It feels like I’m up way too early. I know half of you have already taken three kids to school and done P90X while pumping for your newborn, and I envy and admire your drive, I’m just not there yet. Mornings are a delicate and overwhelming time.
I have to go to that meeting for small businesses in San Diego. You hear about these things and you become momentarily excited, like you can make a change. Or, that it’s going to help you get more respect in your own little micro-community.
Still, if making changes means I have to get up earlier then I’m probably just okay with how things are for now.
Especially considering I slept like shit. I had some turkey, cashews, and 1/2 an apple before stretching and meditating. I thought I did all the right things. But that didn’t stop my neighbor’s kid from trying to assault and molest me in vivid detail the entire night. I call it ‘thin sleep’. When I’m technically sleeping but it’s not deep enough to make me feel rested. This kind of crappy sleep is a heavy burden for me to carry on this diet.
I shall make myself a breakfast smoothie – homemade almond milk, 1/2 banana, cashews, and a tablespoon of cacao. Should hold me over until I get home from this meeting and have a proper breakfast.
Hunger levels are normal this morning. I feel the rumbling which is a good sign. Two days in row where it hasn’t been pure nausea. I should note, however, that I have two zits on my forehead at exactly this moment and I normally get about two zits a year.
I wanna say it’s been six years since I first got a Vitamix. I was skeptical when I heard people talking about them because I am skeptical of anything that more than three people like. I even tried to buy a Ninja from Bed, Bath, and Beyond because I thought it couldn’t be that big of a difference. What a mistake. That thing was a raging piece of shit. I finally broke down and got a Vitamix for my yoga studio because we were serving out free shots of green smoothies at the end of classes. I needed the big dog. And that thing has been delivering for me every day since. Sometimes you buy something that is really expensive and it makes you feel like an asshole for a while. But then every time you use it you are proud to own something so high quality.
Someone asked me the other day what I spend my money on being as I don’t drink and I don’t have kids. I told him I try to save a lot. Then I thought more about all my cameras and lighting setups and new gadgets that are coming in weekly via Amazon Prime and told him that equipment is probably my greatest expense.
My smoothie is gone. There’s a little more in the blender. I will save it for Alexis when she wakes up. She is tucked in pretty good with Woodson. He was released from his cage around 5 this morning to join the festivities. We have a full-sized bed. It’s really not very big at all. I’ve always had it and always loved the mattress and when you think about upgrading you have to consider the box spring, the frame, the sheets, and the comforter. And when you could just buy a new lens for your camera instead you end up with the same bed for a number of years. Needless to say, it’s a tight fit with the three of us. Especially when I’m tossing and turning at the thought of being subconsciously groped.
You hear a lot about FOMO these days. And I’d say the single greatest form of FOMO is having to get out of bed and get ready for the day when your partner lies peacefully under a warm, fluffy white comforter. It has to be white though.
Trying to figure out which jacket I should wear so I look smart as fuck but also like I don’t really care about the meeting at all.
I’m angry with myself because I’m actually going to be late on account of reading all the comments this morning. It’s a wormhole.
*In the car*
I didn’t have time for my morning second dump. It’s coming back to haunt me now. Which is why I don’t like to be rushed in the morning. I keep letting out these questionable farts hoping they don’t turn into something more. My car smells like a hearse.
Everyone that owns a liquor store stands on the corner wearing a v-neck t-shirt smoking a cigarette all day. That’s their business model.
Definitely going to be late. Panic setting in which translates to road rage. Just called someone a fuck ball.
Okay, only gonna be two minutes late. I can slip in the back smelling like a tuna fish sandwich stuck under your seat for seven days and no one will notice.
I almost just killed a runner. Who the fuck runs this early? He gave me one of those dirty, pretentious – you lazy car driver – runner looks. I told him he was fat and a turkey dick fucker. A lot of my insults include names of food I like.
Early analysis. There aren’t enough people here to fart anonymously.
I don’t really know anyone, cept for Rachel and Natalie, and the thought of sitting next to a stranger is crippling me. I would like to move right past the small talk intro things. This guy was staring at me for a while and I was content with a head nod and walking right on by to sit in the corner next to Rachel but he insisted on introducing himself. I knew I was trapped when he started to put his hand out. I hesitated, unofficially giving him permission. I should have just kept moving.
