I know I wanted to find better ways to pay homage to the hard work that is dieting. But honestly, after weigh in yesterday I was starving, and I needed to run an errand for work, so my husband and I ended up in this amazing little downtown bakery and I ended up with an almond croissant (similar to the one in this photo) in my belly.

Not gonna lie: It was abso-freakin-lutely fantastic.

We also took home a loaf of ciabatta bread because this bakery makes the most wonderful breads, and our carb-loving selves could not resist a fresh loaf of wonderful.

I spent the afternoon trying, unsuccessfully I am sure, to burn off that croissant. One hour in the pool doing laps and aerobics until my limbs were fatigued probably only worked off the almond silvers and didn’t put a dent in the butter layers of the pastry, but it did make me feel good.

The sun was warm, the water was cool and the sky was clear. Being in that water felt amazing. I can work every muscle without fear of hurting my arthritic joints, I can bend and stretch in ways that are nearly impossible on dry land. In the pool, the weight that binds me is almost a plus because it adds to my buoyancy. For that hour, I felt weightless and free.

When I got out of the pool, my muscles were sore, but my joints weren’t in any pain. I spent an hour by the pool reading and just soaking in the glory of a late summer afternoon. It was a better reward than that tasty croissant.

Yeah, I just typed that and meant it. Stunning. Especially to me.

After I left the gym, I had to go back downtown to finish my work errand, and that meant a half-mile walk. After the workout in the pool, it felt good to use my legs on land and think about how they are getting stronger and feel lighter with 20 pounds off. My feet, however, were on fire.

I may need to spend a day shopping for a great pair of walking shoes that aren’t ugly. Not a simple task.

Later I went to the grocery store and I was really hungry. That is normally a dangerous situation. But I kept thinking about the ciabatta bread and planning what could I do with it that won’t blow our diet. Just because it’s Saturday shouldn’t mean a daylong calorie and fat indulgence. But damn it, I need to eat something satisfying.

So I bought almost every veggie that I love: Baby spinach leaves, romaine lettuce, green and red peppers, grape tomatoes, English cucumbers. To sweeten things up, I bought berries and melon. Then I bought our favorite peach/mango salsa and every lean deli meat that appealed to me: turkey, ham, roast beef.

So our Saturday night feast was like our own personal Subway sandwich bar. We loaded the soft, crusty bread with all these veggies, meats and mustard and enjoyed crispy raw veggies, multigrain chips and salsa as side dishes.

For a special treat, we had Skinnygirl margaritas muddled with fresh blackberries. Oh. My. Mercy. That? Was one of the best cocktails I’ve had in a very long time. Low calorie and high antioxidants. Booze just became a healthy choice.

Life is damn good.

Every bite of the food was delicious and every sip of the cocktail was refreshing. I felt indulgent but not guilty, because this was great food  and drinks that we really enjoyed, but they were much better choices than what we were making just a few weeks ago.

And that, after all, is the only way I will ever lose weight and keep it off.

Yesterday, we got one.

Two ovens, the bigger one convection, five burners including a bridge burner perfect for grill pans.

Isn’t it gorgeous?

In kind of an ironic turn of events, the stove was delivered on my daughter’s birthday and we already had plans to go out to dinner. So, no cooking last night. I woke up this morning and made my grocery list so I could bring home all kinds of wonderful food to cook…and I have a terrible stomach ache. Can’t leave the house long enough to go shop for food, nothing sounds good anyway.

{{{SHAKES FIST AT THE CRUEL BITCH THAT IS FATE}}}

So I just scarfed down a couple of Pepto Bismol tablets and plan to hit the store as soon as they solve whatever is wrong in my gut.

I plan to make a dish tonight that will require using as many burners and ovens as possible: A deconstructed lasagna made with penne pasta, roasted veggies, a little seasoned meat and baked with Italian cheeses. Not only is this little macaroni bake da bomb, it will let me fire up the stove and at least one oven.

