Favorite brunch places in Laval: Allô! mon coco

Who needs a getaway when your food looks that good? Welcome to Allô! mon coco! The one we went to is located in Centropolis, Laval.

“Doesn’t this make you feel like you’ve landed in a resort buffet?”

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Allô! mon coco brunch

Brunch culture is extremely strong in Laval and Montreal. So much so it is akin to real punishment to have breakfast at home on weekends. For me at least :). Although we’ve tapered off quite a bit, we try to do at least one brunch every two weeks either on Saturday or Sunday. I usually prefer Saturday which leaves me with Sunday to help my body recover from the food induced coma of the previous day.

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Allô! mon coco breakfast

What to wear:

It is brunch not a visit with the Dalai Lama so it’s okay to look like your growling stomach got you out of bed. Just do it in a stylish way 🙂 The last thing you want is for you to just happen to meet an old friend with your hair looking like a snake pit. In which case I sincerely advise you to hide behind whatever you can find, human or object. I’ve clearly thought about everything, thank me later 🙂

Portions:

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Judging by this pic, it is obvious portions are gigantic with plenty of choice. No risk being bored here. It’s also fairly delicious too.

Who to bring: Just about anybody as long as they are paying for you :). It is family friendly. There are long lines but service is efficient. They have plenty of locations all over Montreal as well.

Price: Reasonable

The last time we went I was able to resist their big side of potato. I can’t even begin to tell you how difficult that was. Their mash potato is so good it should be illegal.  I comforted myself in the fact I had great discipline and courage…but not for long…

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My self-righteous omelet:)

I felt both victorious and bitter. On one hand I was glad I resisted but on the other hand I felt bitter looking at dear husband enjoying his side of potato sitting right besides me. He didn’t even have the decency to pretend he wasn’t enjoying it. All in all, it was a pretty well-spent Saturday.

Bisous and talk next week!

 

 

 

Showing up imperfect: Getting back in the saddle

“We must not let the perfect be the enemy of the good”

Voltaire

I have been MIA on this blog for quite some time now and I must say getting back in the saddle is definitely not easy…especially after stopping for what feels like ages. Well, 5 months and a few days to be exact. With that being said, there isn’t a day that went by without me missing this space that I have created. There isn’t also a day that went by that I don’t curse myself for starting it in the first place and constantly asking myself why oh why did I have to get involved in blogging (throws hands up in the air, Greek tragedy style)

“It is  better to show up imperfect than to retrieve into an early grave with perfection as the sole companion.”

As a Libra if there’s one thing I do best is study the pros and cons until I lose all motivations to do anything.  I overwhelmed myself by making things more complicated than they should be until I became paralyzed with thoughts of not being good enough. You see, I had managed to convince myself I needed to hit the ground running. I had forgotten that nobody truly hits the ground running and that baby steps matters. Instead of keeping track of my progress, I kept track of my shortcomings. A true recipe for disaster. As time passed I couldn’t bring myself to get back in the saddle but I couldn’t bring myself to quit either. It was like being frozen between heaven and hell. Naturally, once I’ve driven my husband to the brink of suicide I suddenly come to a “realization” which in my language means I have a melt-down usually scheduled around the time dear husband is trying to relax after a 60+ hour work week ( I truly married my soulmate…). While it is not easy to maintain this blog, I have discovered during these past few months that it is even more painful not to.  Dear husband has truly been instrumental during these few months of absence gently and relentlessly coaxing me into action. Not a day goes by without me thanking God for him.

So  for what it’s worth, I am back and hopefully for good 🙂 One thing I know for sure: It’s  better to show up imperfect than to retrieve into an early grave with perfection as the sole companion.

Thanks for passing by 🙂

On being a woman and the uphill battle with body hair….

