TL;DR is I wanted to make a salad with grilled chicken and this big involved thing just sorta happened on its own.
After a followup visit to the doc on Thursday I have decided that this lethargic, “I don’t give a damn about me” state has got to stop. I’ve added 8lbs in 3 months and my leg, four months after injuring it, is about where it should be one month into rehabbing it.
Combine that with it being summer and between having great fresh veggies in the garden and spectacular summer produce available in several nearby farmers markets, maybe, I thought, I should start eating like I want to stay alive for awhile. Further, I needed to take this long weekend as the kickoff to pounding the hell out of my leg. Which means healthful, anti-oxidant rich foods would probably be a good idea to help with recovery. I am, after all, old. I can use all the help I can get. I am also open to voodoo and incantations. ‘Cause the increase in walking and the sadistic stuff the physical therapist gave me (pretty sure she’s just pissed I've been blowing her off so she dreamt up stuff that does nothing but cause pain) is...ouch. Caya has taken on dual roles as Sous Chef and SVP-Physical Therapy. The latter role consists of going on walks with me and forcing me to pick up the pace (which hurts but the doc says I gotta start pushing it). The former role is essentially to guard the meat. She was very disappointed with how the food part of the weekend started. I did a couple of quinoa dishes yesterday to give me a big protein blast without the fat. There was no meat. Caya thinks cooking without meat is just dumb. Like taking a walk without peeing on things. I mean, who does that?