For the Love of Bert

Dillypoo is in love with another man.

Shocking, I know, but before you feel badly for The Professor, know that the object of my affection is Bert Keeler on this season's Project Runway:

Foul-mouthed, confrontational, curmudgeonly Bert. He reminds me of Kreacher, shuffling through the Black family home, ignoring orders and cursing at people under his breath.

(If you didn't follow that last sentence then you really should read the Harry Potter books!)

Maybe it's the perpetual smirk, mischievous twinkle or the way he mutters insults like "self-centered prick," but Bert makes me giggle every week. Constantly bemused by the ridiculous assignments, his strategy seems brilliant to me: keep his competitors unnerved with insults and confrontation while producing passable work to stay safe until the serious challenges eventually materialize.

A recovering alcoholic, he's evidently an industry veteran and my guess is he can out-design the others with his eyes closed. By keeping an aloof and antagonistic demeanor, though, nobody sees him as a threat. Which may be their mistake. He won the first challenge, the only one yet with the creative freedom to design whatever they wanted without a stupid twist.

And by not making allegiances with any of the other designers, his universal rudeness makes him the one everyone loves to hate.

Except I think I love him just the way he is, potty mouth and all.

I can't wait to see what trouble he gets into next week!

(And if you didn't understand this post, then you really should watch Project Runway!)

Toothy Problem

Dillypoo visited the happy mask of gas again yesterday:

During my regularly scheduled tooth cleaning last Tuesday, I learned I had two cavities. WTH? I thought tooth decay was something I left behind when I was 12, along with the Bay City Rollers, short jeans and floppy hats.

I mean, why brush and floss twice a day if I'm still cavity prone?

Maybe that chocolate frog I ate the previous week wasn't such a hot idea after all. What? I forgot to mention the chocolate frog? Well, it was just as delish as the first one and yes I counted the points. And I got a cavity.

I'm sure the two are related somehow. Maybe I can blame Jo Rowling for my rotting teeth.

So yesterday I went back to Dr. Dentist to help him make another car payment. In exchange, he filled my cavities and I got stoned for 30 minutes.

I love nitrous oxide!

But it's twisted sister, Novocain, is a nasty bit of work. I spent the next four hours trying to drink coffee without dribbling it down my chin and thinking snot was running down my face because I couldn't feel my nostrils. I had enough sensation back by lunchtime to brave eating some fruit and a few chicken nuggets, but I still worried I was chewing my tongue.

Thankfully, all was back to normal by the end of the day. Or at least it was until I popped a piece of gum in my mouth.

Holy carp, but one chomp on that minty chew nearly shot me through the ceiling. Pain! Horrible, shooting pain! In my mouth!

What did Dr. Demento Dentist do to me? How would I get through the weekend without eating? Would The Professor still love me if I couldn't share a cheeseburger outing with him?

I called and left a pitiful message on Dr. Dentist's answering machine, but at 5:30 on a Friday, I had little hope of hearing from him. I briefly considered calling his cell phone but decided my inability to eat burgers might not constitute a dental emergency.

But I wrote down the number just in case I changed my mind.

24 hours later and my tooth is better but still sore. I was able to carefully eat a cheeseburger with The Professor but there's still a dull ache in my jaw and the tooth occasionally fires off daggers of pain if I'm not careful.

I'm thinking this isn't normal for a routine cavity fill. I'll be calling the Doc again Monday morning to see if he needs another car payment made.

And if he has a travel size canister of happy gas.

Burger Madness

Dillypoo's Law: If you post something on a blog, you're sure to contradict yourself soon after.

The Professor wanted to eat at In-N-Out Burger last night. I did not run yesterday and I did not earn 10 activity points, but I agreed anyway.

So much for rules.

In-N-Out opened it's first location in Fort Worth last week to much fanfare. The lines have been stoopid long (like cars-wrapped-around-the-block long) with cops directing traffic to side streets and throngs of people lining the sidewalks outside. That's a lot of excitement for burgers and fries.

Hoping the crowds and hoopla were finally diminishing, we drove right past the traffic cop, slipped into the parking lot and made our way to an open register. As soon as we finished placing our order, we turned around to face a line of people that went out the door.

Timing is everything.

