Daily Harvest joins my thirty-five-year weight-loss struggle.

I’m sort of excited, but honestly? At this point I’m more resigned to failure. I’m going to die of a weight-related disease. I don’t seem to be able to reverse the trend. I turned 50 in November, and I think I’ll always be overweight.

But I’m still fighting. This year I started going to the gym, and actually lost about ten pounds from treadmill-walking for an hour and a half a week. Then I injured my knee, and haven’t yet recovered. I gained back all the weight, and then some. Of course. Because that’s how it always happens.

And now, it’s the middle of gloomy February, with my Seasonal Affective Disorder in free fall. All I want to do is hunker down with a book and a candle, and eat carbs. Cooking seems like a task for other people — the ones who don’t spend an hour and a half on the road each day, the ones who live where the sun shines, and who can stand on their feet for 45 minutes without their knees protesting. You know, all those people who eat kale.

My jealousy is clearly talking. And I’m upset that I’ve eaten more fast food in a month than I have all year.

But, remember, I’m still fighting. So I threw a crazy-stupid amount of money at Daily Harvest, as a Valentine’s Day gift to myself.

I chose Daily Harvest because they promise healthy, plant-based meals I can prepare quickly. I also liked the selection — smoothies, Harvest Bows (dinner/lunch-ish), Oat and Chia Bowls, Bites (fat bomb-ish concoctions), Soups, and Lattes. Smoothies twice a day would be fairly tedious, but I can totally do a smoothie and a bowl.

I also subscribed because their design aesthetic is pretty awesome. Honestly, those photos of the ingredients in bowls are genuis.

So far DH is kinda working? Maybe?

On the 14th I had a Peach + Strawberry Smoothie, a grocery store snack pack for lunch, and the Quinoa + Chipotle Harvest Bowl for dinner.

The smoothie? Meh. Their best-selling Peach + Strawberry Smoothie only had 3 grams of protein. It picked up a little more protein from the almond milk, but it’s not close to the two-egg and bacon breakfast I usually have. Worse, the smoothie tasted like it was 90% banana. No peach flavor at all. I’m not a banana fan, so the smoothie lost major points with that misstep. The texture was also too watery for my taste, even with the banana. Admittedly, though, my smoothies are usually the ultra-creamy kind with Greek yogurt or cottage cheese. Most people will probably be fine with the texture.

The Quinoa + Chipotle Harvest Bowl, on the other hand, rocks. As promised, it only took a few minutes to heat up. I threw in rotisserie chicken for protein, and used Back to Nature Fiesta Black Bean Crackers to help shovel the veggies onto my fork. I really enjoyed the mix of quinoa, zucchini, tomatoes, corn, onions, bell pepper, chipotle, and (gasp) kale. That’s right — I ate kale, and I’d eat it again. The heat from the chipotle balanced the veggies perfectly. I’ve ordered more of this bowl, and want to keep it in the freezer as a standby.

Weekends are always dangerous. I get bored, and eat. And read. And eat. And read some more. Then I take a nap. And eat again.

So, Saturday the 15th was really an exercise in resistance. I wasn’t 100% successful. The only DH bowl I ate was the Tart Cherry + Raspberry Smoothie. I used almond milk again. While this smoothie tasted better, I still wasn’t in love with it. After drinking half I added a squirt of sugar-free vanilla syrup. That helped. No bowls that evening; we went out to dinner.

Today, the 16th, I reached Smoothie Nirvana while drinking the Daily Harvest Cherry + Almond Smoothie. I switched up the liquid, going with my favorite Oikos plain Greek yogurt and water. This made the smoothie creamier, and added more protein. I also added about two teaspoons of sugar-free syrup to offset the unflavored yogurt’s tang.

