Monthly Archives: December 2013

A river runs through it

So last week, Boxing Day to be exact, I went through a run… through the river!

Boxing Day river run

Garmin says so, must be true 😀

See you in the New Year!


Merry Spockmas!


Merry Fishmas!


Merry Christmas!


To you and yours with love xoxo

Princess, Big Ring and Little Ring

Diabetes and the Big Girl drinks

I don’t drink coffee, but I do drink tea – a lot of tea. On average I drink at least two cups a day, sometimes three or four. I drink tea at home. I drink tea on the road. I drink tea at work. I drink tea at lunch. Black and green tea mostly, but sometimes, if it’s really intriguing, I’ll choose roobois too and hope not to be disappointed. And while my tea selections can sometimes be fancy in name (white chocolate chai, cream earl green, jingle bell) the teas themselves are not spruced up in any which way. It’s just tea and boiling water. And that’s always been perfect for me.

But then something changed…

I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why I suddenly got this strange urge, this never before craving in my head. I don’t know if it was because it was snowy outside and I felt I needed Christmas in a cup, or because I was in the city and all the Lululemon-clad girls surely had Christmas in their cups. I suddenly had to have a Big Girl Starbucks Drink.

But what? I don’t drink coffee. I drink tea. I don’t do sweeteners. I’m not a  fan of milk, pretty much, if it doesn’t come in the form of ice cream, cheese, or yogurt, I want nothing to do with it. And the intimidation of ordering something fancy, oh man, I turned away like five times before finally getting the courage to approach the counter!

And so, when I finally did order, and ended up with vomit in a cup (unsweetened, hardly flavoured, hot milk – blech!) the disappointment was intense. I paid 5 bucks for that, are you kidding me?

I thought that was it, I was off the big girl drinks, I would stick to my teas from that day forward. But then this week, I was again struck by the urge. A girlfriend was drinking a London Fog in my presence, and the way she described it, the way her face lit up at the first sip, oh man, I needed one of those. But the sweetener had me stumped. I don’t know how many carbs there are so it would be a huge, uneducated guess.

The next day, however, salvation. I had a meeting at Starbucks with a fellow type-1 diabetic, who was looking for pump advice as she’d just acquired her first after 4 or 5 years with the disease. She ordered a latté with sugar-free vanilla syrup. What? I kid you not, I grilled her for like the next 20 minutes on what I could order, and how to order it, all the while furiously jotting down notes.

The next day, I approached the barista with confidence. Grandé. No-fat. London Fog. Sugar-free vanilla syrup. Forget Christmas – this was a freaking unicorn in a cup!

Big Girl Drink: It wasn’t coffee, but it was complicated enough to warrant my name on the holder, and all I had to account for was the milk. 12 grams = BG brilliance.

It was just the belly warming goodness I needed following the day’s COLD lunch run. This run was rife with unmotivated, uncooperative, complaining, devil-on-my-shoulder evilness from the get-go. It was grey, it was cold, I hadn’t been on a run in over a week, my fingers were gonna fall off, my belly was suffering through gastro-disgustingness, I was lost…

Sooo, what do you say run gods? Help a princess out?

…hey, those houses are kind of cute, and hey, I don’t think I’ve ever been on this street, and hey, that’s a park I’d never seen before, and oh, look at that super cute heritage rancher over there, and hey, look at that, I’m done 😀


  • 12 p.m. BG before: 8.1
  • Temp. basal: none
  • Carbs: none
  • Time: 34:30
  • Distance: 6.18 km
  • Average pace: 5:35 min/km
  • 1 p.m. BG after: 6.0


Guest post: French in the house

Dear Life, please stop getting in the way of the important stuff, like, I don’t know, posting my blogs! I have a triple jillion written and half written posts, but it seems, every time I’m about to upload, you get in the way Life, and the blog stays silent for days, even weeks at a time. So come on noq, ease up a wee why don’t you.

Today’s post is a guest cooking challenge post (that’s been sitting in my inbox for about a month now!) by my partner in Life: Big Ring. Which means, November had two cooking challenges (I’ve still got to post mine). So enjoy 😀
November 22, 2013
Cook’s Country – December/January issue
Chicken With Vinegar Sauce


In the Big Ring/Princess of Pavement household, I do most of the cooking.
Partly because PofP isn’t very comfortable with the culinary arts; her diet before we got together consisted mostly of eggs, eggs and eggs. And partly because, with her long commute, it just makes sense for me to get things going in the kitchen.
Fortunately a long run of self-sustaining bachelordom meant I pretty much had to figure my way in the kitchen. Or starve.

Big Ring cuisine isn’t very fancy; lots of grilling with occasional forays into stir fry, omelettes, and international dishes like paella and butter chicken. I don’t do recipes.

Then PofP took on her year-long recipe challenge. She wanted to explore the pages of the America’s Test Kitchen recipe magazine subscription she’d received as a Christmas present and expand her own culinary horizons. I was glad to be the beneficiary. I got a break from the kitchen and enjoyed some very tasty meals.

This month, I decided to pick up the challenge. The latest issue had a number of recipes that tickled my taste buds and sounded relatively easy. When one, chicken in vinegar sauce, was billed as a classic French dish, I was sold. If we can’t live in France, we might as well eat as if we are.

