Day Two--Laying Aside Perfection

I woke today with one overwhelming sensation: pain. Pain in my arms and back and abs. As Tony Horton would say, "I hate it, but I love it." I love having physical evidence that my workout was not in vain, and as a typical American, I want it now. So, undaunted and strangely proud, I struggled to a sitting position, got to my feet, and immediately went downstairs to try out the new toys that Steve and I brought home last night.

I would love to pretend that every experiment in the kitchen turns out perfectly and ready for the cover of Bon Appetit, and it kills me to admit that nothing could be further from the truth. I learned a bad lesson at an early age, that it's worse to fail than to bravely try and learn from the failure. I'm attempting now to reteach myself a few things, firstly to be frank about my failures, pick myself up, and do better next time. I had one of those moments this morning while cooking breakfast. It's always the simplest tasks that go awry. I thought I would try out the new, pristine, nonstick skillet by cooking egg whites with no cooking spray. Bad idea. Unfortunately, Steve's portion of egg whites developed an unsavory brown crust on the bottom. He, being the very good, very decent man that he is, would not let me cook him new egg whites but chose to eat the crusty eggs with gusto. On my second attempt, my smaller portion of egg whites, cooking spray worked magic. The egg whites went from translucent to opaque in no time flat, received their portion of salt and pepper, and were folded and placed to rest on an english muffin with half a slice of cheese and a veggie sausage patty. I'm happy to report that, since this morning, the world has not ended because I did not make perfect egg whites. Nor has it ended because I discovered that mint and cilantro do not care to be treated like flowers in a glass and are now wrapped in paper towels in the refrigerator, slightly worse for the wear.

The best part about breakfast involves my new favorite gadget, the Aerolatte. In about ten seconds, I had a skim milk latte (vanilla-flavored coffee, two packets of Splenda) that rivaled any skinny latte I've paid five dollars for. It's sleek, silver, and unassuming. I think I'm in love.

Our daily workout was close on the heels of breakfast. Today's adventure: Plyometrics. Steve likes to pretend that it's called Polymetrics. We each use our own pronunciation when we talk about it, which makes me giggle profusely. Plyo, poly, it doesn't matter; it sucks. And when I say it sucks I mean that after one hour my legs are jelly, and I'm drenched in sweat. It's actually pretty awesome. Like with my egg whites, I have to tell myself that it's okay if I'm not perfect. Even if I can't do everything, I'm still doing something really good for me, right?

Lunch and dinner were both brilliant successes. The best part? They were both extremely simple to make.

Lunch consisted of a salad of greens, sliced grape tomatoes (I don't care for ginormous chunks of tomato in salad), cucumber, very thinly sliced red onion, roughly chopped kalamata olives, and nonfat feta cheese tossed in my homemade red wine vinaigrette. A little dijon mustard, a little red wine vinegar, olive oil, oregano, salt, and pepper, and you've got yourself salad dressing. This was topped with homemade Greek chicken salad. Did you know that you can make chicken salad with plain nonfat Greek yogurt? Because I didn't know that until today. No mayo, no sour cream, just yogurt. Add a little mustard, oregano, salt, pepper, and garlic water (which just means the water from my jar of minced garlic)...voila! On this week's episode of Hell's Kitchen, the contestants' food was evaluated based on how much the judges would pay to order it off of a menu. Steve said he would pay $15 for that salad.

Dinner was so simple that I hesitate to tell you what it was, but then why would I be writing at all? Okay, here it is. I'm calling it an open-faced soft taco. We can only have half a carb at dinner because we have the other half at breakfast, which means one 100-calorie fajita-sized tortilla each. This woman refuses to eat only one small soft taco and declare dinner over. The solution? I warmed them in the oven wrapped in tin foil. (You are warming your tortillas, right? Because if you're not, then you're really cheating yourself of fluffy tortilla goodness.) Then I quartered them and piled all of the usual suspects on top. Lean ground beef (the other half of the package I bought for yesterday's lunch) seasoned with the familiar yellow packet, lettuce, tomato, a touch of shredded sharp cheddar, and jalapeno slices. What really made this meal special were the sliced avocado and the sprinkle of fresh cilantro. I used the tortilla like naan (mmmm...Indian food...) and had a little party at the table, interrupted only by my own frequent exclamations of happiness.

Before dinner we ran a couple of errands. Rather than throwing on my Braves cap, I made a concerted effort to look presentable. Jeans (it's unseasonably cool today), a little top, and minimal makeup. I opened the jewelry drawer for my diamond studs, the ones that I wear for everyday when I remember to wear earrings at all. Heeding my own advice from yesterday, I opted instead for dangly earrings. Maybe no one will notice, but I like the way I can feel them move when I turn my head and the little flashes of color that peek through my hair. Just a smidge of beauty during a very ordinary round of errands.

My favorite part about today, though, is that I moved my desk into the kitchen. Every time I watch The Family Stone, I marvel at Sybil's desk. Feet from the coffee pot, covered in God knows what creative blurbs, with a view of my favorite room in the house. Today, I made it happen. I share mine with the produce bowls, and the desk is actually a very small table with two stools that Steve bought years ago. But as I sit here, sipping the last of my second glass of wine, I love my new workspace. The space and this moment create pleasant waves in my belly, identical to the feeling I get when I first feel fall in the air. Fall is my favorite season.

I'm off now to make frozen yogurt. I'm mesmerized by the hypnotic whir of the ice cream maker and smitten with the half inch layer around the edge that's too frozen to scoop out when the rest of the concoction is ready. I sneak into the kitchen later when no one's looking and eat that layer when it's melted to just the right consistency.

But first, today's lessons (sit up straight, adjust glasses on nose, and take note):

1. A good nonstick skillet is worth its weight in gold (especially when cooking spray is needed and used).
2. Coffee tastes better with foam on top.
3. The kitchen looks even more spectacular from behind a laptop that sits beside a stack of cookbooks.

And most importantly:

4. I will never be and do not have to be perfect.