In the Crockpot

Sunday, January 23, 2000
One year ago: Potlatch 8, Day 2
Two years ago: Catching Up

There's a very long-running discussion thread in Xeney's forum, about dieting. (Beware! this turned into a long debate between Jennifer Wade and AllieAnnie.) I was surprised to see Lisa H. mentioning me there! She said, as part of a longer post: "I know people can be overweight and in good shape simultaneously. I think of Anita Rowland--dancing and hiking and eating--as such a person, though I don't know for sure." It was a bit startling to see my name brought in. My reply:

ha! my ears are burning...

I do think that the sort of dancing I do, done on a regular basis, is good exercise. Last spring I was down a size, not by dieting, but by lindy hopping three nights a week or so.

In the early eighties I dieted down to about 120 pounds. (I restricted calories to 1000 a day. I wrote down everything I ate.) It came back within a few years. I've been stable at this weight since the early nineties, at least. The yo-yo syndrome is really something to beware of.

(I wouldn't call myself a regular hiker! I like to walk, though.)

My problem with diets in journals is the vituperative fat-hating I see in some of them, when the journaller goes on a diet. I think it's fine to make your food choices and work hard and feel good about the weight you lose and how your body feels. I'm not happy to read rants about the disgusting fat people you see on the street or in the store, or how those that believe in fat acceptance are self-deluded dweebs. ("you" is a generalized journaller you, composite of folks I've read over the past three years.)

So I guess my only cautionary note is to make sure that the diet doesn't negatively affect the journal too much.

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I drove up to Bellingham to see Jack this weekend, despite his warning that he'd be going in to work some of the time. I figured I could amuse myself during the day. (This was before I found out that his cable modem was malfunctioning!)

Jack was disturbed when I arrived Friday eveing. He'd come home to a voice-mail message from his on-the-run older daughter A-----, who wanted her insurance info. She didn't call back that evening, so he was worried.

We got a chance to try out the new futon as we watched TV, sitting beside each other, . It's not bad!

Saturday morning, Jack got ready to go in to work. He wanted to take his paycheck to the bank, but couldn't find it! This was a crisis! Was it lost? He was sure it had been delivered -- it always comes Thursday or Friday. But the voicemail from A---- had put him all on end, and he didn't remember what he'd done with it. He hunted everywhere, while I tried to stay out of his way. Finally he gave up, and resolved to move some money around to cover his obligations.

After he left, I watched TV for a while, then took a shower. We'd been supposed to meet for lunch, but given that Jack didn't leave until eleven, I figured that would happen around midafternoon. So I was surprised around one o'clock, when he called me from the teriyaki place. I told him I'd be there as soon as may be.

But before I got in my car, I peeked in Jack's mailbox. Sure enough, the paycheck was there! It hadn't been delivered Friday at all.

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Jack was relieved and happy (and only a bit sheepish) to see his paycheck. Crisis over! So I ate steak rice bowl, and we discussed the rest of the day. Since I wanted Jack to work as long as he needed to, I proposed cooking dinner in the crockpot -- it would be ready when we were. "Use those frozen chicken breasts from Costco," Jack requested.

I made a stop at Fred Meyer on the way home, since the one near Jack is a combined grocery store and general merchandise store. I started at the garden center end, grabbing a hand basket and cruising around: appliance light bulb for the lava lamp -- check, cream of mushroom soup -- check, plain yogurt -- check, canned mushrooms -- check. I looked at the throw pillows, which the futon desperately needs, but they were twenty bucks each, and I thought Jack should choose his own. (His reaction later: "Twenty bucks?! I'm sure I can find some cheaper.")

Home, and dinner in the crockpot. It's a recipe from the little Rival crockpot cookbook that I've always liked: put chicken in the pot, mix canned soup, white wine or dry sherry, canned mushrooms, and pour over. Cook until done, then mix a cup of plain yogurt -- originally sour cream -- with a tablespoon of flour, and mix in to thicken up the juices. This dish goes by the charming name of Chicken Parisienne. We had it with rice, of course.

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Jack had invited the members of his science fiction group to come over and watch "Lain." Two guys did show up, so we played the first tape, which has four episodes on it. I think they liked it. It was strange, seeing the foreshadowings in the beginning of the series that weren't evident on first viewing.

One more friend arrived, at around ten! It was just as the others were leaving, but Jack put the tape in again, and Don watched while Jack and I read on the couch. I was reading an anime guidebook, which was responsible for some very strange dreams Saturday night!

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I left after Jack's ideal Sunday morning -- waking up slowly, then reading the paper with good coffee. He made pancakes at my request.

We had a mailing party for Potlatch Sunday evening, folding, stapling, stamping, and labeling the progress reports. We are really getting close to the convention, about a month away!

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