pair fits anymore.

So today, I've got a basket of summer clothes I'm taking to a tailor in the hopes that he'll be able to nip, tuck and sew my newly acquired, hardly ever worn clothes into some semblance of form fitting.  Fingers crossed that this works because I love those pants.

So while I was gathering things up to take to the tailor I decided to try on some things that were a staple in my summer wardrobe last summer.   I put on my t-towel dress - the one I wore the night before our wedding two years ago.  The same one that I could barely zip up two years ago.  Now?  Now it hangs off me, literally like a t-towel.

But then there were these.  These beautiful Tommy Bahama, 100% silk capris.  I've owned them since my days of living on Maui.  I love these pants.

Do you think the tailor can do anything with these?

What Not to Wear?

Okay internetters, I need some help here.  I have an event to attend in a few weeks and I've been in wardrobe trauma...And because all my girlfriends are scattered throughout North America and because Buzz thinks I look great in a potato sack - I need opinions...opinions that matter...opinions that are informed...give it to me now!

I've combed the limited shops & boutiques on here on the sandbar and so far, the best option for a lady-like, summer, late-afternoon but into the evening type of event dress is this:

Nice, huh?  Conservative?  Yup.  Fits like a glove - you bet.  I mostly like it.  Although it wasn't really what I had envisioned wearing to the soiree.  It is...how do you say... "okay".

I'm escaping the sandbar  for a last-ditch shopping trip to a larger (but not any more cosmopolitan) metropolis where, if I find something better suited then this little frock will be sent back from whence it came and I'll wear the new thing, if there is one to be found.

But, if I don't.

If I don't?

Will these shoes work with that dress?

  

I'm just asking...'cause I'd rather not have to try to find shoes on this little island, where the concept of trendy and fun usually means polka dot and striped MacIntosh rubber boots.  It's what happens when you live in the country, surrounded by cows, pigs and lots and lots of red mud.  Polka dot striped rubber boots.  Christien Laboutan?  Manolo Blanik?  Anne Klein even?  Not a chance.  Polka dot striped rubber boots.  You can see the problem can't you?

Hit the comments button and let me know your thoughts:

Yes, the cow-hide offers a nice fashion tension to contrast the conservative nature of the creme dress

No, what are you thinking mixing animal hide with raw silk?  I know you live in the land of cows & pigs, but really!

Pain in the Ass

She was having such a good week.  She went from being Gidge the Hippy...

...to a day at the beauty parlour and a new fresh 'do for summer...

(isn't she cute?)

...to being an emergency room patient all in the span of about 48 hours.

Poor Gidgey.

Something wicked this way came.

And took a bite out of her ass.

And now, she's just pathetic.

As is evidenced by this:

pick me up...please??

And this:

see how sad I am?  not to mention sore?

And this...

nothin' like a warm shoulder to lie on

So here's what happened.  Late on Friday night, on the last just-before-bed-piddle-run the two dogs encountered an intruder on our property.  Rather than doing the sensible thing...like running back to our door and asking to be let back in, our two adventure-seekers sought out the intruder to say "hey, what the hell?  this is OUR yard!  get out!"

The intruder must have thought he'd hit the jackpot - spying a rascally rabbit running through the yard at 10:30 at night - can you say frickasee??

Alas, it wasn't rabbit.  It was Gidget.  

I opened the door to call the dogs back in and all I could hear were the blood-curdling screams of our little dog being attacked  by what we think might have been a fox.  Or a coyote.  Or a really bad ass raccoon.  But most likely a fox.  The sounds of her screams have been seared into my memory for life.  I hope I never hear anything like it ever again.

I bolted blindly into the pitch black yard, screaming to the dogs to come and that's when the 10-pounds of fury kicked in and Gidge wrassled her way free from the jaws of death and came tearing toward me, leaping into my arms.  I only realized once I got them back inside that Gidge was bleeding all over my pretty apple green cardigan that I like to wear so much.

Poor Buzz.  He wasn't even here for all the excitement.  Stuck in the hotel as manager on duty all he got was a panicked phone call from me screaming "Gidge has been attacked and she's bleeding all over me - meet me at the emergency room - we're on the way!!!"  Click.

That's gotta be a hard way to wake up out of a dead sleep.

So, I bundled the battered, bruised and bloody girl up and drove to town - what normally takes 20-25 minutes to drive only took 13 on Friday night.   Funny that.