“…Being a woman is worse than being a farmer – There is so much harvesting and crop spraying to be done: legs to be waxed, underarms shaved, eyebrows plucked, feet pumiced, skin exfoliated and moisturized, spots cleansed, roots dyed, eyelashes tinted, nails filed, cellulite massaged, stomach muscle exercised. The whole performance is so highly tuned you only need to neglect it for a few days for the whole thing to go to seed. Sometimes I wonder what I would be like if left to revert to nature – with a  full beard and handlebar mustache on each shin….”

Currently reading Helen Fielding’s Bridget Jones’ diary and I almost died of laughter when I read that quote.

How many times have we, as women, asked ourselves the same question as Bridget? I have often felt as if I am fighting a losing battle in which my body hair holds all the winning cards. In fact, when it comes to body hair my husband and I often have these type of conversation:

Husband: “Going to the doctor?”

Me: “No, why?”

Husband: “Well, your legs are smooth and you’re all shaved and everything…”

Me looking at him intensely trying to remember why I ever married in the first place.

Husband: “These days you only shave when going to the doctor.”

Me: “That’s a lie, I shave regularly!”

Husband: “Except in Winter… Are you trying to grow your own fur?”

Me: “Oh shut up!”

“…I just can’t help but associate laser hair removal with images of a possessed Light saber angrily swinging above my precious and very private body parts….”

At that point, since I wanted to remain married I chose to ignore the man. After all, being single again would undoubtedly mean — and this time around the clock — more waxing, shaving, tweezing and plucking than ever before just to get back in the saddle as quickly as possible.

But really why is body hair okay for men and borderline disgusting for women? When you stop and think for a second, it is actually pretty twisted to want a fully grown female body to be free of all body hair?

“When I think of all the time I spent plucking out every single hair off of my body, I could have easily earn another degree”

Of course I could also go the laser hair removal route but for some reason I just can’t help but associate laser hair removal with images of a possessed lightsaber angrily swinging above my precious and very private body parts…

Whatever reasons pushed us into such behavior in the past, I am sure it’s all over now. Still most of us keep plucking away. Why do we women keep doing this to ourselves? Do we do it because we think it’ll make us more attractive? Do we do it because it has been done for so long that it has now become the norm in our society? Do we do it to fit in? God forbid we’re part of the select group of women proudly sporting a mustache on the planet (Insert shivering outcast emoji here). I am quite sure culture also play a big part in the equation…..

The mystery remains said the woman who’s about to shave her legs and many other sensitive body parts for the millionth times…..

WHY I HATE GOING TO THE DENTIST

I never feared going to  the dentist. Well, I must also say that I keep my visits to the bare minimum which is why I was in for major tuneups the last time I went.  I went in with the innocence and abandon of a sleeping baby considering my husband had been going there for a while now and he assured me she was very efficient. So I told myself if my husband can take it so can I. Wrong. The thing is dear husband has a high pain threshold. I don’t.

“…I had more traffic in my open mouth than a merging lane during rush hour.”

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“What going to the dentist feels like…”

Picture: Courtesy of: http://x-files.wikia.com/wiki/Fox_Mulder%27s_abduction

So I booked an appointment and was greeted upon arrival by an extremely sweet desk clerk. Everything was going well until I stepped into the actual dentistry room. The dental assistant welcomed me in with what I thought was at first a thoughtful and considerate smile but in the aftermath I came to the realization that people on death rows must receive the exact same smile from powerless family members. Some tests were performed firsthand to determine the state of my teeth and judging by the resulting pursed lips from the dentist they were not satisfactory. The tests themselves made feel like a victim of aliens abduction, X-files style.

Now regarding the procedure itself, I always considered myself to be a delicate flower that must be treated with the utmost care but apparently in that office they did not get the memo. To put it nicely, it was fast and furious. My mouth was kept open unceremoniously with fingers and objects coming in and out of it at lightning speed. I had more traffic in my open mouth than a merging lane during rush hour. It was the longest 45 minutes of my life and the copious amounts of pain medication injected did absolutely nothing to relieve the constant drilling and pulling and scrubbing that felt like mini earthquakes. Months later, traumatized and still shocked I sometimes wonder if this dear dentist wasn’t a mechanic in a past life…which would have explained a lot of things and restored my faith in dentists all over the world (Insert Greek tragedy goddess emoji here).

