Category: Why overweight?
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And now, Father’s Day. Also, best fruit salad ever. With no added sugar!
OK, the good thing is: We get Mother’s and Father’s Day over within a few weeks of each other. Then I can revert to standard grump mode, as opposed to raging about the nonexistent parenting in my long-ago past. Even I realize this last hurts me as opposed to anyone else, especially those no longer…
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My year as an only child
My only sibling died a year ago today, just as summer 2016 premiered. I guess, officially, I was also an only child in the 21 months before her birth, but I’m assuming I enjoyed that. This, not so much. I miss her. No one else walks this world who knows what it was like in…
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Guilt and lamb
Amazing how one sentence can bring someone back from the dead and slap you up’side the haid. My mother’s been dead for 18 years, and yet when I found an old letter of hers this morning, boom! This letter’s at least 20 years old, maybe more. She’s talking about a much disliked sister-in-law’s back surgery…
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It was I all along or, even better, I was in here the whole time
That’s a grammar police swipe at It Was Me All Along, Andie Mitchell’s memoir of coming to terms with her food addiction (clarkson potter, 2015). Mitchell is a (now) beautiful blogger (canyoustayfordinner.com) who, like so many of us, has had her more than whale-size phases. I wanted to like this book for many reasons, including the…
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Giving thanks on the road
So Thanksgiving dinner, I read, can easily amount to 3,000 calories. Yikes, as Leonard’s mother says on “Big Bang Theory” — that’s about TWICE what I’m supposed to eat in a day to lose 1 pound per week. Add to that, we’ll be in the truck for at least 7 hours on Thursday and I…
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Full moon setting; rosemary mashed sweet potatoes with caramelized shallots
Florida-grapefruit yellow moon dropping to the horizon outside study windows this morning, something I’d miss if I could sleep past 4 a.m. The last of the moonlight makes luminous the mist exhaled by the sleeping pastures, and I wonder, again, how I can leave this extraordinary beauty for a more prosaic site with more people, more life.…
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Addiction, the sequel (again)
“None of her actions was in the least inauthentic, but her degree of alienation from goals, actions, simple states of being — the acute, inescapable self-surveillance of the addict — resembles that rarefied ontological space of the depressive, the anxious, the ill, the poet.” (Joshua Cody’s [sic] — A Memoir, W.W. Norton & Co., 2011)…
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2 pounds and 2 weeks ’til reunion!
I wonder if any other of my classmates has to buy a new fence charger before our 50th reunion in 2.5 weeks. When I went out to put on fly masks this morning, we had a free range quarterhorse, and it will not do if any of our three amigos range onto N. Meadow Rd.…
youcanteaticecreamintheshower 