It’s a various and sundry sort of day. It began sunny and turned toward cloudy; Esmeralda slumbers nonchalantly upon a sofa pillow as I type. I sip on an aged Belgian style tripel. It’s that sort of beginning to the week.
1.
The (poll) question was, “What is (was) your biggest challenge when trying to eat healthy in college?”
The options were:
- A small budget
- Lack of time
- Relying on dining hall options
- Lack of cooking facilities
- I did not attend college
I chose “relying on dining hall options,” but that’s only because that’s the best of a bad set of options.
Since I did go to college, the last option does not fit. The dorms did have cooking facilities; during my first year I stayed on campus during most of fall and, later, Thanksgiving break, and during the latter I contemplated cooking in the dorm kitchen. That was a bit of a mistake, as ants owned the room, nothing was clean, the refrigerator was odious, and there was a general lack of equipment. It was a residential college, with about 95% of students living on-campus, and if you lived on-campus, you also ate in the dining halls. There was the ‘coop,’ where you could buy burgers, fries, and delicious shakes, but like most students I opted for a 3-meal-a-day meal plan. Time was not an issue; I had much of my day ticking like a well-wound clock, and only rarely was I rushed. And we had options. It was cafeteria food, but every day there were multiple entrees and sides; along with soup and salad bar; breakfast cereals; various juices, soft drinks, milk, and more; and even a frequent stir fry option.
Options?
We had options.
But portion control …?
It was all-you-can-eat, and so I ate.
I think my freshman fifteen was a freshman twenty, though at one point I lost weight. I fenced, I played volleyball. My second year I used the weight room with a friend. During my junior year I walked a lot, lived abroad, and prepared all my own meals. But by that time I’d stabilized at a “new norm” of about 220lbs, vs. the 180 to 190 I was used to in high school.
When I weighed in this Sunday at 211, the same as what I weighed during a 2004 physical, on the one hand I had returned to the low end of my “norm.” But even what I now consider “low” is so much higher than what I was used to half a lifetime ago.
2.
Until today I’d never poached an egg.
I’m a frequent fryer. I simmer in shells and scramble, devil and bedevil, and make my share of omelets. But the relatively simple process of poaching was something I’d not done, for reasons unknown.
As a hand-dandy-internet-guide instructed and observed, the egg, slid gently into simmering water from a custard cup, quickly takes on the shape (but neither Platonic nor Aristotelean form) of an angel, feathered and fragile around the quickly congealing edges. The yolk is visage and halo in one.
My angel has fallen, and I salt and pepper it before damning it to the bowels not of hell but of … me.
3.
If poaching an egg was my ‘novelty,’ then in terms of looking back I decided to catch up on something long ago started yet not finished, in this case ongoing story-lines in comics I’d been reading off and on for several years. I’m still a year and a half or two behind. To summarize and signify, I’m approaching the “Fear Itself” crossover.
In the afternoon and evening Ms. S. and I returned to our “rotation.” There were ongoing developments and an aside in SG-1’s “Memento Mori,” appropriate for a Monday, and over in season 4 of Oz there were twists and shakeups galore, as the warden dropped out of contention for Lieutenant Governor, McManus got his old job back, and at the end there was plenty of stabbity-stab. Then we continued, after catching up on the 2nd episode of Elementary — which I’d already seen, and to which I’d been able to pick out the culprit and how the crimes were committed early on based on Sherlock’s self-hypnosis (I know, obvious) –, with season one of New Girl, which, to us at least, has hit its stride.
4.
Tonight I am feeling motivated. I want to write. I want to craft. I want to watch and read, and so on. I can’t accomplish it all at once, but it’s a start.