For dinner I went with the Avocado + Beet Poke Bowl. Once again, worried about the protein content (I get headaches if I skimp on protein), I added an Everything Bagel codfish fillet from the frozen food aisle at Sam’s Wholesale. The dish wasn’t horrible, but also wasn’t interesting. I tried spreading it on sourdough, thanks to a YouTube video I found. Nope. Then I smeared Boursin cheese on the bread. Still nope. I threw about half of it into the sink.

Since the new year is right around the corner, I thought this would be a good time to take stock of what I’ve accomplished this year. Later this week I’ll write about plans for the future.

• A little over nine months ago I took a new job in Richardson, leaving education for the bright lights of industry.  I’m an instructional designer with a SaaS corporation, creating client-facing training.  I really like the team I work with.  My teammates are a blessing.
• The job is very different from anything I’ve done before.  In education every project was different, but now everything I create has to meet a department standard. It’s odd trying to hit the same goals repeatedly, but the group needs reliability, quality, and scalability.  The approach makes sense, even if I have minor quibbles with picky details in our standard.
• It’s also very different being in a position where I’m not expected to lead. I occasionally manage a project, but for the first time ever I’m not in the thick of policy decisions. I don’t decide the future of the group, I don’t set standards, and I don’t evaluate my staff.  I don’t have a budget or even much budgetary input.  Surprisingly, I kind of like it.  Don’t get me wrong, I have a voice. But making leadership decisions is not part of my job description.
• File under Blast from the Past — I’m teaching part-time at my old school, for the art department!  Back where it all began. It’s strange, and odd, and fabulous all at once.
• Also in Past (but not necessarily Blast) I’ve moved into my parent’s house, partially to save on rent, and partially because they’re getting older. The peace-of-mind I get from being here is worth the commute and the occasional frustration.
• Sadly I haven’t lost weight, but not for lack of trying.  I cook at least three nights a week, often four or five nights.  I haven’t reaped many benefits, but my parents have both improved their A1C numbers. My Dad also has better cholesterol score and has lost a little weight. (Probably because he doesn’t like my strange cooking.  Quinoa, he tells me, is NOT the “new rice” regardless of my claims to the contrary.)
• In the facing phobias department, I’ve seen a doctor for the first time in years. Happily, I’m not (yet) diabetic, and my cholesterol is surprisingly within the normal range.
• In the REALLY facing phobias department, I saw a dentist who (in conjunction with an anesthesiologist) knocked me out for six hours and fixed issues I’ve been avoiding for years. Now I just have to pay for it.

The chocolate hummus wasn’t great.  It wasn’t bad. I might make it again, with less smoked olive oil and a ton more maple syrup.

The past several months have been different. My oldest nephew moved in with me in January but left a month later. The plan was for him to enroll in college here, but we had a paperwork issue, so instead he enrolled in twelve online hours at a different college. He was also going to find a job here, but he’s up against an older, more experienced workforce so that didn’t work out, either.  He ended up sitting in my apartment all day, working on his classes and playing video games.  Since he can do that anywhere he decided to move back home.

I miss having someone in the apartment. It was weird, coming home and having a person in the house who expected me to actually carry on a conversation.  Plus Ryan is fun.  We cooked together, and sat at the table and had actual dinner conversations.  Since my grocery budget suddenly doubled, I had to stop eating out and cook meals at home.

One small side benefit of having Ryan at home is that since he was taking online classes I had to purchase an Internet plan, so now I find myself writing again. And, as always, I’m writing to help relieve stress.

Work hasn’t been good. The department’s administration team made some decisions that aren’t in my best interest, so I’m doubling down on the job hunt.  I’ve applied all over the Dallas area, even short-term contract work.  Moving from academia into the normal workforce is going to be challenging, but I’m hopeful.  I haven’t felt challenged in a long time, so I need to shake things up and test myself.

But it’s also a little stressful, which is showing up in my diet. I hardly ever eat sweets, but right now I’m downing chocolate like it’s tequila. And pizza, OMG, pizza! The ultimate convenience food. Hot, comforting, and delivered.  Who could ask for more? I’m eating a pie a week, a trend that has to stop.

