Crisp Taco Bowls

Top picture: Taco bowl deliciousness. Second Picture: Crust inverted over an oven-proof, greased bowl; Third Picture: Bowl as it cools on a rack; Fourth Picture: Side view of the bowl; Fifth picture: I was able to break pieces of the bowl and slather it with taco toppings. It was terrific.

I know you're jonesing for a good, crisp taco bowl recipe. This one is pretty awesome. I used zucchini due to its very mild flavor.

Induction friendly You bet your sweet bippee!

Because this is a recipe to compliment Mexican food, try Pepper Jack Cheese or cheddar in place of the Mozzarella for the 'dough'.

Make the day before, since these seem to fare best when they can rest overnight and dehydrate slightly.


Crispy Taco Bowls

Zucchini dough (1 large zucchini, shredded, 1 large egg, 1 cup pepper jack cheese)
Taco flavoring for the shell (add more or less to taste):
1/2 tsp cayenne pepper
1 tsp cumin
1/4 tsp pepper
1 tsp onion powder

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

After mixing the dough, make three circles on a greased cookie sheet (you can make more if you use smaller bowls). Sprinkle either with your own taco seasoning mix, use what I've listed above as a recommendation, or use a scant amount of pre-prepared taco seasoning mix from the store (storetaco mix renders the recipe not induction friendly due to sugar).

Bake for 12 minutes, or until edges begin to brown.

Remove from oven.

Heat oven to 350 degrees.

Grease inverted bowls in a jelly roll pan (you don't want them to slide off of a cookie sheet and break). Flip the crusts over the bowls, so that the bottom of the crust is facing the ceiling (this will help the crust to cook evenly).

Bake these for 25-30 minutes, or until the tops are golden brown.

Let the bowls cool slightly.

Using a spoon, bowl-side of the spoon down, very gently run the spoon underneath the taco bowls to loosen them from the glass. Work your way carefully around the bowl. If you have to force the crust, it needs to rest slightly longer.

Once the bowls are separated from the crust, let the crusts rest on a cooling rack for several hours or overnight. I found that the longer these rest, the more crispy they become.


Makes 3 large shells.

Per shell (calculate for toppings):

Calories: 131
Carbohydrates: 2
Fiber: 0
Protein: 38
Fat: 24



Optional ideas for toppings.

I layered:

chopped fresh spinach
broccoli sprouts
spicy hamburger meat
cheese
fresh tomato
black olives
sour cream

Friday, oh Heck Yes!

I like Fridays more than I used to. I've never been a fan of weekends. The measured chaos of the week turns to stage five, brown-level crazy come Saturday. I'm feeling more glad now that a Colorado winter is turning into a Wisconsin spring. I can get outside more and survey the damage to the blackberry bushes.

Last year my stupid dog ate the blackberries down to their nubs. Ate the whole ding danged shrub (they're thornless). I nearly cried. Knowing that blackberry plants only put out fruit on year-old growth, it takes another year for any hope of emerging fruit to show itself. The irony? Dumb dog caused new and invigorated growth in the blackberries. Now they're more prolific than ever. I have hope for blackberries this year. Pies, cheesecakes, yogurt, jams, you name it!

Growing my own low-glycemic fruits and vegetables not only can be pretty easy (when evil dogs don't eat them) but they can be real money-savers as well. I use a zucchini per pizza crust. If I grow zucchini, I can shred the stuff and freeze it for pizzas later on. I also want to give a shot this year to spaghetti squash, pumpkins, and blueberries. We also grow cherries and heirloom/antique apples. I'm not a great gardener, but strawberries tend to take care of themselves when stupid, devil, idiot dogs don't eat them.

Like she tried to the new bicycle inner tubes this morning.


No Failure to Lunch...

Tomorrow I'm going to a mother's lunch where we eat mother things and our grade schoolers eat grade schooler things. I jokingly asked if I could bring a cauliflower pizza and they were like, "YEAH! Do it!" One friend told me she reads my column weekly, and had seen the recipe and wants to try it (code: man, that looks like it has to taste like crap, so I'm not wasting ingredients).

They know me well by now, so they put up with me doing these kinds of things.

I might make a zucchini crust instead, since it is very mild, or I might make a hybrid-- half-cauli and half zucchini. The pizza will be plain--just cheese and sauce-- because I'm not going to try and hide the vegetables in the crust. I want to make a point that it's not something one can even taste.


Gigantopants no more!


I'm retaining water due to those feminine things (shakes fist at Eve for eating that high sodium apple), but I'm wearing 2x yoga pants instead of 4X so this is me not complaining. I was going to put on a pair of 4X, but they're really big, and heavy. I wanted some 3X yoga pants, but they're downstairs in the laundry, and my kids screamed the last time I jiggled through the basement in my underthings to find a piece of clothing.

I almost fell over trying to put the size 2 pants on. They're smaller and don't just slip on like 4X pants do. If you've never been big, you take for granted a couple things: 1. that big pants take up big drawer space; and 2. big shirts take up big drawer space. I was extremely short on dresser these last few months due to the fact that my gigantopants took up about 1/3 of an entire drawer. Not only that, but they weigh a ton. I didn't notice until now how much fabric is needed for bigger clothes. I'm going to get rid of the 4X clothes and start moving towards the 2X for the last time (I refuse to regain the weight ever again).

I told my husband, "When I hit goal, I don't care what it takes. Sew my lips shut if you need to. I'll eat through a hole in my neck." I'm not sure how much I meant this, but the weight is coming off and staying off for the last time.

Sometimes I wonder if weight loss surgery shouldn't really be offered as "Weight Maintenance Surgery". In other words, you lose the weight, and then they band your stomach (or your mouth) to keep patients from regaining the weight. Doesn't this make sense?

The dialog would go something like this:

Me: "Hello Doctor! I am here to tell you that I want you to band my stomach."

Him: "But you weigh 130 pounds (author: shut up, people! I can dream.)."

Me: "But doesn't it make sense to give someone a lap band to KEEP the weight off, rather than artificially creating a no-hunger environment in the beginning before good eating habits, exercise and weight loss have even kicked in?"

Him: "Well, "he would begin pensively, "we could sew your lips shut and put a hole in your neck...."

Have you missed calzones?

Pictures: Top: The calzone on a plate with some spinach (Popeye would be proud). A healthy lunch-- and filling; Bottom: A picture of the inside of the calzone with toppings, before I folded it and baked it for the second time.

If it's something I absolutely miss on a high-carb way of gourmandizing enough food to make even goats sit back in awe, it's the calzone. So cheesy, so stuffed with delicious pizza goodness. O pizza, piled high and surrounded by crust, how beauteous you are. How scrumptious. The extra time on my treadmill is worth it.

Yesterday, as these things usually begin, I was in my kitchen and I thought, "What if..." What if I could make a calzone?

I did.

You might be skeptical, but if anyone is a skeptic, she is me (skeptical and hungry). No, you don't have the "doughy" dough dough of the restaurant, high-carb calzone, but because of the extra flip of the dough and added toppings with baking time, I found that the crust becomes more doughy and chewy. Not much, mind you, but enough to make me think that some calzone place just lost their favorite customer.

It's Thursday, and for a change I'm posting this recipe in the morning so that you can prepare for the weekend (or dinner). I am also hitting some deadlines today and will try to respond to comments when I can. Thanks so much for your support!

Enjoy the latest incarnation of the cauliflower/zucchini crust! I'm so happy with this one, I could schmutz.



Calzone Calzone!

*1 batch zucchini dough (1 large zucchini, shredded, one egg, one cup shredded mozzarella)
Pizza sauce
Toppings
shredded cheese

Preheat oven to 450 degrees F.

In a bowl, mix zucchini, egg and cheese. Grease a cookie sheet and form three circles, making sure to press dough out evenly.

Bake for 10 minutes, or until the edges are brown.

Flip the crusts.

Turn oven temperature to 375 degrees.

On one half of each round, spread sauce and top with toppings, careful to stay at least an inch from the edges. Pile high with toppings (again, carefully staying away from edges).

Around the edge of the crust, sprinkle a small amount of mozzarella cheese. Fold crust over and press edges together firmly with your fingers by pressing down to the pan, leaving slight indentations. (cheese will melt and help hold crust together as well).

Bake for another 30 minutes, or until top is sufficiently golden-brown.

Let rest for 5 minutes. Serve with marinara for dipping, or your favorite sauce.

Serving size: Makes 3 calzones.

