Things That are Good For Me

Ugh.

I have a question for the universe: Why are bad habits so hard to break, and good habits so hard to form? Also, why does healthiness cost a fortune?

Like seriously. Is it not enough that all healthy food has to taste like crap and all exercise is pure suffering... can it not be just a little bit easy and/or cheap to do something to improve my long term well-being on a regular basis? Ugh.

We traveled to Colombia last month, and part of our quest was to create some new habits of exercise and better eating in a warm, sunny place with more options than Colville. Sorry Tony's and Mr. Sub, it's nothing personal. While we succeeded in walking a lot and going to the gym (under protest, for some of us with the initials of ME) on a semi-regular basis, doing the work to find not-deep-fried food was a little trickier. Still, with the price tag of about $5-7 on a good, Argentinian Parilla Steak  in Colombia, we did ok some days and I actually lost a few pounds and improved my stamina and endurance.

I got all my pounds back with interest and quickly lost my stamina and endurance as soon as we got back to the States, where a good, clean steak costs upwards of $20 and macaroni & cheese whispers seductive sweetness from every menu for a fraction of the price of a salad. Even gym prices in place like Florida and Washington D.C. were outrageous. It cost me $25 for one yoga class in D.C., and while it was (honestly) totally worth in my post-Christmas blobbery, we paid that same amount for four classes in Medellin. Being healthy in the U.S. is hard and expensive.

Which makes me think that the conspiracy theorists actually have it figured out. If we can only afford to eat chemical-laden garbage here, then we will inevitably fall sick with (COMPLETELY AVOIDABLE) illnesses that require medical interventions that we can't afford so we have to have insurance (which we also can't afford, but it's cheaper than health care) and all of the big chemical/pharmaceutical companies and their political/commercial cronies are the ones that are making out like bandits while we're just getting more fat and miserable by the day, voting for all kinds of random band-aid solutions that just line the aforementioned pockets even more. IT'S A TRAP! Which is why conspiracy theorists quit their day jobs, grow enough beans and peaches to live on and stockpile guns. Or move to Colombia and live on good, clean Argentinian steak.

I think I will join the latter camp, because I just spent $35 on eggs and milk and cheese at Safeway here which was consumed completely 36 hours later and now all we have left to eat are saltine crackers and top ramen. And I wonder why I am 35lbs overweight. Real food costs too much, and so does exercise.

OK, there are other solutions, I know. Like I can (and do) do Yoga with Adriene (I just started her 30-day Dedicate Journey if you want in!) on YouTube for free. it's just frustrating because I can't stretch my arms into a Texas T for a supine twist because one hand goes under a chair and the other hand hits the coffee table, and then Dagny puts her slimy ball under my buns when I am in bridge pose and also my floor is cold. I still do it, and I am determined to make a habit of it, but it's hard to really Savasana well when the dog is furiously humping her boyfriend 14 inches from my head. Seriously. No amount of essential oil fixes that.

I say again... UGH. We're doing the gym membership thing here which violates all of my sensibilities because I feel like it's a crime to pay someone to make you suffer, but it's the only answer in this sedentary life we life. So I am finding ways to enjoy the Machines of Torture and the abject humiliation of mismatched leggings and athletic shoes and walls and walls of mirrors reminding me why I am there as I stand frumpily next to that One Girl who looks amazing doing incline sit ups - the move that is more an exercise in trying not to express unintentional flatulence than strengthening my core.

So. Frustrating. HAPPY NEW YEAR. My low-carb, mostly soup diet isn't going so well. The offspring hates soup and that One Guy isn't a fan of most things that are carbless. But I will keep trying. There's a way to do this. I am open to suggestions.

I just read this Mark Manson article about habits vs. goals and it was a good reminder/inspiration, put into the succinct, manageable terms that Manson is so good at enumerating, where he listed of 6 habits to focus on instead of making goals for the new year. Some of them I am already working on dialing in... like the EXERCISE every day thing. Having an Apple Watch makes this fun for me because it is my new Life Aspiration to close All the Circles before this Certain Guy every day. Sometimes I think he has his watch set to cheat because he gets more calorie/exercise credits than I do for the same workout. But whatever.

Manson's other 5 recommended habits include COOKING (which is something I determined a couple months ago was an imperative skill/habit to re-form after my eating out budget was higher than my mortgage payment), MEDITATION (which I SUCK at but am determined to work into my daily yoga practice with lots of discipline), READING (which I used to love but have let go, apparent in the 6-foot shelf of to-read books), and WRITING (which is why I am here today).

These six habits are exactly what I know I need to establish to keep me on track - I have gotten lazy and written off the failure to practice of these things as self-exploration or self-care, blah, blah, blah (insert psychobabble justification here), and I have found myself floating adrift, without a sense of direction or even why I am opening my eyes every morning.

