The Omnivore's Hundred

Ok, so I love to eat. Even with a stomach whose capacity has been forcibly and greatly reduced, I still love to eat. I believe I have documented my love of flavor right here on this very blog. So, the sheer magnitude of bold items on the following list should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me. I left the Wiki links in so you could unlock the mysteries around some of these foods.

Here’s the deal:

1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.

The Omnivore’s Hundred:

1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whisky from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake

Thanks to Elastic Waist and to Very Good Taste for the list! It's no small wonder I weighed 300 pounds!

Latest news from DS Land

This just in - the fucking vampires went after my inner arm again and withdrew 15 vials of blood for lab tests. In a couple of weeks, I should know if I'm deficient in any important vitamins and minerals. I have a bruise the size of a nickel where the phlebotomist punctured my vein - he was rough with me, after I asked him to be gentle. I hate when that happens.

After waffling for half a year over who I was going to have replace my surgeon for follow up care - the guy moved to Florida, for crying out loud! - I've decided not to go with the more local surgeon and to stay with the NYC practice that my surgeon used to lead. After speaking with some of his patients, I deduced that the local guy and his nutritionists are still on the low end of the DS learning curve, as far as post-op care goes. I don't have time to educate a nutritionist on the vastly different vitamin and nutritional needs of a Duodenal Switch patient, as compared to a standard Roux-en-Y Gastric Bypass patient (think Carnie Wilson or Al Roker). Judging from the comments I heard, the local guy's patients are constantly educating their nutritionists. An added benefit is that I can schedule my appointments to visit my NYC peeps.

I'll be going up to New York again this weekend to hang out with my girl Crystal and one of the OH DS board "celebrities," Miss LeaAnn and her husband. There's going to be a huge group of us going out to lunch on Saturday - this should be a hell of a party! It's kind of bad timing for me, since school starts for me and Miss Peanut on Monday, so I'm coming back Saturday night or Sunday morning. I've got a hella busy day tomorrow, finishing up my classroom and getting my syllabi together (I'm teaching 4 preps again this year - ugh!), but I've been at school bright and early every day this week, staying until at least 5 pm every day, so I should be in good shape.

So, the news from DS Land is good and hopeful. I look and feel healthy, and hope that my bloodwork confirms that.

"She is tolerable, I suppose..."

Take the Quiz here!

From Alison.

I've read all but one of Jane Austen's books - Northanger Abbey. I've been saving that one forever, because once I read it, there will be no more Austen left for me to read. And that, dear readers, would be a tragedy.

Having read all but one book, I have to say that the quiz is easily manipulated. You could be any heroine you wanted if you thought too hard about your answers. I tried to answer honestly, and I got my favorite heroine. The General gave me a copy of Pride and Prejudice when I was eleven years old and at the end of my juvenile library. I was almost instantly swallowed by the book and have made it a point to read it once a year, every year since. I also watch the A&E version (with Colin Firth! YUM!) while I'm folding laundry.

Extra points to anyone who can give me the context for the title of this post.

In which I have a WTF moment

Ok, so you know school starts in a week, and that I'm a teacher, right? Do you also know that high school students can't keep track of a goddamned pencil to save their lives? You may also deduce, at this point, that I keep a lot of pencils in stock in my classroom so that they don't have to interrupt class to get one from their locker, their neighbor, or their other teachers. It's not too expensive, if you get your pencils at the Dollar Store, like I do.

So yesterday, I headed to the Dollar Store. I was making the short walk from my car to the door when I caught sight of an elderly woman with a walker (that'd be a Zimmer frame, if you're British) signalling me. Having been taught from the cradle to respect my elders, I headed over, ready to lend any assistance necessary.

She smiled kindly and said "Listen, I heard a good one..." and proceded to tell me a really raunchy dirty joke.

WTF? It must be the face...

Seriously, though? It was a good joke.

High Maintenance

Yep, no point in denying it any further: I am now a High Maintenance Woman.

