WWI: Dodged another bullet with chocolate bunnies
218, fat % 46.1. Lost a few inches this week though. Even though I rode my bike like I was training for a triathlon, I didn't lose pounds this week. But it was special dinner week practically every freaking night, so in theory I could have even gained had I not done so much bike riding. I swear, if I didn't have that bike I'd probably have hit 300 sometime in my life. But there you go. Every single night was a special "dinner" and breaking even is something to celebrate. Wednesday it started with our last Bucks game. Our sitter fell through, so I took Stella. Picked her up straight from Brownies, and we went to dinner. I ordered a grilled fish with a ton of veggies, and stayed within points, but that was points with a daily ration of flex points mixed in. That also included a small serving of Dippin' Dots at the Bradley center. Dippin' Dots are weird. Its like ice cream, but it forces you to eat it slowly, so you can appreciate it. I wouldn't have gotten it, though, if I wasn't with a little kid who deserved some kind of treat while at the game. Thursday was a slammed sandwhich, but Friday morning I realized it was Good Friday, and if ever there was a day not to eat meat, that's it. Husband's really hungry, though, and he's got a hankering for food on the grill, and Jewel had lobster tails on sale so…. We grilled lobster! It was delicious. Totally misses the point of "lenten meatless Fridays", but I remember doing the same thing as a kid: my mom and I would go to Red Lobster for all you can eat crab legs, we would leave, stuffed. Nothing like sacrifice in the name of Lent! I know we're not the only catholics who totally miss the point of meatless Fridays: witness the proliferation of "all you can eat" fish fry Fridays in Milwaukee, one of the most Catholic cities in the nation. Talk about following the letter, but not necessarily the spirit of the law. Anyway, Saturday, I was bike riding, stopped at the Milwaukee Public Market, and couldn't resist the on-sale really nice looking sirloin steaks, which we threw on the grill that night, accompanied by some grilled artichokes. And Sunday, following my annual Easter Sunday Shakedown Ride, we go for ham dinner, but since it was a family gathering, it wasn't just "show up and eat." No, there's socializing, and when there's socializing, there's appetizers! That's where I blew it. I didn't account for appetizers in the Grand Easter Eating Plan.
I was getting really preachy on my other blog about the Easter Sunday Shakedown Ride, so it really wasn't the place to mention that, while I usually find God on that ride, some years I find other things. One particular time stands out in my mind: my ride used to terminate at the end of the pier near McKinley Marina. I lived in RiverWest then, so my ride would go through the East side, through the north leg of the 76 bike trail, and end at the lakefront North of downtown. It was its own little ritual: it would be the first time, every year I would drag my bike out, and invariably, I would find that a tire was hopelessly flat, so I'd limp the bike to the now defunct Oriental Pharmacy -- which was always open on Easter Sunday, get myself a replacement tire (they had EVERYTHING there, what a loss when they closed), replace the tire and away I'd go (after, of course, snacking at the lunch counter). I rode to the end of the pier, and looked down at the rocks below, ready to stretch out in the sun and just let the day bake in when -- horrors! -- there was somebody in my spot! It was early April, and he was tanning, like he was Zonker Harris or something. I was about to be pissed off when he picked up a sixpack of some cheap beer by the plastic 6-ring, and said "Hey, want a beer?" I was so touched by the friendliness that I said sure, and joined him. We didn't say much, we were both just chilling and enjoying the sun. He was extremely well tanned, a bit older than the typical sun worshipper, and (unless my memory is playing tricks with me) was wearing gold lame speedos. But for some reason I wasn't threatened or anything. Just oddly comfortable. About a year later I told this story to friends, who told me that I must've had an encounter with (the now late, great) Dick Bacon. So, if I don't necessarily see God on an Easter Bike Ride, I at least always get a brush with Greatness.
I was getting really preachy on my other blog about the Easter Sunday Shakedown Ride, so it really wasn't the place to mention that, while I usually find God on that ride, some years I find other things. One particular time stands out in my mind: my ride used to terminate at the end of the pier near McKinley Marina. I lived in RiverWest then, so my ride would go through the East side, through the north leg of the 76 bike trail, and end at the lakefront North of downtown. It was its own little ritual: it would be the first time, every year I would drag my bike out, and invariably, I would find that a tire was hopelessly flat, so I'd limp the bike to the now defunct Oriental Pharmacy -- which was always open on Easter Sunday, get myself a replacement tire (they had EVERYTHING there, what a loss when they closed), replace the tire and away I'd go (after, of course, snacking at the lunch counter). I rode to the end of the pier, and looked down at the rocks below, ready to stretch out in the sun and just let the day bake in when -- horrors! -- there was somebody in my spot! It was early April, and he was tanning, like he was Zonker Harris or something. I was about to be pissed off when he picked up a sixpack of some cheap beer by the plastic 6-ring, and said "Hey, want a beer?" I was so touched by the friendliness that I said sure, and joined him. We didn't say much, we were both just chilling and enjoying the sun. He was extremely well tanned, a bit older than the typical sun worshipper, and (unless my memory is playing tricks with me) was wearing gold lame speedos. But for some reason I wasn't threatened or anything. Just oddly comfortable. About a year later I told this story to friends, who told me that I must've had an encounter with (the now late, great) Dick Bacon. So, if I don't necessarily see God on an Easter Bike Ride, I at least always get a brush with Greatness.
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