Apologies! I love you all equally.
Yet again I am guilty! guilty! guilty! of email neglect and my response rate is currently glacial. The folder is packed with emails, some of which are real stumpers - you all think too much, you hear? I intend to reply to everyone in the next few weeks so hang in there. I think this must be the New-Year-New-YOU rush of diet/exercise/weight related brainteasers! In the meantime, if you do have a weight related question and need something to keep you occupied, I suggest that you get yourself a copy of Shaunas book, which seems to be on release in nearly every continent right now. You could call it homework. I love how every single reviewer and interviewer just has to bring up the 'enormous knickers on the clothesline' incident. I'll have to remember to ask Shauna if she knew she was on to a winner with that opening narrative. Perhaps it will also be her ticket to infamy when one interviewer too many asks 'so... about the enormous, embarrassingly massive, gigantic billowing undies..?'
If I must come up with an excuse for the lack of speedy email risposte, it's that lately there are so many interesting things competing for my already overstimulated attention span. At least I've got my priorities in order. Exhibition openings and Cannelloni, these things count. My cousin Asher is a genius. Not only did he offer some sage words when I was all dumped and depressed (i.e. "why did Jase dump you? he must be gay, yeah, that's it") but he also invited me to his brilliant exhibition opening. Broken heart therapy par excellence; a room packed with people of intrigue - including the most interesting, my close family- and free wine! Come time to head home, things went sideways when I could not find my car. For twenty minutes I ran up and down the staircase of the Farmers carpark in heels, checking every level twice. I had visions running through my mind of spending the next few weeks sorting out insurance and replacement vehicle and O.M.G my laptop! Feeling desperate and sweaty, I waved my ticket under the nose of the kiosk attendant and asked him if they had security cameras or if he could recall a silver civic leaving without me at the wheel. Kiosk guy took a long breath and said the words that made angels sing in my brain - "I know where your car is." Great! Where is it??? "Your docket indicates that you will find your car in the Library parking building, next street over". Thanks, I'll be going that way then....
In spite of the above incident, my photograph on what passes for the social pages of the local Lyttelton rag suggests that I was not actually trolleyed out of my tree. I wish I could have scanned this little, slightly over-pixelated moment of glory for you all to see, but my mum claimed bragging rights and nicked off with it.
As well as the girl-about-town social butterfly-ing there has also been more than the usual quota of at-home entertaining. My sisters foreign fiancee is currently in town and he turned up with an entourage, two of whom are hungry boys in their early 20's. I love dinner parties and have a few meals up my sleeve that are a) guaranteed crowd pleasers, and b) do not require two hours of dish washing (ack!) afterward. One of my favourites is spinach and ricotta Cannelloni, which I do consider a healthy food. I used to be a complete pastaphobe. On my first six-week trip to Italy I didn't so much as inhale a spaghetti fume - the shame! Now that I am sane, I realise that the real problem with pasta (and starchy carbs in general) is that we tend to eat three large portions at once, and then drown them in fatty sauces. At my house, your delicious Cannelloni is actually a stealthily delivered package of spinach (a superfood!), tomatoes (lycopene!) and low-fat ricotta, wrapped in a 12g low-glycaemic durum wheat pasta tube. Then I'll plonk a bowl of grated cheddar on the table for those that perceive a lack of cheesy goo. I suppose you want a recipe now? I will do that. I will post that top secret recipe, just as soon as I've entered it all into nutritiondata.com and, um, fulfilled a few email obligations.
Yet again I am guilty! guilty! guilty! of email neglect and my response rate is currently glacial. The folder is packed with emails, some of which are real stumpers - you all think too much, you hear? I intend to reply to everyone in the next few weeks so hang in there. I think this must be the New-Year-New-YOU rush of diet/exercise/weight related brainteasers! In the meantime, if you do have a weight related question and need something to keep you occupied, I suggest that you get yourself a copy of Shaunas book, which seems to be on release in nearly every continent right now. You could call it homework. I love how every single reviewer and interviewer just has to bring up the 'enormous knickers on the clothesline' incident. I'll have to remember to ask Shauna if she knew she was on to a winner with that opening narrative. Perhaps it will also be her ticket to infamy when one interviewer too many asks 'so... about the enormous, embarrassingly massive, gigantic billowing undies..?'
If I must come up with an excuse for the lack of speedy email risposte, it's that lately there are so many interesting things competing for my already overstimulated attention span. At least I've got my priorities in order. Exhibition openings and Cannelloni, these things count. My cousin Asher is a genius. Not only did he offer some sage words when I was all dumped and depressed (i.e. "why did Jase dump you? he must be gay, yeah, that's it") but he also invited me to his brilliant exhibition opening. Broken heart therapy par excellence; a room packed with people of intrigue - including the most interesting, my close family- and free wine! Come time to head home, things went sideways when I could not find my car. For twenty minutes I ran up and down the staircase of the Farmers carpark in heels, checking every level twice. I had visions running through my mind of spending the next few weeks sorting out insurance and replacement vehicle and O.M.G my laptop! Feeling desperate and sweaty, I waved my ticket under the nose of the kiosk attendant and asked him if they had security cameras or if he could recall a silver civic leaving without me at the wheel. Kiosk guy took a long breath and said the words that made angels sing in my brain - "I know where your car is." Great! Where is it??? "Your docket indicates that you will find your car in the Library parking building, next street over". Thanks, I'll be going that way then....
In spite of the above incident, my photograph on what passes for the social pages of the local Lyttelton rag suggests that I was not actually trolleyed out of my tree. I wish I could have scanned this little, slightly over-pixelated moment of glory for you all to see, but my mum claimed bragging rights and nicked off with it.
As well as the girl-about-town social butterfly-ing there has also been more than the usual quota of at-home entertaining. My sisters foreign fiancee is currently in town and he turned up with an entourage, two of whom are hungry boys in their early 20's. I love dinner parties and have a few meals up my sleeve that are a) guaranteed crowd pleasers, and b) do not require two hours of dish washing (ack!) afterward. One of my favourites is spinach and ricotta Cannelloni, which I do consider a healthy food. I used to be a complete pastaphobe. On my first six-week trip to Italy I didn't so much as inhale a spaghetti fume - the shame! Now that I am sane, I realise that the real problem with pasta (and starchy carbs in general) is that we tend to eat three large portions at once, and then drown them in fatty sauces. At my house, your delicious Cannelloni is actually a stealthily delivered package of spinach (a superfood!), tomatoes (lycopene!) and low-fat ricotta, wrapped in a 12g low-glycaemic durum wheat pasta tube. Then I'll plonk a bowl of grated cheddar on the table for those that perceive a lack of cheesy goo. I suppose you want a recipe now? I will do that. I will post that top secret recipe, just as soon as I've entered it all into nutritiondata.com and, um, fulfilled a few email obligations.
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