The Day of the Cheat.

If you are a Strongbad fan you will be sorely disappointed in this post—sorry about that. One day I will write a tribute to Strongbad and the Cheat, but today is not that day.

“A carb in the hand is worth two in the bush.” I’m not sure who said that but I do know they were wise and likely hadn’t eaten a carbohydrate in at least two weeks. This is where I’m at right now; not the wisdom part, the two weeks with no carbs part. Today marks 15 days I’ve been on a Keto diet and our first “cheat day”. Jenn and I decided that we should break up the ketosis every couple of weeks, not only to keep our bodies guessing, but give ourselves a little reward for a job well done. Feral dogs make this diet look easy; it ain’t.

Carb Day™. I’ve been thinking and dreaming of this day for the last week and dinner is nearly upon us—we still don’t know what we’re getting but it will most likely involve Matador Pizza with some pasta and garlic bread and croutons and it will be glorious.

Did I mention that I’m excited to track, hunt, kill, and eat all the carbs? Actually, I’m going to hit Skip the Dishes and get them to do all the work and just deliver the warm dead carbs to our doorstep like an offering. Mmmmm, gluten.

After dinner we have plans to go outside and enjoy the January evening. “Wait,” you say, “isn’t it minus 40°C in Alberta?” Nope, we’re in a chinook right now which means our temperature ricochets from -30°C to +10°C in 12 hours. This weather system brings on epic migraines but also enables fire pits in the backyard with a glass of scotch and perhaps a twice-annual cigar*. * Chinooks do not bring you scotch and cigars (though they should), just warm weather. 

There is something satisfyingly Canadian to sit in a snowbank watching the sparks from a roaring fire dance into the sky and you don’t see your breath.

After dinner Jenn, her sister Colleen and I will sit in the backyard and be unapologetically Canadian. We don’t have s’mores or wieners to roast but we will have good company, the smell and warmth of an outdoor fire, and a once-in-a-lifetime show of sparks and embers that alight the night, complete with the crackle and hiss as the logs burn down and the drip-drip of melting snow.

Before I know it I’ll be in a carb-induced coma and will awake tomorrow in the backyard covered in magpies and a squirrel in my pants. Oh, Canada.