Per shell (calculate for toppings):

Calories: 131
Carbohydrates: 2
Fiber: 0
Protein: 38
Fat: 24



*I'm sure you could use cauliflower as well.


Notes: For the lactose intolerant among us, friends have reported that soy cheese has worked well in the pizza recipes.

If you want the top to stay 'inflated' use toppings which don't tend to break down during baking (sausage, shunky vegetables, etc). I used mushrooms, fresh spinach and other items which produced a slightly flatter appearance, but still tremendous.

If you don't need three calzones, use the rest of the dough to make small pizzas for individual servings.

On to other, more exsqueeciting things. And things.

I have some very cool news to share with you in the next week or so. Well, it's exciting to me, but I'm jazzed when my socks match (I'm a cheap date).

I have a couple of things I need to complete (hint) and I am woefully behind on responding to comments, but am reading every one and have a backlog of emails in my inbox reminding me that I am going to respond to as many as I possibly can in the next few days.

I also am working with my son to prepare him for state standardized testing this next week. He is high-functioning autistic, but there is a little extra effort entailed as a result, especially as he is a home schooled kiddo this year. I brought him home last year when, for the fiftybillionthtime the school people begged me to get him on medication (and for the fiftybillionthtime I told them heck no). I knew he didn't need medication, but wasn't sure why. ADD is a very easy diagnosis to make, and it's easy to assume that those 'hand puppets' or those rocking motions are meant to aggravate overworked and underpaid teachers (in fact, they are coping mechanisms). A friend saw my frustration and told me she thought my son could be autistic (she was thinking Asperger's--her son is also high-functioning autism). In November, a team of experts tested him, and he is high-functioning. In was literally so happy, I was in tears. He was in tears. Finally! An answer!

That should be a shout out for parents to never back down and to be your own advocate!

Having a diagnosis doesn't make things easier, but it does help us to understand how to work together smarter as a team. And while he looks forward to going back to school next year, my job this year has been to instill in him a sense of pride for a job well done, and personal responsibility in completing tasks.

Of course, when I told some folks about the diagnosis in the school, I was told, "Yeah, I thought it might be that." My mental response won't be published here because it's too early for incredibly caustic jibes. I'm sure the look on my face spoke volumes. Thanks... a lot.

I don't know what life holds for him beyond high school, but he has made me proud this year. It's not easy being a teenager and not knowing why you can't tie your shoes, or write legibly. When changes are taking place in your body and you still can't catch a ball, and you obsess about World War II while other kids are talking about American Idol, you're not fitting in with your peers.

Still, remarkably, it is a testament to the kids at school that he is very well liked despite his differences. He has everyone rolling during talent shows, and is a very capable actor. He's a ham to the nth (as you can see by the picture in "Easter for your Keister"), and even when he is making jokes that make no sense to me (I'm just average) that he thinks are hilarious, I smile and hug him and tell him that he's awesome.

We laugh about the Hessians being invaded during the Revolutionary War because the commander played cards while his aides tried to warn him about the onslaught ensuing ("Go Fish, Der Commandant!"). We both cringe at story problems when there is more than one step involved (we'd rather theorize why Mr. Barker needs to cut a board into a piece that's 7/9 of 18").

He is a fine young man. A wise person beyond his years, and a caring individual with a lot of promise and big visions. Now I wish he'd pick up his socks.

Two Blueberries, Off-Plan Eating and How Did you Do?

Teaser Pictures. Texture, perfect. Ease, perfect. Flavor, almost.

How did you fare for Easter? I am utterly without a sweet tooth, and I fared well as a result! It's not fair, but mine is a starch tooth. Where some folks crave jellybeans and Reese's Peanut butter cups, I crave Wendy's Baconators on buns, and calzones and lasagnas.

This brings me to how I spent part of my Sunday.

I was in the kitchen experimenting with the second wave of my cheesecake experiment.

You don't know much about me, but if there are two things I have always excelled at in the kitchen, it has been with lasagnas and cheesecakes (at least in the high-carb world). Both are my signature dishes for both my family and with friends. This is why, when I was able to nail down a low-carb lasagna, my family was ecstatic. My taste buds were ecstatic.

That leaves the cheesecake.

Yes, I know there are wonderful cheesecake recipes out there available online. I hope mine will be considered among them for its ease, flavor and texture. These are important to me. As of yesterday, I have the texture and the ease... I'm still working on the flavor, and I'm *almost* there.

You'll be the first to know.


This is where the two blueberries magically appear

I know sometimes the titles make no sense. "How the heck do two blueberries have anything to do with anything else?" Note that I am a woman of intrigue. Like the chick from Get Smart. No. I'm Maxwell Smart, minus the shoe phone (ATT voided my plan when I kept stepping on my phone).

When I'm trying recipes in the kitchen, I have to try them, too. It's no use making something and not sampling it (minimally). I mean, if it tastes like crap (the crouton experiment of 2008 started my oven on fire and then tasted flame-broiled), and you weren't alerted by flames...or the smoke detector... or Smokey the Bear... you have no clue how it turned out if you at least didn't sample it.

Segue to... Food journal.

I don't keep one.

I used a food journal the last time I followed Atkins. Keeping track via journaling caused me to hyper-obsess about what I was eating, and I usually panicked every time I ate over 500 calories. I was literally obsessed over the numbers for the entire time, and this made the experience a very negative one for me. As a perfectionist, I became obsessed with what I was eating to the point that I ate primarily eggs. As a result, I also cheated constantly, making myself terribly ill and often having to restart to maintain. In the end, the perfection and the obsession caused me to take a year-long hiatus from low-carbing. Food journaling did not help me-- in my case, it hurt the lifestyle I should have been building and created an obsessive crash diet in its place.

For me, the less I pay attention to the fact that this is also a 'diet', the more I can enjoy the lifestyle. I have let go of my perfectionism, and I have begun to enjoy food again! I am having a fantastic time, and am losing faster than ever now as a result of using this as a lifestyle and because I'm listening to hunger and to my body and not making arbitrary plans for what I think I need.

I eat when hungry and stop when no longer hungry (though not when full, because that means one is sometimes eating more than the body requires for fuel). I easily keep mental track of ounces of cheese and other items I'm eating, even from recipes. After being an Atkineer from 1984 onward, you know these things by heart! I eat pretty much what I want to, keeping in mind that vegetables are non-negotiable. As a result, if I want pizza, there will be vegetables involved!

I've lost 57 pounds since January 1st, so it has definitely positively affected my weight loss.

So, here come the blueberries like little Oompah Loompahs (only blue instead of Jessica impson orange). I ate *gasp* two on a small slice of cheesecake I sampled. Did I regret it? Oh hell no. Two blueberries. Two. I even ate four stuffed mushroom caps I was experimenting with.

For whatever reason, the words, there on paper, in a journal I used to keep showing 2 blueberries and a few mushroom caps when not hungry would have killed me emotionally.

Now I'm like, "So what?" I didn't go nuts, and I walked on the treadmill, so I'm still losing weight. I feel like I've been more healthy emotionally this time around because I'm not obsessing about the two blueberries and four stuffed mushrooms.

Now, some folks might call that a "cheat" anyway.

I say pish.

I think the whole *grabs my face* cheating thing is just abjectly frustrating. It makes it seem as though rational adults cannot enjoy some of the finer things in life without having committed some errant Cardinal sin.

I refuse to ever use the word 'cheat'.

What is cheating?

Cheating is taking answers to a test that are not yours.

Cheating is infidelity, to a person, a way of life or to a cause (wearing a leather coat when you're not at your PETA meeting).

Cheating implies a pejorative action in an underhanded way.

Am I underhanded in my eating? Do I undermine what is socially acceptable in my choice to eat two blueberries and four stuffed mushroom caps when not hungry?

I say heck no. Am I a bad example of a low-carb, out of control lifestyle, or am I making measured and conscientious decisions based on my personal life and life experiences?

I'm sorry, but we're grown. We're taxpayers, and we subject ourselves to the yardsticks of others based on the fact that we're supposedly climbing onto and down from some make-believe wagon that so many claim to fall off of. There's no wagon, folks! This is a lifestyle. For life. This is the long-haul. If I can't occasionally enjoy something for the sake of what it is, what's the point?

If I can control your food choices on occasion, what is the big deal? I exercise. I eat everything else on-plan. A calzone every 2-3 months isn't going to cause me to sprout a third butt cheek so long as I: 1. have eating under control the rest of the time (I do); 2. do not suffer from an eating disorder (I don't); 3. do not suffer from chemical issues which would bring on further binging (I don't); and 4. get back on plan with the next meal, exercise and live a healthy lifestyle (I do).

