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Still on the Warpath: Naiadknight's Battle Tome

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  • This week's menu: Leftover Monday; roast chicken with risotto for Geek, green beans for me, and salad; chicken stock from the chicken bits; chile verde with tortillas (cauliflower tortillas for me); Salads with leftover roast chicken; steak, shrimp, corn and bread for Geek, roast cauliflower (maybe leftover green beans) for me, and salad.
    I'm rather proud of how well that all works together.
    Still not sure whether or not I'll partake of the risotto. If I decide I want to, I'll skip on the wine.
    Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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    • Interesting. Even 24 hours without grains and my peak flow is back around 350, peaking at 380 with the rescue inhaler. I still want to do all I can to get that up to 400, which is where I should be. Mind you, when I started treatment, average was 250 -275, low enough to make the doc wonder how the hell I was getting enough O2 to survive.
      Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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      • Peak flow still seems to be steadily climbing, although I think the new inhaler med is starting to kick in.
        Did SL 5x5 (squat @ 60 lb, overhead press @ 40 lb, deadlift @ 100 lb, with warm ups.)
        Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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        • Foam rolled this morning. If nothing else, it seems to be curing DOMS before it kicks in and is definitely helping my neck, even more than the chiro was.
          Discovered that frozen and nuked spaghetti squash tastes a LOT more pumpkin like and gets really watery and gooshy. That experiment flopped. Stayed primal, except for the rice pilaf leftovers, which confirmed my grain theory. Damn.
          ETA: After some quick Google fu, there are half a dozen studies confirming the grain/ asthma connection. Glad it's not all in my head, but that's a bit depressing.
          Last edited by naiadknight; 08-20-2013, 08:57 AM.
          Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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          • Originally posted by naiadknight View Post
            LHT this morning (squats 5x5@ 50 lb, bench press 5x5@ 40 lb, and rows at 5x5@ 40 lb), with foam rolling, body brushing, and cold shower afterward.
            Lunch was leftover spag with leftover squash.
            I haven't lifted in so long I forgot what LHT meant... *smh*

            Re: frozen spaghetti squash - this is not what I wanted to hear. I have 6 spaghetti squash from my garden that I had planned to cook and freeze...
            Primal since March 5, 2012
            SW: 221 | CW: 204 | LPW: 166 | UGW: 140 (80 lbs loss)



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            • I tried freezing half an uncooked squash. Haven't tried cooked squash.
              Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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              • I think defrosting cooked squash would just require some attention to let off the extra water. You could always heat it up in a pan once defrosted.
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                • I've frozen cooked spaghetti squash and reheated it. Just drain off the extra water and it tastes fine!

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                  • I'll hafta try freezing cooked spag squash. I just chucked the raw half in the chest freezer in a baggie. Oops.
                    Had deconstructed hand rolls for lunch (translation: steamed crab, raw celery, carrot, avocado and jalapeno on a plate) and roast chicken with bacon green beans and cucumber. It's nice splitting a bird with Geek- he only likes white meat and I prefer dark meat.
                    Tried my hand at risotto. Got a semi perfect risotto (it may have still been a little undercooked), but not good reviews. Geek liked the flavor, but not the texture. Since I can't eat it, it went away, and didn't even make it to leftovers. He wanted my pilaf again, so I want to try and get my hands on decent wild rice.
                    Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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                    • Quit halfway through my squats this morning. I have an agreement with my mind that if I get past a warm up and 2 sets, and I'm still not wanting to finish out or still feel like I'm gonna die of exhaustion, then I quit and try again later that day.
                      Wonder if Geek gave me the gunk he has, he had a fever at the allergist's yesterday.
                      Also, my inner left ankle hurts, right on the bone. Pretty consistent while lifting, occasional while walking. Seems to be related to bearing weight. Doesn't feel like a sprain or strain. No swelling. It's on the bone. Hoping it's not the bone.
                      Google Fu leads me to think it may be a medial ligament sprain. Doesn't feel like a sprain. Not enough pain and I don't remember doing anything to cause a sprain.
                      I have two client meetings (one on site) today. I could probably get by with just a brace for the outdoor one, and pack along an ace bandage for between meetings. It doesn't feel bad enough for crutches.
                      Last edited by naiadknight; 08-21-2013, 05:18 AM.
                      Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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                      • Set up a doc appointment for today at 1515. It's odd enough and painful enough that I figured it wasn't a sprain.
                        Made roast chix last night and cooked the broth through to lunchtime today. I added a couple glugs cider vinegar after pulling the meat. Given the lack of seasoning (only the mire poix mix I put under and stuff into the bird, with the salt and pepper that was on the skin left in the pot) it's a pretty damn universal chicken bone stock. Given that a bag is roughly 3 cups, and I can thaw the whole damn bag in under 15 minutes in a sink of hot water, and that one chicken makes approximately 2.5-3 quarts of stocks, it's one of my favorite "recipes." I can get 2 meals and 5-6 "boxes" of chicken broth out of one $7 bird (yes, that's CAFO. It also swims in a more dilute version of the sulfite/ plumping solution than the cage free bird at the store.)
                        Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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                        • Doc claims it was sprained. Had sashimi and summer rolls for dinner. Stoned off my gourd on a painkiller, and still in pain.
                          Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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                          • I interacted with an autistic boy and his mama today, while waiting for my x-rays. Listening to her talk about her boy, and watching the bay, were almost like a step back in time. The more research I do, the more I think Cassie may actually be functioning autistic. I feel kinda guilty for some of the demands and requirements I heaped upon her head, thinking she was just underperforming. It also kinda melts some of the... grudge? distaste? hatred? I have/ had for her. I still think she could have controlled herself more, but I also think there may have only been so much willpower or assimilation she had within each day. When it was gone, it was gone. Like I said, watching the little boy was almost like watching a slightly more extreme Cassie. He even reacted to people talking to him and asking him questions much the same as Cassie did. I don't want it to be an excuse for her (and given the option, she will turn it into one, I believe), but it seems to dissolve some of the bad blood between us, at least on my end, knowing that she may not have been able to control herself as much as I gave her credit for.
                            I think I'm willing to try to build that bridge again, come Labor Day weekend.
                            Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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                            • Originally posted by naiadknight View Post
                              ... Unfortunately, there's not a club for "blow shit up." I need some sort of violent outburst...
                              One word:

                              Trebuchet!

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                              • We've been talking about a squirrel launching catapult made of pvc...
                                Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, steak in one hand, chocolate in the other, yelling "Holy F***, What a Ride!"
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