140.0…and

four days until Christmas goal of 139.0…

Yesterday…in the spirit of Christmas and baking and the Scandinavian  genes that run amok throughout my body…I baked three different kinds  of cookies.

Why would anyone desperately (and I do mean desperately) trying to lose weight…bake cookies?  Am I completely mad?

Perhaps…or perhaps I am just a mother/grandmother who finds it hard to say NO to requests of this nature…

The cookies were nothing special…just the favorites of my eldest granddaughter, my youngest granddaughter and my only daughter.

And…because I feel it is the responsibility, as matriarch of this tiny family unit,  to make sure that what I give them to eat will not…you know…make them sick or kill them…I had to… “taste test”.

Now…as any good or even mediocre cook knows…the “taste test”…is probably the most important step in the cooking process…AND…the most fun.

So yesterday…I thru caution to the wind (as I so often do) and taste tested to oblivion!!

I THOUGHT this morning’s scale encounter would show a weight gain…it surprisingly did NOT

Has there been some sort of “shapeshifting occurrence” of which I am not aware?

I am very fearful for what today might bring.

Have a nice day…

There were these cookies…”

Prologue:  The Back Story

If you are the 5-year-old sister of a sometimes really, dopey 12-year-old brother and one very cold, “soon to be Christmas” day in Minnesota, he asks you to assist him in a “TOP SECRET MISSION“, you jump at the chance…because even dopey brothers can have really, cool ideas.

I was the sister…and I jumped.

Later…much later…I vaguely remember him warning me about possible dangers…

…but let’s face it…I had stopped listening at “TOP SECRET…”

“Defining Moments…in MY life…

One Very Cold Winter Day…

It was December 28, 1958. The day dawned dark, dreary and supremely cold.  Did the sun even come up?  Oh, I guess so…it always does.  But in my world it was a a perfect day for watching football…I was just getting hooked on this incredible sport. 

(Did I just say hooked?  Oh.  My.)

Christmas?  A memory.  New Year’s Eve?  A  maybe plan.  A football game?    Why not…pop that corn and curl up.

The New York Giants, America’s Cinderella team, was playing the Baltimore Colts…the NFL championship game to be later crowned as  “The Greatest Game Ever Played”.  

The Baltimore Colts, artistically guided by the diminutive, Weeb Ewbank  and led by the  incomparable quarterback, Johnyy Unitas, who threw pass after pass to brilliant wide receiver, Ray Berry…secured a massive upset victory with only mere minutes left in the game… and in the process… led me down an Alice in Wonderland rabbit hole to years of football addiction….

I have stories…oh…I have stories…

BUT…today the story is simply this:

Eating not one but two Hershey’s candy bars and two popsicles and half of a donut in one afternoon (before a dinner of nachos) and then follow that the next afternoon… with pizza. hamburgers, homemade fries and  just a sliver of Neopolitan ice cream plus, of course, customary Hershey’s and popsicle and you have…drumroll please…

141.4 POUNDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I have no excuse.  Well…”I don’t know how he missed that field goal…AGAIN!!!”

Today…I weigh 140 pounds and am just hoping for the best…and to achieve my Christmas goal of 139:)

Have a nice day…

 

 

 

 

There were these cookies…”

Chapter Two…The Beginning…

I remember that day well…cue appropriate 1950’s music and allow the images in your brain to go all wavy…flashback…flashback…

…going back in time…going back in time…to the magical “Fifties”…when all things were wonderful and people ate bacon whenever they wanted…

“Look, Lottie,” said Durwood.  “This year you’re the only one that can do this…I really need you…”

And by “this” he meant stealing one of the little red Christmas cookie tins that…year after year…held the much loved and supremely tasty cookies that our wonderful mother, Gee (as in Gee Whiz) Johnson, baked every Christmas and therefore were appropriately called “Gee’s Nut Balls”.

It was at this point that dopey older brother Durwood…in order to further emphasize his need of my help this year…held up both his arms so I could plainly see his two wrists…solidly encased in heavy, white plaster casts from his elbows down to and including the greater part of his fingers.

Absolutely Necessary Explanatory Note:

When movie goers saw “Tarzan” grabbing a vine and swinging over a creek that raged furiously 50 feet below him as he yelled a mighty warrior cry to impress “Jane, his lady-friend”…while trying to save her from certain death…

…it should be noted the vine Tarzan grabbed was in all probability a strong rope…or perhaps even a wire cable and…incidentally there was no creek…nor was there dangerous, rampaging water…

…to further burst the cinematic bubble…he was probably about 6 feet off the floor…which I am sure was suitably padded…

HOWEVER…for dopey Durwood…on a forbidden trek to Minnehaha Falls with four of his very best buddies, the vine he grabbed to do some “swinging” was very real…AND…it snapped midway over a shallow creek that ran from the falls to the Mississippi River…

Durwood fell about 40 feet…the whole time screaming in terror on his way to “two, really, badly, broken wrists”….the pain of which he had to endure in solitude as he slogged home alone since…

All four of his “forever loyal to the end” best friends had bolted in total panic…fearful that they would somehow be blamed for Durwood’s fall.

“I didn’t see a thing!!  I don’t remember…” was the excuse they all settled on as they fled the scene…but not before…

…making sure that Durwood was not dead or in danger of dying any time soon.

They jumped on their bikes and hightailed it home…confident that they had done all that they could.

Later…every one of his friends agreed that they  were very sure they would have stayed if Durwood had been…you know…dead.

It was during his lonely walk home, that Durwood forlornly pondered which was worse…the pain he was currently now suffering as he shuffled along or the unholy reaction he knew would be coming from his usually calm and easy-going mother…

“First the fire…and now this…” he muttered to himself.  “She’s gonna kill me…”

He turned the corner on Longfellow Avenue and saw his mother raking leaves in the front yard…she appeared to be very happy since she was whistling.

It was only then that Durwood started to cry.

The intense pain apparently fogged his brain and prevented him from coming up with any believable or redeemable lie…so he was unfortunately left with telling his mother the simple yet profoundly stupid truth…”I saw it done on TV, ma…”