I'm not advocating people eat off-plan. I'm trying to shift a few paradigms and create some understanding. I don't need a food journal to keep me on a healthy path, and I can partake in the occasional high-starch meal without detriment.

What have your experiences been?


TOPS today!

I didn't go to TOPS last week due to familial flu. I had it and so did two of the kids. I went nowhere. We were all fine by Tuesday, and even Monday night I hit the treadmill.

I am down 7 more pounds this week.

Since I was gone last week, they generally split the 7 pound loss in two, so I'll register with a 3.5 pound loss for the week. Who's complaining? Not this girl!

Happy Easter for your Keister

(Pictured, Top: My son, the model. Yes, this is an...er... integral part of the home schooling process...)

Aside from my obvious reversion to being, like, 8, Easter is a difficult holiday for those folks who either like corn syrups, corn syrup solids, chocolate with their con syrups or corn syrup solids, or who likes Peeps (nobody knows what the heck those are).

Easter is filled with colorful confections which promise to melt in your mouth while your hips become cottage cheesy, and your teeth promise to rot out in an equal-to-Halloween sugar orgy of flavor-injected chemicals fit into forms and molds for annual consumption.

Don't fall prey to the little, plastic Easter baskets and the fake purple grass. The basket and the grass are less fattening, but you wouldn't eat those, would you? Never mind. I know that look.


Peeps These are what they might well use to make Pamela Lee's bosoms bigger. You want a natural breast enhancement that won't break down with time? Nothing says "I don't love silicon" like having your plastic surgeon implant Peeps into your mammarian bits. (Just mind the bumpy ears. You should probably bite them off first.) Bright side? If you're ever stranded on a desert island, it could become Dessert Island if you just dispense a couple of those little yellow bad boys like Pez and have a snack (as well as awe the indigenous people with your marshmallowy confections). (The candy, people! The candy!)


Hollow Rabbits The best thing about hollow rabbits is their little, freakish, beady candy eyes. (You can pick those off and stick them to your eyelids. Not that I do that. Darn you, spoken inner dialog made visible.) There's just something inherently wrong with taking this much joy in destroying something wearing a bow tie. It's almost like we're taking out our carnivorous aggressions on something that looks like a chocolate symphony conductor. Take that, Four Seasons! Verdi promulgator, I eat your face! I say that for every Jeffrey Dahmer, the fixation began with hollow rabbits. So helpless, so friendly. So much a hapless victim to the molars, canines and bicuspids of society, all of whom want to say, "Look! I ate his butt!"


Jelly beans could be what gives Kim Kardasian a little extra junk in her trunk. Just pour 3 pounds of Brachs into your pants and you have instant caboose karma. (Sex tapes not included). But seriously. Don't they look like what rabbits would leave behind in the Magical Rainbow Forest? Chewy, small bits of colorful energy, all in pellets? I'm almost thinking those could be Leprechaun leavins at the end of the happy rainbow in Rainbow Land. Or Rainbow Sprite's Castle. Couldn't you see Strawberry Shortcake in her little Berry Rollers looking at Pupcake and Custard, with a Berry-pipe between her lips yelling Who left those? I stepped in some! Now my shoe sole is multicolored and smells like Smuckers!


Chocolate Cream Eggs They might be perfectly good chocolate, but nobody obviously told Cadbury that there are liquid entrails made from corn syrup that shloop out all over your Sunday's finest. Please. This is a candy? Teenagers have acne with more character and even better special effects. Who, in their infinite wisdom, decided that the only way to make chocolate better was to insert unformed alien placenta inside? How appetizing is that? And it's become a tradition. Nothing says "Easter's A-Coming" like foil wrapped unborn otherworldly alliance members. On the bright side, you could take some of the cream filling and shove it in your nostrils, and then pretend to sneeze. It's a great parlor trick, even if Aunt Myrtle beats you with her purse and then makes you clean the upholstery afterwards.


Malted Milk Eggs They're two of the most perfect foods in the candy Kingdom: malted milk and chocolate--only then they go and call them Robin's Eggs. Oh come on! Am I supposed to believe these came out of a venerable song bird's patoot on an early Spring morning? Is there a little magical tree, where, like the Keebler Elves, there live little cartoon birds squeaking out delicious chocolate, melt in your mouth confections? I just can't find it in my aortic pinata to enthuse about what came out of a bird's nether regions knowing what they've left on my car.


Marshmallowy Eggs. As fugly as someone who's had too many plastic surgeries and can no longer move their face due to Botox poisoning and paralysis, we have these brightly-hued candies about the size of a quarter that are *almost* marshmallowy. I remember them from the 70's when my parents gave me at least half of a bag of those crappy candies as filler for the good stuff. Note to parents: they tasted like psychedelic, Croft superstars Razzle Dazzle Sigmund the Seamonster Witchypoo Butt then, and it tastes like... well, all that now, even 2 decades later. Now a mainstay, don't use these just because you can fill up the plastic eggs with just a couple. Packing peanuts have more flavor, and you won't have candies as taut as Joan Rivers (and with as much facial articulation) afterwards.


Snickers Anything. I shake my fist at the Gods who Invented deliciousness with a chocolaty nougat that sticks to the thighs like the Hollywood Paparazzi after Lilo. Damn you! Damn you M&M Mars! I wish I could smack talk your lip smacking perfection with aplomb and make you a part of a 'melt this and leave it in the public swimming pool' prank. The truth is, some things are just too delicious, too unspokenly savory to make look like Fluffy left a dumpling on the floor. I leave you in your wrapper, intact, sniffing intently. For now.

Oopsies on the Road

I was starving this morning, but had oopsie rolls along, so I hit Sonic for a sausage, egg and cheese breakfast toaster (hold the cheese to the side or it sticks to their crappy toast). I popped it on an oopsie and had an instant breakfast.

No, you shouldn't have to rely on restaurants for food when there are so many healthy choices at home; but by golly, when you're out running errands, you sometimes have to eat. Having oopsies means you can hold your food with your hands, too.

Oopsies: enabling my hands on my food since 2007.


As an aside, someone says Oopsie is too cute a name for these (I love Hello Kitty so I love cute! But I guess a 6'4" guy in a college dorm isn't going to swell on his oopsies). Even though they're a mistake in the kitchen, maybe a new name is in order. They're just screwed-up Revolution Rolls. (The recipe for the oopsies is here).

Thursday already?

I love this new laptop. I take it with me places and make actual effort to sit and write when I have moments between meetings, lessons and other taxiing which tends to take place with kids.

Now that I am a semi-published print writer, my husband decided I should have a new computer. He told me that I needed one which not only had a screen I could see and which has all of the letters, but which also has keys large enough that I didn’t commit the heinous number of typos I tend to make my own. As my informal editor, he has the right to make such requests, and now having typed on this new computer, I see his points.

I never realized what a boon it would be to have all of the keyboard keys. Intact. And with keys not gummed together with age and food items I’m sure that were dropped in there and had reformed into something semi-solid.

Years ago, I belonged to a friendly group of writers in a small town in at the base of Mt. Rainier in Washington State. A small bunch of 8 or so of us met regularly under old growth alder trees at the end of an unpaved, rock road in an old barn behind the host’s main house. There, every Thursday evening was spent, munching popcorn and sipping drinks as we pored over the prose of one another from 7-9 pm, kept company by myriad leaning, painted portraits of in a style reminiscent of early Limner paintings.

One of the ladies in the group had sold her computer to a friend who was also in writer’s group, and who had a need of a faster system. I remembered her telling the story of the excitement of her new system. She was writing her novel, and as her fingers slew across the keys, she revealed her tales for us weekly. Unfortunately, one key had the tendency to stick to the point where she finally pried the key from the board. She said, “I removed the key, and, seeing that it was apparent some liquid had been spilled inside the keyboard (otherwise in perfect shape), I sucked the back of the key to clean it. Then I replaced the key and it functioned with no problems ever since!”

I loved her ingenuity. I never thought to deal with sticky keys in this way.

At the following Writer’s Meeting, she was absent, but her friend who had sold her the computer had come to keep us company in that barn under the trees. While we crunched, smacked our lips at the many flavors popcorn salt apparently came in and marked manuscripts, one of the members said to her, “Well, Judy is sure enjoying that computer you passed along to her! Myrna blushed ever so slightly. “I feel badly,” she said, leaning forward. “I think a few of the keys stick slightly.” We all remembered the story of the sticky key from the previous week.

