Me - Cave-Boy!

Blood this morning was 4.7, though that's a bit of a false reading, because it actually took me three - count 'em, three, that's one, plus another one...and then a whooooole extra one on top of that, it's kind of like a wedding cake of hours to get into work this morning, due to tube issues and seven million other bastards clearly wanting it more. So by the time I took my blood sugar, normally, I'd have been in and working for at least the top-tier of my hour-cake...

OK, did I just get hopelessly lost in a cake metaphor? Felt like I had it for a moment, and then - I was lost. Anyway...

I met a personal trainer from St Louis today. Y'know, as ya do. Her name's Suzi - great name for a personal trainer, no? - and she popped up on Facebook saying she'd just started reading the blog. Now, I have no idea how a personal trainer from St Louis called Suzi finds the blog, but hey - all welcome. Suzi wanted to know more about the specifics of what I've been doing, so I basically filled her in on the last seven months.

I know, I know - why couldn't you get the annotated highlights, right? But Suzi mentioned a thing to me. I'd told her about what I'm trying to do, diet-wise - higher protein, fresh fruit and veg, low carb, low sugar, low fat, more water  yadda yadda yadda, and she nodded her e-profile sagely, and said
"Oh you mean like a paleo-diet?"

I blinked.
"Errrr....if you say so," I agreed. "What's a paleo-diet?"
"Y'know, the sort of thing we used to eat in pre-history. Before agrarian societies developed."
I absolutely hadn't thought of it like that, but I guess she's right. Me - Cave-Boy! Eat meat, greens, walk miles on plain, not chase down long-horned lasagne...

Of course, as she mentioned, the true paleo-diet is very much nose-to-tail eating, which, she said, there was a lot of resistance to in the States. Have to tell you - I'm with most Americans on this. I mean, I know the economy's well and truly shafted, but as far as I'm concerned, while there are still steaks available, while chops and shoulders and loins are still available from your local friendly butcher, there's zero freakin' reason to eat noses, tails, brains, sweetbreads, testicles or the goo from the middle of bones. So I guess I'm kind of an executive cave-boy...y'know, the sort who carved the first cell phone out of tree bark, and put pin-stripes on their loincloths.

Yeah, executive cave-boy, that's me.

Now d - she's a real cave-woman. I mean, she has fantastically refined skills in the science of baking, as any of you who've ever eaten one of her cakes will know, but when it all comes down, my wife's queen of the freakin' jungle, and anything with legs had better use 'em quick or they're dinner. I've seen her break down and dissect a chicken in under a minute, like the master-chef demonstrations you sometimes see on TV. She knows her animal anatomy for at least the basic handful of protein-providers. It's kinda scary sometimes, cos your brain does wonder what the Hell might happen if you end up stranded on a desert island with her and she's forced to go all Jeffery Dahmer on your ass.

Now that I think about it, she watches an awful lot of Survivor too...Hmm...maybe my position in the tribe is "provider of protein that keeps d from having to spatchcock me over an open flame".

Mind you, it's been seven years, and she hasn't killed me yet. Most of the people I know still find that rather surprising.

Seven years ago right now, we were both reaaaaaaallly freakin' tired. I was ferrying assorted necessary wedding-and-honeymoon stuff from our flat in Stratford over to the Bailey hotel on Gloucester Road, Kensington, where for reasons of centrality and a really nice staircase, we were basing everyone who was coming in for our wedding. Looking back on it, that was an insane decision, because the wedding itself and the meal that followed it was held in Richmond, way out west. But I was still ferrying. At this point, from memory, d was with 'her girls' - Lori, Karen and Renee, her Matrons of Honour, over in Richmond, setting tables, arranging favours, getting everything the way she wanted it. Later, we'd convene back in Gloucester Road, in time to be completely exhausted together with friends for a while, before going to our separate rooms (mine was a broom cupboard, where you had to actually stand outside the bathroom in order to pee like a man). Then, seven years ago tomorrow, we became a married couple, later and more complex in life than either of us really thought was viable, or even possible, until we met.

They've been seven good years, and I'm really looking forward to the future with my favourite cave-woman. That remains pretty much the whole point of this Disappearing Caveman thing - to get to spend the rest of my life providing protein for my beautiful girl.

Right...this is me, picking up my limited edition protein-club and heading out the door. I'm sure I saw a squirrel in the park that would look perfect in a bun...