The other morning I was in the food court near where I work and, as is usually the case at this time of day, there weren’t many people milling about. Then I espied a line-up that was not merely long, but downright lengthy in extreme.
It turned out it was for McDonald’s, as they had just introduced new buttermilk biscuits as part of their breakfast menu and for two days they were offering them for free.
Free, as it turns out, is a popular price.
Here’s some of what these people got for free by opting for the Sausage ‘n Egg Biscuit Sandwich:
48% of your daily sodium (1140 mg)
57% of your daily fat (37 g)
590 calories
240 mg cholesterol
19 grams protein
30% of your daily iron
So you’ll simultaneously get fat, clog your arteries, increase your blood pressure but also gain a tiny bit of muscle (under the fat). Seems like a good deal. It’s hard to figure out why so many people are obese. Really!
(Disclaimer: Occasional fast food is a welcome indulgence for those who like it. I am eating whole grain tortilla chips and fresh salsa as I type this.)
My left knee has checked out A-OK and the doctor says I am good to resume jogging, which I plan on doing this Monday. When he seemed a bit evasive on the cause of the soreness in my knee I asked, “Is it one of those ‘getting older’ things?” He immediately started in with, “Well, I wouldn’t want to put a name on it…” which seemed like a polite way of saying, “Yes”. But he was polite, so no dirty look for him!
Here’s hoping my Nike+ sensor still has some juice in it. Here’s also hoping I don’t collapse face-first into the mud after 200 meters.
As it happened, back in September my left leg was ailing again and so I opted to give it time to recover before resuming my runs, as I had previously. This particular time it seemed the left ankle was feeling especially tender. I am more convinced now that the way I was running — on an oval course, always counter-clockwise — may have contributed to my left leg bearing more than its fair share and thus making it more susceptible to injury. My plan was to resume running and to either find a new course to run or to simply alternate between running clockwise and counter-clockwise on the path around China Creek Park.
By the time I felt I’d rested enough to resume jogging I began a new job and suddenly my schedule was a lot tougher to work runs around. Couple that with waning daylight hours and I let it slide longer than I would have liked.
Then something weird happened. My left knee started to hurt. More precisely, I would sometimes notice it feeling sore, though it never hurt to actually walk on it. It was most obvious when I would kneel to tie my shoelaces. What makes this weird is that I never experienced any problems with my knees when running. At first I thought I did something to hurt it and just couldn’t remember exactly what I’d done but the soreness is ever-present. I feel it every time I kneel down, though it never gets worse (or better). I plan on having the knee checked out at the clinic soon but mildly fear this may be a chronic injury that will require therapy — or worse!
If the doctor tells me it’s one of those ‘men of your age’ things, I promise to give him a dirty look.
I will update on the potential kneetastrophe soon.
Last week I neglected to bring a lunch to work so I headed to a nearby food court and chose to consume some of the edible products offered at McDonald’s. Specifically I had a McChicken Meal, which consisted of:
McChicken sandwich. A couple of limp white bread buns filled with shredded lettuce, something like mayo in copious quantities and a deep-fried patty that was allegedly scraped together from some parts of a chicken. The most remarkable characteristic was the blandness of it all, like flavor was specifically worked out of it as an unnecessary part of the burger.
French fries. McDonald’s fries are often thought of favorably and I’m not sure why. Even if you move past the nerd debate over beef tallow/vegetable oil for the frying, the best thing I can offer is the fries are hot and crisp. They have the skins removed, so there’s no particular flavor (see a trend?) and enough salt to make a family of deer happy. I was going to use some ketchup on them but adding to the briny taters seemed like sprinkling gunpowder on your sticks of dynamite. Is it really necessary?
Coca Cola Zero. I tried to order water (even in a kill-the-earth plastic bottle) but they had none. I was given a cup to fill from the soda fountain. I figured they’d have soda water there but apparently not, so I chose the sugar-free option of CCZ. It has been several years since I’ve had a carbonated beverage so my sinus cavities were a bit frightened by the bubbles but it did indeed taste like the Coke I remember from days of yore. I can’t imagine how people drink this stuff regularly. I managed to finish the half-cup I filled and only as an attempt to wash away the salt coating my tongue, throat and everything else inside my body.
On a scale of 1 to 5 Twinkies, I rate the McChicken Meal 4.5 Twinkies. The Twinkie scale works in reverse, so more Twinkies is worse.
When I changed my diet back in June 2008 I pretty much swore off sugar-filled snacks and since then have rarely indulged (the occasional strawberry cheesecake mini-Blizzard for example — mmm!) and when I do it’s usually with something unsexy like an apple or one of those Lindt 99% cocoa bars which, to the average person, tastes a lot like chalk with a vague notion of what they imagine to be chocolate added in somewhere.