Then maybe I will bake some cookies or a cake in the convection oven JUST BECAUSE I CAN!

Bwhahahaha!

It’s been a rough weekend here at our homestead, so I took the easy way out tonight and made one if those frozen meal kits for dinner.

Buitoni chicken and mushroom ravioli with marsala wine sauce was really good. Is it worthy of a fine Italian restaurant? No. Is it a tasty 10-minutes to the table dinner for two? Yes.

We ate, and enjoyed, every bite. The sauce is a little salty, so don’t do what I did and salt the pasta water. Just follow instructions on the box, and it’s a satisfying supper for 530 calories per serving.

I got the package on sale for $8.99, so it’s reasonably priced.

I’ll keep a box in the freezer for quick weeknight dinners.

And every day I get a little more bold and a little less chicken shit. Body and soul are indeed connected.

It helped that it was a glorious day today. Temperatures over 60, sun shining, mutts wailing. Windows were opened. Dog farts wafted out and fresh air flowed in. It was invigorating. And since it was so warm and fabulous, we had to fire up the charcoal grill. It just had to be done.

Any old hoo, I decied to bake banana bread (post to follow, probably tomorrow) and make my hunny bourbonz chickens and our favorite grilled Caesar salad to go with it.

We had this salad in our favorite local restaurant and have been making it ever since. My initial reaction was, uh, do I really want hot lettuce? But the answer is oh yes, I certainly do. It’s extremely tasty and pretty close to healthy.

Here’s all the stuff required: Romaine hearts, olive oil, salt and pepper, Parmesan cheese and Caesar dressing. Could I make my own dressing? Sure I could, but the idea of anchovy paste is more than I can deal with. I prefer to leave that to someone else. Besides, this brand is delicious.

Slice the lettuce length-wise, leaving the stem intact. This holds the leaves together and makes grilling it so much easier. I might even go so far as to say grilling this lettuce would be damn near impossible, or at least a hot mess, without the stem.

Drizzle some olive oil over the lettuce.

Add pepper. Lots of fresh cracked pepper. As far as my husband is concerned, you can never have too much cracked black pepper.

Add a little Kosher salt. This can be omitted, but even with my high blood pressure, I can still have a little salt, and it really enhances flavor.

Then they go to the grill, with the seasoned, flat side down. Grill for about four to five minutes. Turn it once.

They are done when there is a nice light char on the lettuce leaves. I am no Alton Brown, so I can’t really explain the whole chemical reaction here, but whatever sugar there is in lettuce is now enhanced by adding a little heat. The flavor of this is amazing, and the leaves are tender but not limp.

Serve with a sprinkling of shaved Parmesan cheese and a drizzle of Caesar dressing, and I do mean a drizzle. We maybe used a tablespoon of dressing for both of these Romaine hearts, and it was plenty. We also added a few dashes of Bacon Bacon, which is a seasoning mix of garlic, pepper and dried bacon bits. Adds nice crunch.

Best salad ever. Makes light eating enjoyable.

Any old hoo, I had to take my cat to work on Friday. It’s a long story but suffice it to say that the little tyrant charmed everyone in my office and now no one will ever believe he’s really the evil genius that runs my house.

He’s a really good traveler. He stays pretty quiet and has never soiled his carrier. I decided when we were about a mile from home, turning from the busy highway into our suburban ‘hood, to open the top of the carrier and let him has a look around.

Big mistake.

At first he just poked his head up, all wide-eyed like, “No shit, I can really get out of the carrier.” Then, he was out of the carrier. And climbing into my lap. Then onto the steering wheel. Then onto the dash.

This was my view in the last 100 yards of my drive home. And yeah, I was taking a photo with my BlackBerry of the cat blocking my view of the road while my Volkswagen was still in motion. What? Doesn’t everybody?

So we successfully manage to get the Beetle into the garage without wrecking and I’m feeling pretty good about life. I wrangle the cat out of the car and into the house and I’m all excited to tell Hoylier all about it except he’s in our family room with the dogs.