Today I’m celebrating the college’s two-day staff Spring Break in two ways:

1) By launching a new project — packing my apartment. I know the move is coming, and today I have time to pack, so leisure time and bubble wrap are colliding in my living room.  And

2) Cooking healthy meals to eat next week, so I don’t have an excuse to order pizza.

Winter has been short this year, and I couldn’t be happier.  I don’t deal well with cold weather.  I shut down, and don’t want to do anything except sit in a recliner with a blanket thrown over me.

Tonight it’s supposed to be down to 47 degrees, but I’m trying to ignore that fact, and focus on other things.  Like chocolate hummus.  Yeah, weird, right?  But I’m craving something sweet, and it’s either cook or drive through Dairy Queen.  This blog is about making better choices, so cooking wins.

I read a few recipes on the Internet, but many of them use ingredients like milk or vanilla that would dilute the rich, dark chocolate taste I love.  Most are also chickpea-based, but black beans feel like a more chocolate-y alternative.  Almost every recipe also leaves out olive oil, which I want to keep in the recipe, mostly because I have a bottle of smoked olive oil.  Smoke + chocolate = yum.

The remaining ingredients are pretty standard — cocoa powder, nut butter (I’m using almond tonight), salt, maple syrup, and brown sugar.

I’m planning to slice apples to go with this tonight. Tomorrow, if I have leftovers, I’ll buy some pretzels on the way to work and feed the office.

Why is it that I’m bored to tears with my old routine, dreadfully bored, but I can’t bring myself to change it? Even though it’s killing me spiritually and physically? Why do I cling to the known, when the known is sooooo not working for me?

I’m trying to find something to look forward to that isn’t food, and failing miserably, especially since my apartment is half packed. I have to pack the other half this weekend, and yeah I’m about as enthusiastic as you would expect.

I’m upset with myself for moving. Changing my address by half a mile isn’t going to change my life. Buying new flat-pack furniture isn’t going to make me happier.

What I really want to do is call up a friend and eat fajitas and drink two or three margaritas while talking about nothing important. I want to bitch about the move, and hear someone else bitch about whatever is wrong in their life at the moment. I want to be sarcastic and liberal, and tell stories and make raunchy jokes, and eat too much salsa, and order another damn margarita because my mouth is on fire. And maybe go check out the new merchandise at TJ Maxx, or get a cupcake from Cake Junkie. Maybe see a freaking movie. I haven’t seen a movie in forever.

But all my friends are in other places, so I’m going to watch the last-ever episode of The Good Wife, and pack, and maybe drink a bottle of wine all by myself, and pack, and cry about how lonely I am.

To be honest, my move isn’t the best choice on a lot of levels. I’m not saving any money the first year since I have to pay for movers, and for a few new things to help shoehorn all my stuff into this smaller space. I’ll also be paying a cable bill. And the complex also doesn’t feel as safe as my current apartment.

But moving is, like a new hairstyle, a battle between aspirations and practicality. By moving to a new place I get to dream new things will happen, that my life will be fun and more interesting. There will be space for all the plans I have, and I’ll get the joy of designing that space to support the life I wish I had. It’s a chance to right all the mistakes I made setting up this apartment, this life.

Practically speaking, however, I’ll be downsizing from a one bedroom to a two bedroom, which involves decisions and tradeoffs. Some of the decisions are a little unusual. They won’t work for everyone, but hopefully they will work for me.

My current apartment contains three very large pieces of furniture.  A sofa, a bed, and . . . (wait for it) . . . a hammock stand. The hammock stand is a new purchase, the end result of a rush of aspirational joy.  And it’s VERY large, about ten feet long, and almost four feet wide at its widest point.