My current workplace has a Starbucks on the ground floor of the tower. This is not surprising, as there will likely be a Starbucks in every building in every major city at some point. They have an oat fudge bar and from days of yore I remembered it as being quite yummy. When I espied several sitting on a plate in the glass display case, I felt a nostalgic yearning and ultimately caved in to the urge, buying one for the low price of $1.95 (HST not included).
I’m pretty sure the bar contained enough sugar to keep me on a sugar-filled bender for the rest of my shift, the evening and part of my shift the following day. To say the bar was sweet would be akin to noting that Jupiter is a big planet in comparison to Mercury. It was so sweet that it went from yummy straight over into gross. My nostalgic craving was cured, forever.
As I write this I am eating fat-free cottage cheese. Times — and taste buds — change.
A little over a week ago I went to open a can of beans to enjoy with my dinner. Beans are full of protein and yummy and strangely do not give me gas. Opening a can for dinner is about as mundane an event as you can get.
But not this time.
My can opener, which is a fairly good one, seems to have been getting a bit dull lately, talking about soap operas and going on about the weather. Worst, though, it was also not as sharp as it once was. This meant that sometimes after a full rotation around the lid it would not have pierced through the metal, requiring me to go ’round a second time. Not a big deal, it’s not like I’m going to blow a muscle doing it twice.
However, one of the side effects of the repeat at opening is the lid will sometimes have strands peel off. Since these are very thin and metal, they are most comparable to piano wire.
You may see where this is going.
After cutting the lid a second time, I lifted the can opener slightly while it was still gripping the lid. The lid pulled up, indicating all was well. I then released the opener and put it aside on the counter. I carefully pulled the lid off as always but this time I failed to notice the metal strand. This was a very generous strand, kind of like a King Strand or something, but still so thin as to be almost invisible. I rammed my thumb into it.
As the pain registered, I jerked the thumb back, momentarily puzzled because I still could not see what I had cut myself on. The thumb did not care, as it bled in copious amounts from a small but deep wound on the tip. I jammed it into my mouth to suck away the excess blood. Not wishing to sparkle and become otherwise vampiric, I took the thumb out of my mouth, at which point it continued to bleed with great vigor. I tried staunching it with a paper towel. My plan was to get the bleeding to settle down then apply a bandage. The paper towel quickly soaked and was generally not effective. The cut had formed a line that went around in a 3/4 circle. Had it completed the circle that fleshy little bit of my thumb would have been on the counter, in the can of beans or somewhere other than on my thumb where it belonged.
As I dabbed with the paper towel I noticed the would formed a kind of flap that could be opened (gushing blood) or closed (gushing blood, but less so). I felt a bit queasy. I decided to put a bandage over the thumb and then wrap another around that one, sealing off the top of the digit like one might cover up a cursed tomb. A cursed tomb that would not stop bleeding.
The thumb was tingling but after a few minutes there was no blood seeping through, so I vowed to leave it for 24 hours before having a peek.
When I did look it wasn’t as bad as I had feared. I kept bandages on it for about a week and a half before finally removing them and I’m pretty sure there will be a small scar when the healing bit is done. I have my ‘wrestled a mako shark’ story ready to go.
And the can opener? The next time I used it it created another impossible-to-see strand that I jabbed my index finger on. This time it wasn’t enough to draw blood. I calmly walked the can opener over to the garbage can, its new and permanent home. I have a new one now. It’s called the Little Beaver. As long as it doesn’t bite me, I think we’ll get along.
Ahead of me in the “dammit, I’m having an actual cashier serve me instead of using one of those robot self-serve thingers” line at Price Smart Foods the other day was a guy who looked to be in his mid to late 30s. He was not in what one would call prime physical shape so it was perhaps no surprise that he was buying a package of cigarettes (“Du Maurier KING size!” he admonished the cashier who could not seem to find this particular brand and size). Another cashier came along and was able to find the cancer-causing source of addictive pleasure he sought. His total rang up to $19.39. “Just like when World War II ended!” he chortled.
Yes, just like it if you were writing an alternate history version of Earth, maybe, Mr. “Du Maurier KING size”! At least he knew the year had something to do with World War II, so there is that.
In other random news, it was reported that Vancouver received less than 1mm of rain in July. It normally gets around 40mm. It’s been a little dry.
In case I ever become a famous author, here is my grocery list from today for someone to put in hardcover to see if it really would sell. It also highlights how unexciting my diet is and why I managed to lose 40 pounds.
fat-free cottage cheese
3 hothouse tomatoes
1 head of green leaf lettuce
Grape Nuts cereal (a friend refers to it as ‘dirt and sawdust’)
Tomato and balsamic rice crackers (this is my ‘fun’ food)
Vitasoy unsweetened soy milk (for the dirt and sawdust above)
1 can 6-bean mix
2 tomato & basil boneless & skinless chicken breasts (I usually make my own marinade but got lazy today)
1 dozen large white eggs
I should note this is not an all-inclusive list since I walk to the store and have so far been unsuccessful in growing additional arms for carrying extra bags, but it’s a good overview of some of the staples I regularly pick up.
