Viva la Tinga!

Mexican food is delicious. I probably don't need to tell you this.

Just to be clear ... I'm not talking that Chi Chi's Fake Mexican via America/Tex Mex stuff like chimichangas, mind you. (While I like that, too, that's not the stuff to which I am referring.)

I'm talking real Mexican, made by Mexican Grandmas. The Abuelita I hold in highest esteem is my sister's mother-in-law, Margarita Nava. She's playing an important role in the Rose Bowl party we're having tomorrow. And I'm willing to bet she would be surprised to know that, considering she's probably totally unaware of what the Rose Bowl is.

So, we're mixing a little American and Mexican in a taco bar/buffet. Serve-yourself-easy and make-your-own-delicious. Choose your meat, choose your fixings, choose your delivery vehicle (corn tortilla, flour tortilla, whole wheat tortilla, baked chips, regular chips, tostadas ... you get the idea) and chow down.

To go with the standard Tex-Mex ground beef with taco seasoning and shredded orange cheese, I've also got a secrete weapon that's lean and flavorful and makes my mouth water.

The Nava's Tinga!!!!!!!! (Abuelita's recipe as told to Juan Carlos.)

Tinga
2-4 chicken breasts on the bone
1 white onion, sliced
1 can chipotle in adobo
2 Roma tomatoes, chopped
Salt and pepper

Put chicken breasts in soup pot, cover with water, add sliced onions, salt and pepper and bring to boil, reduce to simmer. Cook chicken until done; save cooking liquid. Pick chicken off bone and return meat to big skillet or soup pot with onions. In a blender, puree one or two chipotle peppers with a spoonful or two of the sauce. To chicken, add enough of the cooking liquid to make it a little wet. Add the chipotle puree a little at a time, tasting as you go. NOTE: The chipotle is HOT. Start slow and increase to your taste, making it as spicy as you like it. Add chopped tomato and salt and pepper to taste. The longer it stews, the better it tastes.

(I often make this with boneless, skinless breasts. I just substitute a can of chicken stock for the juice. If I don't have a tomato on hand, I will use a can of diced fire-roasted tomatoes.)

Traditional way to serve: In the Mexican section of the grocery store, buy a package of tostadas. (Fried corn tortilla ... like a big Tostitos chip). Spread a little crema (Mexican sour cream) on the tostada. Then add the tinga. Sprinkle with queso fresco (Mexican crumbly white cheese like a mild Feta), diced white onion and chopped cilantro. Squeeze some lime on the top if you want to be crazy. But of course it's good in taco salad, in a whole wheat tortilla burrito, on my left arm, from a shoe, etc.

Turn It Up!

I have this week off from work. Which means I have plenty of time in the morning to get my workout completed.

But I'm starting to get bored with my routine: Roll out of bed, run a brush through my Medusa locks, slide on a headband, pull on some workout clothes, pee the dog, hit the stairs for the basement, stretch, and walk ... for three, four or five miles at a 3.9 mph pace.

Yawn. Same thing, day in, day out.

So yesterday, it occured to me I could do something different.

I wanted to run. I REALLY wanted to run. I even did for about 10 steps. And then I got freaked out and stopped. While my knee is feeling much better, it still doesn't work properly. (You would have laughed had you seen me stutter-stepping in the front of church on Christmas Eve as I tried to figure out how to kneel for communion. Kneeling isn't one of my best skills since "the incident." Jim occasionally catches me doing butt lifts on the floor in the bedroom and the maneuver I use to get back on my feet cracks him right up.)

So in spite of my desire to run, I thought it best to not ... better to walk for 10 more years than to run and risk blowing my knee up the rest of the way and be sidelined again, right?

So I just turned up the speed. Not a lot. Went up to 4.2 and did it for a half mile. (I'm also on a 3 incline, BTW.)

Then I slowed down and walked at regular pace for a quarter mile. And fired it back up to 4.2 again.

I forgot how much fun it was to do the intervals. Up and down. Up and down. Challenging myself to go farther faster. I sweat more. The scale showed positive results. And my brain was entertained.

Duh. Not sure why this didn't occur to me last week. I'm already looking forward to tomorrow. I hit 4.3 for a half-mile today and didn't fall on my butt. Maybe I can do 4.4?

Unexpected Benefit of Being Thinner #4

It's much easier to buckle your seat belt.

I no longer have to scootch my butt over in my seat to find the receiver end.

Size Doesn't Matter

I spent part of my day today trying on dresses and swimming suits. The idea was to 1) get some extra walking in and 2) sort of get started on vaca planning.

Here's what I learned:

It doesn't matter what size you are, you still look like hell in a fitting room mirror when trying on swimming suits.

I'm not sure what I was thinking, but I really believed trying on swimming suits would be FUN this year. Boy, was I wrong.

