- Born to handjive, baby. Born to handjive, baby. What a thought, I thought. Born to handjive. Like, what is your purpose in life? Born to handjive, of course, which I found even more depressing than . . .
- It's fun to stay at the YMCA.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Oh yes, I'm grateful the Hokey Pokey is not what it's all about
At Curves this morning we did our jumping and jiggling to this:
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Jicama follow up
Okay, so jicama does have a taste. And I don't like it.
I fixed the jicama, navel orange, lime juice, chili powder recipe Ann sent. I thank her for it, and I don't suppose she calls it what I call it--how to ruin a perfectly good orange. Thank goodness for the orange and the lime juice.
It's a to-each-his-own thing. I've found my own, as the song says, and it isn't jicama.
I did eat it but could not eat all of it. I hope I ate enough to engage my body in a calory-burning digestion of it.
And, yes, it's zero points.
I fixed the jicama, navel orange, lime juice, chili powder recipe Ann sent. I thank her for it, and I don't suppose she calls it what I call it--how to ruin a perfectly good orange. Thank goodness for the orange and the lime juice.
It's a to-each-his-own thing. I've found my own, as the song says, and it isn't jicama.
I did eat it but could not eat all of it. I hope I ate enough to engage my body in a calory-burning digestion of it.
And, yes, it's zero points.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Jicama
. . . which my mother-in-law pronounced Jamaica. No, I'm not kidding.
Anyway, it's the new you-should-try-it vegetable being pushed upon me at WW meetings. Because, by itself, it's zero points.
Of course it's zero points. It's also zero taste, as you would know if you had ever eaten jicama.
I'm not anti-jicama. Heavens no. Go ahead. Peel it, cut it in strips, and throw it in a salad. It's a nice filler. And somebody's bound to ask about it, as in, "Did you put raw potato in here?" Or "What's this white stuff with no taste?"
So today the WW class leader told of an ambitious WW person who peeled her jicama, poked it with a fork, spread some olive oil and Italian seasoning on it, and baked it at 350 for about an hour and a half. Sound familiar?
When done, it probably smelled all Italiany and maybe pretty good. She cut it open and plopped some fat free sour cream on it.
Of course, the olive oil was 1 point, as was the ff sour cream. So that's a 2-point jicama.
I'm thinking about the prep time and the 1 1/2 hour wait.
Anyway, today we were challenged to try a new vegetable, and jicama was mentioned by name. Again. So I went ahead and bought a jicama--85 cents.
When I get around to it, I will probably do some kind of variation on the baked one which was raved about. Like I believe that. I said probably, but I'm pretty sure to do it. I mean, I've got the thing now, and I don't see me eating it like an apple.
The report today was that baked the jicama had "surprisingly great taste." I'd better choose my seasoning carefully.
Why am I doing it? Yes, I ask myself the same question. A real potato, by the way, a small one, prepared the same way--except I wouldn't have to peel it--would be 4 points.
One difference: we're talking small potato, and the smallest jicama I could find was really big. And I guess even a big jicama by itself is zero points. Stands to reason.
So, I'm thinking, in theory, you could make a meal of one big jicama. If you wanted to. If you ate potatoes often and figured this would be a very smart switch, which I don't.
Makes me remember the South Beach Diet's try-this-instead-of-mashed-potatoes thing. You won't be able to tell it isn't potatoes.
It was mashed cauliflower. Guess what it tasted like.
Oh well. I'll let you know about the jicama.
Anyway, it's the new you-should-try-it vegetable being pushed upon me at WW meetings. Because, by itself, it's zero points.
Of course it's zero points. It's also zero taste, as you would know if you had ever eaten jicama.
I'm not anti-jicama. Heavens no. Go ahead. Peel it, cut it in strips, and throw it in a salad. It's a nice filler. And somebody's bound to ask about it, as in, "Did you put raw potato in here?" Or "What's this white stuff with no taste?"
So today the WW class leader told of an ambitious WW person who peeled her jicama, poked it with a fork, spread some olive oil and Italian seasoning on it, and baked it at 350 for about an hour and a half. Sound familiar?
When done, it probably smelled all Italiany and maybe pretty good. She cut it open and plopped some fat free sour cream on it.
Of course, the olive oil was 1 point, as was the ff sour cream. So that's a 2-point jicama.
I'm thinking about the prep time and the 1 1/2 hour wait.
Anyway, today we were challenged to try a new vegetable, and jicama was mentioned by name. Again. So I went ahead and bought a jicama--85 cents.
When I get around to it, I will probably do some kind of variation on the baked one which was raved about. Like I believe that. I said probably, but I'm pretty sure to do it. I mean, I've got the thing now, and I don't see me eating it like an apple.
The report today was that baked the jicama had "surprisingly great taste." I'd better choose my seasoning carefully.
Why am I doing it? Yes, I ask myself the same question. A real potato, by the way, a small one, prepared the same way--except I wouldn't have to peel it--would be 4 points.
One difference: we're talking small potato, and the smallest jicama I could find was really big. And I guess even a big jicama by itself is zero points. Stands to reason.
So, I'm thinking, in theory, you could make a meal of one big jicama. If you wanted to. If you ate potatoes often and figured this would be a very smart switch, which I don't.
Makes me remember the South Beach Diet's try-this-instead-of-mashed-potatoes thing. You won't be able to tell it isn't potatoes.
It was mashed cauliflower. Guess what it tasted like.
Oh well. I'll let you know about the jicama.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
It's the . . .
summer of butterflies. They're everywhere, flying in the trees. I don't know where they spend their nights, but the days are in my yards and throughout the neighborhood. Lovely.
I think they're swallowtails, but I never get a very long look at them to be sure.
I think they're swallowtails, but I never get a very long look at them to be sure.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
For Fun
Here is a poem my friend Susan gave me today. She thought I would enjoy it, and I do. It's written by Sean Johnson, English MFA Graduate student at BYU.
To Spelling
"The righteous shall inherit heaves."
--Bible misprint
How easily Freud becomes fraud or my aunt
turns into an ant when you go haywire, spelling.
One slip up and seven rabbis hop swiftly
through a shaded forest.
Someone waves the silver wand of a pen
and, under your spell, even time vanishes--
months transforming into moths and flitting away
through an open window. You sneak
up on us, penetrate the fences of our spell checks,
plague e-mails and memos as a pest blights crops--
so that, yesterday, when I wrote in my journal
we're in love, it came out were in love.
Then there's the invitation I received to attend a 4th of July Breakfast in honor of the Idaho National Guard's 116th Calavary Unit.
I'll probably go anyway.
To Spelling
"The righteous shall inherit heaves."
--Bible misprint
How easily Freud becomes fraud or my aunt
turns into an ant when you go haywire, spelling.
One slip up and seven rabbis hop swiftly
through a shaded forest.
Someone waves the silver wand of a pen
and, under your spell, even time vanishes--
months transforming into moths and flitting away
through an open window. You sneak
up on us, penetrate the fences of our spell checks,
plague e-mails and memos as a pest blights crops--
so that, yesterday, when I wrote in my journal
we're in love, it came out were in love.
* * *
Then there's the invitation I received to attend a 4th of July Breakfast in honor of the Idaho National Guard's 116th Calavary Unit.
I'll probably go anyway.
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