Tag Archives: San Francisco

Food, Glorious Food


Poster for the musical "Oliver"

Click here for the song, “Food, Glorious Food.”  It will open in a new window so you can enjoy the music while you read my blog!

Prednisone is the drug I love to hate. It opens my airways and makes me gain weight and want to eat all the time. So, I decided to write this blog about food, which we all love.

What’s your favorite food? If you had to pick one to take to a desert island (with no mango, papaya or banana trees), what would it be?

Think about it. Food defines us. It defines our relationships, our health and our looks. Healthy foods make you healthier, right? Well, what if that’s not necessarily right?

I’m proud to be a baby boomer. Back in the 50’s when I was growing up, a lot of families ate dinner together, and the dinner wasn’t from a drive through, not always so fast food place. It was made from scratch from fresh ingredients that weren’t filled with preservatives. Mac and cheese in a box? Heavens, no! Pizza at least once a week? God forbid. Soft drinks whenever we wanted them? Uh-uh. Pizza and soft drinks were a special treat, and what was more of a special treat was lemonade made from freshly squeezed fruit and sweetened with (oh my gosh!), REAL sugar. It didn’t rot our teeth, because we didn’t drink it all the time, and a candy bar was another special treat.

Okay. We ate real bacon, high cholesterol hamburger meat, and  real ice cream (was frozen yogurt even invented in 1955?). We didn’t drink bottled water, our parents made coffee in an electric percolator, and when Banquet introduced their frozen dinners, they were a hit sensation overnight that might be enjoyed once a month or so.

We played outside, went for bike rides and drew hopscotch squares on our driveways, on the street or on the sidewalk. The girls played jacks, the boys played with marbles. Steelies, cats’ eyes, and all sorts of beautifully colored little round other ones.

Commute traffic was so light in the Bay Area you could get to San Francisco from the Peninsula in 30 minutes or so. Is that right? I’m sure one of my devoted readers will correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s what I remember.

I was lucky. My mom didn’t work outside the home. But even moms who worked in jobs for real money cooked many meals at home.

It worked. We didn’t talk about how stressed we were all the time, but of course, families had secrets that were never talked about at all.

Have you decided what food you would take to the island yet? I haven’t.

Today I’m supposed to eat healthier so I can lose the drug I love to hate weight and get healthier. But I don’t want to! I want to eat chocolate ice cream and chocolate-covered pretzels, shortbread (my favorite) cookies, and gooey pizza (well, okay, my favorite is vegetarian). and lox with cream cheese, onions, capers, tomatoes on bagels.

But wait! I also love salads with tons of fresh veggies, broiled chicken with lemon and pepper, salmon with Dijon mustard and capers and all the delicious fruits of summer, such as peaches, watermelon and blueberries.

What’s a girl to do when surrounded by all this food and when supposed to make only “healthy” choices? Well, I’m a work in progress – doing my best to get healthy, but slipping away every now and then into food heaven.

Mostly, though, I’m just grateful that I have food and the money to buy it. So many don’t. I hope you had one of your favorite foods today.

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Soaking Wet – Nurturing My Inner Child


little girl with wet face
Oh my GOSH! This photo is so perfect! Another offering from morguefile.com. This time it was taken by Kakisky: http://morguefile.com/creative/kakisky

I was watering my hanging flower baskets and container veggies when all of a sudden I noticed there was a leak in the handle of the spray attachment on the bright yellow hose. My glove was dripping wet. Before long, more water was coming out and part of my pants  was also soaking wet.

I laughed out loud, remembering the days of running through the sprinkler, getting caught in sudden downpours, and falling down while water skiing. It was perfectly acceptable to get wet in those circumstances. But sprinkling yourself until your pants are dripping? Well, that’s a little iffy in my book.

My mind is not my friend. “That was stupid. Why didn’t you just tighten it up when you noticed it was dripping?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t think of it then. I was having too much fun watering the plants and watching the rainbows I made with the water and the sun.”

“Well, don’t you think you’re a little OLD for stuff like this?”

“Not really. I feel younger than I have in years. Do you have anything else to say, maybe something constructive?”

“Not really.”

I remember when I taught my grandson how much fun it was to jump in a rain puddle. His mom was none too pleased with the results of wet shoes and pant bottoms, but we had a great time that day.

A few weeks later I taught him how to drag a stick along a metal fence to make fence music. He liked that and so did I. That’s why being a grandmother is so much fun. You don’t have to worry about the day-to-day things like parents do.

Now he’s 14 and graduates from the eighth grade next week. Jumping in puddles doesn’t interest him anymore, but playing video games and making animated films does. Time does more than fly — it whizzes by so fast the older you get that you wonder how you can keep up with anything.

When I was sick as a child, my dad used to bring me records from this favorite shop of his in San Francisco. They cost him $1.00 each. He brought me musicals because he knew how much I loved them. I knew all the words to all the songs in Carousel and South Pacific before I ever saw them in the theater or on stage. Thanks, Dad, for a good memory. I bet you and Mom are having the time of your lives in heaven.

Nurturing your inner child can be done in a myriad of ways. You can fly a kite, catch a butterfly, dig a hole, ride your bike, play catch with your own kids or friends, pick some flowers from the garden and present them to your Mom if she’s still alive or enjoy them yourself.

Eating dessert before dinner is a great way to let your inner kid come out to play. Didn’t you always wonder why you had to eat dinner first when you were young? I did. Today I do that sometimes. It feels fabulous.

Dying Easter eggs with your own or others’ children, doodling while you’re attending a boring business meeting, taking a different way to work, watching re-runs of “Leave It to Beaver” or “Happy Days,” or playing with a yellow duckie when you take a bath will all keep you young longer.

I have two inner children, the one that loves to come out to play and the one that is wounded emotionally. It used to be that I spent a lot more time holding the hurt kid. But today she only comes around every so often. Today I spend a lot of time recognizing the one that wants to play and the little things I do or someone else does to make that possible.

I hope you will take care of your inner child today in some way. I know you’ll be glad you did.

Ice cream, anyone?

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