Frozen mixed berries, frozen cherries, frozen strawberries, pineapple juice, and–a key ingredient–Trader Joe’s sparkling limeade.
Why I have so many frozen berries randomly stashed in my freezer is a mystery even to me.
As a refresher, the program focuses on four main lifts–military press, deadlift, bench press, and squat–one per day. Add assistance exercises around those to complete the workout.
I’ve had to make some interesting adaptations over the month. I have no bench and no squat rack, so those are the two exercises I’ve had to be the most careful with. I hunted for a way to avoid learning how to do a power clean in order to do the squat, but I haven’t found a good way around it. And really, it’s not that bad (scary picture aside), although I still worry when the weights come off my chest a bit in the process of doing a front squat. I think my elbows aren’t high enough, resulting in a lower and less stable bar.
I’ve done my first two workouts (bench and leg press) of the 5/3/1 program, and wow.
I included lat pulldowns and rows as the assisting exercises in the bench workout. Mmm, balance. Wonderfully, my shoulder gave me no guff at all, even in the ensuing soreness.
(And oh, the delicious soreness.)
I think this might be a serious way for me to finish rehabilitating my shoulder. I’ve been stalling for weeks with all the light-weight, high-rep rehab exercises, and the pain levels were staying the same. I iced heavily after the bench workout, and suffered no bone spur-specific pain in the following days.
(Ah, ah, ah.)
One was just me and Greg, at home, with a beautiful and delicious bird, greens, mashed potatoes, and wine. Quiet and intimate, and strangely, not nearly the most complicated or stressful meal we’ve made even in the last week.
House of cooks, y’all.
My second was with Meg and my new friend (and fellow running masochist) D., both of whom are gluten intolerant/allergic/unhappy. It was a potluck (so they undoubtedly got glutened by someone, alas), complete with (more) turkey, mashed potatoes (one style with horseradish–really good!), millet dressing, apple crisp, deviled eggs, and my well-received glazed carrots.
Well, the recipe is from a cookbook of Greg’s, but it was my idea to make them.
For many years, I was utterly confused when I ate other people’s deviled eggs. Why weren’t they sweet? What’s this weird paprika stuff?
Then I learned the secret to my mother’s deviled eggs: Miracle Whip.
Turn up your nose, cringe, flail at your love handles, whatever. The creepy creamy crack is the secret. People who would otherwise look at me like I’ve grown a second head have gobbled these things up. (That was before I knew of their loathing for Miracle Whip–I try not to serve people food that contains things they have moral objections to.)
Now, my mother isn’t a measuring cook, per se (which is fine, because we didn’t do a lot of baking), but here’s a rough recipe for the tastiest deviled eggs I’ve ever had: