Good humor makes all things possible.
-Charles Schultz-

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.
-Shakespeare-The Merchant of Venice-

Thursday, March 7, 2013

Monsanto for dessert


I've been eating a spartan low-carbohydrate diet for about seven hundred weeks and let me tell you, I MISS REGULAR FOOD.    Except for Trader Joe's soy protein powder (which I add to my morning smoothie) which is by definition a highly processed product, I eat mostly single food items, like eggs.  Or meat.  Or yogurt.  No recipes.  Few ingredients.  One thousand calories.  I'm not starving, but not particularly excited by anything I eat.  I'm not sure how long I can keep this up as the weight loss is S...O...   D...A...R...N...   S...L...O...W...  Four pounds, that's it.  Ten more  to go.  This will take FOREVER.  First world problems, right?

Eggs for dinner.  Again.

So anyway, when Lillie decided that she wanted to take homemade cookies to her boyfriend's granny's for dinner, (that's where we get those lovely eggs), I was overjoyed to finally bake something.  Whee!  We only had an hour so we turned on the oven to preheat and started getting down the flour and sugar and all the things I haven't seen in weeks and weeks.  I got a quick whiff of something acrid, but remembered I had recently cleaned up some burned seitan (vegan-meat-substitute-concoction) Lillie had baked for her boyfriend.  I used baking soda and vinegar because I'm all green like that, so we had to be smelling the vegan mess treat remnants.  Suddenly we both started to choke and cough--I opened the oven to see WHAT THE HELL and there lay a smoking purple coil of MELTING TOOTHBRUSH which I must have forgotten to grab when I finished scrubbing the burned oven floor.  Billows of vicious chemical smoke filled the kitchen as we ran to open all the windows.  With watering eyes and long tongs, I fished out the liquefying toothbrush--it sagged like hot taffy--and dropped it in the trash.  I scraped up the last bit of purple drool with an old spatula and let the hot oven burn off the leftover film.

In a few minutes, though,  the nasty smoke had cleared and we had the first pan of cookies ready to slide into the oven.  Would poison toothbrush molecules be seared into our innocent and wholesome cookies?  How would we know?  They looked and smelled fine and to be honest, they tasted divine.

Chase just likes to be on the safe side.

So I ate six. (They were small, but yes, six.)   I had to make sure Lillie wouldn't poison the granny.  Because where else would I get all those happy backyard chicken eggs?

Does this look deadly to you?

***POST GAME:  After dinner at Granny's, everybody gobbled up the cookies within two minutes and by the time Lillie left, all were alive.  If I get investigated for trying to poison them, I guess this post will convict me.  And now you know about it too so we'll all be in prison together.***

Will you have to wear those prison stripes?


  1. When one of my girls was little, she stashed some plastic Fisher Price Little People (remember those?) in our oven. I had no idea and she apparently forgot, because when I went to make dinner that night, I turned on the oven and the kitchen quickly filled with smoke and a horrible smell. It took days to dissipate.

    I am in awe of your willpower -- there's no way I could eat the way you have been and definitely not for as long.

    1. Well, it helps that I'm not cooking for a family, (Lillie is on a different eating plan) and I make room for an occasional treat, but I have honestly tried other plans, with zero loss. So, dull as this is, it is SLOWLY working. And each lost pound gives me the courage to keep going. But twenty more weeks of this? I might have to go eat a melted Little Person.

  2. Your diet impresses me. I'd be mowing my way through the nearest bakery display case within a week.

  3. Those cookies sure look good. And your cat in the bottom picture looks just like mine!

    1. I used this recipe (link to the actual recipe link below), although I just mix them the regular way, and add about a cup of broken up mini-pretzels to the dough. A delicious [small] batch of cookies! And Mister Carson is now fourteen pounds of naughty, kitteny delight.