How I Kicked the Daily Devil Dog Habit

I only eat them once a week.




Easy peezy.




*You didn’t think I’d kicked them to the curb entirely, did you?  Let’s not talk crazy, now.*


Diet Math

I’ll keep it short and sweet.  My patience is thin and my brain is still working out the fuzzies.  Apparently, “carbo-loading” is only for athletes. Not for mothers of 4 year olds who insist they are 13 or 9 year olds who insist that 7 x 8 = 46, despite how many ways of Sunday you attempt to show them otherwise. Who knew?


I am attempting to detox from All Of The Deliciousness that took place last week.  We are leaving for Disney World in T minus 2 weeks and 3 days.  I feel it necessary to walk around the parks in something other than my largest pair of yoga pants and baggiest sweatshirt.  Who’s with me?


I have concocted the following formula to help me in this endeavor:



No, no, no.  I jest.  My formula is more along the lines of simply eradicating Devil Dogs from my diet.  I figure that should net me a 10 pound loss in 2 weeks.  Not unreasonable, right?(Believe me! If you could see the rate of my Devil Dog consumption of late?  You might be tempted to agree. Sadly…)


This mad-hatched formula was introduced on Sunday evening.  I’d like to state, for the record, that so far, everyone in my home is breathing and no one has threatened to turn me in to the Diet Police for infractions involving Devil Dogs.  It has required much restraint on my part. Just, you know… for the record. Oh, yes indeedy.


To recap:


Goodbye to these:

For now! Of course, only for now…


And hopefully, hello to a far friendlier number on the scale.  Soon.


Like, maybe tomorrow?


Too hopeful?

What healthy habits are you picking back up now that the Triptofan Oblivion has worn off?

Rega, Mega, And Ultra

We are so exciting around here that we make three differing versions of dip for dinner. Each one less healthy than the last.  Hold yourselves back from all of the exclamatory praise. “Wow, that’s… pretty lame, actually.”, will suffice.  I feel the need to share with those of my dip loving friends, because, HELLO! It’s College Football season.  And as a Bama Alum, let’s just admit right now that there’s a whole lotta “ROLLLL TIDE, ROLL!”, goin’ on around here for the next few months.  And dip is about as necessary as breathing. True story.


Anyhoo, about those dips. Let me elaborate.  As you salivate.  However, if you are not into processed foods, you should just look away right now, because it’s about to ugly up in here. Velveeta and Hormel chilli-kinda ugly.  You have been warned!


Rega Dip

1/2 a block of Velveeta cheese (an extra 5 points if you can find Velveeta Mexican!)

It’s how you say, “ooh-la-la!”, in American.

1/4 cup of milk

Microwave the above in a microwave safe bowl until melty (about 2 minutes, give or take)

Add 1/2 a jar of your favorite salsa

stir well

microwave again for another.. eh, 30 seconds to heat it up.  Viola! Rega Dip.  Now go get your favorite dippin’ chips and go to town.


Mega Dip

1/2 a block of Velveeta cheese (an extra 5 points if you can find Velveeta Mexican!)

1/4 cup of milk

Microwave the above in a microwave safe bowl until melty (about 1 and 1/2 minutes, give or take)

Strangely familiar sounding, no?

Now, add in one can of Hormel No Bean Chilli.  Awww, yeah!                                                                                          

stir well

microwave again for another.. eh, 30 seconds to a minute to heat it up.  Viola! Rega Dip.  Now go get your favorite dippin’ chips and go to town.


Ultra Dip

Get out a round cake pan.  Set the oven to 375. Prepare your arteries.

One block of Philly Cream Cheese

One can of Hormel No Bean Chilli (Sometimes we shake things up by making the uber-healthy Hormel No Bean TURKEY Chilli, instead)

One 2 cup bag of shredded cheese of your choice.  (We like Mexican Taco Cheese – and sometimes I get crazy and use Weight Watchers’ brand.  I know, I know… it kind of defeats the whole purpose of the dip.)

Spread block of cream cheese along bottom of cake pan.  Pour Chilli on top. Spread around.  Open Bag of Shredded Cheese.  Dump it on and spread it around. Cover with tin foil.  Bake for 20 – 25 minutes.  Get your favorite dippin’ chips and go all crazy on that bad boy dip.   (Share it with another if you’re feeling magnanimous. LOOK at that there education I received courtesy of The University of Alabama! Can I get a ROLL TIDE?!)


Now, I’d tell you that I intend to make one of the above for “dinner” tonight, but I don’t have to. You know why?  Because I am going to one of those Fan-Cee Chocolate Parties at a neighbor’s house.  There’s no finer dinner folks. No, indeed. Except maybe a Dip Dinner.  But, then again, there’s always tomorrow.


And, yes, my yoga pants and I just became besties again.  That’s alright.  We’ll be extra tight tomorrow.  Seriously. Extra extra tight.


*Disclaimer*  I do NOT accept phone calls or emails from Cardiologists.  I believe I know just about where I stand with them already.


Chippy and Chirpy

I’m tryin’ to get on the “tweet” bandwagon.  It’s slow-going.  And to make matters worse, it’s an election cycle.  Yay.  Don’t get me wrong. Those who know me in real life, know dern well how likely I am to “share” my opinions on political matters.  I’m not one to shy away from a healthy discourse on politics.  (And, yes, I know I could have simply written IRL, but then The Nana wouldn’t know what I was talking about.  I’m moving her into the techno realm ever-so-slowly, you see.)

I am, however, one to shy away from chirpy tweets that border on the preachy.  And I know preachy, folks.  Oh yes, indeedy.  Just ask my family.  I get all “Thou shalt NOT…” from Mount Washmore on them at least once a week.  At least.

But here’s the thing I wish about Twitter.  I wish that you could somehow turn off all of the commentary that you don’t really want to have to scroll through.  My time is precious, as is my vote; but, it’s my time!  And I want to use it to go right to the conversations that I really want to take part in.  Not to have to wade through chirpy chirp chirp after chirp about how this one went all “HOLLAH” on your party and that one went all “DIS” on your party.  For Pete’s sake… Can’t a girl just get a good dip recipe and fly away?

And speaking of dips, let’s talk about a little something I like to call… torture.  You see, dips are a part of our weekly meal planning.  Really. Not even kidding. At least once a week.  But, because I’m making an effort to get back on the healthy eating train, I’m counting my chips again. Gah, that sounds so draconian.  I’m talking good ol’ points counting and such.  It’s what works for me.

Anyhoo, Sweetman can be a bit daft when it comes to “helping” me count those chips.  I ask you, are there about 24 of those little round ones (because you get WAY more than with the big blue ones)?  You tell me.

Count em’ up!

Well, let’s check out the bowl that was set down in front of me from a different angle, shall we?

Uh, Houston, we have a problem!

Sweet Mound Of Mercy, I think not!  And, of course, once set in front of me, I feel the need to finish them right off because, c’mon y’all, the kids were just put down for bed and I certainly don’t want to have to open up the crinkly chip bag to put the leftover ones back. Right?  Can I get an Amen?

Alas… I think I’ll start counting with the next Diptastic Dinner.  Yes, yes indeed.  That sounds about right to me.