I am probably one of three people in North America to eat breakfast cereal with no processed sugar in it (zero in both the cereal and milk). I cheat a little by sprinkling a dozen fresh blueberries on top, though. Yum.
There are times when I use dried beans and others when I go for the can. The only thing I don’t like about dried beans is the long prep time (an hour or so), especially when it’s already quite warm inside. If I can (ho ho) I try to buy beans that are low sodium. Most stores offer this now.
The cottage cheese is my usual go-to snack for later in the evening. The veggies are for my turkey sandwiches, which are quite yummy, if I do say so. Eggs are for breakfast, obviously.
What’s missing from this list vs. one I would have made slightly more than two years ago: any processed food, sugary drinks and/or cookies.
One of the pieces of info you are typically asked to provide on a profile for a dating site is your height. I had measured my height long ago and recalled it as being slightly under 5′ 11″. Don’t ask me what that is in metric, it’s one of those things my head never wrapped around, probably because the closest equivalent to a foot in metric is the decimeter. Now think of how often you hear people talking about decimeters.
Today I whimsically decided to measure my height using the good ol’ ‘mark a line with a pencil on the door frame’ trick. It turns out I either mis-remembered or mis-measured, as it seems I am actually under 5′ 10″ — about 5′ 9¾” to be a bit more precise. I may have to start using metric instead. 177.8 cm kind of sounds impressive.
I am not sure how I feel about being a full inch shorter than I had always thought but I don’t think I like it. I feel slightly less manly now.
On June 12th I attended the Miss WESA competition at Celebrities. Being a drag show in a gay club you might imagine that there was loud dance music playing. You would be correct.
I have not been to a club of any sort in quite awhile so the experience left me a bit dazed, though I enjoyed the show. During the competition I was on the dance floor with several guys from the Vancity team. To our left several people would whistle every time someone came onto the stage or did something — anything, it seemed. Their whistles were of a high-pitched, squealing variety that would make dogs bark then go insane. I flinched every time. My left ear felt like it was being stabbed. I did not like this.
The next day my ears were ringing, which did not surprise nor even bother me. A few days passed, the ringing stopped and all was well. Or was it? Dun dun dun!
The answer is no, all was not well, alas. A week after the show I could hear a distinct ringing in the left ear that matched my heartbeat. It’s one of those sounds that once you hear it, once you notice it, it becomes very difficult to ignore. I tried and failed.
I went to the clinic and the doctor explained that the ear became irritated and fluid had built up. The artery near the eardrum was pulsing against the fluid, hence the ringing. He prescribed an aggressive steam treatment to clear the nasal passages and get it to ‘pop’. He recommended tea (I have tea!), hot showers (every day), a vaporizer (do not have) and maybe even a towel over the head with a steaming pot of water underneath (sure, why not?)
I tried all of these things except the vaporizer. Keeping your head under a towel while steam wafts into your face is not exactly an unpleasant experience but it is a rather damp one. I don’t recommend it.
Alas, after over a week of this I noticed no change and under doctor’s orders returned to the clinic for a reassessment. The second doctor said there was no fluid in the ear, so perhaps I misunderstood the first doctor. He theorized that there was inflammation or blockage in the nasal area and prescribed a nasal spray I am to use for a week. Two shots in each nostril twice a day. I started this treatment today and I offer two observations:
1. This better work!
2. Shooting a liquid up your nose is grossbuckets.
I’ve made a few updates to ye olde Photo Galleries, adding several to the School Photos section (not sure why some of the photos aren’t linking to each other, still sorting that out). I still marvel over what I thought was pretty stylin’ hair back in junior high and high school. In my defense, I can claim to have never worn bell bottom jeans. I think. I’ve also added some photos that were taken yesterday (June 29) by Denis in a gallery cleverly called June 29, 2010. The outdoor shots were taken in Nelson Park, safely away from the ‘all dogs poop here’ area.
The contrast between me in June 2010 and July 2008 (not quite a month after I totally changed my diet) is interesting, to say the least. Not only did I lose about 40 pounds, I also shed my full beard, got rid of my big-ass glasses and generally became a lot healthier.
Yesterday I was at a WESA softball game. Unlike most spring days, it was actually sunny and warm. Prior to game start I was offered some sunscreen. For some reason I was convinced I was impervious to the sun and declined the offer.
This is the result:
Yes, I am dumb but perhaps a smidgen more humble today than I was yesterday. I will now look for “Sunburning for Dummies” on Amazon.
