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.

This, to me, would normally be a chicken wings, pizza and beer day. But since I am trying to chisel some of the flab off my fat ass, I am planning something equally as tasty but not nearly as ass-widening as wings and pizza.

I make some killer salsa. Fat free, full of flavor and loaded with all those antioxidants that kick the shit out of cancer. Paired with a few chips (this stuff is so good we scoop a boatload of salsa into every Tostitos scoop) it is much better for my thighs than deep fried chicken rolled in butter and hot sauce.

Allow me to illustrate:

First I roast some Anaheim peppers and some tomatillos, which look like little green tomatoes, and they are in the same family as tomatoes, but are actually a type of gooseberry. I shit you not. They are covered in this sticky outer husk that is easy to peel off, and you want to give them a little rinse before roasting. I put the peppers and the tomatillos in the oven on broil for a few minutes until the skins darken and they become soft.

Then I dice a green pepper and some cilantro leaves. I love cilantro. I love the scent and the fresh taste. But some people can’t tolerate cilantro, it can make them gag. I read somewhere that it’s in your DNA code whether you will be a fan of cilantro or not. I don’t know if that’s a scientific fact, but I love it and I warn people of any recipe I put it in just in case they are in the anti-cilantro camp. And if you live in the no-cilantro camp, by all means omit it.

Next I chop up a couple of shallots and a couple of cloves of garlic. Shallots are like little baby red onions and to me, they are sweeter and have a milder flavor than their full-sized cousins. There’s a ton of flavor going on in this salsa, so I like to use shallots. You can just rough chop the shallots  and garlic (be sure to peel off the inedible skins from both. That papery stuff is not good eats.) Be quick about it if you are like me and your eyes tend to get weepy from a strong onion aroma.

Then I slice a fresh jalapeno. Now, if you like heat, leave in the ribs and the seeds. If you do not, take them out. I leave some in cause I like a little heat. Be sure to scrub your hands thoroughly with soap and hot water when you are done chopping any hot pepper because, hear this voice of experience, you will feel the pain of a thousand flaming spears in your eyes if you touch them before getting the capsaicin, the compound that makes peppers hot, off your hands.

And Ceiling Cat and Baby Jeebus help you if you use the bathroom before scrubbing.

Next step is to take the tomatillos and the peppers out of the oven, let them cool a few minutes, and remove the stems and the skin from the peppers. It peels right off after roasting. I leave in some of the seeds on the Anaheims cause I like their mild heat, but I take out the biggest cluster cause that’s just too many seeds.  Toss all it into the food processor with the shallots, garlic, green bell peppers and cilantro. Send the whole thing around for a quick whirl on puree. I don’t like it too soupy, so I only puree it for about five seconds.

Now, open a can of fire-roasted, diced tomatoes. The fire-roasting adds amazing flavor and if you get them already diced you have saved yourself a step. Could you fire-roast your own tomatoes? Sure. But the canned is really good and available all year round and I’d like to see the game sometime today so I use the can.

The dressing for this salsa is fresh lime juice. Don’t use the sweetened Rose’s lime juice intended to make margaritas. Just slice open one fresh lime and squeeze it over the salsa. The trick to getting citrus fruit to give up the juice is to roll it around applying gentle pressure before you slice it. Works like a charm. Add a dash of salt and mix it all up. Taste it.

Too hot? Add more tomatoes or bell peppers to dilute it. And remember next time to remove more seeds and veins from the hot peppers or omit the jalapeno all together. Not enough heat? You could mince up another jalapeno, or if you are very daring, mince up a Scotch bonnet (a.k.a. habenero) and you will set your mouth on fire.

Serve with Tostitos scoops. They make the best vessel to deliver the most salsa to your mouth per dip.

By the way, the best way to cool a tongue flaming from capsaicin? Milk. Seriously. There’s a scientific explanation of enzymes binding with proteins or whatever, but trust me, it works. Beer, water or soda willonly make matters worse.

