This is a day-late post-and-run, but you forgive me, right? We went out for a friend’s birthday last night, and you will be proud to hear I passed up pasta at an Italian restaurant.
I felt dirty, but I did it.
So, why a photo of oatmeal if I’m carb-free? For one, I made a batch for the entire week on Sunday (Monday?), and I am not one to throw out perfectly good food. For two, I realized ditching the carbs completely (or nearly completely) isn’t in the cards for me since I am planning to drink pomegranate juice and eat pineapple core to help get me into the pudding club. You know, pregnant.
So.
I’m going with a stricter version of phase 2, and I’m just going to have to be a big girl and resist a carb overload on my own. Self control is the worst.
I’ll update later with my beloved oatmeal recipe, but for now, I’m off and running (not on the treadmill – I already did that today – yay!) on this cold, rainy North Carolina day.
Pip-pip!
I can’t get carbs off the brain, and I’m having a hard time resisting temptation, so I’m shunning them from my life for a bit. I don’t know if I’ll do the full two weeks of South Beach Diet’s phase 1 or if I’ll just do a few days, but I’m heading to the store tomorrow evening to make sure I have the necessary supplies on hand.
Also, I’m locking the damn pantry.
I took the plunge and officially moved What the blog? to a permanent, (somewhat) independent home.
I feel so grown up.
I’m not really sure how well the whole domain mapping feature works, or to what extent it works, so if you’ve got me saved in an RSS feed, go ahead and update that. Do you have me bookmarked? Update those, too. Those who have subscribed for e-mail updates need not change anything.
And for those of you who don’t have something that automatically updates you on new entries, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WAITING FOR? I have very important things to say, and you may miss them with your casual visits.
Don’t be a blog slut. Commit. I’ve set up a permanent home for us. Won’t you stay a while?
Do you ever read a book and just feel, “Meh” about it? That’s exactly how I feel about “The Little Stranger.”
It’s set in 1940s England and pivots around Hundreds Hall, a beautiful, old mansion that has fallen into disgrace with the family who lives there. The family tries to revive itself and the house, and things start getting weird.
Perhaps I’m too direct, dramatic and like a bumblebee in a bottle for a book like this. Many of the reviews I’ve read tout the book’s subtle, thought-provoking depth.
Me? I think it was a tad on the boring side.
When I read buzzwords like “psychological thriller,” “gothic mystery” and “ghost story,” I expect a fair amount of pizazz.
I felt no pizazz when reading this.
Beyond the boring, vanilla taste, I didn’t care much for the main character. He is as logical as they come – he’s a doctor, so this trait is expected, to some extent – but his emotions never once come close to edging out logic in his world.
It was infuriating.
I spent much of my time with this book skimming through long paragraphs, waiting for something mysterious and thrilling to happen, but it never did.
If you like to be scared in subtle, thoughtful ways, pick up this book. If you want to read something that’s going to send chills down your spine and make you sleep with the lights on, skip it.
Dinner (gyro salad) and a movie (The Ugly Truth)
