One day at a time

They say it takes 21 days to form a new habit.

In my case, this means 21 days of moaning, groaning, sweating and cursing, before I am habituated back to the idea of eating less and exercising more.

Last week I went to the gym on four days, and this week I’ve kicked things up a notch by gymming every day as well as self-propelling myself to work. That is, I’ve cycled or I’ve walked in as well as gone off to work out at lunchtime.

So does that mean I’m seven days into the formation of my habit, or should I count the days I haven’t exercised as well? In which case it’s more like 10 days into my habit.

But I’m not sure that works, because it would mean I’m closer to the total 21-day milestone but have not exercised as much as I would have if we’re counting exercise days only. I’d be closer to my goal, but yet – and this is the true irony of the situation – actually further away.

And can I really count the day I had a wonderfully kilojoule-laden dinner with My One True Love for his birthday, as a day towards the 21-day milestone?

Or the days on which I had some of the yummy Nigella chocolate-hazelnut cake?

In which case I need to take a few days out of the equation, and I probably end up back around 5 days.

But then, perhaps exercise cancels *out* the chocolate-hazelnut cake, because there were definitely days on which I both ate cake, and went to the gym. So I can probably add a few days back in.

But then there were days on which I didn’t exercise, but didn’t eat cake either. What value do *those* days have?

This reasoning process reminds me too much of the iocane powder conundrum in The Princess Bride, and I'm getting exhausted just thinking about it.

Hey, does brain exercise count?? I can add some more days in!

My One True Love's birthday

Yesterday was My One True Love's birthday. Happy birthday, My One True Love!

This is a photo of a present I made him. He's an obsessive cyclist, and this is a musette he will use to put all sorts of bits and pieces into as those skintight knicks don't have pockets (obviously).

It's made from my favourite Echino fabric in blue and green. I've hung it off Mick the Fish in our backyard. We called him Mick in honour of Mick Jagger, because of his big, pouty mouth.

It was an in-betweeny birthday (no five or zero at the end) so we didn't go overboard with celebrations. A few friends around for dinner, a bit of wine, lots of laughs.

But I *did* make him a birthday cake. And I had plenty of time to think, as I whisked and whisked the eggwhites, which took FOREVER - and I realised was the first ever birthday cake I've made for him in our nearly eight years together.

It's amazing, I know, that I could have loved this man for so long and yet never made him a birthday cake before. I actually don't know why I haven't. I suppose in past years we've gone out to dinner, or we've celebrated in other ways, or it just hadn't occurred to me to do so.

But my mother gave me Nigella Lawson's How To Be A Domestic Goddess for Christmas, and I decided it was time. I toasted hazelnuts, I shelled them, I whisked interminably, I poured, then I melted, then I whisked and whisked and whisked again, then I baked, then I cooled, then I melted some more, then I whisked again - the ganache icing this time - then I whisked, then I whisked, then I rested my aching arm, then I whisked, then I poured, and finally I feverishly decorated, just as he came through the door.

Before long, My One True Love and I joined the Amateur Actress, her newly arrived friend LÁuteur and our mate Pommy John, for a splendid meal of pizza and wine followed by the aforementioned chocolate and hazelnut extravaganza.

The cake was a hit, if I do say so myself, and now I'm determined to do more birthday baking.

Thanks mum for the book! I think I'm going to make the gin and tonic jelly this weekend .....