I bought the hammock stand to help me get a decent night’s sleep. A few years ago I injured my shoulder, and during the recovery process couldn’t sleep lying down in a bed without pain. This has forced me to sleep in a recliner for about two years now, and while it isn’t as bad as you would think, it isn’t all that comfortable either. Some days my back hurts, other days my hips hurt, or my legs. Most days I’m fine, but I do miss stretching out.

Since I weigh so much, sleeping in a bed pinches my body in all kinds of uncomfortable ways. If I lay on my side, for example, the hip resting on my hard-as-a-rock mattress is squashed down by all the weight I carry around my hips on a daily basis. I’m my own panini press, with my own body as the sandwich.

I knew from previous experience that sleeping in a hammock would be a game changer.  I slept in a Mayan hammock briefly after graduating from college and loved it. My experiment ended only because my father’s idea of safely hanging a hammock involved him twisting some bolts into the drywall with his bare hands (no anchors, no studs) then grinning at my then-160-pound self and saying “OK, you’re good to go!” A few months after his wise assistance, the bolts shot out of the wall while I was getting into the hammock. I’m glad I crashed to the floor so quickly because otherwise the bolts would have brained me.

This time around I did some research. I wanted an apartment-friendly solution that wouldn’t turn into an engineering disaster. Eagle’s Nest Outfitter’s SoloPod quickly became the leader in a sea of almost identical hammock stands. The REI in Austin had them in stock, so I drove to Austin to avoid shipping costs. It took ten minutes to assemble. The SoloPod is very sturdy, and I’ve been napping in in for two weeks now. I’m slowly working up to sleeping in it all night, but first I want to be sure I can get in and out of the thing when I’m half asleep with a full bladder.

Admittedly I’m not crazy about the way it looks. What’s with that lame curl at the ends? Do the Vikings know ENO has their ship? I’m also not crazy about ENO’s hammock colors. All of their hammocks scream I AM ATHLETIC AND EAT SPROUTS FOR BREAKFAST, or DUDE I KILLED BAMBI WHILE DRINKING A BEER. The ones that scream POINTLESS DESIGN-OBSESSED FINANCIALLY IRRESPONSIBLE PROTO HIPSTER seem to be out of stock.

So I settled for ENO’s orange and gray DoubleNest, because nylon lets me avoid waking with string patterns all over my body, something that happens after sleeping all night in a Mayan hammock.

I thought the design flu was over, but this week Target is whispering in my ear, tempting me with this Marimekko hammock.

I’m trying very hard not to listen.

ANYWAY — back to the apartment stuff.  Now that I’m seriously invested in hammock, the 10-foot hammock stand will obviously occupy a large bit of floor space in the new place. This means something else has to go.  Something large. Like the bed I never use, or the sofa I also never use.

After listening to me debate the decision for twenty minutes, my sister C made the decision for me. The sofa is going, and the bed is staying. This means guests can still stay overnight in the apartment. It will also lend a semblance of normality to the place, which it desperately needs since it lacks a sofa and a television.

I almost didn’t sign the lease. After writing my last post I realized I hadn’t checked for registered sex offenders in the area, so I took a quick look online and found one of the complex’s residents had a record.

While this individual was listed as ‘low risk,’ I wanted to know more about the situation so I paid for a quick public domains record search, and found some additional not-so-attractive details. The next morning I called the property manager’s office and asked if this person still resided on the premises, and explained my concerns. The management said they would look into the issue, and called me back later to let me know the tenant’s lease ends a few weeks after I move in, and that the lease would not be renewed. With that reassurance I signed the lease and paid the security deposit.

The whole thing bothers my liberal soul. The sex offenders program exists for very good reasons, but it’s also a flawed system. After all, two teenagers engaging in consensual sex could end up on the list since they’re both minors. How great a system is that? Additionally, only a small percentage of sex crimes are reported, so I’m probably living near an unknown sex offender at this moment.

And what does it say about me as a person, that I’m afraid of low risk odds? That I’m afraid of someone I’ve never met? That my phone call may have cost someone their lease renewal, and forced someone into a financially difficult move?