Writing is the biggest one for me. Since I was a kid, journaling has been my saving grace. The thing that kept me from (worse) insanity and maybe even saved my actual life. I have quit writing anything personal lately not from fear of who might read it, but more fear of who might NOT read it, and it's terrifying for me to think that NOBODY CARES. But the reality is, that nobody might care, and THAT'S OK. Because it's about me. It's about getting the words and the thoughts and the feelings out there and if somebody hates it or if nobody reads it or if it's all senseless babble, that's still ok, because it's my thing, and to be who I am and get where I am going, I need to use my words without self-censorship or fear.

So I've got my work cut out for me in the next few months, forming habits and finding creative ways to afford (and enjoy) getting healthy and whole - body, soul, mind, and wardrobe. I'll be looking for workout buddies and healthy recipes, so hit me up! And once I get my six-foot shelf done I will be looking for books too.

My mantra a few years ago was this: It doesn't matter, nobody cares. My new mantra has a lot more power to it: Nobody Cares, Work Harder. My only goal for 2019 is to set aside fear and pain and replace them with love and gratitude. Tony Robbins says that fear and hurt can't co-exist with gratitude, and while I thought I was pretty good at being grateful, judging by the fear I've been living in lately, my gratitude needs some gym time as much as my body. Robbins says to replace expectation with appreciation, so one thought at a time, I will learn the habit of swapping those thoughts. And for me, writing that shit down makes it real, so here's the first step of a journey to a bigger, better, brighter me.

Thanks for listening, if you did, to my ramble. And if you didn't, that's ok too. ❤️

Things That Are Warm

Ok, so, some days I am overwhelmed with this fantastical desire to be a grassroots domestic goddess, cooking everything from scratch and blowing my family's collective mind with my awesomeness. I have discovered that such mind blowing is usually better achieved with a Papa Murphy's Pizza and Root Beer. In spite of this well earned knowledge, sometimes I still endeavor to appease my down-home urges, and in the instance of this frosty morning, once I found out I was out of canned beans all together, I decided to make this awesome soup recipe with dry beans, which are cheaper, but ultimately, maybe just as unhealthy since they are not organic, blah blah blah. Anyway, I didn't soak the beans over night, and since I am still recovering from the two failed pots of pinto beans, I decided to try something new and actually read the directions on the package. Weird. Apparently there is a quick soak method that involves boiling the beans for a few minutes and letting them stand for an hour, after which I will crock pot the heck out of all of them until dinner time. I will let you know how it goes, and even if it tastes crappy, I will probably dress a bowl up and tell you how awesome it was because I have already experienced more than my share of humility this week. 

I am sharing this recipe with you, cut and paste from a Facebook Chat with my cousin (the one who likes low quality Thai Food), because it's much quicker than transcribing, and y'all know how I like to cut corners. I have made the recipe (as it follows) before and it is darn good. Especially with corn bread (because obviously, I am cool) on a frosty night when the leaves smell sweet and are crunchy under your feet. I am pretty excited about eating it tonight because I remembered that I bought a bag of Fritos in a weak moment the other day, which will be fabulous all crunched up in it. If the dry beans work out good, I will be pretty happy. If not, well, there's always Papa Murphy's. 

Taco Soup

This is totally Aunt Anna's recipe.

In a crock pot, combine:

1 lb ground beef, browned

1 sm onion, diced

2 cans Mexican Style stewed tomatoes

2 cans kidney beans

1 can black beans

1 can (8 oz) tomato sauce

1 can corn

1 can olives

1 packet taco seasoning

Simmer all day on low. Or, just cook in a pot if your crock-less.

Serve with corn chips, sour cream, and grated cheese. And corn bread, if you're cool.

My Very Industrious Morning, which consisted of pouring unmeasured amounts of various beans into a pot and adding water, is fueled by a very large, very awesome cup (newly acquired from my workplace) of coffee that I was forced to embellish with Irish Cream since I forgot to buy regular cream last night. There is something almost naughty about drinking this early in the morning, but since it was forced upon me, I guess I won't wallow in the guilt for too long. Besides, it was supposed to be my day off, but I talked my boss into working me in for a few hours so I can afford the Super Adorable snow globe we're selling at the store. At this point Josh keeps asking how many hours he needs to put in to pay for my job, which is kind of silly, since he really only has to work like a half a day to keep me in business there. I mean really, it's a small price to pay for all the cool stuff I am getting.