It also helped that we already had most of the necessary ingredients in the pantry.

Now going in, I’ll admit to some trepidation to basing a sauce on vinegar. Around here we use it to clean the counter tops and stainless steel. And the apple cider vinegar in our pantry was only there because of the fruit fly infestation we endured in the summer; it was the lure to attract them into the sticky trap.
But if it’s good enough for the French, it should be good enough for us.

And, son of a gun, it was.

Poulet au vinaigre
1 tsp cornstarch
1 cup chicken broth
1/2 cup cider vinegar
2 tsp honey
chicken pieces (the recipe calls for bone-in, but I trimmed the bone from the breasts I bought for the recipe challenge)
salt & pepper to taste
2 tsp vegetable oil (I used olive oil)
1 shallot, minced
4 garlic cloves, peeled and lightly crushed
1 tbsp unsalted butter
1 tbsp chopped fresh tarragon (I used the dried stuff)

1. Preheat oven to 450 degrees with the rack in the middle
2. Dissolve cornstarch in 2 tbsp of the chicken broth in a 2-cup measuring cup. Whisk in vinegar, honey and remaining broth.
3. Heat oil in an oven safe 12-inch skillet until its just smoking. Place the chicken pieces in the skillet, skin side down. Cook until well-browned, about 6-8 minutes. Transfer to a plate skin side up.
4. Pour off all but 1 tbsp of the fat from the chicken and return the skillet to medium high heat, Add the shallot and garlic, cooking for about 30 seconds. Whisk in the broth mixture and bring to a boil, stirring up any brown bits from the chicken in the pan.
5. Return the chicken to the skillet, skin side up, then put the skillet into the oven.
6. Bake for about 10-15 minutes.
7. Remove chicken from the skillet to a plate, then tent it loosely with aluminum foil. Return the skillet to the stove top at medium high heat and bring to a boil. Cook until the sauce thickens, about 5-7 minutes.
8. Remove the skillet from the heat and whisk in the butter and tarragon. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
9. Spoon the sauce over the chicken pieces and serve.

I steamed some broccoli as a side dish, along with toasty baguette and glass of white wine. Vive le France!

Dr. Hottie report: straight A’s

Today I had an appointment with Dr. Hottie. I was nervous. Like really nervous. Like, the kind of nerves I had when I used to walk into his office with a logbook full of made up numbers because I didn’t like the real numbers. You see, I’ve been struggling with my blood sugars a lot since going back to work three months ago. The pressures of the work, the stresses of the deadlines, the commute, my gawd, the commute, has had me in what has seemed to be a continuous BG roller coaster mode.

stress = adrenaline = high blood sugars = what goes up must come down = crash!

Then add to that the never-ending sickness of Big Ring and Little Ring since daycare and Dear Diabetes seems to have been put on the back burner.

But those worries were for naught. Today’s appointment had me once again walking away with straight A’s. My hglA1c (three month BG average) was 6.3, a little bit higher than the last two years, but still pretty freaking stellar. My cholesterol was out of this world amazing. Dr. Hottie told me if I keep numbers like this I will never have to go on a cholesterol pill, in fact, he said, even if I had had a heart attack last week, he’d still be giving me a gold star with this result! And my blood pressure was “Wow! Amazing!”


I really like making Dr. Hottie happy 😉

It’s been this way for at least seven, maybe even more, years now. The good results. The happy doctor. The we-only-need-to-see-you-once-a-year exiting wave. Which is SUPER awesome!

But it hasn’t always been this way.

I used to see Dr. Hottie every three months. I used to fear his incredible intelligence (he is freaking smart) in that he’d call me out on the fact my logbook was a big fat lie, like, you know, the obvious discrepancy between the decent logbook numbers and the atrocious hgA1c results I got. I used to fear his scale. I use to fear his examination of my injection sites, which used to be just brutal. I did, however, love when he’d place his fingers on my neck, his wrist with a childlike beaded bracelet wrapped around it, so close to my mouth, and examine my thyroid… er, I mean… 😉

I haven’t always been a good diabetic, and still, even with these results, I am nowhere near being a perfect diabetic (can we ever be perfect???), but I have, for now, somehow figured a way at keeping this frienemy of mine at bay. And that makes me happy, which I guess makes Dear Diabetes happy.

Ps. Dr. Hottie also noted I didn’t have much by way of thermal insulation at the feel of my cold hands (the city got its first snow today) which made me REALLY happy… so happy, I think I’ll go celebrate with a sweet, warming strip of chocolate! 😀

Like a rag doll

I went for a mid, work-day run yesterday.

It was windy.

Like really windy.

Every which way I turned, I was being whipped around like a rag doll in the hands of a giddy three year old.

It was cold.

Not Calgary blizzard cold, but below zero B.C. cold, which for us is cold.

Like really cold.

My toes felt like they were going to break off.

My fingers were purple and swollen – even with gloves.

My chin was numb.

But the sun was shining and I was running.



  • 11:30 a.m. BG before: 6.5
  • Temp. basal: none
  • Carbs: mini rice cake with peanut butter and 1 DEX
  • Time: 33:20
  • Distance: 6.10 km
  • Average pace: 5:30 min/km
  • 12:45 p.m. BG after: 6.4

And I plan to do it all over again tomorrow 😀