Today marks six weeks of Paleo for Craig and I. How'd we do? I think we did pretty well. We didn't make it through 100% of the time, but I'm pretty certain we averaged over 80%, probably closer to 90%. I coped a little better with office lunches than my sandwich-fan husband, but that was always expected.
My smallest pair of jeans, the jeans I couldn't fit 6 weeks ago? are now the only pair of jeans I own which fit properly.
So what now?
Much to Craig's chagrin, I don't want to jump back on the refined carbohydrate bandwagon. But I miss ... soy sauce. And tortillas. And chickpeas. (I really don't miss dairy, or bread)
I think the lasting impact of Paleo is more about eating whole foods. I read more labels than ever before. I avoid emulsifiers and stabilisers and ridiculous additives. Unusually, I'm eating more organic than ... ever. It just seems to be making sense to me.
Oh and the coworker who said he would waste us all? Didn't make it a week. Victory!
Apologies in advance for this week. I was really rather sick.
Sunday Alcohol is always a welcome present in our family.
Monday The first day at home with my cold. I thought it did not need to visit the doctor. I was wrong.
Tuesday I felt no better and moved onto adding lemon and honey to my self-medication.
Wednesday I fought through a morning at work then slept an afternoon at home. When I finally woke up I went to the doctor. Apparently I had a very high fever and should not have been at work that morning.
Thursday Penicillin, the West Wing, and bed.
Friday I made it out of bed! And hung out a lot of clothes I'm getting rid of so that my family could "shop" Park Place on Saturday.
Saturday Found this terrifying old polaroid of my husband. I think he was 17? 18? at the time.
Dear Internet,
Please forgive me, for I am about to rant.
Last night I went to the World of Wearable Arts dress rehearsal.
It was horrible. I do not know why I thought I would like it - I do not like interpretive dance, I don't find the wearable art particularly moving*, and I never watch the televised version because it bores me. But I went. It was horrible.
I suppose, the one good thing that came out of last night is that now, when I am told - in a smarmy tone, ALWAYS the smarmy tone - that I really MUST go because it's just TOO TOO fabulous and how it's SUCH A SHAME that I live in Wellington and DON'T GO to WoW I can tell them that I did go. And it was horrible.
Besides the general boredom, the insufferable child & animal performers, the men-dressed-as-women-equals-hilarious shtick, and the women in the audience hooting everytime a man wore tights, there was one straw which broke the proverbial camel's back.
Fred fucking Dagg.
I am sick and tired of being made to feel like I am not a "real" New Zealander because I do not like the countryside.
Because I do not own or like mud-caked gumboots and a wife beater. Because, more often than not, I find pavlova cloying and overly sweet. Because I do not like paua shell. Because I do not know Ten Guitars.
Because my idea of a future life for my family does not involve a paddock. The quarter acre dream is not mine. I do not secretly want to retire to the country and do hard yakka. I enjoy that I am not entirely sure to what the "number eight" in "number eight wire" refers, though I presume it is the gauge. I do not want a bach with a corrugated iron shed and worn sheets on the splinter-y bedframes.
I like the city. I prefer the city.
I like the background hum of traffic, I like the smell of rain on a hot pavement, I like that there are cafés and bars and restaurants and stores all within walking distance, I like people-watching. I like wearing inappropriate shoes and never wearing trackpants. I loathe enclosed shopping malls and homogenised suburbs. Give me urban, give me grime, give me culture.
I admit, I can admire verdure, and clean air, and stars. I like that the countryside is there, over the hills, a drive and a bit away. That's fine. It's nice that it's there if I feel like a change.
But I am a town mouse. I always will be. I am sick of being told I am not a real New Zealander because of it.
sincerely, Sarah-Rose
* and I LIKE modern art. I just like pieces which make me feel something other than "huh" or "meh".
