The portions are off a little on this plate. This is whole wheat couscous with swordfish in a grapefruit marmalade glaze. The grapefruit marmalade was made from the grapefruit tree in my yard. We jerk spiced it. I mixed a little marmalade with a little olive oil and made a glaze.
Here is some Mahi Mahi, cooked up in a non-stick pan with a touch of lime, then I cooked up a Roma tomato with some basil and white kidney beans. Steam a little broccoli and we’re good to go.
Here is some chicken andouille sausage with some rice and beans. Small portions of both the rice and beans and sausage. Lots of flavor, not much fat. Broccoli with lemon juice.
With the notable exception of the Ritter Sport, all you see is green vegetables. With Body for Life you can eat vegetables until the cows come home. I’ll have broccoli with my lunch or maybe some zucchini. I’ll grill the asparagus with dinner. I’ll put fresh lemon on the broccoli and brush the asparagus with olive oil. Beauregard lets you know that there is meat further down in the bag.
One of the silly things that’s in Bill Phillips’ book is a cadence for weight lifting. The cadence is “I’m building” on the negative and “a body for life” on the positive. Sometimes I use it in the gym. Not very often because when you lift the mass that I do, your brain can’t handle more than “PRESS”, or “PULL”! But I’ll find myself doing it on ab work or good mornings or something that I have 10 or more reps to complete. Right now, I feel like I’m building a Body for Life. Boredom is my worse enemy, and I end up spending a ton of time contemplating things. Right now, I’ve been contemplating that fact that I turn 50 in a mere 15 months. It was 17 months when I started contemplating, but it’s gotten more and more out of hand as we head into September 2007. I don’t obsess, but I do show 14 of the 19 markers for ADD, and my intellect is often restless. But I really need something to show for myself by the time I turn 50.
Weight 210 (yay)
I didn’t work out yesterday, simply because my hip was better after the visit to Dr. Elkind so I felt it prudent to actually rest it for a day. Alright, the fact that I’m playing 18 holes today and I am afraid I will undo her handiwork today has played into that decision.
OK, so I don’t play rugby any more. I had to have Roto-Rooter come in and take care of my left shoulder back in 1992. Apparently, hauling 1200 pounds of woman into a set scrum with one arm takes it’s toll. I do give blood though. I’m O-. That makes me the universal donor. I’ve been donating since 1984. They call me, or track me down somehow, every eight weeks. Once the lady actually saw me on the street in Downtown and dragged me down to the Blood Center. I’m probably down around 5 or 6 gallons of the stuff by now. On the upside, they do mini physicals and now test your cholesterol.
Resting HR 60
This morning’s weigh in:
Fat 36.9 WTF?
My free day bled a little into Sunday when my brother made a frozen orange chiffon pie. It rocked. Then I picked at a tray of cookies that was unfortunately placed in front of me. The lime ones were tasty. Back in the saddle today. I’m pretty sure this begins week four. I think I’ll do some photojournalism this evening.
This morning’s weigh in:
Just by keeping my head screwed on correctly, things are heading in the right directions. It’s taken me almost four weeks, but I have 8 pounds off of me. I had Dr. Elkind work on my aching hip yesterday. She does ART just like I get at Fitwell. I seem to have a hip flexor/IT band injury. It’s hindered nearly everything I do. Yesterday I broke down and left work early to go see her. While she does the same thing as Fitwell, she’s a lot more intense. Fitwell is a lot more gentle in their approach. Sometimes I just need the crap beat out of me. Today my hip is oodles better. She rocks.
Tomorrow, I’m playing 18 at San Geronomo. The last time I played with these guys I got high score, and not in a good way. I haven’t been able to practice because of the hip flexor so either tomorrow will be really good, or really long.