I clung to Rachel and pulled up a chair next to her in the corner. High school.
They are serving breakfast empanadas with cheese and other fine ingredients enjoyed by those with no desire to improve their lives.
Everyone is going around the room intro’ing themselves. It’s important. There are some influencers here. But I have to crap so bad I am in and out of cross-eyed facial expressions. I’m looking right at the bathroom. It’s directly behind the group leader. I can’t use it though. The table is downwind. Everyone is in a row, their noses exposed perfectly to the air tunnel I would create. As soon as I walked out, they’d all know. And that would be my legacy.
It’s coming back through my stomach and out of my mouth in the form of aggressive burps. Aggressive burps that I have to keep silent so it looks like I might need CPR.
A girl just went in the bathroom. No one paid too much attention.
She’s still in there! This is something. She’s doing something. She’s laying the foundation.
Damn it. She’s out. She had her purse. She’s just on her period.
Knock knock. It’s me. Pressure in the rectum. Chills up the back. Fear in the mind.
I lean over to Rachel, “I’m going.”
Quietly screaming, “Free Willie!”
I get home, expecting a warm greeting from my dogson, but he is on the bed chewing a bully stick and could care less about me.
Alexis is listening to a Van Morrison album reheating the ground beef from last night.
I’m politically charged at the moment. San Diego has almost 2 billion in free cash and there are 70,000 low-income families waiting to have access to affordable housing. Some waiting more than 10 year. Oh, and the five supervisors who oversee the budget just voted to give themselves a 10% raise. I asked how I could effectively troll them on Facebook.
Woody is chewing on a box of tampons.
Breakfast was delicious. I only had one piece of avocado panda bread. I enjoyed all the other food items – ground beef, cauli rice, and sauteed veggies. I’m a goddamn beast. I eat beef for breakfast. No wonder I’m shitting my pants during meetings.
I would be a lot more productive if I went to our studio to work. I will write two or three sentences then have to get up and throw the ball three or four times. I sit back down and within a few seconds he is sitting at my feet or biting my hand.
He doesn’t know who puts food in his bowl.
Whole30. Whole30. Whole30. Whole30. Whole30. (SEO).
Trying to handle some business matters I have been putting off. We came over to the studio to avoid distraction.
The wait time to talk to the Franchise Tax Board is over three hours. I am glad these high-paid government officials are working so hard for their tax-paying citizens. I am not going to eat for the next three hours to prepare for this phone call. I need maximum rage.
I am starting to get hungry again. Only it looks like Alexis is deeply invested in measurements for her inventory.
I’m not quite sure how she has gotten anything done since the Whole30 started. How are those of you who are working 9-5 jobs able to pull this off? We have literally removed ourselves from situations that would be tempting. Except for when Mijon plated the pesto pasta with parmesan cheese last night. That one hurt. At least Boston didn’t puke on me.
Lunch is in process. I walked the Voodster and, thank god, it was pouring rain. Since we’ve gotten back from Europe and the infamous purchase of a $400 Nike Lab jacket in Paris it has rained a ton. And that brings me great joy. Because nothing is more satisfying than a good investment. Except maybe rotisserie. Which brings me back to lunch. As I check back to my notes I see that I at breakfast around 10 a.m., which was 3.5 hours ago. I’m not desperate. I’m not even that angry. I know an incredible meal is on the way and I’ll eat it and move on with my life. From 1 – 10 (10 being the most) I would say that I miss chips at a 5 today. We added our vitamins back into the mix. Not like intentionally on this day but just because we have completely forgotten about them. Such is vitamins. We take Omega 3 with the Mood formula because of my anger problems, b-12 with meth something, and vitamin d. Not the same kind I was hoping to give Alexis last night before she fell asleep reading a book.