My (flimsy) justification is two-fold. The felon was 30 when the incident happened, so childish ignorance isn’t a factor, especially when combined with the other activity I found. I also feel that if a low-risk felon moved into a community where I already had a lease I’d probably live with it, hope to be left in peace, and reassess when my lease expires. And maybe buy a better alarm system. But in this case I would be deliberately placing myself in (potential) harm’s way. The healthiest choice would be to avoid the solution if possible.

This issue has left a sour taste in my mouth. At least I have packing to distract me.

After spending over a month apartment shopping I’ve finally found a new home. I can’t decide if I’ve made a good choice or not. When my manager told me my rent was going up to $825 a month I hesitated, and decided to leave even though I love this apartment.

The apartment is a two bed/two bath, with two large living-room-size spaces, large kitchen, central air, and washer/dryer connections. It was remodeled about two years before I moved in with new appliances and wood laminate flooring. I park in front of my unit every day, and the trash and mail are a few steps away. I have windows and plenty of natural light. Water and cable are included. There isn’t a noise problem, except for the nightclub a block over and sometimes from the college kids in the unit behind mine. It’s really a dream as far as apartments go.

But I’m paying for a guest bedroom that sees guests maybe four times a year, and for a bathroom that hardly ever gets used. Assuming that’s about 30% of the apartment space, I’d be paying about $250 a month for unused space. That’s $3000. I can put my occasional guests up in a good hotel for that, and still save money.

My target rent was $628/month. At that price, the total annual rent + movers would be equal to what I’m paying now. $628 seemed low, however, so I was prepared to go up to $650. I didn’t think it would be difficult, in this college town, to find a one bedroom that met my short list of requirements — cute, decent neighborhood, ground floor, and washer/dryer connections.

I thought, with a late May move-out date, that there would be a ton of properties up for lease. Students would be graduating or moving home for the summer, right? Not so much, I discovered, unless I wanted to deal with a student-focused apartment complex. It seems the big rush in this town is in August. There are some apartments available in May, but not nearly as many as I expected. I also discovered, to my dismay, that one bedroom apartments are rare. I found a few in nice complexes, but they cost more than the $825 I was balking at paying!

All I could find were nice two bedrooms with high rent, or crappy two bedroom duplexes with low rent. Nothing in my sweet spot. After a month of looking I thought maybe I would just stay where I am, but of course the property management company managed to rent the space out while I was dithering.

I didn’t deal well with this uncertainty. For some people a bad apartment is a minor inconvenience, but for me would be highly stressful. Since my social life is nonexistent, It isn’t uncommon for me to come home Friday evening and not leave the apartment until Monday morning.  All that time in one place can be difficult, so having a nice space is important.

The stress made me pessimistic and bitchy. It reduced me to tears on more than one occasion. I couldn’t decide what to pack, or what furniture to keep. I spent my evenings obsessively looking at leasings and fretting, imagining myself in a place I hated.

Slowly my list of requirements dwindled and my budget increased. I looked at ten properties, including a $500-a-month 368-square-foot stand-alone efficiency, on a residential lot with two other tiny homes. I could do a tiny home, right? After all I’m all about the latest trend.  Thank gods the college kid who had been renting the place allowed it to get so filthy that it scared me off. (Honestly, who moves out, cuts the electric, and leaves food in the fridge?)

That tiny home, while not for me, was a tipping point. Considering that space forced me to re-imagine my life in a smaller apartment, without a washer/dryer or a proper kitchen. It helped me realize I could live without some of the things I thought I needed, which let me broaden my search.

I reexamined units I had rejected early in the search process, including an apartment complex down the street from me that I’ve admired from the outside for years. It’s 1940s or maybe early 50s, has great windows, beautiful brickwork . . . but it never had any vacancy signs outside, so I didn’t know anything about the interior.  It also looked pretty run down, but recently I’ve seen signs of revival. Someone stated caring about the landscaping, and power washed the brick.  A remodeled unit in the complex came up early in my search for $700/month, and while it was really cute I didn’t call to see the place because it was out of the price range I had at the time, looked like an efficiency, didn’t appear to have washer/dryer connections.