- Oatmeal and ff cottage cheese
- Jerky and ff yogurt
- Curried chicken grape salad
- Apple and string cheese
- Chicken andouille sausage sauteed up with brown rice and red beans
- Ricotta and blueberries
The right wing of this country is spending oodles of time and money beefing up the border patrols and immigration sweeps and building a freaking ridiculous wall to keep the Mexicans from crossing the borders and taking jobs away from Americans. Except that ship has sailed and the jobs have been already taken away from Americans. Not by Mexicans and Guatemalans and Central Americans swimming across the Rio Grande, but by corporate wankers outsourcing our jobs to India and the Philippines and Pakistan. Not one Guatemalan walked across the Arizona desert to become a title officer for six dollars an hour. Plenty of engineers in India have stayed home and taken my job for $16 per day. I was making around $65 per hour. Who is the real threat to my personal security? Bill Foley, John Harritt, and the like. Bill Foley more than the others as he is the one who ruined the title insurance business. It used to be a business based on researching the records. There didn’t used to be title problems because the back room of the title companies solved the problems. Geeks and miscreants who had no real place in society methodically researched each recorded document and posted it in their respective title plants. In the mid 70’s many of these title plants became computerized. Then in 1988 Bill Foley, the burger flipper, bought the old Western Title, the stalwart of the business back then, and turned title insurance into burger flipping. Staff became instantly expendable, like the are right now. There is no loyalty from the companies and employees have no loyalty back to the companies, and rightly so. A guy I’ve known for 30 years who probably has 35 to 40 years with the same company, just got laid off last week. That is beyond wrong. No one swam across the Rio Grande or ran across the Arizona desert to take his job. His job was outsourced to India.
The same things has occurred in the tech field. We’ve all called HP support and gotten Pasha who can barely be understood and who will not tell you what country she is located in. She will read from a script and frustrate you to the end of time. Eventually, you’ll figure out your printer on your own.
It’s time we pointed to the real problem. It’s not people coming into this country, it’s jobs going out. The Bush Adminstration will puff there chests and tell you how many jobs they created, but they didn’t create jobs for displaced people like me. They didn’t create jobs for engineers. They did not create telecom jobs. They allowed their corporate buddies to ship those overseas. Their new jobs are pulling shots for Starbucks. Not quality career opportunities. Jobs that we don’t want to do, like sweeping floors and cleaning toilets, picking strawberries, jobs that are in the soft transient worker category are the jobs being done by the guys that have come into this country illegally. And all I have to say about that is, I’m glad they’re working and not living on the dole. Now lets bring back the real jobs that the corporate wankers have sent to other countries and get the real Americans off the dole.
It’s been windy here today, and yesterday. My vicious attack Doberman is afraid of the wind. He’s spent the weekend up my ass. There he is looking tentative on the couch. The wind chimes are rattling around and his ears are all a-kilter. It’s tough to be the dog.
I’m getting ready to go for a long bike ride with Javier. We’re meeting at Heather Farms and going up Mt. Diablo. The last bike ride I went on with him, he took me on the Olympic trials course in Orinda. He thoroughly kicked my ass, then I think he went a rode Bear Creek after that. He’s easily lost 50 pounds and looks great. I hadn’t seen him in a while and I didn’t recognize him. I would like people to not recognize me. Not everyone, just certain people.
This morning’s numbers
I’ve certainly had my share of adventures on BART. More than most people. There was the crazy homeless guy shouting from the Embarcadero to Rockridge where we told him to get off because we had called the police. We called the BART Police at Embarcadero, they finally got on the train at Walnut Creek and proceeded to try and hold the train there. Dude, the crazy guy got off at Rockridge, you’re three stops too late. Can we just go home now? Then there was the crazy guy who was beating his head against the closed door at Embarcadero. He had bloodied himself and was hollering I don’t even know what. They held the train and the BART Police hauled him off and hooked him up. All these events happened on my car. Yesterday, I had to meet the contractor and the soon to be new house. I left work in time to make the 2:57, knowing I’d be at the property in plenty of time. Ah, mice and men. No soup for you! Halfway through the tube that runs UNDER the bay, the train comes to an abrupt stop. Our car fills up with a stench of fire, or smoked brakes or something. And we sit. And sit. And sit. Finally, Skippy our driver comes on to explain that the brakes have locked up and we’re going to travel a bit slower from now on. How about not at all? Skippy decides that it would be a peachy idea to turn the train off completely and reset the system, so, he advises us, we’ll be in the dark for about a minute, minute and a half or two. I’m claustrophobic and being in a tin train in a tube underneath San Francisco Bay in the dark with no way out is a recipe for disaster. My God! What if he turns off the train and it won’t start again? Is MacGiver on this train? Can we get out? What if there’s an earthquake and the tube splits and the car starts leaking water under the pressure of the bay? Can we get out of the car with a cell phone pen light and a can of pepper spray? Deep breaths because the lady next to me is hanging by a thread, just like I am. Skippy fires up the train and it actually starts, then we start to move and we’re safe at the West Oakland station now. There’s a sentence you don’t see often “safe at the West Oakland station”.