The Hostess With the Mostess...

I have a confession.  Don't be shocked.  Here goes - I have never eaten a Twinkie.  Never, ever, in my entire life.  Being a Philadelphia-born citizen, my lunch cake of choice was Tastykake.   And I'm old enough to remember when they cost a nickel!  There were three-packs of chocolate cupcakes iced with chocolate frosting.  There were Chocolate Juniors - an oblong of two-layer yellow spongecake frosted with a milky chocolate frosting; and Coconut Juniors - the same oblong except frosted with a white icing topped with coconut.  Jelly Krimpets - a three-pack of yellow sponge with jelly in the center of each cake.  There were pies: apple, lemon and maybe a couple of others.  But my all-time fave was the Butterscotch Krimpet.  Once again, a three-pack of the yellow sponge frosted with somebody's idea of butterscotch frosting.  I loved 'em.  Later on, the price increased; the sizes of the cakes decreased; and some new flavors were added to the repertoire, namely, Tandytakes.  Yes, that's what I said. Tandytakes.  They were small single-layer circles of yellow sponge, some with peanut butter and milk chocolate frosting and some with a creamy white layer coated with dark chocolate.  After a time, wiser heads prevailed and the name was changed from the baby-talky Tandytake to KandyKake.   And along with a more adult name came a more adult price.  Talk about inflation.  While unable to afford the treats as often as I'd have liked, partly because of the price and partly because of the added avoirdupois, I still remained loyal to Tastykake.  After all, "Nobody bakes a cake as tasty as a Tastykake", or so the old jingle said.

Once, I remember eating a Devil Dog, which was so dry I nearly choked to death.  BUT, I never ate a Twinkie.  The only Hostess cake I ever ate was the Snowball.  Chocolate cake mounded around an unidentifiable crème filling and covered with white coconut frosting.  A long time ago, it was.   And then, Hostess closed up shop and the world seemed to have a period of grief over the loss of the beloved Twinkie.  Eulogies were delivered bemoaning the passing of a lunch-box icon.

And then, and then, some enterprise bought the bakery.  The name was revived and the Twinkie was once again on shelves in stores everywhere.  And still, I never ate a Twinkie.

But in the local dollar parlor, I happened upon a small display of Snowballs.  Two to a package, same as of yore.  Emblazoned with the words "The sweetest comeback in the history of Ever!"  Even though I've been limiting my intake of most sugars and carbs and calorie-laden "stuff", I decided I had to try once again that long-forgotten treat.  And what was a buck?  I ate one and put the other away in the cupboard, only to discover it a week later.  The original wrapper was torn from the first foray into the package but the remaining Snowball wasn't stale.  Not even a little.  So I ate it.  And on careful examination, I discovered that the package was missing something.  What was missing was a "Best by -" date.  I suppose it's safe to assume that there is no date beyond which the Snowball will no longer be edible.

With that being said, I have had a Twinkie in my cupboard for almost 14 years, given to me by a person who felt sad that I had never, ever tasted this delight.  It's somewhere behind the bag of rice and the Karo syrup.  Do you think it's safe to eat?  Or should I just toss it and keep my record intact?

It's Working...

Remember when I told you I was going to try to be a loser?  Of course you do - it was only six weeks ago.  In any case, it does seem to be happening.

On June 17, when I began obeying the command of my P.T., I stopped eating my every-morning bagel with cream cheese.  Now this is not just an ordinary bagel.  No, sir.  This is a B-I-G bagel and the cream cheese is applied liberally.  Liberally, I tell you.  And this was my morning routine every single day.  I bought bagels at a local supermarket and when they were "buy 6, get 6 free", I brought them home, sliced them and put them in a freezer bag.  Each morning, I would take a bagel out of the freezer and by the time I had finished my first cup of coffee, the bagel was thawed and I put it in the toaster oven to warm.  Lots of cream cheese and my second cuppa and life was a joy.  But, nay, nay to the carb-loaded goodness.

Second thing I gave up was Pepsi Max.  Now this is a diet Pepsi without the bitter aftertaste of most diet drinks.  But I quit it and substituted with water and decaf Iced Tea.

I'm eating lots of grains and fruit and chicken.  White bread is a uh-uh.  I eat a Wegman's loaf of Ancient Grains with cranberries.  Very nice.

We were on vaca last week and my P.T. told me that I could have a bagel or two since this was a vacation.  MOF, he actually went and bought fresh bagels and cr.ch.  I indulged, but it wasn't the same.  Nothing especial.  Not even a treat.  Nor was the ice cream cone I had on a boardwalk night.

I'm thinking that my previous cravings are leaving my brain - after all, eight weeks makes a habit, right?  Am I right?  Okay, except for Herr's Honey Barbecue Potato Chips.  That one's taking a little longer to break.

The upshot of this is that despite having an intractable Plantar Fasciitis (two injections; ice packs; stretching exercises; rolling a ball with my foot, haven't worked) that has severely limited my ability to walk for exercise, I have managed to lose nine pounds in seven and a half weeks.  If I can find someone who can fix this foot without surgery, I'll be moving well enough to take off another nine in even less time. 

Even with a bag of chips in my hand.

Doin' It...

A series of unfortunate incidences caused me to put on some weight due to medication and inactivity. Now, my Personal Trainer has suggested I might begin again to do what I did three years ago and "get the lead out - and the lard off!"