I remember In-N-Out burgers from my Los Angeles college days. They were good, especially the french fries. But it's been years since I've eaten one and I wasn't sure if the hype surrounding their arrival in North Texas would live up to my memories or any of the local cheeseburgers The Professor and I have been sampling all summer.

It didn't. It was a good burger, but in a fast-food, drive up window way. It's better than McDonald's, Jack-in-the-Box and Wendy's, but definitely can't compare to the local favorites at Kincaid's, Tommy's or the Patty Shack. Or my current favorite, Five Guys.

The French fries, however, were awesome.

Afterwards, I went for a two-mile walk and polished off half a melon sitting in the fridge.

Overdue Weigh Day Update

Dillypoo is losing weight again.

Today was Weigh Day and I am 4.4 pounds under my goal weight. I weigh 143.6 pounds. That's 59 pounds less than when I started this journey almost three years ago.

Just how low can Dillypoo go?

Wow!

Some observations now that I'm "on the other side..."

I get cold easily, even during a summer heat wave. I think it's because I'm not only thinner, but I'm wearing less. When I was heavier, I wore jeans every day and I layered tank tops under cotton blouses to camouflage my bulk. Now I wear little sundresses. Every. Day. Sundresses are awesome when you're outdoors but don't offer much comfort in air conditioned offices. I wear a lot of sweaters with my sundresses.

I eat like a horse. Or at least The Professor says I do. I attribute my new appetite to running. I'm still following the Weight Watchers Points Plus system and track daily, but I've finally figured out how to eat like an athlete and stay within the Club WW guidelines for healthy eating. That means I eat a good breakfast every morning (something I never did) and plan for splurges, like cheeseburgers.

Whole grain cereal with yogurt and a sliced banana. It's what's for breakfast.

The Professor and I have been scouring the city for the best cheeseburger this summer, but I only eat them on days I've earned more than 10 activity points and only if I eat more than five servings of fruits and vegetables the rest of the day.

My body rebels if I skip a work out. I've been so focused on running the past few weeks that I've neglected my cross-training with weights and core exercises. I've noticed I have less energy for long runs and my legs tire quickly. My back is also starting to hurt again. So Dillypoo is re-arranging her exercise schedule (again) to balance out the running and strength training.

And lastly, I don't obsess about food like I used to. I mean, I still think about food a lot, but in a healthier way. Instead of dreaming about crappy fast food or candy bars, I focus on things like the rising cost of fresh cherries and how they won't be available much longer (something that saddens Dillypoo greatly).

And now I'm going to tell you a secret. Dillypoo has a new goal. A new weight loss goal.

I want to get my weight under 140 pounds.

I'm not setting a timeline to do it, and I'm not sure I'll be able to maintain it if I do, but I think I can get there if I continue running and make healthy eating choices.

As always, I'll keep you posted on my progress!

Dashboard S'mores

I just had to share!

And a friend sent me this photo of her son in a s'more comatose yesterday afternoon:

He said it was the best thing ever! I think I love that kid.

National S'mores Day

Kismet. The cosmos were perfectly aligned for Dillypoo's Dashboard Diner today. I’d already planned to make s’mores in the car this week when I discovered today is National S’mores Day!

A whole holiday dedicated to the gooey, yummy goodness that is a toasted marshmallow, melted chocolate and graham cracker sandwich. In other words, heaven.

I made traditional s’mores with honey graham crackers and gourmet s’mores with cinnamon graham crackers:

The cinnamon were my favorite. I ate two. Dillyoo's inner-child wanted a third but I ignored her. Which was difficult. They were yummy!

My co-workers customers also showed enthusiasm for today’s menu. Much more than they did for the eggs and cornbread. (I prefer not to discuss Monday's frittata other than to say it did not frittat.)

Next up, some kind of fondue. The chocolate and marshmallows inspired me to explore more dashboard desserts.

Can you say caramel sauce?

Sunday Funday

I decided to let The Professor live after he faked his death Sunday morning, but only after attempting to kill him by insisting we go to the zoo that afternoon. I figured a few hours walking around in the blazing Texas heat would be a good reminder that his mortality rests in my hands.

Dillypoo: “Let’s go to the zoo today!”

The Professor: “You’re kidding, right?”

Dillypoo: “No! It’ll be fun! It’s been ages since we went to the zoo.”