“My cat peed on that keyboard, you know.”

What I took away from that lesson is the obvious fact that even though certain keys might stick like the dickens, I bought my last laptop used, and stuck those keys will remain.

In fact, it’s a testimony to my ingenuity that, as a writer, I’ve been fully without the “w” key for the entirety of the last year. Rather than take the key off and give it a good spit-sucking to, I became bound and determined to just use words that didn’t have “w” in them. This has, overall, enhanced my ability to be creative with the other 25 letters of the English alphabet.

Now I have grudgingly moved away from an older lap top to a new state of the art jobber that will take your picture and think for you. It has all of the keys, an impressive dictionary of terms to assist me with when it comes to spelling (no longer attributable to a shoddy set of keys), and a microphone, in case I want to say things into this system for any reason whatsoever. Take a note, Nigel.

Most importantly, I am finally in tune with this system’s real capabilities and its speed, as well as its placement of the keys in beneficial places, the larger ram, rom and everything else that could be considered laudable in a system, aside from the obvious fact that the shiny new case is always a thing of beauty. I am a mistress of my domain, the FTP Fairy, and use the technology for good. I play a sweet game of Minesweeper.

... and Thank You

Estrogen alert! Run away now if you can't take the International Coffee Massengil moment.

I have to say that I am overwhelmed by the support. I can't keep up with the comments, and more keep coming.

Thank you so much for taking the time out of your schedule to let me know what you're thinking. I read every comment, and I am going to to respond to as many as I can. I want to commit to all of them, so if you've asked something, and I haven't answered, please let me know. There is never anything personal in not responding.

Between homeschooling an autistic son (who's adorable, and I love him to bits) and others in public school, and all of them dealing with standardized testing right now, I'm wiped. I'm also fund raising chair for a local not for profit and am maxed out having to worry about the next fund raising episode. I hate dealing with money. I especially hate being the one others rely on for the group's money. This is so outside of my usual comfort zone.

Writing and visiting with you is an incredible highlight of my day. My hair can look terrible, and I can have a day where my ankles float, and still there's you. I can have a drop of tomato sauce on my shirt and you're not going to think I was hit by a BB gun at close range.

You're slimming, affable (even when cheeky), kind (even when honest), and caring (even if you sometimes doubt the way I do things. That's what friends are.

I don't think I'm cool because of the overwhelmingly positive response. I think I'm lucky.

I'm fortunate to have friends like you.

I am not going to break out into a Barry Manilow ballad of "This One's For You," but I do want to say thanks (if you've ever heard me sing, you don't need to hear me say that I'm showing some mercy).

(And that spot on my shirt this morning is evidence of my Diet Coke issues. I dribbled a little bit.)

Meatball Sub-- It's What's For Dinner

And it's better looking than me looking at my big behinder in the piece below this one.

Low-Carb Meatball Subs


Bread for Subs

See picture #3

Using the standard oopsie roll batter recipe, I used two, small, nonstick bread loaf pans, and then baked the batter at 300 degrees for 30 minutes. I use two separate 'mini' loaves for one sandwich. (To make the loaves more savory, I omitted Splenda and used dill and dry mustard).

Meatballs

See picture #4

1 pound hamburger
1 Tbsp parsley
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp pepper
1 oopsie roll grated into crumbs (1/6 of a recipe)
¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese
1 egg

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Mix all ingredients. Form into 12-18 balls and bake in for 20-25 minutes (or until done) (You can also fry them on the stove if you prefer).

These can be used for spaghetti squash or pizza as well.

Sauce Mixture

See Picture #5

½ cup green pepper, chopped
½ cup purple onion, chopped
2 mushrooms, chopped
10 black olives, sliced
½ cup pizza sauce + ¼ cup water

Change oven temperature to 350 degrees.

Mix these ingredients together in an oven-safe dish. Add meatballs. Bake (uncovered) for 30 minutes.

Assembly:

Change oven temperature to 400 degrees.

Take oopsie rolls and spread with a light butter coating. Top one side with mozzarella cheese. Bake for 10 minutes, or until cheese is melted.

Place roll on a plate.

Add cooked meatball mixture to the roll. Top with shredded Parmesan cheese. Serve immediately.

Makes 6- 6” sandwiches.

Nutritional information coming soon... sorry about the pictures. I wanted to eat my sammich!

50 pounds in *about* 10 weeks

It's close to dinner.

Edited: I added the real pictures with my ugly head there on top. I call it, "When good Atkineers go REALLY Bad".

:oO

Don't look at this picture if you have a weak stomach. I put happy oopsie rolls over my face to protect the guilty of snacking (not-so-innocent). (Plus I have bad hair and don't want to look at my ugly mug.)

Note the slight lessening of the butt shelf. Also, instead of a 4X I'm now in a 2X. That shirt in the first picture was a tight 4X! (I should also clarify that these are men's sizes, which may differ from women's sizes-- people are telling me that at my beginning weight they were closer to a 6X in women's). So, I could be a fatter woman than man, size-wise. I guess.

It's ridiculous, but I'm disclosing pictures of my butt for you all to see. If you see small dots, those are satellites orbiting my hips. I have gravitational pull.

Fifty pounds doesn't look like much. (This is what happens when you allow yourself to hork too many Little Debbie snacks. )


*** Note: My friend 2big says that I should have taken my picture with the exact stance in the second picture, and I agree! I didn't realize my legs were slightly apart in the beginning pictures. It's because my legs were so fat I couldn't get them together!

**Dislcaimer. I suck at phototapestry! I chopped off part of my butt in the right picture (still woohoo! I'll bet that was worth a pound of fat). I'll try again in the next 50 pounds to do a better job. I promised pictures and this keeps me accountable.


***real picture put in and OMG! 2big is smart alecking me in emails to show my real face because she's sure you guys are going to think I'm Kimmering my stats.

So look, and think, "she's fugly". I know already. I don't want to hear about it.

Pizza Sandwich a la Oopsie

Pizza Sandwich

On a plate, I put together 12 slices of pepperoni, 1 ounce of medium cheddar, a sliced mushroom, 2 sliced green olives, and a pinch (1/8 tsp) Parmesan, and I microwaved everything for 30 seconds (until everything was a delicious, melted mess).

Then I transferred everything to an oopsie roll.

On top of that I placed fresh, sliced green pepper (less than 1/4 cup).

It was pretty darned good.

I am placing the carb count at >3 (2 for the oopsies and 1 for the cheese).

(For anyone wanting to know my menu, this is what I had for breakfast about 30 minutes ago.)



Positive Thinking. Setting New Goals

I am mentally re-inducting today since I lost the first 50 pounds to my goal (I promised my concerned kids on New Year's Eve that I would lose 150 pounds for them this year).

For me, things get stale after awhile, and it's easy to get sloppy. To remain fully in the game, I made the conscious effort to pretend I never lost the first 50, and am imagining that I'm starting from scratch. Suddenly all of the drive, excitement and dedication came back.

Really, it's boring for me to say, "Now I need to lose another 50 pounds."

It's more exciting to say, "Day one! Here we go!" and see where I end up in another 10 weeks or so.

I feel re-invigorated, have been more excited about exercise, and am looking forward to reaching 50 pounds lost-- even if it's just the next 50.

Thinking in terms of losing 150 pounds this year is a huge goal. Thinking in terms of smaller goals, acting as each is its own part is much more exciting and do-able.



How do you keep yourself motivated?

S'now Joke

Granted, it wasn't ice skating. Well, not on purpose. I am telling you there are few flat surfaces in Colorado. Even in the flatter parking lots, there are ice moguls everywhere. It's like downhill slalom walking.

I loved the winter wonderlands of Wisconsin as a youth. As the adults grumbled and mumbled about the plowing, the shoveling and the pushing of carts through decidedly hostile terrain, we spent our days building snow forts, eating snow, and making snowpeople.

Now, as an adult, my tuque is off to all of the adults out there who really had it tough. I know know you had to walk uphill, both ways, in the snow, had to pack a lunch and try to keep from falling on the ice. While you were busy outside clearing the windshield and sliding under the vehicle with the grace of a one-legged chicken, we were indoors, snug-tight in our school clothes playing Colecovision.

While we sat in the warm car listening to out favorite disco tunes, you were out there trying to pull the cart with Herculean tugs towards the vehicle. If you were lucky, you didn't pull the cart over when you held on for dear, sweet life.

