Those who know me know that I love food. I love to play with it, to cook it, to eat it. One of my most favorite things to make is bread. There’s something very gratifying about punching down and kneading the dough that can’t be compared to anything else.
Today, Kennedy (my trainer) told me that I will need to cut out pasta and bread from my diet while she’s training me. (The session today went fairly well, I think – I’m not nearly as pathetic as I was last week.) It’s going to be tough. I’ve already made a valiant effort to reduce my potato chip intake (a serious sacrifice, indeed).
Cute Husband wanted to have our friends over today, so I stopped at the store and picked up some foodstuffs. Cute Husband recommended getting frozen pizzas for everyone to eat, and I purchased some salad fixings and a big veggie platter, too. And cheese – Brie and Camembert. I really do like cheese, though I’ve never made it (and, after watching the “Dirty Jobs” episode where they went to a cheese factory, I have no desire to try), and I’ve extended myself over the last few years well beyond American cheese. I think American cheese is best only in a grilled cheese sandwich, and possibly on a cheeseburger. But not as a standalone.
But I’ve found that the past few weeks, I’ve been thinking more about food than I ought. I’ll start feeling little hunger pangs at work, look at the time, and then decide that it’s not time to eat yet, which I think is just angering the hunger demons even more.
So, hunger is lapping at my insides once again, even as I type, despite the large Caesar salad that I ate for dinner. I think there’s some yogurt calling my name in the fridge. [sigh] A nice piece of multigrain toast with a little bit of cream cheese would be so tasty…