I have really short hair, most of the time. It hasn't always been that way - for years, I wore it about shoulder-length, in a fairly nondescript bob with bangs. It was easy to maintain, especially if I trimmed my bangs myself - which I often did. When my gray became noticeable, I'd grab a box of whatever brown dye was on sale and take care of it. I've grown it long, down to about the middle of my back, and about 2 years ago, I cut it all off, almost boyishly short.

It requires some degree of maintenance now, my hair does. I see my stylist once every five weeks for trims, dye, and the occasional highlights. I've let it go for nearly 7 weeks now, and I feel unbearably shaggy and unkempt. It certainly wasn't intentional: my stylist was on vacation, and has just returned. Tomorrow, once shorn and freshly colored, I shall feel ever so much better about my appearance.

My hair is not the only evidence of my High Maintenance Status - my nails, both finger and toe, are now carefully shaped and lacquered. Every two weeks, I waste an hour at the nail salon while little Vietnamese ladies labor over my digits. I always feel outrageously spoiled and pampered. It's such an unnecessary expense and extremely vain, but I've gotten used to it. I like how it looks. And, thankfully, I can afford it. Believe me, if it was a choice between getting my nails done or feeding/clothing my daughter, well, I'd be slapping on some Sally Hansen myself. Besides, Miss Peanut likes getting her nails done, as well.

Every now and then, I indulge in a facial. It's relaxing, and I always leave with a glowing complexion. Plus, my aesthetician usually gives me a massage, too. I recently upped the Maintenance ante by going to an actual Massage Parlor (Massage Envy) and getting an actual massage. For 90 minutes, a very nice lady worked over my muscles. That was divine, especially given the state of my very sore legs and feet (I'd been dancing in some very pointy 4-inch pumps just a few days earlier). They offer a monthly plan. I'm considering it.

This seeming fixation I have with my appearance - because I can hear some of you thinking really loudly right now - is definitely not new, although it's definitely more pronounced than it has ever been. I used to dye my own hair, trim my own bangs, and, more rarely, paint my own nails. Now, though, I view my exterior as an extension of my interior, and accord it the care and consideration that I accord my health.

You see, now, I think more about myself than I did before. I think carefully about what I eat, what vitamins I take, and how much exercise I get. I'm much more conscious of my body than I ever was before I decided to let a very smart man slice me open and rearrange my insides. I think it's finally sunk in that this amalgamation of bones and flesh is just as important as the brain and heart that it houses. I think because I take care of it now, I take pains to ornament it to the same level.

So, something that's always come hard for me, acceptance of my body for what it is, has now happened. I'm far from perfect physically, but I'm happy enough with what I've got for it to count as acceptance. You be the judge: do I look happy?

Just when I thought I was out...

...they pull me back in again!!

I forgot that the Women's Gymnastics still have the individual finals to go. Dammit! I'm using my DVR.

The US Women's Gymnastics team is trying to kill me...

Ok, so, I love gymnastics. I can cartwheel, roundoff, and do splits like every other childhood gymnastics fan. Since the Olympics have been on, I've been glued to the television, staying up well past my bedtime to catch all of the gymnastic goodness. It's been making me cranky of a morning.

My favorite part of the Summer Olympics has always been the gymnastic competition. Swimming? Bah. Fencing? Mais non, imbecile! Water polo? Surely, you jest. It's been the tumbling and twirling that has set my senses aflame for the last 30-odd years. The combination of balance, strength, and flexibility, so difficult to master, is just a joy to watch. And our women's team? Formidable, they are.

I had the opportunity to go to the Women's Gymnastics Finals in Philadelphia this year, where the team was chosen. Because of that, I feel like I have some kind of tie with those girls - like I know them better than the average Jane TV Viewer. I saw that Chellsie Memmel's ankle was giving her trouble at the Finals. I saw Alicia Sacramone perform a perfect floor exercise routine, and scratch with a laugh on uneven bars. I saw that Shawn Johnson could work a balance beam like it was made of metal and her feet were magnets. And I saw that Nastia Liukin moves like a dancer and springs like a coil on floor exercise.

While I've been thrilled to watch these ladies during this Olympics, I'm now just as thrilled that they're done competing. Now, I'll be able to get some sleep!