This afternoon I made breakfasts, lunches, and dinners for the week. I win everything.
Let’s start with breakfasts. Take eight eggs, scramble ’em. Mix ’em with half an onion (diced), a cup of chopped spinach, some salty-pepper, and either cheese or crumbled bacon or chopped up breakfast links. (I’ve done all three. The only one that didn’t work was when, instead of tossing in crumbled bacon, I decided to line the cups with bacon strips. I’d seen it in a magazine or something. I ended up with perfectly cooked eggy cups wrapped in mostly raw bacon. Mmm, trichinosis.) Fill sprayed muffin tin cups about 2/3 of the way full. Bake at 350 for half an hour. Voila!
So remember when I had norovirus? Yeah, this çoup was amongst the things that I barfed up, so I was worried my palate would say NOPE, but phew. Still delicious.
It was a little touch-and-go there for a minute at the end because the recipe asked for broiling. But once I figured out where the broiler was (It’s that drawer! Under the oven! That’s not just storage!) and got Redford’s giant skull out of the way, I was broiling! I broiled! I’m a broiler!
I wanna kiss you all over/And over and again/I wanna kiss you all over/’Til the night closes in.
I put it with a little chopped cilantro and white onion and some tortilla chips.
First of all, thanks for your comments/voicemails/emails of support, but I’m fine. I actually feel fine—no joke. I had been feeling more optimistic about this relationship than previous ones, so yes, I was a little disappointed when the Dutchman bowed out. And startled. He seemed in it to win it, you know? But I really do feel all right.
Because truth be told, my Man*—the honest-to-jeebus One—might say, “Duck,” on this same issue, but it’s not enough to make him say, “Goose.” I can guaran-damn-tee it. I got too much going for me. I feel good.
That being said, I’m not getting back on OKCupid. I’ve been banging my head against that wall too long. So the Universe is going to have to deliver me my partner some other way.
*GAH. I am so heteronormative (heterosexual?). I keep forgetting that I’m supposed to be open to lezzing out.
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Three years ago, I set the bar low. This year, I’m setting the bar, eh, maybe torso-high?
First, let’s reflect on last year’s resolutions, shall we? I don’t floss (#2) or make my bed (#4) as much as I had hoped I would, but heck if I haven’t reduced my sugar intake (#5) by pounds. GOOD FOR ME. I have a sugary treat a few times a week, maybe some Greek yogurt with various mix-ins (I feel a vlog coming on!). I don’t think about sugar as much, and that’s truly a revelation.
I tried to dress better (#1), but I didn’t really have the tools, did I? I give myself a pass on that one.
I did SO VERY WELL not engaging in political or religious debates on Facebook (#3). Not perfectly, but on the few occasions that I slipped up, I was usually able to sit on my hands after one comment.
My self-talk (#6) was not good. I utterly failed at being nice to myself. I’M A FAILURE. I SUCK.
Hahahaha.
I was in a romantic relationship (#7)… Can I count it as a two-year relationship since it spanned 2012-2013? I think so.
So this year! Here goes:
1. Manage my depression/anxiety. My treatment requires a cocktail of interventions: amino acids, vitamins, exercise, time with friends, dog-walks, and some sort of regular group or individual therapy. I had let the last bit slide for financial reasons, and that was a bad move. But as of yesterday, I’m back in the game!
Woohoo!
Mental health!
Yeah!
Yeah.
Ugh.
2. Eat even less sugar. I’m interested in what a no-sugar (except special occasions) Amy would feel like. This resolution will commence once I’ve finished the can of whipped cream in my fridge. And maybe my Greek yogurt. Maybe this resolution sucks?
3b. Wear makeup. But listen, I just can’t bring myself to paint my face for work. It seems ridiculous—I teach sixth grade, plus I have to be there at 7:15am. Who even invented 7:15am? So my compromise is this: lipstick during the day (I’ll even re-apply!), mascara or full makeup (as I see appropriate) when I go out on weekend nights.
Deal?
Deal.
High-five.
4. Be positive about my job. One complaint a day. That’s all I get. This’ll be hard. I had used my one complaint by 8:20 this morning.
5. Keep a cleaner house. I love a clean house, and I’m good about tidying up for company, but I have trouble putting stuff away and vacuuming if nobody’s going to see it. I tried having a chore chart for myself—that didn’t work. I also used the old put-a-sticky-note-on-the-computer trick.
Speaking of parties, a year ago, I built my fire pit! Best investment of three days and 180 bucks ever. I’ve had, what?, eight or nine fires since then, including this New Year’s Eve. And that was a hellified good time.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all, and happy 2013! (What are your New Year’s resolutions?)
It was a little touch-and-go there for a minute at the end because the recipe asked for broiling. But once I figured out where the broiler was (It’s that drawer! Under the oven! That’s not just storage!) and got Redford’s giant skull out of the way, I was broiling! I broiled! I’m a broiler!