But with my choices dwindling and my move-out day approaching, I hunted down the management company and gave them a call.  It turns out they’re remodeling the place, one apartment at a time. They had two units I could see, but they were not remodeled.

I went ahead and looked, mainly out of curiosity. What I found was a run-down space with a charming floor plan, original hardwood floors and light fixtures, and period built-ins. It was larger than I had anticipated, too, with an actual bedroom that didn’t make it into the photos. I liked the vibe of the apartments.  The other residents in the complex had personalized the spaces, really making these run-down units into a home. In my unit, for example, a previous tenant had hand drawn a wood pattern on the kitchen cabinets, and affixed bright metal garden ornaments like sunflowers and butterflies to the cabinet doors. I also liked that the management isn’t forcing out the existing residents. They’re slowly remodeling as units become vacant.

The space had a few drawbacks, however, including window air conditioners and no washer/dryer connections. But I’m tired of looking and I like the space, so I’m taking the risky step of signing the lease on Monday, with the understanding that the place will be ready by my move-out date.  I’m looking forward to this change!

Sometimes, when it seems I’ll never change my life or my weight, I get a little glimmer of hope.  A tiny victory in a fat struggle. This was a good week for small victories.

A few weeks ago I made this Broccoli Quinoa Salad. I knew the salad was a risk for me as I’m still working on broccoli, but like the recipe creator Olena I’ve found I can tolerate broccoli better after my food processor cuts it into tiny, tiny pieces. So I tried the recipe, and YUCK it was awful. A big mouthful of cloying chlorophyll. To my dismay the recipe made a ton of salad, so I had lots of leftovers to deal with. It all went into ziplock bags in the freezer. In the back of my mind I was thinking I’d probably throw it out in six months, because YUCK.

But then I bought grocery store pico de gallo. My recipe only needed a little bit of pico, so I had 3/4 of a container left over. I decided to use half the leftovers to make quesadillas.

After thawing out the salad, I added it to the tortilla along with the pico and some cheese. I made one, just to try it before making a big batch that probably would be uneaten for six months before ending up in the trash can. I took a bite, not expecting much, and felt my eyes widen in wonder.  I ate it, did a few dance steps, and made another, eating both at the kitchen counter. The cheese and tortilla evened out the huge taste of green from the salad, and the jalapeno loaned the whole mix a “party on, dude!” vibe. Then I made six more, cut them in half, and froze them. Last night I reheated one, and ate it as a side dish to a big salad. WOW. Almost as good as the first night.

Admittedly it isn’t the healthiest thing I could eat, not with the tortillas and cheese. But it’s something I’ll eat, and it’s healthier than Whataburger. (Not like that’s hard.) More importantly, I’ve scheduled it into Plan to Eat to make again in May.

My second victory is a byproduct of shopping at HEB. I’ve found if I shop late on Thursday evening I can catch some pretty decent markdowns on pre-cut produce. This week I found a small snack pack of carrots, cheese, pretzels, and grapes for a dollar. I picked it up, thinking I could force myself to eat the carrots while enjoying the rest of the box. But damn! The carrots were the best thing in the box. Carrots. Those crunchy, flavorless orange things I tolerate but don’t enjoy. They were great. I’m a little shocked. The only other time I’ve enjoyed eating carrots was when I roasted some then tossed them in a harissa glaze. I thought the roasting and harissa were the magic, but now I’m wondering if the carrots themselves contributed. I’ll have to try that recipe again.

This week has provided much-needed proof that my diet is changing, although it’s changing slowly. Most people wouldn’t even notice, but I notice. One day I’ll feel the difference, and all this work will pay off.