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Posts Tagged ‘sugar’

Here’s the deal.  Things are tough for a lot of people and we happen to fall in that category.

Disabled husband hasn’t had a raise in social security for the twenty-two years he has been considered permanently disabled.  Raises in Medicare or our personal insurance have always eaten them up.

He smoked for one month, as a teen, but his lungs (and apparently several people in his family have problems) are shot.  He has COPD; with emphysema and chronic bronchitis.  His body also produces way too many histamines, so he has reactions to many things everything.

We had put off going to the food bank as long as we could, but with Thanksgiving this month, it was time.

What I didn’t expect was my reaction to going to the food bank.

I read the article in the paper wrong, first.  So, we went during the two hours they were closed.  The doors were open so I thought I could get the paperwork to fill out at home and come back.

So, instead of thirty-five people going through a line of “take one from shelf A, two from shelf B, etc. the woman had me sign a paper that our
income fit the Federal criteria, which it definitely does, and then she handed us a bag for food.  Then, a box and some more bags as we threaded through the food shelf maze.

I was fine until she handed me a frozen turkey, I just broke out in tears.  A grown woman, crying over a frozen turkey.

I don’t know why?  I guess relief that we would be able to have a normal Thanksgiving for our boys, but, then I also cry at all of CNN’s reports of people who make a difference.

Things I have learned about food banks:

1.    The people who work at them really care.  Sometimes, it is hard to believe that anyone  cares, but they do.

2.    They are making the best of the world that they can.  They run around and gather canned goods and  whatever else local businesses will spare.   They are so grateful for the donation of a freezer, they want our 19 year old to be sure and have a Christmas gift.   They care that we have warm coats and chairs to sit on.

3.    But, if I ever get wealthy, I’m making some specific donations that are along the line of if you teach a man to fish, only this is  if you give him food to cook, he can serve more meals at home.

4.    Things you don’t see at the food bank are staples of cooking:

a.    Flour
b.    Sugar
c.    Butter/margarine
d.   Spices
e.    Cheese: although we did get an industrial sized jalapeno cheese that has our nineteen year old eating nothing but tortilla chips and cheese this week. And, I do know that cheese is not generally considered a staple.
f.    Ground Turkey would be a good alternative for meat.
g.    Eggs
h.   Oats

But, I cannot tell you how thankful I am for these wonderful people who go out of their way for others.

P.S. I am still working on my vegan diet. I have some wheat flour left and picked up some black beans for black bean burgers, and I’m searching for new recipes for all the other beans I have collected.

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cake
I am convinced that everything is addicting:  sugar, fat, caffeine, frosting.  It is all addictive.

And, there is no substitute for frosting!

Occasionally, I dream about eating cake, with frosting of course.

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The doctor will be so happy with me.  He  wanted me to lose 10 pounds and I have lost 20, since January.  Not dramatic, but permanent.  How did I do it, you ask?  Well, whether you are being polite or really want to know, I’ll tell you, because it might help someone.

I have been up and down and up and down most of my life.  The first time, after the birth of my two daughters, there was this carmel chewy diet cube called AIDS.  Now, I realize why they would pull it and rename it (this was before the virus) but I do not find it under any name.  I lost a lot of weight chewing those cubes and as I got lower, I started  doing yoga.

I love yoga.  I have turned to it many times in my life since and, while I am not doing it nightly, as I would like to, I still practice many of the techniques I learned from it.  I can make myself warm up in an otherwise cold environment when I do not have adequate clothing.  Anyway,

I have done little white pills, and no carbs, and a space age diet packet thing in the 70’s.  You lose weight on it all, but it comes back.  So, this time, I just decided to cut my portions in half, or near half to start with.  Lost some weight, cut out red meat except occasionally.  Lost some weight, so cut my portions again.  Lost some weight, so cut out sugary food.  (even though this is what I want to be eating  Cake Wrecks .You see the point here.  You take it one step at a time.

I have a good friend who quit drinking.  He felt he could not preach to his son, who was having a drug problem, when he was drinking.  Well, he felt so much better that he quit smoking.  He felt so much better, that he started walking.  He felt so much better he worked on his diet.   You see the point here?

When it is something you really want, you practice.  You pick up the instrument and you start with Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and, when you want to lose weight, you practice for the time when you turn around and go, “I did it.  I’ve lost weight, I’m still losing, my blood sugar is good, my blood pressure is great and my blood counts are excellent.”

So, soon I will be back on the treadmill and I’m working up to the weights again.  I love lifting weights.  My energy is coming back and I’m cleaning up my downstairs studio.  I feel like I am living again.

Just thought you should know.  Good luck to you, too.

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I love the blog, A Mask to Hide Behind, which is now (June 2009) actually  A LIFE IN THE DAY OF ME.  In fact, I like it so well that it is currently one of only two Blogs I subscribe to. Of course, it may be they are the only ones who make it easy to figure out how to subscribe to and there are days when it comes in my email and later I click down my blog links and go, “Drat! I already read this one.” and I am disappointed that I have alrady had the experience.  So, I am not sure I like this subscribe thing.

 

But, the “girl behind the mask” writes in such a simple, direct manner, and her family gives her so much good material, that it has become my daily morning laugh.  After I am done laughing, I can let out that deep sigh and return to my family, saying, “They’re not all that bad.” 

 

 

Ah, but they are; just in their own way.

 

 

My mother for one: She is of a generation who does not sweat or swear or actually discuss any bodily functions.  Words like piddle and sugar are as bad a swear word as she gets. It is also wrong for a woman to have a temper. 

 

Now, my father had a temper that made up for her lack of one. Once, when they were newly married and living in a tiny house trailer, he got mad and kicked the wood stove. The stove leg broke, causing the stove to crash to the side and dump, the pipe came unhinged, and soot and ash covered everything.

 

 

“Do you feel better now?” Mom asked him.

 

 

“Yes, I do.” He replied.

 

 

“Then, clean it up yourself.”

 

 

(Honest: I am not sure of the conversation, as I was not born yet, but that is what I imagine the conversation to be.  Mind you, that is nowhere near what I would have said, as I grabbed my coat and car keys, but mom did not drive, and the conversation probably ended in her cleaning up the soot.)

 

Many years later, after the children were grown and gone and the “debates” raged in their house as to whether the sky was really blue, or whether it was a bird or a bear on the deck, or had the electric bill come or who actually put the tax forms in the dash of the car (and that was a good one too, as dad actually <when he found the forms in the dash> had to admit that he had done it, but belligerently he added, “Why did you let me do that?”

 

Thus, making it mom’s fault.

 

After all this, came a day when mother had enough of dad’s temper.

 

They were in the kitchen, when the shit hit the fan, so to speak (and she would never ever say that either).  Mother just had enough of dad’s yelling, and she took her hand and swept dishes and a box of Twinkies off the counter. 

 

As I understand it, the Twinkies flew across the room, hit a wall and bounced down the stairs.  Dad stood open mouthed at the hitherto unseen violence of mom’s actions and mom took off for the bedroom crying; not because she was mad at dad but because she had fallen so far that she committed a violent act like throwing the Twinkies.

 

Such an unladylike thing to do! Tisk! Tisk!

 

Later she would remark that temper serves no purpose, as besides having broken dishes, which also cut her leg, she now had a dirty box of Twinkies

 

“But, didn’t you feel better, Mom?” I asked when the story was relayed to me.

 

Head down and eyes up, she sheepishly replied a barely audible, “Yes, but I had to clean it up.”

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