While we scoured the television stations for word of school closures, you were downing coffee like a football player goes through Mentholatum, readying yourself for the traffic. You knew cars didn't know how to move faster than 7.3 miles per hour, and that you would have to find your car first under that heap of wintery loveliness.

As I watch my young kids sitting snugly in the house, with their noses pressed against the window taking it all in, I look back and I remember my childhood. And then, like the graceful one-legged chicken, I do my pirouette down the front lawn, turn around, and see laughing and clapping from the crew.

10.0 the front axle was a little weak, but your landing? Priceless.


TOPS.... Probably not a go

They generally cancel TOPS on snowy days due to ice slippage of various people. You don't want to go into the parking lot and see chubby folks making snow angels against their will.


On to the next goal

I may or may not have told you this, but I promised my kids I would lose 150 pounds this year. They've been concerned about my health (and rightfully so) and I'm not one to make promises I won't keep.

I'm one-third of the way there. Now for the next 50 pounds.

How are you meeting your personal goals for the year so far? It's never too late to start making positive changes for 2008.

Don't Brush your Teeth with a Bowl of Frosted Flakes

How many times is the mantra on any way of eating to be prepared?

Notice I admit willingly I dropped out of Girl Scouts at an early age, and preparation has been my way of life only rarely. I tend to fly by the seat of my extra big jumpers, but when it comes to things in general, it's not so good to be this unprepared.

Case in point: Tuesday night.

I was at a meeting and literally starving the entire time. I KNEW I should have made oopsie rolls that morning so that I could have been prepared to have my face meet with a bacon guacamole burger. HA! I hadn't made any food to take with me, thinking it's be simple to just grab something on the way home. I ended up at Carl's Jr and ate half of their taco salad instead.

Gasp. Swoon. Yes, I know it's a high-carb food item. With the beans, the bowl, and whatever the heck coats the meat (hopefully it's not Carl Jr), I was never under any assumptions I was getting something that was induction friendly.

Still, my attitude is that this is a way of living for LIFE, there are going to be those days you have something that you want because it's decadent.

The problem was as such:

I am noshing down some righteousness and am STUFFED half way through the salad. You're probably like, "OMG! That's so great! You stopped eating it, right?"

Danged tootin. I didn't mind not finishing something. High carb or not, you don't fall face first into a taco salad and eat your way out or else drown in beany delight. I had no issues not finishing the meal. In fact, I didn't even take it with me.

I arrived at home and had a funky armpit taste in my mouth. I mean, I was smacking my lips and thinking, "This is like I ate a combat boot or something." In my penultimate wisdom, I decided to eat a bowl of frosted flakes to remove myself from the military footwear flavor afterglow. I could say that the little flakes were crunchy, sweet, and hit the spot, coupled with some cold milk, but that's the part where the ominous music is cued.

No sooner did I finish the bowl of cereal when I became sick. I mean REALLY stomach-wrenchingly ill.

I'm sure somewhere in the physiological manifesto there is a subtle rule, hidden under subsection 'WTH Were you Thinking' that says, "Thou shalt not remove the flavor from weird Mexican food knock offs with frosted flakes."

Who knew? It seemed like an interesting idea at the time.

I had a screaming, pounding headache within 20 minutes of flakey corn syrup solid badness, and ended up in bed with misery indescribable. My legs crawled and prickled for two hours so I wasn't even restful, and I felt like I had a hairball. I finally zonked out hours later and awoke in the morning.

Now, usually, when you have a dream that you ate something really craptacular, you get upset in the dream, you wake up, and then you smile because you know it was only a figment of your sleep cycles. WELL! Imagine this. You wake up, smack your lips together. Now you have a bad taste in your mouth, and it's only partially because the dog fell asleep on your head. You're not sure where you are, but you know you did a bad thing last night.

Eating a high-carb, high sodium meal should be a planned event, and something enjoyed--and then burned off via exercise later. Instead, mine was like the morning after of a raucous college party, only you're a member of Dumba Dumba U and your mouth tastes indescribably bad. Your fingers are already swelling due to the amazing amounts of sodium in the meals you ingested, and now you have carb hangover to boot. Way to go, Ace!

Oh, I'm back on track today with no problems. I did fine yesterday, too. You have to be reasonable about this stuff. (This is a way of eating for life, so you don't go 'on and off' low-carb.) If you eat something that tastes terribly afterwards, brush your teeth. Get right on the treadmill or go for a walk. Drink some water and know there's going to be some water weight retention due to the vastnaminous amounts of sodium you just sucked into your body like Jessica Simpson does orange fake tanning spray.

Just never, whatever you do, for the love of all that is practical and not sparkly legwarmers coupled with moon boots, ever use Kelloggs products as a mouthwash.

Roasted Vegetable Pizza on Cauliflower Crust

Readers/friends have mentioned roasting vegetables for pizza.

I happened to have a summer squash on my counter and decided to roast some vegetables to see what would happen. The results were pretty darned good!

I:
sliced three mushrooms
cubed the raw squash
chopped some onion into chunky clumps
cubed some green pepper

Then I tossed the pieces in a mixture of olive oil and Mrs Dash Garlic herb blend seasoning (this is my favorite). I spread on a cookie sheet and baked at 350 degrees (stirring a few times to keep the vegetables evenly cooking) for about 45 minutes (it could take you more or less time).

I took a pre-cooked cauliflower crust and spread with pizza sauce. I topped that with the rest of the lasagna roll-up spinach/ricotta blend (if you have extra, woohoo! If not, you can use a white sauce/alfredo). With the back of a spoon, I schmeared around the sauce/ricotta/spinach mixture.

Next, I added the roasted vegetables and chunky, chopped, fresh tomato. I sprinkled with mozzarella cheese and feta, and finally topped with pine nuts.

I baked this in a 350 degree oven for another 20 minutes, or until the cheese was bubbly and golden.

The crust didn't hold up as well initially, but I don't have any problems eating something that decadent with a fork. There are so many toppings, and they weighed a lot. Not as much as me... but a lot.

Cailiflower "Dough" Lasagna Roll-Ups

I wanted something a little different and to test the versatility of the pizza 'dough' I put together with cauliflower a few weeks back, so I decided to fill it, roll it and bake it.

The results? So good, my tongue smacked my head and said, "Why didn't you try this before?

I haven't put together an actual recipe for these because you can't improve upon them, save for the 'dough' for the 'noodles'. The filling is already good stuff as can be found online and in cook books.

I found the recipe for lasagna roll-ups in my Betty Crocker cookbook, but the recipe can be found anywhere. I used a recipe which had a base of spinach and ricotta cheese, garlic, salt and pepper (I didn't use any meat). Other recipes you will find have more spices, but I'm about making an easy recipe, and because the crust is already spiced, I don't usually find I'm adding anything more.


Take a cauliflower pizza crust that's been baked for its first time. Then the strips are cut through the dough to any width preferred (I shot for something akin to lasagna width). Note: I used 1.5 times the regular recipe. If you want 8 roll ups, triple the original recipe (use an entire bag of 16 ounce frozen cauliflower, 3 eggs, 3 cups of shredded mozzarella or Italian cheese blend).

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Prepare the mixture as per instructions. Here is a Betty Crocker recipe very close to what I used, only I didn't use meat.

Spread the mixture across each "noodle" and then rolled and placed, seam side down into a greased bread baking pan (generally 9"X4"). Top with a scant amount of pizza sauce, and then shredded cheese.

Bake for 30 minutes or until cheese is bubbly and golden.


Notes: If you'd like to place the roll-ups face up, you can. I prefer to bake them on their sides. If you'd like wider "noodles" which span the entire bread dish in one noodle, cut wider strips.


The recipe is versatile and incredibly easy, and just another way cauliflower or zucchini 'dough' can be used.

Shortest blog entry ever

School Called. Come Get your Hero. Bring a Bucket.

A flu story I haven't told you about yet.

Not that long ago, I received a call from school.

"Your daughter just threw up in Spanish. Can you come and get her?"

Always the oh-so-clever dilettante of sophomoric humor, I responded, "What does vomiting in Spanish sound like?, Do you roll your R's?" That's right. Be good to the barkeep. I'm here every Tuesday.

A less than exuberant Har har was issued from the person on the other end of the phone. OK, so actually, it wasn't even so much of a har as a silence which was more of an unspoken angst which might injure me if it was within smacking range. Or a, "You'd better come here now, miss non-funnypants," spoken with nothing more than a pregnant pause. And that sounds the same in any language. Man, how I dislike pregnancy.