This is true. The last time we went was two years ago on another ridiculously hot day, and we both almost passed out. But that was 50 pounds ago. I figured the slimmer Dillypoo could handle it now.

The Professor: “It’s too hot.”

Dillypoo: “Nah, it’ll be cool in the ape house and herpetarium. And we can see the penguins! You like the penguins.”

I may have also mentioned ice cream.

The Professor: “Hmmmm…OK.”

I lathered on the sunscreen, threw on a pair of white shorts, tank top and cap. The Professor looked fashionably warm in denim shorts, gray t-shirt and sandals with socks.

I suggested we leave the car at home since we live a brisk 15-minute walk away and zoo parking costs five bucks, but he insisted on driving. I worried he was wise to my plan, but didn’t push the issue. It would, after all, be a hot 15-minute walk home when we were done.

We arrived at the zoo soon after it opened. The temperature was a cool 95 degrees, which I knew wouldn’t last long. His punishment would become apparent as soon as we reached the elephants and the thermometer pushed past 100.

Unfortunately, we had too much fun for my plan to be an effective deterrent to future shenanigans.

We got to the zoo at feeding time and had a great time watching animals romp around instead of napping in shady corners. We caught an elephant dancing and monkeys having a chat:

We watched birds of prey snack on, well, prey, and bats chase down bugs. I made eye contact with some snakes:

And a crocodile swam up to check out our ice cream cones:

We even fed a few hundred parakeets:

After grabbing lunch (and ice cream), we made our way to the exit three hours after arriving, neither of us showing signs of heat stroke.

And I decided to forgive The Professor for scaring the crap out of me that morning. Because he is my favorite professor, socks, sandals and all.

Resting Peacefully

Death decided to give me another scare this morning. I’m not really sure why he’s messing with me, but I’m getting tired of his jokes.

This morning I awoke early and found The Professor curled in the same fetal position he’d fallen asleep in several hours earlier. My sleep fugged brain thought this a bit odd. The Professor usually travels around the bed at night, hugging a pillow that gets shoved in my face every time he rolls my way.

As I lay there staring at The Professor’s back, I realized I couldn’t detect the steady rise-and-fall rhythm of slumbered breathing.

Of course, Dillypoo is blind as a bat without glasses, but if I could make out freckles then surely I could see his chest move up and down.

His back was disturbingly still.

I rose up on one arm, leaned over and peeked at his sleeping face. He looked peaceful. I put my ear close but heard nothing. I laid back down, reached over and rested my hand gently on his back. It was cold. 

I started to freak out a bit. One of my worst fears is waking up beside a dead Professor. Had he stopped breathing sometime in the night? How long had I been sleeping next to his corpse?

Because he couldn’t possibly be cold in a house that hasn’t dipped below 80 degrees since June, even if the air conditioner is directly above him.

As I lay there trying to decide how much to panic, he exhaled.

As it turns out, The Professor awoke about the same time I did and realized I was checking to see if he was alive.

So the S.O.B. decided to hold his breath.

Next time I think he’s dead, I’m going to give him a good whack to check. And if he’s just playing possum, I’ll kill him.

Dillypoo's Dashboard Diner

Mother Nature came to Dillypoo in a dream last night and encouraged me to open a tiny diner on wheels. She suggested a few menu items and promised (threatened?) not to send cooler weather this way for at least another week.

That bitch can be persuasive! And since my car feels like an oven and it's too hot to cook inside, I decided to listen to the little voices in my head her.

Today I officially opened Dillypoo's Dashboard Diner! First item on the menu: cornbread.

Mother Nature suggested I use a box mix. Who am I to argue?

I dug out an old cast iron skillet and bought an oven thermometer. Curiosity got the better of me after finally finding success with the eggs and cookies earlier this week. Exactly how hot is it in my car?

175 degrees. Yowza! To get it that hot inside, the windows have to stay up and the sunscreen tucked away. This is great for baking but makes for a lousy (but sweetly aromatic) drive home at the end of the day.

This is what Dillypoo sacrifices for your entertainment.

I let the cornbread bake for 6.5 hours and then fed it to my co-workers. Brave souls! The Professor thanks you for allowing him to dodge that bullet at home.

