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Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts

Thursday, June 7, 2012

#BFF: Food

When I was a wee little girl, I ate two things: hot dogs and jello. The hot dogs had to be peeled of skin and cut into little round pieces while the jello was usually red.

My frantic mother rushed me to the doctor and asked, "What do I do?"

"Feed her hot dogs and jello," the doctor said.

(Reminds me of the old joke, "Doc, it hurts when I do this!"

"Don't do this.")

So Mom left me alone and with little fanfare, my food jag slipped away. Today there are very few foods I don't like. Don't get me wrong, there are many things I won't eat, but it's due to diet, health, or religious issues, not from stamping my feet like a two year old.

I still love hot dogs (even after the events from my A-Z hot dog post). Here is a picture of my lunch. Yes. That's a hot dog hiding behind asparagus, mushrooms, onions, and tomatoes. I count carbs, so you're not seeing a slice of bread, but I did eat a delicious 13 carb fiber brownie for dessert.  The vegetables are about 5 carbs per serving, and I probably have at least four servings on the plate, so I think I'm good. If not, I will instantly balloon out and have to throw out the few things that didn't shrink in my hot closet, but that's okay too because my kids have directions via Rita Rudner.

They've grown up hearing, "If I'm ever on life support, don't pull the plug until I'm a size six."

"Yes, Mother." They roll their eyes and never find me even slightly funny.

Back to the carbs. I started counting carbs in April and since then I've shed about twenty pounds. I don't eat much in the way of sugar, but that's nothing new. The thought of a glazed donut makes me want to gag, which is ironic because my WIP is a story called MRS. ZIMMERMAN'S DONUTS and involves a little boy who's deprived of these and other delectables from his over protective mother.

I don't eat pork as a poor attempt to follow at least one kosher law. If I were truly a good Jew, I'd give up my favorite traif, shrimp, but it ain't happening. At least not outside the home.

I like wine, but every time I drink a glass, my blood sugar spikes. I'm not a Diabetic but the disease runs heavily in my family and that's the main reason I'm carb counting. I have a pre-Diabetic diagnosis and don't want to take it any further than that, so I figure I have a choice: Eat healthy and lose weight or get the disease and lose the weight of a leg or two. I choose the former. Yay! Blood sugar was 93 this morning.

As for foods I don't like, I hate liver, olives, sweet pickles and relish. I'm not a big fan of okra, but it has more to due with the slimy texture than the taste. It looks like snot and doesn't score too well on my appetizing meter.

Now that you know my food issues, I leave you with a musical number on the topic. Signing off from the Methodist Germantown Hospital. Surgery was a success, and I'm going home today. I hope the dogs don't attack me when I head through the door.

Beware of Dogs



Enjoy one of my favorite songs about a yummy food that I won't be eating for awhile.


Friday, June 17, 2011

Meet Knob

Jeannie Campbell is hosting a blog hop and contest about getting to know our characters. So please meet the main character of my Work in Progress. Then you may buzz over to her site and meet other fictional people. How To Connect With Your MC


Knob's formal name is William Donald Donellson, but he received the nick name of Knob after Slater announced that his shaved hair made his head look like a door knob. Knob is a respectable name for an amazing, tough soldier. Unfortunately as the butt of the fifth grade, Wimpy Will has never felt like a tough anything.

Thanks for the interview. I'll answer the questions as best I can because I always do.

Question 1: What is your greatest fear? 

Gee, that's a tough one because I'm scared of everything. My brother died from falling off a bicycle and bleeding to death. I know, it sounds weird, but he had a disease called hemophilia and the doctors couldn't save him. Although I don't have the disease, you'd think I did by the way my mom hovers over me. I guess I'm scared of getting it. They say it's hereditary, so what happens if one day I catch hemophilia, start bleeding, and can't stop it?

Question 2: What is your biggest accomplishment?
I'm smart. Two years ago I won my age group in The Under the Arch Chess Tournament. I almost won again last year but a girl named Haley beat me. She's the only one who can beat me at chess, and I'm a little knock kneed at the thought of going up against her this year in the ten-year-old's category. Okay, I confess, I kinda like her, so scratch out my answer to question one. I'm most afraid of Haley--which is probably why I lost the tournament.
 
Question 3: What is your biggest regret?

I regret letting Randy bug me all the time in class. He always bullies me, but I've never stopped him because I'm kinda chicken. If I tell him to leave me alone, he might punch me, make me bleed, and do it in front of Haley. So on second thought, I guess I'm most afraid of Randy Butcher.

You didn't ask me what's been bugging me, but I'm going to tell you anyway. No one has gotten to meet me because my author has not gotten my story into query shape. It needs a lot of revisions. Here's the start of my story, MRS. ZIMMERMAN'S DONUTS by Joyce Paull Lansky. If you like it, tell your agent or editor friend about her because I want to be famous. Err, maybe not. It might be scary.



