There is no data recorded during Whole30. No counting calories on a small notebook tucked under important paperwork in the office. No scale watching. No visits to Bed Bath & Beyond to test drive a new scale. No sneak trips to the Doctor’s office just so the nurse can give you a weigh. No trying on every pair of pants for a before-n-after comparison. No Excel pivot tables with accompanying pie charts spitting out trend analysis of macro nutrient consumption. No spinning through back entries of your FitBit with a ‘those-were-the-days’ reflections on when you once collected such data. No measuring tapes, no more Google-calorie-food-checks, because the management of food data has been handed over to the Internal Affairs Department. Continue reading Whole30: Days 18 through 21
I love spending time in the produce aisle. I get to discover foods I’ve never consumed before, and make friends with workers unpacking the latest deliveries. I ask them questions, lots of questions, because Produce is my new Grocery-Home. Continue reading Whole30: Days 16 and 17
Hard to imagine hubby and I have managed to eat ‘whole’ for a whopping 15 days. We spend a LOT more time in the kitchen prepping and cooking, and many-many dishes are used in the process, with a dishwasher constantly filled. Gone are the days of a quick sugary snack, gone are the days of mindless eating, gone are the dips in energy, and all our thoughts point to how to get creative with our next meal. Continue reading Whole30: Days 11-15
To much relief, there is a calm after the storm. The broccoli is no longer brawling with the grapefruit, the unusual body tremors have subsided, the days of blank stares & delayed responses to ‘how is it going?’ are over, and everything seems to have settled onto one big discovery. My prior Whole30 food choices weren’t as healthy as I once thought. Continue reading Whole30: Days 7 through 10
I expected to awake with the fairy godmother sprinkling more of that rose dust over my health food journey. Today, however, she was out helping other customers.
Let’s just say that the Basement Department was in an all-hands (microbe speaking) food-fight. The cherry tomatoes and cauliflower threw Ali-like punches, the melons and strawberries were no longer team players, and everyone was trying to convince the Top-Floor Penthouse that a little chocolate would bring peace to the revolt. Continue reading Whole30: Days 5&6 Civil unrest
The Hatteras Ferry…
Two lines of cars waited in formation, and we tucked our bicycles behind a Hummer and in the lee of a cement truck that partially blocked 30 knot winds from the south. A Hatteras Island Ferry official approached wearing a jacket with the words ‘Security’ and asked us for ID’s. Satisfied after comparing faces to driver licenses he then asked if we were aware of the winds. Continue reading Bike trippin’ – As good as it gets
More adventures filled day 4 of bike trippin’ along the Outer Banks in off season. We continued to ride without paper maps or GPS guidance to decide where to ride – opting for more of a ‘get lost’ strategy. It’s very easy to ride the Outer Banks without a map:
- Ocean is east, the Sounds are west — stay somewhere in the middle
- When you land in a neighborhood where large barking dogs gather unleashed, turnaround.
- When you ride to the entrance of the Wright Brothers National Monument, and are waved through without having to pay — thank the lovely lady and spend some time with the Wright Brothers
By a leisurely 8:30 am we hit the bicycle trail that ran parallel to Route 12 and headed south from Corolla. Winds blew strong from the south – at least 25 knots, and the beauty of riding into the winds meant we would finish our loopy ride with a tailwind. The bicycle trails twist and turn among giant sand dunes that resemble small hills, and weave through crooked low-lying trees and brush — the Outer Banks version of Florida mangroves — which protect this delicate sandbar from hurricanes and storms. When the trails meandered closer to the Sound-side, we soaked in spectacular sights of a vast waterway, tall sea grass and the occasional blue heron. As we neared Kitty Hawk, we caught a glimpse of the ocean where the dunes were short, and beach access included ocean views. We rode past a street corner garnished with yellow bricks, and on top of those bricks sat two ruby slippers, and we bonded with a ‘no place like home’ vibe. Continue reading Bike tripping the yellow brick road
When camouflage is not needed
A daybreak beach jog — the pre-bike adventure — was met with a horde of humans a few decades too old to be active-duty decked in vintage war-be-gone fatigues, packing large cameras, 12 inch lenses and 2 inch straps secured around their necks. They stood at the top of wooden walkways, the dune gateway to the ocean, two dozen of ’em by random guess — half intently focused on something happening toward the ocean, and the other half focused on the movements of a potential intruder. What are you looking at, I asked hoping the answer wouldn’t be ‘me’, as I slowed my gate, inching closer to the crowd. A man wearing head-to-toe camouflage replied ‘burs and turles’ without looking away from his binoculars oblivious to a drawl with interchangeable vowels and missing consonant’s. Continue reading Bike trippin – Objects appear fuzzy