Off the Sauce. horror of horrors!
I’m off the food sauce and booze sauce for a bit. There. I’ve said it out loud. Drat. Triple drat. Accountability.
ten of you who read this thing let me assure you that anyone who knows me, who is
related to me, or pays a bit of attention to me on FB knows what a bum deal it
is for me to go OFF THE SAUCE.
|A place setting at Chez V|
I love food. And booze, for that matter. Not in a gluttonous drive by Mickey Ds and shove two cheeseburgers down my gob sorta way. No way, Jose. I am too much of a food snob for that. And not in a Boozo the Fall Down Clown sorta way either. Although, I have been called a clown. And have fallen down from booze. But just know that I have fallen down WAY more times while sober. Mostly.
No. This is about my insane appreciation of the procurement and preparation of foodstuffs.
I enjoy everything about it. The getting of it, the growing of it, the buying of it, the smells, the colors, the mixing and matching. The beautiful poetry of putting it together and savoring the outcome. And most of all, doing all these things for people that I love. Preferably with my own soundtrack in the background. It is totally normal to think of your own life as a movie.
And then there's wine. Oh how I enjoy a good glass of wine which we do often around these parts. Not every day. But many days. And mostly just the one glass. But all this enjoying has caught up with me and my never-been-fast metabolism. Except a few blissful tween years.
What does this mean for me, exactly? Well this: I am cutting out bread, rice and pasta for a bit. All those pesky carbos. And the wine. Don’t need those extry calories right this minute. But it feels a lot like cutting out joy if ya ask me. So this declaration is a big hairy deal. But my thighs need it desperately.
|Innocent baking at Chez V|
2 weeks. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. And for all you cray-zay P90x’ers and Method’ers. Hush. I know it’s not long and not much of a sacrifice but I am a Sagittarius. I am allergic to commitment and stick-to-it-ness…
kisses, mrs. V