Next up? My honey-bourbon chicken is for what I hope to be a victory dinner for the Colts.

Let’s just say that for the last four years with my current employer, my holiday season revolves around one specific project, and that project sucks all the life and joy out of me.

So that’s going to be my primary excuse for not posting here all week. That and the fact that I am ashamed at how much bad food I’ve eaten this week. So ashamed that I am contemplating hiding the bathroom scale.

My preferred hiding spot: The recycle center.

Here’s the part where I whine that it’s just sooooo haaaaaard to eat right when you are so busy at work you can barely breathe and it’s also the holiday season when fabulously fattening food is practically stalking you.

Wah, wah, wah.

I know very well that with a little planning I could be eating better. I know that if I absolutely have to have that Caramel Brulee latte from Starbucks (and I really do HAVE TO HAVE it) I could at least order it with non-fat milk.

I could order a Happy Meal if McDonald’s is my only lunch option.

I know all this. But that’s the thing about weight loss. What you know (as an educated person with a triple digit IQ) to be true just doesn’t always make the conversion to appropriate behavior.

And with every passing day, I keep hoping my boss won’t ask me why I am wearing jeans to work every day. Because the answer is that none of my pants fit anymore.

She may draw the line if I start showing up in my sweats. Please let her draw that line.

I brought work home last night, so I was on the flippin’ computer, working until I had bony fingers, all evening long. But it didn’t hit me until I was in bed, past 11 p.m., that I didn’t make a blog entry.

If my Mac had been in the bedroom, I would have scribbled something, anything, just to keep my streak going. But alas the Mac was in our family room, two flights of stairs away. So, fuck that. Not happening.

And maybe it’s for the best. Most of my entries this month have been pretty lame, just typing for the sake of getting something out there. And that’s not the kind of writer I am.

This blog is also supposed to be about my weight loss and food reconfigurations. I should be chronicling my attempt to cook my ass off. And on that front I have been a big old FAIL.

Let’s review my food choices since Sunday, shall we: Pancakes the size of LP album covers, slathered in butter and syrup. Various samples of chocolate chip cookies. A tiny bit of roast beef. A bowl of cereal. More cookies. A cupcake. A burger. A piece of cake. Another burger. Beer.

I will refer to this entry the next time I wonder why my big fat ass can’t get into my jeans and my two blood pressure numbers add up to a perfect bowling score.

So, what have I learned from this? Two things really. Doing things half-assed just for the sake of getting something done is not the point, and the end result usually sucks. And I need to eat something that isn’t made of meat and/or sugar at least ONCE in a while.

So maybe this little experiment hasn’t been a total fuck up, eh?

And I can’t blame Paula Deen. Or anyone else but me. I went into lazy mode as soon as I got home. I was tired. I was frustrated. I had a hard day.

I totally deserved that pizza I ordered. And the bottle of wine I drank.

(Well, the hubby and the daughter also ate the pizza and hubby drank half the bottle, just to be clear. I add that so you won’t start leaving links to AA on this blog.)

That’s exactly my problem. Whenever I have a shitty day, and I have a lot of them, I eat to cope with the stress. I feel like my reward for not turning in my notice, telling some asshat to fuck off or refraining from stabbing someone is delicious food and beverages.

Oral fixation? Clearly I have it.

This is not meant to be whiny. Writing about this is a way for me to start dealing with the problem. And my problem is that I love food and wine with a deep and abiding passion, but it keeps me from being as healthy and sexy as I want to be. Balanced? I am clearly not.

But today I did take a long walk after I dropped the company car off for its oil change. And I did NOT order the white chocolate raspberry scone at the coffee shop when I did order my SKINNY vanilla latte.

Sorry Starbucks- I cheated on you and went to the Not-Starbucks chain in this crummy little town. Where they have generically ugly cups instead of the sexy holiday red one you would have served me. I hate myself. Forgive me? Kisses.)

It’s the little changes. The little steps.