I wish I had taken pictures of the beautiful meat! Calamity ensues!

Brad and I decided we would try to make the perfect steak. One of the benefits of low carb is that STEAK is on the good list. I love that. So Brad gets these thick and juicy steaks from the grocery store. He was asking me what method he should do them because we don’t have an outside grill yet. I said that I had read on thekitchn web site the way to make the perfect steak. A couple of minutes later he had the recipe on the computer and was ready to cook us up some beef. We were stoked for this new recipe!

This recipe http://www.thekitchn.com/how-to-cook-a-perfect-steak-in-the-oven-108490 is what Brad used. It requires you to put the steak in the oven, and then up on the stove and then back in the oven. I was excited. It says a perfect steak. Brad made some asparagus and then set that aside. He put our pan in the oven to heat it up. As soon as he took it out and put the pan on the stove top, all hell broke loose. Every fire alarm in the apartment went off. Steam and smoke went everywhere. Brad was running around back and forth from the kitchen to look at the steaks and then into the dining room to fan the alarm with a towel. Then he ran back to the steaks, alarms still going, and grabbed the pan with his bare hand.

The poor thing was in the bathroom screaming for aloe. We looked all over before we found our aloe, and then he just squirted it on there in a thick layer. While still shaking his hand in agony, he frantically told me to go check the steak. I did check the steak but after turning the steak over I got him a bag of cauliflower for his hand. Then the alarm came back on again. Brad yelled a few choice expletives and took things to fan one of the alarms. It finally stopped and then I came and calmly put the steaks onto our plates, and spooned the beautiful looking asparagus. I am always slightly smug at my ability to be calm in a crisis. I looked at Brad and asked if he needed to go to the ER. He said no, and then we both looked at the steaks in anticipation. Brad went to go get forks and knifes and then I calmly and idiotically picked up the pan to move it off the burner. That is right; I too used my bare hands. So now, I am running to the bathroom with my hand under the faucet.

Cut to us later, our plates on our laps, and trying to eat the perfect steak with only our right hands because our left hands where holding cold packs of vegetables. Eventually I just picked the steak up and ate it caveman style. After dinner Brad looked at me with his deep green eyes and asked me if I would go get some burn gel.  He said with his lip out, “You didn’t get burned as bad as me.”

After some reticence, I went. I like to think I am tougher than him anyways. So I decided to brave the twenty minute drive to Walgreens. I was going to tough it out without my green beans, but I couldn’t even make it to the door. I was almost screaming back to the bathroom to get them. Driving to Walgreens I kept shaking my hand out the window into the cold air. I was walking around Walgreens with my green beans in my pajamas. Then back to the house with the hand out the window, wincing in pain.

I got home. Brad was chilling in my vape room with the cigar vape. He put some of the burn gel on his hand and was fine after that. I tried the burn gel, the cream, and gobs and gobs of aloe. I sat there for two hours with my hand in a bowl of water. Brad had to help me take my blood sugar because I didn’t want to remove my hand from the water I was such a wuss. It was a fiery pain that I just couldn’t take. I was googling home remedies. They have some crazy ones like rub your ear and wrap it in aluminum foil. Believe it or not, I tried them. It was the toothpaste that actually worked, OR at least I think it did. It was about three hours after the burn and about thirty minutes after I took a Hydrocodone.

Later I was in bed, I was telling Brad how I felt bad for being such a whiner, and how he didn’t act so lame. He said, “Your burn was way worse than mine.”

I said, “Hey, that’s not what you said earlier.”

He sheepishly replied, “I just wanted you to go to Walgreens.”

I looked at him while he paused and then he said, “Man, am I glad I got that off my chest. I have been feeling guilty all night.”

Eating the All of the Marrow, is just a proverbial term

Me and my beautiful friend

One of my really amazing friends got married. I admire this friend and feel a kindred spirit in her. She is the embodiment of the way I strive to live. At the wedding someone described her as pure joy, and that isn’t an understatement. I know that she gets upset especially about the environment, but it is more like passion. Every other encounter I have had with her I have reveled in her enjoyment of life, one of those eating all the marrow people. When she is in town, I jump at a chance to see her, even if it is in a crowded room full of people I don’t know. So I went to the bachelorette party, the meet and greet, and the wedding. This wedding was a fancy deal!

I had been doing well on my diet and the no smoking. I am becoming quite the loyal vapor. So far since my doctor’s appointment up until the Sunday before the wedding I had lost twelve pounds. That is in a month’s time. I was extremely proud of myself, so I wanted to be careful.

I was really good at the bachelorette party. I didn’t eat anything I wasn’t supposed to and had only one martini, the same for the meet and greet. The wedding was another story. I kept saying that this qualifies as a “special occasion.” Basically, I was saying I can do what I want for one night.

Oh, and I did. I really put one on. I will spare you the details but I had sushi, potatoes and something like seven martinis. I even had a little cake and a tiny apple turnover. Regardless of the fact that sort of threw up it all later, when I weighed in Sunday I had gained six pounds. Along with my tremendous hang over, I was really depressed with myself.

Here is the thing– I didn’t even enjoy my drunkenness. I don’t know why but I felt normal up until the seventh martini. I felt absolutely normal, and then I didn’t. So, I don’t think drinking is a good idea because of that. To be honest, I don’t drink that much anymore. So this really isn’t going to be much of a strain. The carbs is my struggle, and I don’t think the cheat was worth it. I had some California rolls, a potato, and a little cake. Was that worth 6 pounds?

I am fully aware that I can have fun without it. I had only one martini at both the bachelorette and the meet and greet and was still the “life of the party.” I danced and I told jokes and I really enjoyed myself. I think I had more fun then, than even at the wedding. So I don’t need to drink or cheat to have fun. Lesson learned.

The adage “being skinny is more fun that the current bite” is annoying, entirely cliché and trite. The saying bugs me, as if you can’t have both. I know skinny people that eat like pigs. I know people who have weight problems who only eat very small amounts of the worst foods imaginable and have been able to lose weight. I can’t do that. I can’t make a donut last all day. I can pick and choose what is worth it.

I am confident now. Like trying a cigarette after a month of not smoking, I have realized it stinks and tastes nasty. Now, that isn’t to say I am not going to eat a chocolate cupcake from Starbucks every once in a GREAT while. I am dreaming about my birthday next month where most likely my aunt will bake me a cake. If you knew my aunt, there isn’t one of you who wouldn’t be dreaming about it. What I am saying is that I understand my will power a little better now. I get that I can pick and choose the days that I will forgive carbs, but those days will be less than they used to be. I guess I am just proud that for the for once in my life, losing the weight is more important.