Apparently humor just isn't that deliciously funny after mopping up someone's lunch from your desk. Still, I tried.

I gathered the usual emergency vomit kit for any person who enters my vehicle and who threatens to sing the mighty praises of the Exorcist split pea soup hurl-choruses. I sped to the school, equipped with a bucket, plastic sacks, paper towels and a towel, whisked flu-girl home and tucked her into bed after apologizing to the school for the extremely non-glamorous job the school's janitor was not going to have to undertake.

She proceeded to vomit several more times (without an accent), but, in between the heaving and the flopping around in discomfort, she spoke proudly of her new-found popularity. It's apparently pretty cool when you vomit at school. It's even better when you throw up on a teacher. And she hit her shoes, too.

At school, because kid-news travels fast, there were tales of incredulity moving from lunchroom tabletop to tabletop only within 30 minutes, over tater tots and po'boy sandwiches, of the young girl who not only puked in class, but who hit the teacher's footwear. This was something to behold. There would be sighs of awe.

Everyone wants their 15 minutes of classroom fame, and yet so few attain it.

Sure, there was the time when Bobby Homes walked face first into the wall and blacked out in the lunchroom. The mark was a perfect line of symmetry down his face. Susan Jackson saran-wrapped all the toilets in the bathroom once just so she could enjoy the controversy over bouncing drops of sweet yellow relief in between classes. Billy Crabtree always pounded someone on the head, and some other kid drew his own freckles on his face to spell "Kiss my grits". These were all 8 year old feats of genius.

Nothing quite measured up to this, though.

This was legendary, requiring soured stomach contents, perfect timing, and the precision rivaled only by Annie Oakley, coupled with the element of surprise. Maybe by the time she returned to school, there would be autograph signings. People would ask her if she had the crispitos for lunch or if it was the deli surprise. They would circle around her as she thrust out her chest on the playground at recess and recounted her moment of stomach content ejection.

My husband called at lunchtime and we shared our usual talk of the day's events. I mentioned that our daughter had thrown up in Spanish.

He responded, "Oh yeah? What does vomiting in Spanish sound like?"

Tuesday, TOPS and Tangents

AAAHHHH!!! Blinded by shiny! AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

When is 5 pounds lost not really 5 pounds lost?

It’s when you go into TOPS, step on the scale, and they tell you you’ve really lost 8 pounds. Because I defer to all things mathematically not me, I am confident that their scale is totally right, and I was, in fact, wrong in mocking my scale with its little French accent.

Dear scale, I apologize for doubting you when you told me I lost 8 pounds in one week. While I thought you’d done lost your ball in the tall weeds, it is I, in fact, who will not be bringing the low-carb macaroni salad to the next Mensa picnic.

Your associate,

Jamie

PS. Keep giving me those losses, and I will name my next pet after you. WeightWatcher Jones. It has a ring…

TOPS gives shiny things

I really enjoy TOPS. Aside from the obvious accountability factor, they give us totally cute little charms and bracelets for success and working hard to achieve goals. I have the most adorable bracelet and charms ever! And, for walking, I was awarded a little turtle pin. Well, I awarded that to myself. I’m going to tell you more about that very soon.

You can see the bracelet at the top of the page. Heck, my eyes are closed and its bright flash is etched into my retinas (sorry about the flash issues, but now you can say I've flashed you...and blinded you in the process).

The bracelet is given when the first 5 pounds are lost. For every 5 pounds lost after that, members are awarded further charms for the bracelet. If one wins a contest, is best loser, hasn’t gained in a certain amount of time, etc, there are charms for that as well. All in all, it’s not surprising when friends like Reese walk into TOPS with an extremely heavy necklace of charms. I told her after wearing that thing for an hour, she’ll have lost so much weight she’ll have to run around the shower just to get wet.

I like shiny things. It’s things like that which usually pull me off course. Most people think, “Gah! A weight loss group who is going to make me weigh in each week and talk about nutrition,” and it turns into, “oooh! Shiny thing! Shiny thing!

So, now I have a shiny thing with dangly shiny things.

I done forgot

I love eating low-carb, but I forget to eat. You don’t look at someone with a thigh the size mine is and point knowingly and announce, “Now that is a girl who needs a sammich!” Nononono. You look at me and you think, “If that’s someone who doesn’t forget to eat….”

I’m here to say, if ifs, ands, or buts were boiled eggs or nuts, we’d all have a low-carb Easter, now, wouldn’t we.

I am no good on my own

I apologize for not posting comments and my responses until this morning. I take my computer with me when I go places because I'm usually working on a piece of writing. I didn't realize there's a little switch for shutting the internet connectivity on and off. Now I know.

If I ever disappear, know technology probably did this to me and that I'll be back!

That is, unless my Garmin Nuvi steers me wrong.

I hate Daylight Smavings

What an awful idea it is to tell folks who wake up at 6 am to wake up at 5 am. I feel like I've been hit with a Little Debbie Snack Cake truck and didn't even get to eat any of the wreckage.

My kids are zombies, and my hair smacked me upside the head and told me it was going back to sleep. And it did.

Now I'm sitting here looking at a honey mustard packet and the sun coming over the horizon, and I'm thinking that it's exciting to be on a weight loss plan where the losses are fairly consistent. I woke up this morning and stepped on the scale.

I'm down 5 more pounds for the week.

But still. Scales. Do you ever want to throttle yours? Mine laughs, mockingly, at me with a French accent, and it gives me 2-3 different readings per weigh in. I always take the highest from the night before in that case. I hate getting my hopes plastered to the ceiling only to have it fall on my head. I always thought a digital scale was going to be some fun.

You press on the scale and step back. Once the digits "zero" out, you have a window of time to replace yourself there again, and you have to be precise. If you step on the thing too early it yells, "No! Get off of me! I wasn't ready!" I look at the scale. It takes a deep breath and braces itself. "OKOKOK. Try me now." It grunts noticeably, but it keeps comments to itself, muttering in a dialect.

Now I took French in high school for four years. I always planned to visit a French-speaking area of the world someday. I enrolled in a community college and continued to study French for two more years parce que j'adore la langue Francaise.

I had precisely two victories having had taken that much French.

1. French insults are amazingly cool. Telling people to go to hell in French sounds exquisite. Plus, you could call people's parents stuff like goat lickers to make them mad. Apparently, animal names are big insults in French. Considering what people tend to call people's own parents in English, let alone other people's folks, there was never any end to the French 'dozens' so long as you knew the names of enough farm animals in France.

2. I could tell what the shrieking French neighbor was yelling at her son: "Etienne! Do not eat the sand!"

There are some, within the country of France-- some academia, mostly-- who feel the French language is being fouled by the languages of others, and who want to take the language back to a pure French tongue. Frankly, I hope they don't do it. Such an attitude of intellectual and linguistic snobbery might elicit a similar backlash from other nations.

And, frankly, I don't know what else I'd call Yoplait or Grey Poupon.

Taco Pizza on a Zucchini Crust

Top picture: The zucchini crust, post-baking and ready for toppings; Under that: A finished picture of the complete taco pizza; Third picture: You can hold it in your hand (like the Godfathers pizza, however, it can be messy); Fourth: OK, who took a slice of my pizza?; bottom: Oh! It was me. And I ate it.

A study in delicious.

Looking for something new for dinner? Miss Godfather's Taco Pizza? Are you diabetic, gluten intolerant or low-carbing and need something you can enjoy on pizza night? At only 23 carbs for an entire pizza, this could be your answer.

First, why a zucchini crust? I wanted something less pungent for a crust, and one which would take the flavors of the toppings without conflicting. Zucchini is mild, healthy, and easy to prepare. You can use this crust in place of cauliflower for any of the pizza recipes.

Don't panic when you see the calorie and carbohydrate counts. You are getting almost twice the pizza size of the regular cauliflower crust recipe.

Zucchini Crust

Crust

Large raw zucchini, peeled and shredded (between 1.5-2 cups)
2 eggs
2 cups shredded mozzarella cheese (or pizza cheese*)

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Grease cookie sheet.

Peel and shred a large zucchini. Add egg and cheese, and mix well (I always use my hands). Spread the dough onto the pan evenly (watch the middle of the crust—it can be too thick) and bake for 12-15 minutes, or until the crust is cooked. Let cool.

