Oy. My valve.


God DAMMIT, why did I not know about this place when we went to Vancouver? Instead we ate at a semicrappy Greek place before wandering aimlessly around that overwhelming city. If I’d had the pleasure of a hot dog covered with wasabi mayo, nori strips, and fried onions, I would have been a happy, happy pregnant lady back then.

Y’all might as well go ahead and start giving me tips on places I should check out in San Francisco (a short list, I know). I’m going for a conference in March to give my paper on Waitress (and I found out that I’m chairing the panel — against my will — which includes the word “Herstories” in the title — gag) and am hoping to check out the city, which I’ve never been to before. So, if there are gems like Japa Dog lurking around, pony that info straight up, yo. I will not be counting POINTS that weekend.

I’m currently baking some cookies which, fortunately for my Weight Watchers journey, are not very good. I don’t know if it’s the dried blueberries I used (from the bulk bin at Whole Foods) or if the recipe calls for (or I misinterpreted the amount) too much white chocolate, but they’re just way too sweet and white chocolate-y. Which is a bummer, because I really wanted them to be good. For some reason, I’ve been baking a LOT lately, and I’m not sure why. On Friday I made some amazing raspberry-filled angel food cupcakes for my friend’s birthday — I could have eaten far more than the small one I ate as a tester before taking them before a jury of my peers.

Come to think of it, maybe I should skip weighing in tomorrow. I don’t know that the news will be good. Then again, this was a rough, rough week. I got my visitor on Wednesday and it just laid me out for two days. Then the birthday party and then a 1400-word piece that turned into 2100+ word possible cover story for the local alt-weekly. No pressure there. Matt was essentially a single parent this weekend while I, the stress case, drank too much coffee, went on rampages about insults both real and perceived, and repeatedly kicked him and H-town out of the house so that I could play Scrabulous write my story.

Then, of course, I get a call at 4 this afternoon informing me that I’ve got to add another couple of hundred words to the story because the paper’s editor has chosen cover art that only marginally pertains to my story. So, I’ve got to do another interview with another party (the party on the cover) and work that material into the previously finished piece. Yeah. Fun. Hence the cookie baking.

Did I mention that this story goes to press on Wednesday? As in, the day after tomorrow? I didn’t? Is my stress a little more understandable now?

Know what else I want? Ideas for dairy-free, WW-friendly lunches I can make on Saturday night and take with me throughout the week. Where might I find something like that?

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