Unlike a people hospital, the emergency room at the veterinarian hospital isn't open 24-hours a day.  But we lucked in because a very tired intern was just finishing up with another patient and just about to head home as I careened into the parking lot on two wheels.  Even though we had no appointment (which by the way - isn't that contrary to the whole concept of "emergency" patient?) he took us in and inspected the damaged little dog.

Adrenaline is a funny thing.  It kicks in in the case of emergency and once it's coursing through your system you feel like superman.  So there was our bloody superman-girl-dog walking around the exam room with her gaping wound, but acting like nothing was wrong.  She was so hopped up on the hormones she didn't feel any pain.  She was, however, scared to death having just survived an attack from behind and escaping the jaws of death.

The young doc cleaned her up, sent us home with a prescription for possible infection and the advice that perhaps it's a good idea to keep the dogs on a leash at night, especially at this time of year when all the other varmints are feeling particularly frisky.  Right.  Got it.

Ever since our Friday Night Fright the Gidge has been attached to me - literally.  She has not left my lap or shoulder for two days.    Funny that this little dog, who only has eyes for Buzz really is a mama's girl when it comes down to it.  Funnier still?  I always thought that in a fight  my money would be on the Gidge.   Nice to know that when the chips are down she can hold her own.

Wanna Go?

Ah, springtime in Paris.  Who wouldn't want to go?

Cock a Doodle Doo - A Recipe for You!

So, we have this favorite dish in our house - it's one of those standby suppers that's quick and easy to make, is plenty healthful and loaded with fresh vegetables.  I flavor it up with citrus and Thai Chili Sauce  -  yum, yum, yum.  From a WeightWatchers perspective, it's practically a "free" meal because you only count the chicken - everything else has a zero point value - so...you catch my drift?  Lots of food for not so many points makes this WeightWatcher very happy.  Follow along with me if you will.

First - Assemble your zero point vegetables...

What I have assembled here is broccoli, red, green, yellow peppers, celery and...

Fennel.  You may know it as Anise.  All I know is I LOVE it!  I love it so much I tried to grow it in my garden last year.  It doesn't grow so well on PEI, and all I ended up with were these little tiny baby Fennels that had a lot of peppery kick to them.  But this big boy I got from the local SuperStore where the price has gone up from $1.29 each back in March 2007 to $2.49 now-a-days.  Holy crap.  Here are the things I love about Fennel, though:   it's a great base for a soup; it tastes amazing in a salad and, when you add it to a stir-fry, well, it gives your veggies a crisp and clean (and slightly black licorice-smelling) taste.  I highly recommend it.

Okay, so chop your veggies into bite-size pieces, like so:

Oh, and because I love Buzz and he loves these, I also include a batch of these...

even though they smell (and taste) like dirt even after you cook them.

Okay, then while we have the knife out, let's chop some Italian parsley and a couple of cloves of garlic, like so...

 

Before we put the knife away, we'll slice two seasoned chicken breasts into bite-size pieces...

And then throw 'em into the frying pan and saute until golden.  Meanwhile, get the citrus ready...

Once the chicken is sauteed, add the zest and juice of an orange, a couple of tablespoons of lemon juice and a healthy dose of the secret ingredient...

That's orange blossom water.  Heaven in a bottle.  A few drops will do the trick - it adds a floral bouquet to the dish, causing you to ask...what the hell is that?  That, folks is orange blossom water.  Pick it up at your local international food store.

Meanwhile, pre-heat a saute skillet for your veggies and throw those babies onto the fire!  

Okay, so before we continue, let's recap exactly where we are.  So far we've chopped a variety of healthy vegetables and sauteed sliced chicken until golden brown.  We've added some citrus in the form of orange zest, juice and the secret ingredient, orange blossom water.  Next up, we stir fried our vegetables and now...now... it's time for some heat.  

Add a heaping dose of your favourite Thai Chili Sauce.  Any brand will do.  In our house we like:

Oh, you didn't see the brand?  Let me give you a better look:

Still can't see the brand?  How about this shot?

That's right folks.  In our house when we make chicken stir fry we use "Cock Brand" Thai chili sauce.  Now, I'm a marketer from waaaaayyyyy back in my career but I just cannot conjure up a scenario where I would be choosing my brand name for anything short of a condom or naughty sex toy where the word "Cock" just makes so much sense to me.   But the people at Cock Brand?  They want to make sure you know their sauce is Cock Sauce...look at the lid on the bottle for crying out loud!!

