I’ve been doing it all week. As soon as I get in the door after work and maneuver through the child-obstacles, I get right into the kitchen and bake me up some kale chips. These things have been keeping me from a bad case of Pre-Dinner Greediness Disease all week.

The day before my first batch of kale chips, I had eaten an entire sleeve of Ritz Crackers before dinner. So do ya get me? I’ve probably saved myself a good 800 calories this week by whipping up some kale chips instead of grazing mindlessly on other stuff. Kale chips’ crunchy-saltiness is perfect for satisfying me before dinner. It does the trick, yo!

And you gotta check out kale’s profile on World Healthiest Foods. It’s mind boggling how nutrient-pack it is. I even like to chomp on kale raw and uncooked. And it’s only 36 calories for one cup!

So here’s what you do to make the Kale Chips.

• Preheat oven to 300 degrees.
• Tear kale into pieces (unless you buy a bag of kale that’s already cut up). Some people pick the leaves off the stem, but I think it’s just fine with the stem on. I eat that part, too. You decide for yourself.
• Dump 3 generous handfuls of kale into a large mixing bowl. Be sure to include enough kale, because (just like spinach) the kale shrinks down when heated.
• Drizzle approximately 2-3 tsp olive oil onto the kale and then salt to taste. Mix it all up by tossing with your hands or some other leaf-tossing object. If you find the leaves are a bit too oily or salty, just add more kale to compensate. Problem solved. But be careful not to over-oil, because the final product won’t come out right.
• Transfer kale onto cookie sheet(s).

My pre-baked kale, oil-drizzled and lightly salted.

• Bake for approx 15-20 minutes. Exact cooking time depends on your oven, so check the kale after 15 minutes to determine if they’re crispy yet. But not burnt!

Crispy, salty delight!

You can also get fancy and sprinkle your kale with Parmesan or other seasonings, but my fanciness ratio isn’t high enough, because I haven’t done that yet. Special thanks to Coco for inspiring me to take the Kale Chips plunge. Go see how her batch of kale chips turned out. BOOM!

Why is this happening to me? That was one of my thoughts last week as I found myself in an emotional state I forbid myself to never enter. Just like all people, I sometimes get a little bummed out or disappointed, but actually depressed? How could Josie, the motivator and inspirationalizer, get entangled in depression? Not me.

I considered a few factors like the demands of mothering, wife-ing, a full time job, and blogging. But, eh, I’ve been doing that multi-tasking bundle of stuff for years. I also considered the frustration I sometimes feel from wanting something so very badly (goal oriented stuff), but knowing it’s still a few years off and will require continued effort, diligence, planning and patience to get there. But nope. That wasn’t it either. I understand the concept of delayed gratification, hard work and the rewards that come from it.

So then what was it? What’s this depression all about?

It all started with a Gumby toy I pulled out of Greedy Baby’s toy box. That’s my toy, actually. I’ve had it since around 1979. My mother sent it to me from California (she left when I was around 4-years-old and came back when I was 12). That Gumby is the only childhood thing I possess from my mother. The reality of “it’s the only thing” first made me sad, but then I stayed in sadness a little too long and got depressed.

I’m 38-years-old. I should be over this by now. I love my mother and forgave her a long time ago, so why am I depressed?

Depression obviously has a way of blowing things out of proportion and taking you down a road you didn’t plan on going. And then stomping on you.

Those Gumby toy thoughts then turned into: no one ever told me they loved me when I was kid …and my Grandmom only did the basics, like food, clothing and roof over my head, but no actual love or teaching me about life (there’s a lot of other “in my past” crap that happened, too)… And then that turned into, I’ve been looking terrible lately, maybe even ugly. My husband probably thinks I look terrible, too.

Aha! You see how this happens!? A few factual thoughts about my past spiraled into some extremely frivolous thoughts about my present, and that’s when I started feeling worse… about EVERYTHING! Without any justified basis for it.

But I caught myself. The discomfort of depression was just that – uncomfortable. So I decided I was going to pull myself out of that uncomfortable state. I made the decision to not be depressed. It wasn’t magical. It took effort, but I dug myself out of it (hooray!) and battled back.

I prayed: I’ve been a Christian woman since July 2, 1998. Yessir, I remember the exact day I received Christ. So I prayed and let faith work its unseen power. Then I prayed some more. And more… and more… I labored in prayer and asked Him for help.

I re-focused on my present and future: There’s too much wonderful stuff in my life to allow it to be hampered and suffocating by sadness. That truth re-opened my eyes to the good stuff happening all around me and all the wonderful things I still have to look forward to.

I let go of the past (again): My past is part of me. I can’t change that. But living in the past and feeding emotions from events that are long gone, done and over with serve no purpose in building me up today. It doesn’t add anything to my life. So I let it go. Will the past come up again? Sure. But I’m I control of how I allow my past to affect me.

Depression is a bastard, but it can be beat. And while my depression was very temporary (only a few days, maybe 4), I learned enough from it to realize that it has to been put in check BEFORE it gets the upper hand.

