Eatin’ Pants

I own “eatin’ pants.”

Yet I’ve never been to New Orleans for Mardi Gras.

Sure, I’ve been to New Orleans – one of my favorite cities – many times, but never for Mardi Gras.  Just seems kind of odd for a man with eatin’ pants. Mardi Gras, after all, marks the end of the Carnival season with its parties, parades and balls that began with the Feast of the Epiphany. As Midnight strikes, the gluttony of Mardi Gras gives way to Ash Wednesday and the far more abstinent Lenten season.

St. Louis Cathedral, Jackson Square, New Orleans, Louisiana

St. Louis Cathedral, Jackson Square, New Orleans, Louisiana

In secular terms, one week into our New Year’s resolutions, we break them. (Yes, that was me eating the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup behind the bus shelter last night.) We go on a bit of a bender for a few weeks or more depending on the year. Technically, it’s determined by the spring equinox and a full moon, but I say the finite quality of elastic has something to say about it, at which point we decide to be good for 40 days.

New Orleans can be decadent any time of year, but to celebrate Mardi Gras in New Orleans must be incredible. I’m not suggesting I deserve to see New Orleans during Mardi Gras just because I own eatin’ pants. No, I’m not the only one to belly up to a buffet in Vegas with a little comfort stretch in my waistband.

What I am saying is that I deserve to see New Orleans during Mardi Gras because I once bought a suit just to go out to dinner. Continue reading

Dead Highways

I was not built for the heat, and now Karma has decided to exact her revenge because a few weeks ago I mocked the 90 degree weekend we had here in Portland, Oregon. I called it Portland’s two days of summer. I’m pretty sure Karma snickered when I saw a the forecast for this week, 90s all week, topping 100 later in the week.

As I walked home last night, I tried my hardest not to smirk – it’s been a dry heat.

I apologize to everyone in advance as I am sure we will pay dearly with humidity for my smirk. Continue reading

OFG: The Weigh-in, Part 3

So I’m finally ready to tell the tale of stepping on the scale for my six-week challenge.

Rather than lead you through the streets of New Orleans, perhaps it would have been easier if I simply stepped on the scale. But I got where I am because I am the kind of person who shows up for breakfast with powdered sugar on his sleeve from a beignet appetizer. I’m weak when it comes to food, but throw in any connection to New Orleans and I’m nearly defenseless. This you needed to know as I step on the scale for my OFG weigh-in.

The plan is to lose one pound every week for six weeks.

A little more than two weeks ago was the baseline weigh-in. From that weight, one pound would have to come off every week.

In a game with just one person, cheating isn’t very effective, and that’s why a friend has suggested Operation Feel Good had become Operation Fat Guy. Over the years, I’ve developed a lot of bad habits that are hard to break, but I keep trying, sometimes with success. For example, since my 20s exercise has been a part of my daily routine. However, when it comes to food – oh, the mind games. Continue reading

OFG: The Weigh-in, Part 2 (Still in New Orleans)

When I left off, I had been talking about beignets from Café du Monde in New Orleans and was about to tell you about getting on the scale for my OFG weigh-in.

But before I step on the scale, I am going to linger a little longer in New Orleans, a city I love. I was in my 30s before I made my first trip New Orleans. There’s always a danger that when you visit some place so well known, that it will disappoint. (Unfortunately, that city for me was London. I was 15 when I went; it was my first time to Europe and I was met with a modern city. I knew better, but I guess I was expecting something a little more Shakespearean. I grew to like London and would never pass up a chance to visit again. I learned my lesson though, to approach cities openly, on their terms.)

New Orleans, however, seduced me from the beginning. Continue reading

OFG: The Weigh-in, Part 1

Operation Feel Good (OFG, the plan my siblings and I have to get fit) has, in the words of a friend, become Operation Fat Guy. In the hopes of getting back on track I thought I would latch onto my younger sister’s plan to begin a six week challenge. Lose one pound each week for six weeks. Although she’s actually doing an official program with her workout group at her gym, I thought I would set the same goal for myself. The baseline weigh-in was a little more than a week ago with the first weigh-in to see if I’m on track just a couple of days ago.

For the most part, I am an honest person with a couple of exceptions. When you play cards with me, I won’t tell you when I can see your cards. (It’s really up to you to learn how to hold your cards.)

The second exception is food. The lies are mostly just to me. Like the brownie that doesn’t count because you ate it standing over the kitchen sink when no one was around. No plate, no witnesses, should be a freebie. Continue reading

Fuller’s Coffee Shop

A few weeks ago, I claimed I was just sane enough to realize I didn’t have the power to conjure the objects of my thoughts. (I was in the mood for macarons and they appeared before me.) But what if it’s the object of an author’s thought that has been conjured?

A few days after I conjured the macarons, I was having breakfast at Fuller’s on NW 9th& NW Davis in Portland’s Pearl District. It’s an old-school diner with counter seating only.

6:01 am is too late to be first.

Continue reading