Makes a large crust (14")

Nutritional Information:
Calories: 785 Carbohydrates: 9 Fiber: 0 Net carbohydrate: 9 Fat: 49 g Protein: 75 g

Taco Pizza

For the Taco Pizza

Layer, in the following order:

Pizza sauce mixed with Picante/Salsa
Seasoned ground beef
Shredded lettuce
Shredded cheddar (you can also add mozzarella and/or colby jack)
Chopped Tomato
Red Onion
Sliced Black Olives

You could also top with guacamole and sour cream if you'd like (change nutritional information if you do).

Do not cook with toppings added. Serve immediately. Refrigerate leftovers.

Makes a large, 14” pizza. Serves 8.

Nutritional information per 1/8 of a pizza (including crust):
Calories: 166 Carbohydrates: 4 Fiber: >1 Net carbohydrate: 3 Fat: 16 g Protein: 18 g

On Wisconsin!

I was just in a discussion with some friends at ActiveLowCarber about whether or not members had any problems eating cheese while low-carbing.

I have to honestly say I've never had cheesy badness. Granted, I'm not lactose intolerant, and I don't eat too many calories in any one thing, so if it's one thing I love, it's cheese. Cheese, glorious cheese!

Cheese cheese cheese! Whether it is holey, yellow, orange, soft, aged, canned (oh yes, my friends. It comes canned), frying, slicing, shredding, or by Otis Redding, make mine cheese. It can be crumbly, smooth, no matter my groove, if it's in the deli case, soon it will be in my face.

Sorry. I just turned into Cassius Clay there, for a minute.

I was born in Wisconsin. I came out of my mom waving a foam finger that said, "Eat Cheese or Die". (As you can well imagine, the doctor was extremely impressed by my spirit.)

Real Wisconsin kids are nursed on cheese curds, and we remember Laverne and Shirley. I'm sure Shirley's hubba hubba hiney was probably made from cheese. Packers fans are known as Cheeseheads, and Happy Days are happy days when cheese is involved.

I love cheese. I love Wisconsin.

I remember those formative years, driver's ed, learning to use my middle finger while driving through Milwaukee, the glory days of the 1982 Brewers Pennant, and The Milwaukee Journal's Green Sheet.

I remember those 6 foot snow drifts, playing broom hockey on the lakes, and sledding down the quarry. I remember the freak snow storms in May, and the hard-working hands of my grandmother in June, as she stooped over rows of rhubarb in the garden.

I remember living in an apartment with my mother, and how, even though she worked third shift, my sister and I would revel in changing people's channels in other buildings back when cable boxes were so new that everyone shared the same frequency. I remember tornado sirens. I remember hearing all three of my names whenever I was in trouble, or how she'd pinch me if I said the word, "fart".

I remember the morning my school counselor brought me into the office from Mr Dart's history class. When they sat me in the conference room, they told me that my mother had died in a head-on collision with a semi truck just an hour before. Her car had hit some black ice on a bridge and she lost control. I remember the article, a blanket strewn over her body, still in the warped vehicle, as news reports said she had been Christmas shopping (this wasn't true, but for ratings...). I still have the calculator that was scuffed in the wreckage, and use it to this day.

Thirty years after learning the song at the tender age of 8, I can still bellow out a rousing "On Wisconsin." And mean it.

It takes good times and bad times to root someone to a special place, a history that brings sadness and overwhelming laughter from somewhere deep in the stomach. Wisconsin, to me, is mom, Friday night Fish fries, Sussex, Rhinelander, Mr. Dart and cheese curds.

And even in those moments when I'm digging myself out of a 6" snow bank and complaining about the cold, I remember back to days spent in soaked snow bibs and moon boots in my grandmother's white-buried back yard.

As an aside, if you're ever visiting a national monument and see a car load of folks with Wisconsin plates, thrust your fist in the air and yell, "On Wisconsin!" See if they don't cheer, yell, and wave back.

If they use only one finger, you'll know they were from Milwaukee.

Paging an emailer, Canadian Cream Cheese, and Out Cooking

Paging Nurse Emailer... Come in, Nurse Emailer...


If you don't know who you are, you had left a comment about your weight loss plan and I told you to email me.

You did!

I read your email, was thinking of a response, got sidetracked by homeschooling, saw something shiny, and then somehow I deleted your email.

If you read this, could you please re-send your email?


Canadian Cream Cheese, You Hoser

I love that movie.

A friend from Canada reminded me that Canadian cream cheese in blocks doesn't include the ounce line markers along the sides.

I'm not sure why Philadelphia didn't take that extra step for you, unless they felt confident that you folks either don't need the extra help, or you don't use your cream cheese to cook or bake with, or one whole block is a Canadian serving, (everything's bigger in Texas), but you guys seemingly got the shaft on that one.

Of course, you guys have Corner Gas, and we have Becker, so you guys made out better on the hilarious television programming. I'm guessing at right about this time, we're even.

Nevertheless, I pulled out my ruler this morning and took some measurements for ounce markers, because I want to know where the lines ought to be. You never know when you might be in Vancouver or Manitoba and need an oopsie--and, plus, a friend asked me where the marks are.

If you measure along the side of the package, and assuming the package is (as mine is) 4.5" long (12 cm) and 2 1/4" wide (about 5 1/2 cm), then each line/ounce is 13/16", or every 1.5 cm.

If you're making one recipe of oopsies with that block, you're going to measure out 1 3/4" (4.5 cm). Of course, if you're doubling the recipe because someone keeps horking your stash, you want to shoot for 3.5" of the block (or 9 cm).

As an aside, did you know there is whey in Philadelphia Cream Cheese?

No way!

WHEY, Garth! (A little Wayne's World humor, there)(OK, very little) (BTWhey (*snort*) Whey is fine. I wanted to make the pun, and there wasn't anything about guar gum in Whey-ne's World. And why not, I say!).


Superfluous Parentheses Aside, Let's Talk Cooking!

I'm going to be trying some new recipes today, so if I'm not around, I'm busy trying some things I've been thinking about.

A friend told me she liked my recipes because I use easy ingredients. Not that there's anything wrong with using stabilizers and gums, but I try to keep things simple, because not everyone has access to xanthum (I can't even spell it) gums, or stores that carry some of the things the more prolific (and experienced) cooks sometimes are using in their recipes.

I'm lazy, and I want to eat easy-to-cook foods. That's how I end up with things like cauliflower in my pizza crust (if you haven't tried it yet, OMG! Do it!).

I also try not to incorporate many more than 3-6 ingredients per recipe (base, at least) in my personal recipes for that reason as well.

Ease (I hope), fewer ingredients shopping (I hope), less expensive (I hope), and versatility with the same recipe base (I've seen). This is why so many recipes stem from the base recipes. It's nice to have a little less worry in the world. Lord knows it's hard enough to find frozen, bagged cauliflower in some of the stores now.

I'll report back later with some pictures and information about foods you might have been thinking about, but never tried, some expansions on previous themes, and some pictures.

Wish me luck, for if I cook like I lose emails, I might end up with a Ghostbusters slime monster in my kitchen spewing ectoplasm on my 70's Corelle.

(I'm now back to Rick Moranis, and I just dribbled Diet Coke down the front of my shirt. THIS is the kind of amazingly worldly person I am.)

Oopsie perfection at a good price

Sorry for the McMuffinlicious pixellation on that last picture. Oh, and for the incidental swapping of pictures 3 and 4! (I'm seeing if you are paying attention)


So, I have been really struggling with dropping $18+ dollars on a muffin top pan for making oopsies. One, because I'm cheap; and two, because I don't have a ton of space in my kitchen (my bento stuff is expanding...shhhh).

I was at Super Target and I saw what you see in the top picture. I was like "WOOO!!!" I think I even did and end zone dance and spiked something. Like my thirteen year old. But no matter, for only about $8 I had 6 Wilton mini cake pans (I bought two sets)! Not only that, but they are nonstick and they stack for a smaller profile in the cabinets.

Edited today, 11:50 pm: I also found the pans at King Soopers! (Kroger might carry them if KS does. They're affiliated).

You could also use them for other things! I bet they'd make great little pans for strawberry shortcakes, too!

And, because they are nonstick, I didn't have to spray them down. I just put in the batter (a regular sized recipe fills these pretty amply). I set them onto a cookie sheet just because I didn't want to futz with little pans. A jelly roll pan would be better, however, due to the tendency of those little pans to slip around like right little buggers.

When they came out of the oven and cooled for a few, I used a rubber scraper/spatula to gently ease them out of the pans. Talk about easy!

These are huge buns, too. I made a vast egg, sausage, cheese sandwich tonight for dinner (bottom picture) and still haven't been able to finish it off, even three hours later!