All I could see was the stuff I didn't like. Blobs of skin here. Lumps and bumps there. Sure, the blobs and lumps and bumps were DIFFERENT from the ones that were there last year. But they were still all I could see.

How irritating. And what a number that blasted reflection can do on your head.

Really? I worked so hard for so long and I still look this bad? What will it take to get where I like what I see? If I feel the same now as I did a year ago, what was the whole point? How do I get my head to catch up with my body?

But I learned something, too. There is no such thing as perfect. If I felt this way before and I feel this way now, 80 pounds later, I'm guessing most women feel the same way about their own bodies, no matter how big or small.

You are not alone.

Talkin' Turkey

New recipe for ground turkey. And it's good! But you have to start the night before.

Turkey Chili
1 pkg. ground turkey, browned with some onions
1 packet of TexMex Chili seasoning mix
2 cups dry mixed beans
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp chili powder
2 Tbsp dry onion flakes
2 cans fire roasted diced tomatoes
Salt and pepper to taste

Day before you want to eat it: Place 2 cups of dried beans and 8 cups of water in a mixing bowl. Let them soak over night. In the morning, drain off soaking water and place beans, 6 cups water and cumin, chili powder, onion flakes and some salt/pepper in the crock pot. Set on low and let the beans cook all day.

When you get home from work, drain water from cooked beans and brown off the turkey with some chopped onion. Mix the packet of dry seasoning with the turkey. Add turkey to beans and dump in two cans of tomatoes into crockpot (or mix the whole thing in a kettle on the stovetop). Heath through. Adjust seasoning to taste.

And if you don't want to go to all the trouble of the dry beans, use canned beans! Just drain/rinse off all the salty liquid first. You could also add a can of corn. Or some jalapenos. Serve with nice wheat rolls. (Though cornbread would be good, too, just not as good for you.) And a little light sour cream and sprinkle of reduced fat cheese.

Bad News, Good News, Bad News

Bad News: Stepped on the scale this morning before working out and I had "gained" yet another pound ... making the holiday 3-day total (sing it with me like Golden Rings) "FIVE Extra Pounds."

Good News: After pushing through a truly punishing five miles on the treadmill with a tight chest and barking cough, I weighed in again and was back down to only two pounds over last week's total. You and I both know I have some issues with my scale going on here and water weight, but the numbers affect how I feel about myself, so they're important. I can live with a two pound swing.

Bad News: Home computer has been invaded by viruses and other bad things. Not sure what to do about that. Posts might be more sporadic until I get it fixed.

Oh, Sugar.

Sugar wasn't the word I really wanted to use there. The one I wanted starts with an SH sound, but is shorter, ruder and much more forceful. You get the idea.

I wasn't going to post today. It's Christmas. You have other things to do and so do I. But I thought this might be helpful.

I didn't work out this morning. Still feeling like crap, and it's Christmas. I also ate like a raving lunatic yesterday: ham, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, raw shrimp, buckets of Chex mix, an Xmas cookie, three glasses of wine, four or five cans of diet soda, cheese, those delicious ham/cream cheese/pickle roll-ups ... and that was AFTER church. Again, you get the idea.

So out of curiosity and fear, I stepped on the scale this morning after telling myself I wouldn't.

I "gained" four pounds.

Since yesterday morning.

Now, I know I ate a lot. But I didn't consume four pounds of food in total, let alone create four pounds of flesh from that food since yesterday.

I know the number is a reflection of the salty foods helping me hold onto some water. I know the number is surely linked to the sheer number of carbs I consumed (they seem to affect me worse than eating lots of other food groups). I know the number is absolutely a reflection of eating too much or out of the ordinary the day before and yesterday.

No matter what I attribute it to, the number was still shocking, disheartening and a little scary.

That little bit of fear creeps up in my chest and my head starts racing ... is this it? Is it all over? Have I wrecked it all and in two weeks I'll be back in those size 20 jeans?

So I start talking to myself. And to Jim. This is OK. I didn't gain four pounds in a day any more than I can lose four pounds in a day. It's a marathon, not a race. I'm going to go up and down a little. It's Christmas and my jeans still fit. I can do better today and tomorrow and will probably have to button down a little.

I CAN button down. And will. This will be OK because I'm tough and determined and I haven't come all this way to give up now. I've worked out every day for the past month so that I can take today off.

And take today off I will. Because today is Mexican food at Karla's and I'm going to enjoy it.

In moderation, of course.

Merry Christmas ...

Wishing you and yours a warm, wonderful and wish-come-true Christmas. Eat a cookie or two and don't worry. We'll all get back on the horse in a day or so.

Fighting Through

I really felt like crap last night when I went to bed. I was firmly convinced I'd wake up this morning feeling the same and it would be a great reason to not work out.

Woke up. Just laid there. Hoping, I think, for some major coughing or nausea.

Nothing.

Yeah, my throat still hurts. I'm coughing a tiny bit. My nose is still running a little. My chest feels a little tight. But nothing too serious.

