Temporary Housewife

So I'm still fatigued, suffering from seasonal allergies (with one sinus stubbornly plugged). Isn't this what the Whole30 was supposed to cure? Yes... and no.  After 25 days of being on plan, I honestly feel no different than when I started.  I've lost a few pounds (down 50 now!), but I sleep the same.  I have the same amount of energy.  I still have adult acne.  My body still aches. The one thing that this exercise has taught me is that food is not the source of all my problems.  It is the source of one problem: my weight.  That's about it.  Then why am I going to continue roughly following it? I say roughly in that I am going to eat normal sausages and bacon instead of the billion dollars per pound the sugar less stuff costs.  I will use ketchup.  I will switch to normal butter instead of clarified butter.  Buy my mayo instead of trying (and failing) to make it myself.  And I will have one day off plan per week so I can still have some of my favorite foods,

I spent the weekend away in the far away land called Chetek where Schmidts of all ages and sizes and alternate last names converge for the annual ritual of Winter Party.  Winter Party is in its' seventh year, I believe, and instead of flying 1000 miles to attend, G and I now can drive less than 300 miles and be at the front door of my parents' property out in the wilds of Barron County.  Indeed, at this time of the year, the yard does look barren with near zero (or subzero) temperatures and just a dusting of snow.  Even way up north, the snow was scarce.  Usually, we send the kiddies outside to barrel down the snow covered hill on sleds and tubes.  But there was a change of plans this year considering the yard was a frozen slip n' slide instead of a soft cushy bounty of snow.  Only the older kids were allowed to sled (much to the dismay of my own kid) out of fear of injury due to out of control speeds.  My dad put down some large amounts of hay to keep the kids from caree

Therese Borchard feels like a therapist like figure in my life, although I only know her through her articles.  Today's post is brought to you by this article about self growth in the new year.  What are these 5 questions? 1. What is one thing I don't enjoy? 2. What is one thing I do enjoy? 3. What is my purpose? 4. What did I learn last year? 5. What do I want to learn? Let's tackle these questions one by one.  They require heavy lifting and I'm not quite stretched out, but I'll give it my best. What is one thing I don't enjoy? Oy.  What a loaded question.  How big or small are we talking?  Because I don't like cooked carrots or being cold.  But if I dig down a little deeper in my soul, I don't enjoy having a lack of purpose.  (side note: question 3 is going to suck)  I mean, I have purposes but I don't have The Big Purpose, something that completely satisfies my soul.  I don't think I've ever had it and that emptiness is p

Dear Mother Nature, What is up with the weather?  I just talked to a friend in Colorado and I've seen northern Wisconsin on my sister's Marco Polo's and I can look out my own window. Where is the snow? I'm not a big fan of winter as I'm a perpetual popsicle.  No one uses me as a barometer for the temperature of the room.  My mom often asks, "Isn't it warm in here?  Let's open a door..." Meanwhile I'm dressed in three layers and laying under a blanket, sipping a hot decaf while shivering. That being said, if I'm going to have winter I want Winter.  It's been spring-like for weeks now and then it just dropped into the teens.  Zero white stuff.  There is something wrong with bracing winds and talking about how the air hurts your face surrounded by brown grass and shriveled leaves.  If I am going to be cold I want to see some of that winter beauty before me.  Despite the need to bring out my snow blower, I want to see snowflakes.  I

Or was. Gary is our main floor toilet and he was pissing me off so much.  For as long as we've lived here, Gary has been intermittently running on an off.  Sometimes every hour.  Sometimes every 5 minutes.  But he ran.  He ran like his life depended on it. Many attempts were made over the last year and a half, mostly fiddling with the float level.  Yet he kept running. But not today, Gary.  Not today!  There is only so much a woman can take, listening to the sudden swoosh of water filling the tank at seemingly random times. I did it.  Researched it, then I read the tank lid (Kohler has a lovely schematic and trouble shooting guidelines right there on the toilet).  I went to the local hardware store and called up Kohler right there in the aisle to make sure I was buying the right item.  I was, went home, chiseled out the old, worn, disgusting seal and replaced it with a bright yellow new one. And that sound you hear?  The soft slumber of my dogs.  The ticking away

So I've been rather quiet on my weight loss because, like having BP, I don't want to talk about a single topic too much.  I get tired of it and I can only surmise that anyone who reads this stuff gets a little UGH if I'm talking about it too much.  Right?  Right. This and recent posts are a result of practicing writing.  I have no idea what the word count on these posts are, but I've been reading up on how to be a better writer.  How to do that?  Reading more and getting in at least 300 words per day.  What does that mean to you?  More posts hopefully in an effort to get better.  Which means some of these are going to suck.  Lucky you! Anyway! As of this time last year, I was 45 pounds heavier.  Yep, I'm down 45 pounds.  I lost weight over the holidays, if you can believe that.  How?  I'm still working out the details, but as far as I can tell it is because I stopped hyperfocusing on weight loss.  This summer, my appetite went kaput and while it has come b

I am currently in the kitchen right now, pan frying bacon. And I'm going to confess something I haven't really admitted to myself until just now: I hate making bacon.  It sprays all over the place and it is reaaaaallllllyy tedious work.  I've been at it for 10 minutes now and I am not even through a quarter of a pound. "But Lori!" you say.  "Lori!  Use the oven!" EVEN WORSE.  That skin melting spatter that is on my stovetop is then transferred to a small, blazing hot space where the spatter gets cooked into smoke that my smoke detectors tell me is not good.  I mean, I love me some bacon smell but I do not care for burned bacon odor.  Even better: I'm cooking two pounds of bacon!  Because of my stupid Whole30 that I did to myself so thank you so much, Lori, for that brilliant idea, I can't eat the normal bacon because SUGAR.  So I'm doing a pound of my special rainbow starlight bacon and a pound of porky normal bacon. And I am not