“The tests themselves made me feel like a victim of aliens abduction, X-files style.”

In retrospect, I should have known because when I came in there was a little girl coming out of the dentistry room crying her heart out and to calm her down the receptionist gave her a toy. I sincerely wish they would give toys to adults too when they come out of there. Or at the very lest a hug. I know I would have appreciated one after that traumatizing experience. 

Needless to say after much deliberation I decided not to go back. I gathered a couple of suggestions from friends and family and most of them come highly recommended but I am so traumatized I can’t even bring myself to place a call for that first appointment. But I know  I have to… (Insert why me emoji here)

Are you afraid of the dentist too? Apparently it is a very common fear that I quite frankly didn’t expect to feel. Do you know of any tricks to help manage it? Any suggestions would be much appreciated. Until then talk to you soon! My next post will be on December 17th. Bisoux!

WHAT HAPPENED AFTER MY HOLIER THAN THOU POST ON EXERCISE…

“…Next time you have an unplanned cheat day or week or whatever just do one thing: Pick yourself up and move on. It is as simple as this. Don’t starve yourself or sign up for a boot camp the next day. Just forget about it and move on…”

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I swear the pizza was gluten free with light cheese …

It was around 8:00 pm and I had been home for about an hour. I was hungry and tired after a long day at work. After rummaging through the fridge looking for something ready to eat and finding nothing I went and sit at the kitchen table to check out my favorite Instagram accounts. Unfortunately for me there was a jar of peanut butter sitting right  in the middle of the table staring right at me. Crunchy peanut butter is my nemesis. One of these days I am gonna have to go to therapy for it. The minute my eyes fell on it I knew I was lost.

let’s just say I went hog wild. When I came back to self dear husband was standing across from me. Naturally he was making fun of me as usual.

“Okay you’ve downed 5 Tbs of peanut butter so far…you’re doing good!”

“You’re counting?”

“Let’s see…just yesterday you talked about 5 ways to stick to an exercise program, tonight you’ve downed 5 Tbs of peanut butter in just under 5 minutes…the number  five is clearly your lucky number”

I was caught red-handed. I was still hugging the peanut butter jar like a drowning a man would a lifeboat. I had two choices I could stand my ground and down two more Tbs or I  could lift my chin offended-sausage-dog style and stomp out of the room. Unclear on the path to take I decided to be bitchy instead:

“Okaaaay…are you like the WordPress food police or something? ”

“No, of course not, just merely reminding you that you’re human…after all”.

“The minute you declare yourself a fitness warrior, new demons arises to make you eat your words…or the fridge.”

He was right and I was ashamed. As a true Libra nothing angers me more than coming face to face with my own demons. You see I sincerely believe I was sent on earth as a guide for all who are lost.  Unfortunately for me I married a guy who believes in telling it like it is even if it means weeks of nagging and retaliation.

Can you imagine my guilt? Barely one day after my perfect post on  exercise. Well, I guess I needed a break from being good. So instead of retaliating some more I decided to do the only sensible thing winners (insert shameless emoji here) do under such dire circumstances: I picked myself up and move on. So next time you have an unplanned cheat day or week or whatever just do one thing: Pick yourself up and move on. It is as simple as this. Don’t starve yourself or sign up for a boot camp the next day. Just forget about it and move on.

Naturally considering the circumstances surrounding this betrayal, I’ll wait a few days before writing another saintly post:) After all I am only a budding hypocrite, not a full-blown one!

Please soothe my conscience and help me think I am not the only who’s ever done such thing by either commenting, liking or simply sharing this article to your heart’s content. I will be back with another post on December 10th! In the meantime Gros Bisoux!