Tomorrow I am closing at work again, and since I came home to such rousing appreciation (read: no leftovers for mom) for the delicious enchiladas I made them last night for dinner, I will probably make something equally as sumptuous tomorrow. Or I might make my sister's Tortilla Soup, which is a recipe that everyone should have. I have had it several times, and lost it repeatedly, so this morning when I asked her for it again, she just texted me photos of the recipe card. She's getting smart. But now I have to look harder at the little pictures. Maybe I will do her soup next week. Is one soup night a week enough? Maybe tomorrow is a roast night. Or maybe it's a kids-eat-chicken-nuggets and I maneuver my way into another $9.95 prime rib dinner at Timbers, which, second to their happy hour finger steaks, might be the best deal in town. The last time I engineered that set up, Josh got creative and fed the kids one of the frozen "manicotti" that he bought at Costco, which they will only eat if we call it lasagna, since it in no way resembles "real" manicotti, which is a long held Stecker family tradition and I am sure I will share with you at some point. In the mean time, I need to go finish this Irish Cream and check my pot of beans. 

Things That Make Me Mad

WHAT?

<<<This is how I left the house yesterday afternoon. Apparently, when I forget to eat, I also forget to check my feet when I slid a random pair of flip flops on to run errands. Let me explain this: I have been sick for a week or so, kind of running-a-feverish, achy-all-over, not-sure-why kind of sick. One of the most awesome side effects of this bug or whatever it is, is that I've had almost no appetite. I would love to brag about how this has revealed itself in a new svelte figure, but for now I will be happy with the 3 lbs I have lost, mostly due to copious amounts of fluid loss through sweat. Anyway, since I haven't been feeling good, haven't been eating right, I have had a few run ins with low blood sugar and general retardation. Two days ago I poured a scoop of dog food right into the garbage can instead of into the bowl of the innocently waiting cocker spaniel right next to it. I actually popped the lid on the trash can open and poured in a perfectly good scoop of perfectly expensive, boutique kibble. The worst part about this incident was that my Concerned Husband was standing right there to witness it, so it wasn't like I could pretend it didn't happen or something. It was awkward. But he got an even better laugh when we pulled up to the post office yesterday and I realized my footwear faux pax. Clingly fiercly to my ever dwindling supply of pride, I refused to go into the post office, which meant he had to ship my packages, thereby witnessing the atrocious cost of postage that I, like a sucker, insist on paying to ship Scentsy and other goodies to family members. He promptly informed me that I had just shipped myself out of a prime rib dinner that night. Dangit. I could have really used that protein. For the record, Timber's East  here in Bend has Prime Rib on Thursday nights for $9.95, and it's delicious. Look for a rave review of their happy hour in my upcoming Happy Hour Report. 

One of the things that keeps me functioning up to the level of an average 5th grader on days that I am not sick is my regular consumption of multi vitamins. I noticed when I ran out of supplements for two weeks that I got way dumber. I take prenatal vitamins, and do quite well on the ones that Costco has. I don't remember the brand but I am too lazy to run downstairs and look. I have been told by several doctors that most women of childbearing age (can't I be done with that now?) should be taking prenatals. I know I like how I feel when I am taking them, but it doesn't help with the weird guilt/shame ordeal every time I have to buy them. I know I am not pregnant. My man knows I am not pregnant. But I assume that every stranger that sees me in possession of a gallon sized bottle of prenatal vitamins, along with my burgeoning, bloated mid-section, smiles in knowing approval. No! I am not glowing. Stop it! The poor cashier at Costco can't even get out a "how are you today?" before I am blurting: "mostdoctorssaythatallwomenofchildbearingageshouldtakethesevitamins!!!!" defensively. Awkward. Should I go on to explain that I am not pregnant? Do they wonder? Oh lord, I am making Josh get them next time. This is worse than Tampons. At least with Tampons everyone KNOWS you are not pregnant. Maybe next time I will buy both at the same time. That will confuse them. 

So about things that make me mad, in addition to wearing a flip flop combination in public that even embarrassed Aspen, having to publicly disavow my gestational status, and stabbing myself under the fingernail with a staple hiding in my purse, I had to get up this morning Extra Early (which is a severe punishment for anyone who knows me) to take Nattie to her sports physical to get her into Cross Country today. After spending an hour and a half talking about Gardasil and Puberty and Freezing off Warts, I delivered her proudly back to middle school with her paperwork, only to be told I missed the registration window and there was no way she was running Cross Country. But she was gone with her dad all summer! This was the soonest physical she could get! I couldn't turn in the paperwork without a physical! She ran last year! All of my cries fell on the mean, deaf ears of cranky, third-day-of-school office staff who were elated to have a power trip over an unsuspecting, hypoglycemic mother. I could have cried. I probably should have. Or pulled out my gallon of prenatal vitamins and popped a couple like anti-anxiety meds. Dangit. Why didn't I think of that earlier? I left a very tense-sounding message for the Cross Country coach, begging for mercy and drawing on the affection that all of the coaches have for my little running star. But if they remain staunch, I might be calling for signatures on a petition to overthrow the office staff at PBMS. In the meantime, I wallow in the guilt of bad motherhood, knowing I should have tried to squeeze a physical into the three days she was here in July, or tried harder or done SOMETHING about it. I need a vitamin.