Eating right has not been a priority, although I don't seem to eat more than any other person and a lot less than some. So, it all comes down to inactivity. I'm cutting out sweets and trying to get at least 10-15 minutes of walking a day (for starters) and water, water, water. Chair Squats and Shoulder Presses are part of the regimen.

So, plenty of protein, fresh veggies and fruits, nuts, grains, water. As much exercise as I can handle, and gradually increasing as tolerated.

I'm not fat. I'm only doing this because I don't have many clothes left that fit and they seem to be making Mediums much skimpier lately. Besides, shopping in the "Plus Size" department doesn't sound like a place I care to be seen.

Do-Over

I was getting ready to write a post about last evening's Ballet Danse, the recital in which my two little dancing granddaughters danced in Jack and the Beanstalk. The older girl, nearing 13, has been dancing for nine years, and this was her first year on pointe. She danced the part of a cloud as three girls, dancing as birds, danced as if in the sky. Our girl was graceful and smiling and very confident in her ability on pointe.

The Little Sister, almost nine, has been dancing for six years. She was a Court Performer in the giant's castle, and was quite proficient in her one-handed cartwheels, her walk-overs, and her "coffee grinders". She's a bundle of energy on stage and a joy to watch.

Anyway, to get back to the first sentence of this post, when I read last year's post, it was almost the same. Except this year, the Big Girl was also dancing in the Senior section and her dance was a tribute to the Boston Red Sox. As the shortest, she got a lot of front row time and Lordy! can she dance!

So, just as I told you last year at this time, there will be another recital next weekend for Jazz, Tap, and Hip-Hop. They both dance all three of those disciplines so back to the flower shop for more tribute bouquets.

I suppose I could just skip the annual Dance Report, but then I wouldn't get to brag about the Tiny Dancers.

Scrapple

Just a few random thoughts---


I don't like cooking. I used to like to cook when the house was full of hungry boys with appetites for whatever was put in front of them. Now, it's just for me and I could eat cheese and crackers or a peanut butter sandwich and be satisfied. I could go out to eat every night if I chose, since there are enough restaurants in a five mile radius to keep me going without repeats for several weeks. Trouble is, going out means the combing of the hair and the finding of the shoes and the driving of the car. Seems like a lot of trouble when I already have peanut butter right here and I don't have to put on shoes!!


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I have some work to be done on the house. But finding someone to do it without charging me more than I can afford is what makes me procrastinate. And this being northeastern Pennsylvania, it's hard to find someone willing to even return your call, let alone come and offer to do your work. I called four advertised contractors and two never called back; one said he had more work than he could handle; one said the job wasn't worth coming out to look at.


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Whatever happened to slips? I mean underwear slips. They were pretty much a staple of every woman's wardrobe a hundred years ago when I was young. There were full slips and half slips. There were slips that went under every day dresses and skirts and long slips that went under gowns. And no self-respecting female would leave the house without a slip. Stand with the sun behind you and without a slip, you're a horn-dog's delight. So whatever happened to slips?


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Kudos to the young man who took his great-grandmother to his Prom. There's a true gentleman and I predict an astounding future for him. (Lest you think he was the School Geek, this is the tall, handsome captain of the football team. I'm sure he could have asked any girl in the school)


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I filled up with tears at the story of the Hurricane Sandy displaced family who lost their beloved dog in the storm. After 18 months, they went to the ASPCA to adopt another dog and were greeted by their lost pet, Reckless. Makes you believe in miracles.


30

Too Late...

It has been a terrible week-end. Our family lost one of our number. One of the dearest, sweetest, happiest among us. She had suffered through the throes of breast cancer, with chemo and radiation and all that involved. But she prevailed. She came through and spent the next 15 years raising her two beautiful daughters. Her bright, well-read, high-honors, daughters. Young women who could carry on a conversation without saying "like" every third word. She was an educator herself and along with her husband, my eldest son, she instilled the importance of learning in her two girls. She was a daughter who saw her Father to the end of his life. And her Mother who also passed away, but who carried on longer than she might have had she not had the care of this terrific caregiver. She was a Sister who drove half way across the country when her only sister was in crisis. She loved her brother and his family. She was a Wife who willingly went to work every day and arranged that her husband would stay home and be "Mr Mom" from the infancy of the children. And it worked for them. She was an in-law to an assortment of her husband's brothers and their wives and their many children. She was a daughter-in-law to me. A splendid relationship. She had the Summers with her girls because as a teacher, she had the same school schedule. They read books, and took walks, and went on vacation. When you saw her, you were immediately happy that she was there. She smiled more than anyone I knew. And she meant every one of her smiles. Never fake. She told you what she thought and pulled no punches, but she never did it in a mean way. Last year, illness struck again. I still don't know all the details. Only one person outside of her immediate family knows the timeline. But it was not like before. Not like when she got sick, took her treatments and got better. This time, there was no getting better. From what we've learned, she chose to keep her decline from the rest of us. I knew something was wrong but respecting her privacy, I didn't pry. The rest of the family saw her just after the New Year. For reasons of my own, I didn't attend the gathering. So I missed seeing her. But she knew that was probably her last hurrah because I have had two people tell me that in retrospect, they realize that she was saying "good-bye". On Friday last, I got the call. She was gone. Forever. And I never said, "good-bye".