It was mostly done. The bits nearest the edge of the pan were perfect but the overall texture was closer to polenta than cake.

Of course, Dillypoo doesn't give up that easily. The lowest high temperature in the 10-day forecast is 102 degrees. Looks like I'll have plenty of opportunity to expand my menu next week.

Can you say frittata?

Dashboard Eggs

Dillypoo is stoked about dashboard cooking after yesterday's cookies and egg success! And since it's still hotter than hell, I decided to try and hard cook an egg in it's shell today:

I left chicken little to bake at 11:00 a.m. I took a couple of pictures throughout the day, but an egg in it's shell looks pretty much the same at 99 degrees as it does at 108.

I left the office at 5:45 p.m. The egg was too hot handle, a good sign but no indication of doneness. It had a chance to cool during the 25 minute drive home, which made peeling it a bit easier:

The egg white was set! And it was firm, as a hard boiled egg should be.

But was the yolk cooked?

Holy carp! It worked!

I offered it to The Professor but he turned me down. He's usually a bit more accepting of my experimental cooking, but I guess he draws the line at my dashboard offerings.

(I didn't eat it, either.)

I think I'll try baking a pan of cornbread tomorrow.

Cookies and Eggs

Exactly how hot is it? It's so hot you can fry an egg on the sidewalk.

Sort of.

My first attempt was on Day 23 of The Summer from Hell when the temperature was only 101 degrees:

The egg white pretty much evaporated and the yellow hardened but never set. Gross.

I tried again on Day 24. The temperature that day got to 106 degrees and this time I used a tin cookie sheet:

Kind of pretty to look at but definitely not cooked through. The tin cookie sheet was too reflective and never got hot enough.

But Dillypoo is nothing if not persistent. On Day 32 (yesterday), I pulled the black iron skillet off of my handy Cuisinart Griddler. High temperature was 108 degrees:

After 2.5 hours, my whites were cooked dry and crispy, but the yolks never set. And I had high hopes for success after cracking the egg and finding two yolks inside. Surely that was a good omen!

Natch.

So today, Day 33 of consecutive 100+ degree days, Dillypoo took the experiment to the next level. With a high temperature of 109 degrees, I baked an egg and some chocolate chip cookies in my car:

Two hours later, things were looking pretty good:

I resisted the temptation to open the oven door but let them continue baking another 1.5 hours. And guess what?

I cooked an egg and baked cookies in my car today!

The egg whites were pretty overdone by the time I got home, but the yolk was definitely at a soft boil stage.

And the cookies? Well...

I ate two and they were soft, warm and yummy! (They were also just slightly underdone, but not raw.)

Grim Luck

Dillypoo awoke with a start at 4:45 a.m. today. As disturbing as that is, the reason for my disrupted slumber is more so.

At the exact moment I woke, I died.

I'm a pretty vivid dreamer. My sub-conscious likes to wander about and play at night, sometimes for no reason in particular and sometimes to work out things that stress Dillypoo during waking hours.

But dying? What the hell?

Maybe the heat has my psyche pondering my mortality. Wakeful Dillypoo isn't that deep in her musings. I'm more focused on keeping cool during this blasted summer.

Today was Day 31 of consecutive triple digit days for those of you keeping score.

The only time I've ever worried about dying was in 2007. The Harry Potter nerd in me fretted an early demise before knowing how the final book ended.

Told you I wasn't that deep.

So maybe I saw a grim yesterday. I know I saw a black cat. I wonder if all grims are dogs or if they're sometimes feline?

(If you're not following this train of thought, then you really should read the Harry Potter books. Really.)

But waking before dawn had it's benefits. HP author, J.K. Rowling, has decided to invite one million lucky fans to preview her new online reading experience of the series, Pottermore, by providing clues for registration. There are only seven clues to be doled out over seven days, but they're tricky to find and only available for limited time periods.

One of those clues was posted at 4:45 this morning.

I wasn't too keen to get back to bed after dying so suddenly in my sleep, so I amused myself by checking the interwebs for nerdy HP news.

My disturbing dream vanished as I spent the next 30 minutes rifling though the second book to find the clue's answer and get to the registration site before it closed again without waking The Professor.

I succeeded at both!

Now I hope I don't expire before getting my official Hogwarts letter inviting me to explore Rowling's newest creation.