Ever heard the old joke: "How do you make God laugh?" "Make a plan."
Here's what happened this weekend. Friday night G came home with excellent job-related news, the kind of news that demands celebration. So we did. We went out to a Japanese restaurant in our neighborhood that we've been hoping to visit. It was totally worth it, but I'm sure the total calories far exceeded my daily allowance.
Saturday wasn't too bad. We helped friends move all day (seriously, eleven hours), which amounts to a hardcore workout. I ordered dinner instead of cooking, but I ordered a fairly healthy meal and didn't eat all of it. I had two glasses of wine, but that's it.
Sunday was full of errands and then I had to work. G was all set to grill a chicken, beer-butt style, and I had prepared a butt-load (haha) of vegetable skewers as a side. When I got home from work, G was antsy because the chicken didn't seem to be cooking and it was already past 9 (these days he has to get up around 5, so sleep is at a premium). We inserted a meat thermometer and verified that the bird was a good 40 degrees from done, and that the coals were losing heat. We gave it about 20 more minutes before we decided to put it in the oven to try to speed things up.
A few minutes later, G looked up from the TV and shouted. Somehow our entire house had filled with smoke without either of us noticing. We ran around opening windows, turning on fans, and getting the danged chicken out of the oven. I cut into it and realized that while the bird looked crispy and cooked on the outside, it was still quite uncooked on the inside. At this point, we had no choice but to stick it in the trash.
And then we called the local pizza pub and ordered calzones.
So, not the weekend I planned, nor one that I am particularly proud of. It would have been very easy to put together a quick and healthy meal from stuff I had in the fridge at 10 PM last night, but instead we ordered greasy, cheesy takeout.
I didn't weigh in this morning, but I know I haven't made any progress. This may end up being one of those months where you're lucky to maintain your weight. G has been so stressed and tired with his job situation that he's been stress-eating, stopping for muffins and milkshakes on his way home from work. When he calls and tells me that, my inclination is to head to the fridge and eat whatever I see, because if he's being "bad," then so can I. For the most part, I've managed to avoid letting his behavior influence mine, but by the time the weekend rolls around my willpower is depleted and I join him.
The good news? I'm not giving up. I've been in the gym or exercising almost every day, and I was back today. I've embarked on a journey I'm calling The Great Salad Caper 2009--I've filled the fridge with salad dressing and salad fixings and all are labeled with how many points they add up to. I'm going to be hitting up the farmer's market for that fresh greenery, and I even went so far as to buy two new dishes specifically for salads.
Just to be clear, it's not that I think you have to eat only salads to lose weight, but it's summertime and salads are a great tasty, nutritious meal. I'd like to get us in the habit of eating them for dinner several nights a week, and making breakfast and lunch our bigger meals.
I know, I know, it's Monday. It's easy to have drive at the beginning of the week, but I swear, I'm going to make it work!