Sunday Day 32

It's cold here. Really cold. 50 degrees may not seem cold to those living in Idyllwild, or New Jersey but my toes are freezing. I've turned on the heater and I have socks on my feet and put on my old red cashmere robe. I've lost the belt to it and it has a few little holes but it's so warm. It'll do just fine.

Sundays, in my family, usually meant a special breakfast of my grandmother's Oh Boy Waffles served with bacon, eggs and orange juice. My grandmother's recipe calls for one cup of melted shortening. Can you imagine? White flour, melted shortening, salt, baking soda, sugar, eggs, milk or cream all whipped up into a smooth batter. Mom would put more shortening on the waffle iron to prevent sticking and serve them golden brown with butter and syrup. I remember this today because I was feeling rather nostalgic when I went into the kitchen on this cold Sunday morning. I wanted to pull down the Bisquick box and whip up a batch of pancakes.

I made my weekly calls to my sisters and when I asked Linda what she was doing she said she was making Oh Boy Waffles for her family. It's the only way to get all of her kids to come over on Sunday mornings. I've been thinking a lot about the way I used to eat. I was the Queen of Cheeseburger. Since I was a little kid it's all I would eat. No pickles, no tomatoes, no mustard, just meat, cheese, bun and special sauce. As a teen I ate at Jack In The Box every chance I got. I'd order the Jumbo Jack with extra secret sauce. You can keep the french fries, just give me a burger with a diet coke. Later the Whopper became my burger of choice, then Hennessey's Bar and Grill's cheddar burger with guacamole and salsa.

I was also the Goddess of the Rib Eye steak, medium rare. Houston's and Macaroni Grill have the best rib eye's in town. And let's not forget the baby back ribs from Chicago for Ribs, delivered to my door and the carne asada taco's at Taco's Amigos while out running errands. How am I not dead? Really. How have I not dropped dead from a heart attack? Butter on my toast, cream in my coffee, and sour cream on my potatoes. It's not that I didn't know how bad it was for me. I just didn't care. I wanted the pleasure of the taste. Every good cook knows butter makes everything taste better. Just ask Julia.

I dropped by my sister Sharon's house yesterday and it was like a mine field with sweet goodies everywhere. Her husband buys a box of donuts everyday. He cooks fried potatoes and chorizo and eggs. He bakes cookies and cakes because their granddaughter loves them. There are bowls of candy everywhere. I wouldn't have noticed it except ...well...now I do.

My sister Vicky has recently been diagnosed with diabetes. She's learning from a nutritionist what she needs to do to keep her blood sugar level but it isn't easy. She's lost 50 pounds and has about 75 more to go. It's crazy what we have done to ourselves for the pleasure of briefly tasting foods.

Sundays are the hardest for me. It's traditional to eat through a football game. We fill our coffee tables with chips and dips, big sandwiches filled with meats and cheeses, bowls of goodies to help us cheer on our favorite team, all downed with cold beer. Pizza, calzones and fried chicken. This all seems so disgusting now.

Here is my dilemma for this week. Cucumbers are now out of season. I went to our farmer's market yesterday and couldn't find one cucumber. This mornings juice just wasn't the same. I've added ginger to my juice and discovered quickly that a little ginger goes a long way. I'm beginning to get bored with my limited vegetarian recipes. I need to search out new ideas for juicing and new recipes to keep my taste buds happy. Winter had come to Redondo Beach and with it a desire for chili, stews, soups and cassaroles. Today is research day.

I had one more mini Akashic Field Therapy session with Valerie Elster this week. Tomorrow I see Dr. Shen for acupuncture and more herbs.

My energy is holding steady at 8 and I've lost a total of 18 pounds. Onward and upward.