Weighty matters

I have never been a person who obsessed about her weight. Of course, up until about fifteen years ago, I was fairly thin. Even having to put on a bathing suit every summer didn't feel THAT bad. Lately too I've been able to say, as I stuffed another vegan almond cookie from Whole Foods in my mouth, "At least you're not smoking!"

But the other day something happened that made me run, not walk, to the computer and sign up for Weight Watchers.

My husband and I were at a local restaurant having lunch and we heard this woman say, "Hey, (husband's name)." We turned around and there was a girl from his hometown. The hottest girl in high school (not so hot any more if you ask me but that's not part of this story) and she looked at me and said, "Hey, um um um...."

Now I've been with my husband for thirty seven years. She knew me way back when. So my female brain immediately thought, She doesn't recognize me because I've gotten so fat!!! And then she told us that she was going to Italy with one of hubby's old high school girlfriends and I knew where that was going: the two of them on the flight over talking about how fat I've gotten. No frigging way. Well, frigging way, but never again!

So I'm counting points like all the rest of the weight watchers. And boy have I been surprised at the points in some of what I've been shoving into my mouth! I'm just about starving most of the day, but the fear of running into another girl from my husband's high school days has me gnawing on my knuckles, drinking black coffee, and eating puffed wheat cereal three times a day.

You never know where you might find inspiration, hmmmm?

Letting go

This weekend I felt very stressed. The situation with my dad is getting complicated and he's beginning to feel discouraged by the "one thing after another" that constitutes his life. This is all new to us; he's been taking care of himself incredibly well, without our input, for eighty-six years.

I felt conflicted about whether to go to see him, but had numerous things to catch up on - yes, I'm still trying to get caught up from the hospital stay - and then my minister called and asked if I could fix lunch for a group that was playing in church on Sunday. I decided to stay.

Unusually, we also had something to do every night of the weekend. Friday night we met friends for dinner; Saturday night we went to hear the group that was playing on Sunday at the church. It was a ten-piece group called Funkadesi and they were awesome. I was excited about them playing in church and they did not disappoint. They processed in playing drums and cowbells and other instruments I don't know the name of, and had the congregation dancing and clapping and grinning within seconds of their entrance. At lunch they were gracious and grateful for our hospitality.

One of the things that I had planned to do on Saturday was schedule the rest of the facilitators for our fall book study. This should have involved many phone calls, but because I cooked instead, no calls got made. By going to church, though, I was able to find the rest of the facilitators by asking face to face. A gift I had not expected.

Right after my dad was sick, when I was tired and irrational, I wrote a few of my friends and berated them for "not paying attention to me while my dad was sick" or something like that. I have since apologized for my ridiculous behavior; and one of the friends, a nurse, has been my most valuable resource for dealing with some of my dad's problems. Every time I talk to her she reassures me and gives me concrete actions to take to help my dad, and she spent a while with me on the phone last night.

All of this rambling is to say this: Grace comes in unexpected ways. If we can just put aside our worries and stop putting up barriers, we will see grace standing there waiting for us. It wasn't the weekend I expected, but I'm filled with gratitude for the way it turned out.

Food and Rant

My friend, Mit, is a great cook if I read correctly. She is always posting these wonderful sounding elaborate menus. I am inspired to share a recipe I made up today for a church meeting.

I am all about shortcuts that make cooking a breeze. I made shrimp salad by cutting up scallions, celery, shrimp, and tossing it with Brianna's Chipotle Cheddar dressing. Right before putting it on the croissants, I will toss it again with a little lettuce mix. Yum yum.

And maybe I'm the only person in the world who didn't already realize this, but Soodhalter Stir Stix were just the thing for making fruit kabobs. They are colorful, pointy on the end, and the perfect length for pieces of pineapple, watermelon, and strawberry.

As a green, I steamed asparagus, sprinkled with lemon juice and coarse salt.

All of the ingredients for this meal came from my neighborhood grocery store. Good thing because I'm totally put out with Whole Foods. Last night I went to pick up some strawberries because the ones at the grocery store looked hard and greenish. It was eight o'clock. The door was locked. What the #@(*&? So I went to the next door. Two unarmed employees were guarding it and informed me that the store was closed. Why? I asked. For a "team meeting" they answered. There was a fairly well-attended event at Quail Ridge and people were moving toward WF for dinner, groceries, whatever. And I'm thinking, "You're going to turn down at least a thousand dollars worth of business, and irritate the hell out some people (me) for a team meeting? Wouldn't the employees, whose salaries are supplemented by sales in their respective departments, be irritated too? What on earth possessed them to do this? My husband says they probably don't want to pay overtime, but there certainly seem to be many ways to work around that problem without shutting out customers an hour early in the middle of the week. I am reminded of the time I went in to the store and encountered a surly checkout girl who informed me that she was in a bad mood because there were so many customers and that they were spending so much money. Hellooo? Your paycheck? Where the hell do you think the dough for it comes from?

All that ranting has made me hungry. I'm going to go try the food. If I don't die from eating it, I'm going to serve it to the minister and board tomorrow.