And the family room looks like a crime scene. Blood all over the carpet.

One of our dogs ripped off a toenail. And in case you didn’t know, when a dog loses a toenail above the quick it spurts blood like fountain. Think of Dan Aykroyd’s Julia Child skit.

OK, so Hoylier shoos all the dogs outside and is obsessed with getting the injured pooch to come into the garage and away from the carpet with her bleeding toe. I start scrubbing the carpet with Resolve. Hoylier is losing his shit because these three dogs are not listening to a word he says, and I am surprisingly calm.

We are a good pair that way, when he’s in a hissy I’m pretty cool and when I’m losing it he is the model of calm. God help us if we ever both freak out at once.

Eventually he gives up this crazy, ring-around-the-house, catch-a-greyhound-by-the-bloody-toe notion and brings her back inside where we could clean and bandage her paw. Her toe stops bleeding. She’s a stoic trooper and we didn’t even have to make her wear the Cone of Shame.

Crisis averted, we decided we deserved desired will sacrifice and order Chinese take-out food. Because, damn. It’s been a crazy night, what with cats in the dashboard and dogs spouting blood. That’s what comfort food is for: Dealing with the crazy shit in life.

So I go to our favorite neighborhood place which happens to have THE BEST Asian food in our city and get our usual sack of deliciousness: an order of General’s chicken, and order of cashew chicken, pot stickers and edamame.

By the way, I do the fat girl math: One order of something as healthy as edamame totally balances the rest of the high-fat entrees. It’s a well-known equation.

I get home and spoon out my General’s chicken over my fried rice, being very careful to not take more than my share, and dig in. Pure ecstasy.  Minutes later I ask Hoylier to pass the cashew chicken.

Except he ate it all. All of it. Every nut, every chunk of celery, every morsel of tender chicken.

This? Is a MAJOR Chinese take-out foul. All entrees MUST be shared unless there is express agreement prior to the start of the dining experience. EVERYONE knows that, Hoylier.

I am still trying to decide on his penalty and will gladly hear suggestions.

I took my lunch to work, a Healthy Choice chicken & rice dish vaguely disguised to taste like something with some kind of pseudo-Asian sauce. I had two of these Jello mousse-pudding cups – awesome, fat-free and 60 calories, score!

Then I had to deal with the IDIOTS at the service department where I leased my car, the JACKASSES that took in my car on Saturday morning and told us they wouldn’t even touch it until Monday, the same LYING BASTARDS that then actually performed the service on Saturday but then NEVER CALLED to say it was done, the very same MORONS that left my car sitting on their lot all weekend and all day today and still NEVER CALLED to tell me it was ready, the identical DIMWITS that never returned my two phone calls during the day asking when my car would be ready, and the same GINORMOUS TWATBURGERS that charged me $89 for an oil change.

And you know me and my lack of coping skills.

So off to Starbucks I go.

But I did order a skinny vanilla latte, even though the sweet, tempting voice in the drive-thru box tempted me greatly with the offer of a caramel brulee latte.

So I had that going for me.

Then I came home and had a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner and could not possibly make myself go back out in the sub-freezing temperature to hit the gym.

There’s always tomorrow.

So tonight I made pasta (not whole wheat but fiber-enriched) and loaded it with a half-pound of the leanest ground beef, onions, mushrooms, bell peppers, fire-roasted tomatoes, all in a nicely seasoned organic tomato sauce. I used about two teaspoons of salt in the whole dish, and it feed three people for two different meals. Paired with a salad, it was a fresh, hearty meal.

And taste-wise, it kicked ass, if I do say so myself. Actually I said, “Nom nom nom.”

The beef could easily have been omitted. So could the cheese we sprinkled on top. But I it was certainly tasty this way and I felt better about it than a few other choices I would have made.

Give a fat girl a break. You can’t give up cheese cold turkey. Damn.

Here’s my hubby, my hero, guarding my plate from our table-surfing hound, Dexter.