Oh, I laugh 'til I cry every time I make stir-fry.

Okay, back to the recipe - throw a heaping serving of chili sauce into the skillet - then add the vegetables and toss to combine.  Meanwhile, get the table set.  A pretty setting, complete with napkin rings...

And plate that chicken & veg up.  Sprinkle with fresh parsley on top to finish.

Before sitting down to dinner, remind the big dog it's your dinner and not his...

Notice the difference in serving sizes between mine & Buzz's plates?

Recipe:

Assorted vegetables, chopped (broccoli, peppers, celery, fennel, smelly bean sprouts)

Italian Parsley, two cloves garlic, minced

Juice & zest of one orange

2 tbsp orange blossom water

2 tbsp lemon juice

4 tbsp Thai chili sauce (sweet)

Method:

Chop vegetables & slice chicken into bite-size pieces.  In separate pans saute chicken and vegetables. Once chicken is browned add citrus, orange blossom water and chili sauce and cover to cook five minutes.  Add sauteed vegetables and toss to combine.  Serve over bed of couscous, brown rice or whole wheat pasta.

Hungry Like a Wolf

Hello? Anyone home? People? People?



I know you're in there! HeLLO! I see you!! Open the door! There's a starving dog out here!!



HEY YOU PEOPLE...PEOPLE...DOGS, DOGS ARE OUTSIDE WHEN THEY'RE SUPPOSED TO BE IN. HUNGRY DOGS. DOGS WHO IF THEY AREN'T FED IN THE NEXT SECOND MAY JUST POSSIBLY HAVE THEIR HEADS EXPLODE! WE'RE HUNGRY HERE. IT'S RAINING. WHY ARE YOU MAKING US SIT IN THE RAIN, STARVING? WE COULD REPORT YOU TO THE HUMANE SOCIETY YOU KNOW. OPEN. THE. DOOR. NOW. WOOF.



Whew, that was close. I need to sit down until my blood sugar regulates.
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With a face like this, how could you do this to me?

This Little Piggy Went to Market...

You may have heard. I’ve been on a quest the last 7 months. A journey unlike I have ever embarked on before. One of self-discovery, a journey of self-discipline. Of mind over matter (when what matters is getting your arse to the gym to run around for an hour at least 5 times a week when your mind is saying why not (?) have that extra bag of 100-calorie cookies); of mindfulness over mindlessness (where one substitutes mindfulness with common sense and mindlessness with eating whatever calorie-rich, chemical-laden, preserved not from nature concoction you’ve just discovered in the not-particularly healthy aisle of the grocery store).

To quote John & Paul - it’s been a long and winding road. Seven months in and I’m almost 50-lbs lighter. “Almost.” It seems when one nears the end of their journey the road becomes more difficult and much more wind-ey. You don’t travel the same distance in the same amount of time you did when you first embarked on the journey. The last few miles seem to be the most difficult because one week you’re gliding down a hill with the vehicle in neutral, going 60-mph (where 60-mph could be substituted with 2.4-lbs per week) and the very next week you’re climbing Mt. Haleakala, full of hair-pin turns and the transmission drops out of your engine block about 2/3s of the way up. I’m just saying. “Almost” is one tough word. So are the last few weeks of “No Crap for Kim, the Redux, Volume IV, Seriously Gonna do it This Time, Get Healthy Because I Don’t Want to be 50 and FAT” weight-loss program.

But today isn’t about how tough the last leg of this journey is becoming. Nope. This is about how freaking fantastic it is to be a “normal” size. A size that does not require shopping in the specialty section of the department store (where the word specialty is substituted by the term “above average” or “plus size” or “additionelle” – how very creative). A size that says “hey, you fit quite comfortably into an airplane seat without the arm-rests digging into your hips that are spilling over into the passenger’s seat beside you”. A size that allows you to run, where once you could only walk and even then, not for very long without being winded. A size that doesn’t have your triple and quadruple chin walking in the door 5-minutes before the rest of your body.

Today, I am a size where I can bend over and paint my own toe-nails.

Did you hear me? I can paint my own toe nails! One little piggy at a time!!!!

Do you realize the freedom in this? The money saving? The “I can paint each toe a different colour and you cannot judge me” of this?? For Kris Kristofferson freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose, but for me? Freedom is painting your own toe nails. It’s happiness in a bottle. Of nail polish. That I can apply whenever I want, without appointment.