Fat flapjacks.

A_fat_flapjack_flapper_capWould you prefer a cop’s cap or a cupcake cook’s cap or a fat flapjack flapper cap?
(Dr. Seuss)

I’ve been feeling a tad like that sad bloke on the far right. I see a bit of my reflection in his sad, tired eyes (yes we read O Say Can You Say all the time and I’m getting REALLY good at the bit about Pinner Blinn’s shinbone pins, but I digress). Thus, healthy eating has been my focus for the month of October. It’s all kinds of Whole30-ish over here. Now before you say there’s no such thing as Whole30-ISH and start lecturing me on the required purity of the Whole30 regimen, just kindly sit down: you’re not the boss of me.

Due in part to the slums of postpartumness and gobs and gobs of cookie dough, after never ever having a single SCINTILLA of a cavity my entire life, I had a whopping FIVE cavities by the time I had Pace. Got three fillings yesterday. I don’t want to talk about it.

Ok maybe I do.

But just for a minute.

So there’s the whole my-mouth-is-rotting-wow-that’s-really-gross aspect that does wonders for motivating me to kick it in gear. Sugar and alcohol and over-processed foods make up wayyyy too much of the Standard American Diet (it’s legit referred to as SAD) as well as My nEglected Healthiness (MEH – start using this acronym in daily conversation and attribute it to me please) so I’m making changes. Not being crazy dogmatic about it, but am trying to make healthy eating the norm.

And I’m not going to get all crazy with this. It’s fall, y’all. It probably won’t be this chilly at Christmas. This is my one wild and precious life. It’s not going to destroy me if I enjoy some homemade pumpkin bread. Just not the whole loaf. EMILY, STEP AWAY FROM THE LOAF PAN.

So this month I’ve added some new dishes to the repertoire and have made orange chicken with cauliflower rice; meatballs and chimichurri sauce with sweet potato spirals; tom kha gai; buffalo chicken wings; buffalo potato salad; and even a Whole30 compliant latte. I would share photos of these epic dishes, but I lack the forethought and am often quite hungry.

Here’s the kicker, folks. Following a recipe is EASY. There are a bajillion blogs and websites that are dedicated to this sort of thing. They lay it all out there and you just do what it says. Who knew? Cooking is actually fun! A creative outlet. Therapeutic, even. And it’s cool to know what’s going on/in the food I’m consuming. Funny how there’s a marked difference in how I feel after eating it, too.

SPEAKING OF EINKORN, anybody heard of this grain before?! I “discovered” it at the farmers market a few weeks ago – it’s an ancient wheat grain that doesn’t have the pathetic composition of the all-purpose flour or the enriched wheat flour that seems to be in everything.  And it’s low gluten. And it’s TASTY. And it’s the “only wheat never hybridized.” More to come on this. I want to take a trip out to the Barton Springs Mill in Dripping Springs and have a looksee.

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AND as if things couldn’t get any better, there’s hebtoyou.com – we’ve finally jumped onto this bandwagon and it’s amazing. No need to drag two small children through a massive store with a long list – then forgetting that one ingredient crucial to your meal that night on the other side of the store while holding the baby and pushing the cart with one hand and accidentally almost running over the toddler’s toes and wiping away tears and by the time you get home all you want to do is order a pizza and… just me?

You consult your list. You order ahead. You wait in the parking spot for 15 minutes or so, max. You may happen to judge the other people who are also waiting for their groceries, noticing that they look able-bodied and don’t have screaming children in the backseat.  Whatever. I have a two month free trial of sirius XM in my car and am rocking out to the 90’s station like it’s my job. PARTY IN OUR CAR!!

SO yeah, these days I’m grateful for good food, motivation to get healthy, HEB curbside pickup, and my uncanny ability to remember lyrics of songs I haven’t heard in ages.

And I still do love cookie dough.

steve and if you love chick-fil-a, you should be driving a toyota.

It’s true. Anyone who drives a Toyota already knows what I’m talking about, but for you other sadly uninformed folks, allow me to enlighten you.

toyota and chickfilaExhibit A: the holding area in the 4Runner console is the perfect size to snugly fit a kids meal* container and two dipping sauces.

*Yes, because sometimes all you need is a little kid-sized snack that is a) comparatively more affordable than an adult-sized meal (look at that, husband! There I go saving gobs of money again!) and b) doesn’t make me feel like I’m stuffing my face (because that lovely sensation was lo those 2 hours ago for a different meal. Live in the present, y’all. Here’s to now).

For Exhibit B, I have no photo but imagine with me the console of the Tundra with a long, narrow rectangular cutout that is the PERFECT SIZE to house three Chick-fil-A dipping sauces end to end.

THIS MUST HAVE BEEN PLANNED. I love a good conspiracy theory and those “aha! these things are connected!” moments. Can anyone help me verify here?? In other parts of the country, Toyota dealerships have Chick-fil-As in their waiting room/lounge area – Charles Maund, please take note and act accordingly.

In related news, I love drive-thrus and will unabashedly go out of my way for the convenience. I also love apps that make me feel like I’m more productive or am saving money, so I downloaded Chick-fil-A’s One app. Ordered our food on the app, let them know on the app when I had arrived, BUT THEN had to go inside to pick up the food. I somehow thought there were parking spots reserved for One app customers, and the nice employees would bring out your food, Sonic-style. But no.

It was rough. No makeup, in “workout clothes,” and carrying a squirmy toddler, I didn’t know what to do with my hands as I stood in an awkward area to the side of the packed out registers with Steve.

Oh, Steve.

Older guy pretending to be hip and cool who was incensed that he was having to wait to receive his food. Hands flailing, elongated sighs, shooting better-than-thou looks at the employees who were frantically trying to fill orders while he looked around at the rest of us patient souls with “can you believe it?!” exasperation.

Dude. Did you just order your fried chicken and french fries and whatever likely lame sauces you chose from an app in your air-conditioned car, using money you didn’t have to touch, transferred from your bank, and the food is ready to pick up faster than you were able to get inside?! (This is how I know his name – they called, “Steve?? Steve??” minutes before he was hovering over the counter) Are you able-bodied enough to walk into the franchise to pick up your food and take it back to your comfy car?

Don’t be like Steve. Work together, like Toyota and Chick-fil-A. Here endeth the lesson.

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