Tomorrow, I'm thinking Wendy's Baconator.


Public service announcement: If you buy non-stick, read the information on the package about caring for your nonstick pans. You don't want to damage them with metal implements or scrubbers in the sink. Some also claim that Pam has the opposite effect on a non-stick pan, so be aware of this! If your pans become discolored, that's ok! Just don't scrub them or you scratch off the non-stick coating.

So How are those Oopsies working for you?

PennInk put together this masterful photoshop job.

I look like I'm WORKING that pose.

I'm not sure which is more frightening: that I laughed so hard I almost fell off of my chair, or that Dr Phil's hips are strangely slimming.

Chicken Soup for the Butt, Beans and Body fat

Sometimes, when I'm talking to people (the real ones, and not just when I do those voices into the mirror. Like Mr. Pirate. He's the coolest!) ideas begin to form, and ideas for books that should have been written come out of the woodwork.

I was thinking I should come up with a plan where I pretend to be really thin and trick people into eating laxatives and chicken breasts and charge them $79.95 for advice about how they can look like Russian models--and then I'm like, "Crap! Kimkins already thought of that!"

So now I'm back to thinking we're going to have to write a book.

And this book should be called Chicken Soup for the Butt.

Sure, those Chicken Soup books are supposed to be all sweet and nice and "awww!" I mean, we're talking pink dog nuggets and butterfly farts. Nice, but too almost icky. I'm talking about a book that speaks to me. Well, not a butt book that speaks to me. Not literally. The librarian would be shooting me dirty looks.

Chicken Soup for the Butt is a collection of witticisms from essayists regarding weight loss and humor along with it. And, yes you need witty cracks in a 'butt' book. It should be cheeky.

No, we're not really going to publish this book. Or write it. I mean, come on. Aside from the actual chicken soup people having a coronary over someone turning their industry into a bawdy moment of body humor, all of the butt puns we thought we'd heard for the last time as 5th graders would be relived. Again. And that would stink.

Still, if it is poignant, you could include a companion journal called "Dear Diary-a" (sound it out. You'll get it. No, not diarrhea. The pun! Darn it. Now I ruined the moment of discovery.)


Those wacky neighbors!


As an aside, I was reading the police blotter this morning for my town in Colorado. Some guy locally thought he was a jelly bean. I twist your kneecaps not.

And I quote (from Kevin Villegas):

"At 12:16 a.m. Feb. 27, two officers were dispatched to 1933 Warren Ave. in reference to a disturbance. It was reported that two males were outside the apartment building yelling at each other. Upon arrival, the officers heard yelling from inside. One officer walked to the window, looked through the blinds and saw one 23-year-old male frantically pacing and screaming about how he wanted to fight and how much he hated his dad. It appeared that the screaming male wanted to fight the other 23-year-old male sitting in front of him. When the officers entered, they noticed a strong odor of marijuana. On couch in plain view was a large plastic storage bag half full with marijuana and cash. There were four pipes on the table and two stacks of medium planter buckets against the wall. The man who was screaming had a large bump on his head. When the officer asked what had happened, the man said he'd come home after drinking some beers. According to the officer, the man was fidgeting, couldn't sit still and told him he had a cocaine and methamphetamine addiction. The man motioned toward the bag and said, "Don't worry about that. I got a medical license for that. I grow it." When the officer asked to see his medical marijuana license, the man said, "I am the jelly bean of life and I don't disrespect the guardians." When the officer asked the man for his license again, he led the officers into his bedroom and sat next to a large, silver safe and started talking gibberish. Both 23-year-old Longmont men were arrested on suspicion of possession of drug paraphernalia, possession of marijuana, possession of a schedule II controlled substance, distribution of a schedule II controlled substance and the manufacturing, dispensing and selling of marijuana."

Can you believe that?! I couldn't believe it either.

I think blinds coupled with crime is tacky. Plantation shutters are the new black in meth-home interiors.


No losses for this week

I'm still at 42 pounds lost overall. I'll work harder this week.

(That was the 'Body Fat' portion of the program. I'm all about expediency. And I'm still thinking about the Jelly Bean Man in the police blotter.)

Sunday Night. My link don't stink!

First, check this picture out from this week's article. Go ahead. Click to resize (no, it's not a plot for page hits--ooh burn! Bo knows I'm razzing him. Now he's going to let me have it. Why am I talking to myself?).

That picture is what happens when your husband is a comedian. Thanks, honey. The nose ring was a NICE touch.



MAH PIZZA!

I'm feeling fat and sassy tonight! I've had mah pizza (no no kitty! not your pizza), and I'm finally catching up before Monday hits and the chaos begins again.

Hopefully you have a plan for some of that chaos coming at you on the Peewee Herman bike of iniquity.



The link-- Thank you... it was the flash, and other junk

Thanks so much for checking the load time on yesterday's link. I had a great response from friends letting me know what was up with that Denver Post site (a hell of a lot more than expected-- which explains why my numpty brain couldn't figure it out).

I seriously had to ask because some people are telling me that the place loads slower than anything. My husband whines. My friends whine. People whine. And then I whine. It's a lot of whining.

Between everyone helping out, I think we figured out that the flash-based advertisements, coupled with dial up and a slower computer will all cause slower page loading. Firewalls are also probably the cause (at least in work situations).

Now I come to you, Bo (a cool reader who made me belly laugh earlier). Dude, if I knew I was going to get that many page hits asking for help from this site, I would have pulled that number ages ago instead of then asking folks to support me later on. Now I almost wish I'd have come up with it. I didn't even know that many folks read my blog. I feel dirty! And really popular.

But mostly dirty.

And a little popular.

But really dirty. And popular.

Readers: mine isn't the brain of a cunning mastermind. You have to remember, I'm the person who puts my underwear on backwards and wonders why they feel suddenly thongy.

As an added show that I mean what I say, I am no longer an affiliate for any businessesand all links even to companies are gone. To me, the added hassle of seeming impropriety gives me hives. I hate muddied waters, so there won't be any.

Shelby-- It's also not a pay per click site for sure. It's a site owned by The Denver Post and The Rocky Mountain News, and they regularly publish my work in print locally. It's fully legitimate! The papers have the biggest circulation in Colorado, and I'm one of the folks they pick from to publish locally. They published a piece of mine this week, too. It's really something I appreciate, even if I'm not a paid writer at this point. It's nice to feel appreciated.



Now for the asking for support

The Denver Post/Rocky Mountain News is offering a possible prize for writers who receive over 2,000 page hits in the month of March as a one-time promotion for the site.

At the top of the page (the nose ring picture article) is what they've generally been publishing of mine fairly regularly.

The link clicking is huge this time, however-- it's for a little bit more notoriety in the Denver area. It will also lead to more opportunities to spread the word about low-carb life, and hopefully with some humor thrown in (like the leg shaving incident).

Plus, with a small cash amount available, it would mean I was finally a paid, published writer, even if it is a one-time dealio.

What started out as a trickle has ended up with a lot of folks finding the site quicker than I'd planned for various reasons. I certainly didn't expect 1300 page views in two days (and this is by 1300 people, according to the webmaster)! I was thinking I'd be squeaking in at the last minute with 300 views. Maybe. If I was lucky and sacrificed some extra virgin olive oil to the internet gods.

It's happening a little faster than I anticipated, to be sure.

So, if you are looking for a darned good cauliflower pizza recipe with updated nutritional information and information for lactose intolerant folks, and want to support a low-carb schlub in a quest to blow the doors off of those 2,000 page views for no other reason than to say we did it, I'd sure appreciate your page views!

Note: Don't keep clicking, because you only count once (so the plot for page views doesn't work anyway, because one visit counts and no more do after that).

You don't have to register or leave a comment. This is just a page view situation if you haven't already been there. And if you want to tell a friend, that is much appreciated as well!

Click this link if you don't mind

I thank you. Your mother thanks you. Abraham Lincoln thanks you. The guy who looks at you funny when you wave at him thanks you.

I'll let you know if I win, or garner any notoriety, though nothing around here will change. You guys are stuck with me for the long haul. As usual.

Stop looking like you just sniffed a bad burrito. That was supposed to be our happy, heart warming moment.

Does this site load slowly for you?

This is possibly an incredibly strange question, but if you could click this link and tell me how the site loads for you, I'd be much obliged. You don't have to leave a message, or post to that site. Just let me know how the page loads.

Recognize that ugly mug? I thought so.

I'll explain more later.