Malt-o-Meal is Not a Waffle

Did you know that? Well, Wee Laddie does now and what that means is that Malt-o-Meal is not an acceptable breakfast option. Our dear boy is so addicted to his morning waffle. He varies the toppings… peanut butter and jelly, honey and flaxseed, syrup, peanut butter or jelly only… occasionally, cheese. But the waffle is pretty much a given. So the Malt-o-Meal I made this morning did not go over so well.

Tonight was my first German class through the Volkshochschule (VHS) in Parsberg. This was the beginner, Level I class. I’m sure I could learn some stuff there, but as we were learning the alphabet and how to count, I think I might try the next class up, which meets on Tuesday nights. I don’t have much German, but Guitarman and I took a couple of community college classes back home and I’ve listened to some Pimsleur and a few other CDs. The instructor invited me and a guy in class to try the other one to see which one seems better for us.

I think I’ve lost weight since we’ve been here. I can’t be sure since I haven’t unpacked a scale yet… and despite repeated requests, Guitarman refuses to dry my clothes on anything other than medium heat. (I won’t complain too much since he is, in fact, doing *ALL* the laundry. I’ve mentioned it in the past—he’s really great about doing laundry, albeit on his terms—but I think he doesn’t believe me about how much it shrinks my clothes.) So my jeans certainly don’t fit any tighter, and it seems that my shirts keep covering less & less of my belly, but I’m still noticing less... bulk, if you will.

I’ll have to confirm it one of these days, but for now it’s a nice thought, at least. I don’t know how it’s happening… we eat at Burger King (I’m trying to ignore the fact that they haven’t gone transfat-free yet) at least once a week and I eat way too much food at the mess hall… and ice cream nearly every day at lunch. (Hey, once it seemed like I was getting thinner that way, I figure that was a pretty awesome way to lose weight!) The only thing I can think of is that I’m hardly eating any bread. (Okay, very un-German of me, but it’s so easy for me to avoid.)