I know Yum Yucky is all about fun and laughs, information and inspiration, which made me kind of reluctant to share this vulnerable side of me with you right now. But you know what? For me to keep hidden this very human side of me would be crazy. If you ever have or are currently dealing with depression, please open up in the comments. Let’s help each other.

“me thinks I hear angelic creatures singing hallelujah”

My food trap has been to the heavens and returned back savoring the flavors. Ohhh, my dear Amy’s Organic Vegan Chocolate Cake.  How do I salivate over thee? Let me count the ways….

• You’re vegan, which I don’t require. But when a vegan food tastes just like “normal” food, I can appreciate that.
• I’m mesmerized that a cake that has no milk or eggs in it (no dairy at all) can taste even better than other cakes I’ve gnawed on.
• Your other ingredients are so simplistic, yet your taste triumphs over other cakes who think they’re all that and a bag-o chocolate chips.
•  You have no GMO’s, no preservatives and you’re even gluten free for the peoples who need it. Nuff’ said there.

If you did a blindfolded taste test, there’s probably no real way you’d link Amy’s to a cake outta the box from the freezer section. No freaking way. I swear it tastes better than chocolate cakes I’ve paid absurd money for at the bakery. Just thaw it out and serve.

It’s the moistness that gets ya. And the authentic, high-end organic cocoa ingredient. I’m shaking my head from being mesmerized. Surely Amy’s is da bomb. You could cut this cake into mini squares, stick some toothpicks in it, and serve it at a fancy party. Or you could skip paying bakery money for a small birthday cake celebration – just stick some candles in the Amy’s Cake instead. But don’t forget the ultimate… put a slice of Amy’s on a plate and go couch-azz as you savor the flavor.

And get this: It’s only 170 calories and 16 grams of sugar for one slice. How’d the hell they do that? If you don’t go buy yourself some Amy’s Chocolate Cake, you are totally missing out.

Now excuse me, I’m about  to re-enter the third realm of heaven. Time for another slice of Amy’s. For further research testing, of course.

CHOCO CAKE NOTES

• Price Paid: $4.99 for cake that serves 6 hearty slices
• Calories: 170 for 1/6 slice
• Fat Calories: 50
• Total Fat: 5g
• Sat. Fat: 0g
• Sodium: 210mg
• Carbs: 27g
• Fiber: 1g
• Sugars 16g
• Protein: 2g

REACTIONS FROM THE TASTE TEST CREW

Health-hater Husband: Good, but a slight after taste.

Greedy Kid #1: Oh my gosh. How do they get it to be so moist?

Greedy Kid #2: Tastes like there’s real cocoa in it.

Greedy Kid #3: You know I don’t like chocolate. I don’t want it.

Greedy Baby: (there was no comment, just a lot of chewing)

Yum UP! to: The Amy’s line of food products. I continue to be impressed.

Yuck Down: Only getting one birthday cake per year. No fair.

View the complete Taste Test Directory and Fast Food Cheat Sheets.

I’ll make this short and sweetened because I know you have Labor Day-ing to do. This week’s Start Chart announces the winner of Insanity so go see who won and download your chart for the week!

I lost some stars last week due to a calf injury that took 4 days to feel better. It happene
d this past Wednesday – the day of my virtual workout with Family Fitness Files. I got through the 6-round interval circuit just fine (it was awesome!), but a lame warm-up and barely any stretching after the workout left me injured and unable to do anything beyond Yoga for the rest of the week. I was even limping at one point. This is a case of how rushing through a workout and just being a plain ‘ole blockhead can slow down your progress. Lesson learned. I give myself 17 stars.

Your Bonus Stars For This Week

I hate to be an Indian giver, but I’m purposely depriving you of your salad and push-up bonus stars for this week. Why? Because I want YOU to gauge your self-motivation to continue in these areas in the absence of outside motivation (aka, bonus stars). What will you do? This will give you the opportunity to discern if your salad chewing and push ups have become habit yet, or if you’re operating purely on star motivation.

But do NOT fret! Bonus stars will be back next week, including brand new ways to earn them stars, baby!

I hope you’re continuing with the commitment you’ve made to yourself to follow through and take daily actions towards Finishing. If you feel yourself dwindling into drop out mode, do NOT quit on yourself! Not this time. Not anymore.

Enjoy your holiday, my friends.

(If you’re new to the Saga, follow it from the beginning.)

Back inside Darla and Tom’s apartment, where nosy neighbors could no longer get a peep-hole view into the hallway of their domestic woes, the medics did a patch-me-up job on Tom’s bloody leg. No ambulance ride necessary. No stitches required. Officer Janssen was just about done questioning Darla on the events of the evening to decide who might potentially be cuffed and taken down to the station. But after 15 minutes of talking to the couple, and especially considering the disheveled state of the apartment (broken glass, an overturned chair, and plate of food smashed onto the wall), Officer Janssen was still suspicious.

“Ma’am, are you sure you weren’t assaulted or injured in any way by your husband this evening?”