So I put my workout gear on and went downstairs to hop on my treadmill. I walked extra ... five total miles ... because I knew that I was going out for lunch and drinks today. I even added a few punch-while-I-walk moves to pick up my heart rate and did four bench press sets of 12 reps.

I still don't feel great. But I feel great knowing I'm not letting the holidays or a cold get in the way of my goal.

Feed a Cold AND a Fever?

I think I'm coming down with something. My throat is sore, my head is fuzzy, my nose is running.

And I'm starving.

Why is it that I never get the kind of sick that takes away your appetite?

Jim's been coughing and hacking for more than a week. I knew it was just a matter of time. But I was hoping my new "healthy attitude" would protect me from those little bugs.

Guess not.

So I'm going to eat a grapefruit in an effort to ward off any additional little bugs that are thinking of taking up residence.

Dedication

On my way to work some mornings, I drive past a man walking on the side of the road toward the little town I live near.

Now, when I say little town, I mean little town. There is one church, two bars, a post office, an automotive repair shop, a general store and a coffee house. All on one street.

The man is older, around 60, I'd guess. Gray hair, heavy-rimmed glasses, big gray mustache and overall disheveled look. When it's cold, he wears one of those pouffy parkas with a fur-trimmed hood.

He walks against traffic, heading into town, and always nods at me as I drive by. I always nod back.

The first few times I saw him, I was impressed with his gumption. He's really committed to this walking thing, I thought. Good for him.

And then I noticed ... he usually walks with a lit cigarette.

Now THAT'S dedication.

So now the story I've built for him goes like this: He has had some sort of heart trouble. His doctor has told him to get more exercise. So every morning, he gets his shoes on, shouts at his wife that he's going for his walk and heads out the door. She doesn't know he sneaks a cigarette on the way. He walks to the bar on the far end of town and stops in for the shake of the day and one light beer. (This is Wisconsin. Bars are open before 8 a.m. and he won't be the only guy in there debating whether it tastes great or is less filling.) When he's done, he pushes his empty can and glass toward the bartender, slowly gets up off his bar stool and mumbles a friendly, "See you tomorrow," before making the trip back home.

He's happy. She's happy. The doctor is happy.

I'm happy, too.

Fa La La La Landmines

Boy, it's hard to eat right this time of year.

Between team celebrations at work, holiday dinner out with neighbors, family events, the countless piles of cookies and chocolate that pop up everywhere ... ugh.

I know I don't HAVE to munch on the chocolate covered strawberries that arrive on my desk. I am fully aware that the pizza restaurant HAS salad. I am capable of simply making that damn caramel Chex mix and giving it away WITHOUT eating any of it.

But it sucks you in. Just a bite. Just a taste. Just one.

Some days it feels like a hopeless battle. And, honestly, some days it is.

Fight back! Play defense. Here are a few ways I do:

When I took one work team out for holiday breakfast, I chose IHop because I know they have egg beaters and turkey bacon. When I took another team out for lunch, I chose Panara Bread because they offer all-veg options and show the calorie count on the posted menu. At last Saturday's pizza buffet restaurant, I ate two pieces of pizza (and enjoyed every bite!), but loaded up on the salad first so I didn't stuff five pieces in my face as my belly filled up.

And I upped my walking. Just a little, but enough to make me feel like I was controlling the playing field a bit.

Every little bit helps. Small decisions add up. You have to be practical and know you probably aren't going to be perfect. But you can do a pretty good job if you plan a little on the front end.

Now, if someone would just come get this blessed Chex mix off my counter ...

Unexpected Downside of Being Thinner #3

I have no idea what size underwear to buy.

The old ones fit like too-big granny panties. But it's not like you can try the new ones on before purchasing.

And at JCP, buying one pair at a time gets pricy because they tend to sell the types I think I like as 3-for-$24 or whatever ... with the single pair at $12.50 or something ridiculous.

Today's new pair not so smurfy. (TMI?)

Sign from God?

OK, so I spent ALL morning in church today. Attended an 8:15 a.m. service to hear my cousin's daughter sing in a cantata. Drove to Fort to see the back-to-back performances of the K-second grade and third-fifth grade Christmas programs at my home church.

The music at the first was truly beautiful. The kids at the second two were darling. (I especially loved the handsome third grader wearing the crooked donkey ears.)

The rest of my afternoon was dedicated to working out and making caramel chex mix to give away as a gift. Not necessarily in that order.

I started with the chex mix.

And I ate some cereal. I ate some pistachios. I ate some pretzels. Then I started making the chex mix. And I ate some more as I was melting, mixing, baking.

I was eating too much. Much too much.

And then ...

... I bit my lip.

Hard. Drew blood. It swelled up.

Yes, God. I get it. Stop eating already. Time to work out.

Crazy!

Today, an 8.

Sometimes retail therapy is better than looking at the scale. Crazy.