Truffles have started appearing in my desk. Raspberry ones, White Chocolate ones with Cocoa flakes embedded in them, a Snicker’s Ice Cream Bar… Okay, that one wasn’t in my desk, it was handed to me. I know who you are, James! Apparently my blog is popular with people that want to sabotage me and see me fail. Or maybe they just love me and want to give me nice things. But probably they just want to see me fail.
I only ate one truffle today (and to think a few weeks ago I would have eaten both and more!) and I am still well within my point limit. I even had some of the pear cobbler and peach cobblers I made for work. Lunch was good (Chicken and Veggie Shish Kabobs) but not enough. I am cooking salmon patties for supper tonight probably with something yummy, like Mac and Cheese.
Ok, well I cooked supper and I was to lazy to actually make Mac and Cheese out of a box, so I steamed fresh broccoli (0 points) and heated up a can of creamed corn (2 points). I still have about 2 points leftover. I can’t decide if I want a very small bowl of fruity pebbles (more like 5 bites) or Skinny Cow ice cream.
The salmon patties were really good. Generally, I turn my nose up at things called “patty”, but this time I was pleasantly surprised. Jordan said it was good. And if he actually comments on dinner, without being prompted “do you like it?”, then that’s sayin’ somethin’.
I was a little weirded out though by the appearance of canned salmon. I expected something tuna-like, but this was basically a fish without a head crammed in a can. There was gray slimy skin and a spine with “ribs” or whatever fish have. If I would have known about the bones and skin, I wouldn’t have dumped it out into the bowl with the rest of the ingredients. I ended up with bread crumbs and chopped parsley all over my hands, trying to dig out bones and scrape off skin. Ick. After seeing all that, I wasn’t too hopeful, but it got better. My patties actually stayed together and browned nicely. Supper was a success!
On another note, I wanted to mention that I overheard a lady telling another lady at work that my kid was “magazine model cute”. Jordan brings him to eat with me on Thursdays and she had seen him and was telling the other woman that she missed an adorable baby. She was right. My only talent has been making one gorgeous kid! But I had help. My husband’s a good looking dude.
And what is it with these “thug” guys that think I am into them? Actually, it’s probably not me, these guys seem to think all women are into them. I have to go and pick up supplies from Dietary (the” behind the scenes” cafeteria) a couple times a month at work. One day, one of the guys down there was out-of-the-way helpful for me so I wrote up a nice “comment card” thing we do at work on him. Apparently, he mistook that as me hitting on him. If that is the case, I have also hit on about 5 other people via our comment cards, women included.
Now when I go down there, he puts on this swagger walk and flirty smile and gives me a “how you doin’, girl?” Uh, no. I’m sure that may work on some girls, but I’m not really into big gold front teeth with things carved into them. He totally thinks he is a pimp, though. I try to mention my child or husband, but they are both hard topics to bring up when discussing coffee and lids.
Last week when I went down there, I felt like I was running a gauntlet. One guy opened the door for me, sort of; I followed him in but I guess that counts. He attempted at some “small talk” but it was saturated with cheesy grins and boob glances and some weird lip smacking/clicking sounds. I dunno. Another guy, whom I always assumed was gay, looked at my name tag (boobs) and said, “Ah, Wendy. Wendy…” but he did it with that odd chuckle and lisp that made me think he played for the oher team in the first place. I’m sorry, was that a line? What do you say to that? “Yup,” *nervous laugh*… “that’s… my… name.”
One more… I was picking up my kiddo from our friend (who keeps him some days) and saw this guy walking on the side of the road. He was limping so I felt sorry for him and took a longer look to see if I could tell if he had a broken foot or maybe a bad leg. I contemplating offering him a ride. No. No. That was his pimp walk. I know this because he caught me looking, across 5 lanes of traffic, and gave me one of those debonair head nods with a spectacular “finger point” and golden grin. I know exactly what he was thinking, “how you doin’, girl?”