Mrs. Zimmerman's Donuts


            Every Friday after school, Harrison Zimmerman invited popular boys—not me, over for a stupid end-of-the-week celebration. His mom, the best chef in St. Louis County and co-founder of Zimmerman’s bakery, would fry up homemade donuts dipped in thick chocolate sauce. My mouth watered as we drove down Aberdeen Avenue and I breathed in the scent of those gooey pieces on a bed of powdered sugar.            
By the age of ten most guys had wolfed down seven-dozen pastries or more, but I’d never even tasted Mrs. Zimmerman’s donuts. I convinced myself that it was because my mom would’ve fallen into a tantrum at the thought of me swallowing anything slightly junky. She usually made a fuss over eating healthy as if my gut would explode if the tiniest bit of sugar or grease tickled my insides. But the real reason I’d never eaten the donuts—the fact that bothered me even more than Mom’s obsession over food, cleanliness, and safety—was that Harrison had never asked me to come to his stupid party. Actually, no one had ever invited me to go anywhere; but things were about to change.
  

That's what's been bugging me, but it's okay. Slater moved to town,
and he's going to help me be cool. See ya later.   ❧ Knob
                                                                


Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Our Wedding Hop

It's been a lot of months since my husband's friend entered into a second marriage, a year since our son's friend tied the knot, and another year before that, we had attended my nephew's wedding. Being the social outcasts that we are, people aren't banging down our doors to spend time with us. However, something odd happened on Memorial Day Week-end: two of our good friends' daughters got married on the same night, starting at the exact same time, and we successfully attended both weddings!

Knowing that one ceremony would be conducted in the most judicial of manners without much foofaraw, we attended that one first. The bridal party stepped about ten feet into a beautiful, plant filled room, and said your basic English vows--without the word obey. Somehow that important word for grooms has slipped out of the current vernacular. The groom said, "Ouch!" when his beloved slipped the ring on his finger, and she didn't even slap him. My husband thinks she hurt him with the ring, but I took it as him making fun of his new state of holy matrimony. According to Papa-In-Law it was a little of both. He'd burned his knuckle the other day but also has a great sense of humor.

After the vows were complete, we hopped in the convertible and drove a few blocks to the Botanical Garden where the 5:30 wedding had not even begun. We arrived in time to sample a few amazing appetizers, then watched men in black hats dance the groom to the bride so that he could lift her veil and make sure he was marrying the right sister. However, with the bride being a triplet, I have never been able to tell her from her sister anyway. Hopefully, he married the right gal.

The beautiful wedding included a long walk, maybe half a football field, through an outdoor area and Jewish customs such as the bride circling the groom seven times, chanting Hebrew verses, and a smash of a glass. The marriage was conducted by the groom's Orthodox Rabbi father who lives in Israel; however, the groom does not practice Judaism to the degree of his family.

After the vows were exchanged, we hopped back in the car and headed to the first wedding. We enjoyed visiting with a fun crowd and eating fried sweet potatoes; however, I didn't have any of the bacon-wrapped shrimp that I couldn't have gotten at the other wedding. The music was upbeat with Cee Lo, Sweet Home Alabama, and YMCA.  In fact, one dude walked around with an afro wig while the DJ had the folks on the dance floor wearing Village People Hats. The party was a lot of fun, but the other wedding would be serving dinner at 9:30, so we hopped back into the car and off we went.

We arrived to a New York band playing cultural music while people danced on two sides of a wall: men on one side and women on the other. The waiters served a wonderful trout dinner, and then the wall came down. The religious folks left the room while men and women danced together to rock hits. This was the compromise the groom had agreed upon with his family. Amazing!

Needless to say, we had a lot of fun and only missed two notable events: seeing our friend's weird solo dance and the second couple hoisted in the chairs to the tune of the Hora.

If you like my post, please click the white picket fence or the snippet.



Friday, May 6, 2011

Vaseline

You know the stuff! Petroleum jelly. Thick gooey blobs of grease that could be a fun horror movie special affect with a little red food coloring. With a name like "Petroleum jelly," one has to wonder where this stuff comes from. Is there a petroleum plant, run off from gasoline, or what?

Vaseline
Looking at Wikipedia, petroleum jelly is a semi-solid mixture of hydrocarbons with a melting point of about 167˚. Now I don't know about you, but I never tried to melt Vaseline. I mean if you coat your logs in Vaseline then stick them in the fire, will they burn longer? Purer? Send off healing products into the air?

The article goes on to report that Vaseline is tasteless. Thank God they told me that! I was going to spread it on my toast this morning. Also, Vaseline has no known healing effects, but rather works as a Bandaid to keep germs out. What do you use Vaseline for? On second thought, I don't want to know!