“What the hell else do you want me to say?” said Darla. “It’s just like my husband told it to you. I’ve been drinking. I got a little loud — we both did. I knocked the stupid lamp over and it cut his leg. Am I under arrest unless I apologize to the bastard? I would have made it up to him if you cops hadn’t shown up.”

In Darla’s sarcasm, she made close eye contact with Janssen and gestured to insinuate she was going to flash her breasts at him, but then quickly turned to face Tom before exposing herself and jiggling her boobs from side to side with Girl’s Gone Wild fanfare (Officer Janssen had a few of those DVD’s back at his house).

“Ma’am, please cover yourself now!” Janssen spoke with firm authority. Tom scrambled to cover Darla’s silicone implanted boobs by forcing her hands off of her shirt while simultaneously making a plea to Officer Janssen.

“Sir, my wife has no physical injuries and she’s obviously not pressing charges for anything I’ve done – as if she’d have a reason to?” Tom spoke in a calm voice. Dealing with Darla’s games and self destructive issues gave him plenty of practice in how to calm his temper that was famous for getting him into trouble. He was also getting very good at covering up Darla’s pill-popping problems.

“Can’t we just say our goodnights now? Me and the wife will calm it down. We’re really sorry about the noise.”

Darla let out an obnoxious burst of loud laughter, plopped backwards onto the edge of the couch, then slipped off and then fell on her ass in a real life version of that famous texting lingo, “ROFLMAO” (Rolling On Floor Laughing My Ass Off). Both Tom and Janssen ignored Darla.

“Sir, I’m going to ask you to leave the premises for the evening so your wife can sleep off the alcohol without causing anymore disturbances tonight. It’s either that or she can sleep it off downtown. Do you have somewhere you can go?”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me? Tell me you’re joking.” Now Tom was pissed off.

“No, sir. Pack a quick bag if you have to. I’ll wait, but make it fast.”

“Fine. I’m outta here then. And f-ck you, Darla!” Tom’s “f-ck you” came out with such anger and force, that spit flew out of his mouth. A visible vein began to swell on the side of his head near his temple. He grabbed his keys and stormed out of the apartment. But not too stormy, because his leg still hurts and he’s gotta watch his temper, ya know. He drove off in his Acura TL, wanting to floor it past the parked cop car, but he knew better than that.

—

Darla was all alone now, and not one bit upset that Tom was forced out for the night. She liked it better with him gone.  No one to bitch at her about getting well and maybe even finding a job. Ahhh, the quiet. The quiet would help her relax ever so slightly until Jerome showed up with more pills. She grabbed her cell and dialed him up. She needed that Oxycodone.

Jerome is 28-years-old. He’s tall, dark-skinned and handsome with a fine-ass face and a sexy frame. But he’s not your stereotypical drug dealer guy. Jerome doesn’t work street corners selling product. He’s got a rich mommy and daddy, an Exercise and Sport Science degree from Temple University, and a really good job. So maybe we’ll find out later why he’s got a part-time gig as a pill pusher.

He was always prompt to answer and deliver Darla’s product in a timely fashion. She was one of his best customers. There was a knock at the door within 20 minutes of her phone call. Yes, it’s Jerome and hell yes, he has what she wants – what she needs. Jerome stood at the door with a smirk on his face and a pill in his hand. He stuck his head inside the door, not really sure if Tom was gone like Darla alleged.

“Tom took all the cash in the house. He must’ve already had it in his pockets before the cops showed up,”  Darla made a freebie-pills-plea to Jerome.

“Girl, why did you call me out here if you don’t have the cash?” Jerome’s voice wasn’t harsh – he didn’t sound upset at all. His voice was like a soothing salve, actually. He reached in close to caress her face and whispered in her ear, “What can you give me instead?”

Jerome knew Darla since before her boot camp back injury; since before she was hooked on pills; since before she knew he had part-time drug gig, and way before she was married to Tom. Jerome actually cared for Darla – he had for a very long time. But could he really care for her and be her supplier? Was that possible? Perhaps it’s more complicated than that.

What is he doing? Darla didn’t have much time to think. Still inside the open doorway, Jerome took off his shirt and grabbed her with gentle force. Darla didn’t refuse him. At some point soon after that the door finally closed shut, but not before one last peep-hole-nosy neighbor witnessed Darla and Jerome’s newborn lust transpire. Shameeka Jones in apartment 2C saw it happen.

—

He decided to pass on the invitation to crash at his best friend Barry’s house (Barry partied too much lately), so Tom drove over to the 24-hour gym to work off his stress instead. He had his plan all thought out: I don’t care if my leg hurts. I’ll focus on upper body work and then grab a bite to eat at that diner across the street. Then I’ll go back home to my Darla. I should be home in less than two hours. I’ll give her one pill – just one. We’ll patch things up. I’m gonna get her the help she needs.

But after only 15 minutes in the weight room, he cut everything short. He even canceled his eating plans. Tom was back in the car and his way home to Darla.

—

Stay tuned for the next episode in the Fitness Romance Saga.