I’ve been accused once or twice, by people who are tragically no longer with us, of being dramatic or exaggerative (new word alert). It’s only in today’s fine era of immediate information that I can substantiate my claims with cold, hard evidence. For example, on Sunday, I mentioned that Woody’s training consists of giving him treats for every time he takes a step. And people were all like, Haha, okay buddy I’m sure it’s not that bad. So I just want to show you this – a bag, of treats, that was once full (on Saturday).
That’s not a sandwich bag for your kid’s PB & J. That’s a bag that you would find a severed arm in during a forensics investigation. That’s a bag big enough to hold an entire bag of treats. $20/bag treats. Every time she walks out the door to training I quietly cry, wishing she would just take the GD Newman’s crap biscuits that he doesn’t even like but cost $4 for 400 biscuits.
Anyway, lunch is almost here.
“Alexa, set a timer for 10 minutes,” Alexis says to my mistress, the Amazon robot.
But please note that at 1:35 p.m. I was under the impression that lunch was right around the corner. And now I’m faced with this new piece of news.
The timer went off eight minutes ago. Nothing happened.
Although I was granted access to see how the immersion blender worked.
“Does it even do anything?”
“Yeah it does.”
“It’s blending all this stuff.”
“Okay, so explain to me this … how is it different than an actual blender?”
“You don’t have to remove it from the pot.”
There it is folks. It’s important.
PS – thanks Mom for getting this for her. She really likes it.
There’s a famous quote by someone – “Good things come to those who wait.” And he/she was talking about lunch.
Here we have a broccoli or babyshit soup depending on what stage of life you are in with a roasted veggies and chicken salad. Olive oil and a little lemon squeeze for dressing. She always insists that I taste it before adding salt. Claims she put a ton on. I grab the salt and add two pinches. She rolls her eyes. Today I listened. I took a bite first. Then I grabbed two pinches of salt.
“Are you making bigger portions?” I asked her half way through.
“Not really, why?”
“Because I’m full already.”
It was true. Half my plate and I was already starting to feel stretched out in my belly.
I’ve become obsessed with bloating. I watch my stomach constantly. When I wake up, right after I eat, before bed. Before Whole30 I would start the day decent and finish ready to destroy all the mirrors in my house. Now, it seems more consistent. But I want to know which things exactly effect bloating for me. I want to know everything.
Woody greeted me by lifting his leg and peeing on my foot. Then he sat underneath me because he was scared.
Alexis is making thai food tonight. Hold on, I’ll check what it’s called.
“What’s the recipe?”
I will do my best to link to recipes now to prevent 900 of you from asking for it in the comments.
I saw someone wipe the plate off like this on a TV show before they gave it to the judges so I have Alexis do it before she delivers the plate to me. Actually, she does it herself without me asking because she wants the pictures to look good because she wants us to become full-time food and lifestyle bloggers. Apparently you can make mad loot.
Folks, breaking news. An unfinished plate. And not because I was nauseous. Just straight up full.
I think our work here is done.
THE DISHES NEVER STOP.
I was one of those guys that always said, “I love doing dishes.” And Alexis would kind of nod along because that meant I was better than the boyfriend of the person we were talking to. But this has gone too far.
I keep making the argument with Alexis that doing the dishes is actually much harder than cooking.
We moved our bedroom into the middle room a couple weeks ago and had big plans to make the old bedroom our new ‘yoga’ room. Now, it’s just a room that has a door to close so we throw all our shit in there and then close the door. I mean how many things can you improve at a time? Is there a limit? Seems logical to take the momentum of this Whole30 experience and try to carry it over into everything. But it also seems reasonable to take things slowly and work on just a few things at a time. I think I am inside a story from Peaceful Warrior. Only the dirty pans are my sensei.
Trying to get this crappy little thing from IKEA put together so Alexis can clean off her desk. That seems nice of me but the reality is that I just can’t live with clutter and me providing this drawer unit is just a different way of asking her to clean her desk. I could spin it differently. But I know who I am.
I’m signing off for the night. I hope you are all chugging along. Don’t worry, if it gets too tough and you feel like quitting Melissa will share your post and then send you books. It’s much easier after that point so just try to hold out until then.
I wind down for the night completely full and without thinking too heavily about popcorn. I actually just want tea.
Read Day 12 HERE.