What Should I Eat?

One Bad Egg

One Bad Egg (Photo credit: fordsbasement)

I LOVE TO EAT, JUST GENERALLY NOT MY OWN FOOD

It’s 8:30 PM and the only thing I’ve had to eat today was the rest of my OCD Banana Smoothie from last night. I think I might be getting bored with them finally, so tonight I’ll take a break. I’m really not that hungry but I do know that once I start, it will be hard to stop. I don’t actually have to “cook” seeing that my husband had “cold pizza” but that was his choice.

We have eggs, always an easy dinner, with toast and some strawberry jam. We’ve had leftovers all week, we haven’t gone out to dinner AT ALL. Trying to save money and not go out. What else can I think of? Greek yogurt is a staple in our house, we do have that and of course more bananas, cheese, bread, over-ripe avocados and bitter chocolate cookies (don’t look at me that’s ALL my husband and daughter.) My son and I tend to like milk chocolate but I’m not saying that this is a meal; this would definitely be a treat. Right.

I usually know exactly what I want to eat, where to buy it and how to make it but storm SANDY has been getting in the way of just about everything. I went to the supermarket once and the shelves were bare, and this was before the storm hit. Now, I am one of those “doubting debbies” and I need to know if the shipment (if there is one) is fresh. Who on earth will tell me “actually ma’am it isn’t fresh at all.” I’m suspicious. Very suspicious.

That brings us down to safe food that I have at home. I’m so sick of tuna, maybe cereal if the milk is still good-the double sniff test is in order. Maybe my daughter’s old stand-by, a grilled cheese. Now, that’s sounding more and more comforting every second. Bread is good, cheese is fine, it’s easy and there is something to be said about plain food when you feel you need it but….boring.

I’m heading down to the kitchen in my pajamas, slippers and bathrobe, with my dog, always hopeful, by my side.  I’ll find something, I always do. It will be comforting and safe and if not nourishing, I will feel nourished and warmed by food I trust. We all have our own comfort foods, mine is usually scrambled eggs with toast, butter and JAM (sorry friends, I know you hate this) but that is without a doubt a strong contender.

I’m padding down to the kitchen now. I won’t end this post until I’ve eaten, I’m sure you want to know. Be back in a few.

****

Yeah, about that. I’m back. It was a combination gone very wrong: multi-grain bread (too hungry to toast it), two fried eggs (big mistake, they should have been scrambled) two pieces of American Cheese (another mistake) flipped over and the whole thing looked like vomit. I did dip it, however, in strawberry jam. Let’s just say it was NOT a success. Even for me. Even my small milk chocolate heart couldn’t make up for it. There’s always tomorrow……

Advertisements

My Banana Has Freckles

Chimpanzee

Chimpanzee (Photo credit: lightmatter)

I feel like a monkey, somewhere, somehow I have evolved into a monkey from a human being, it’s the evolutionary theory backwards. All I have craved lately are bananas. Not just bananas but banana smoothies, made by moi. I LOVE THEM. They comfort me, soothe me, and make me feel happy. I’ve had one every day for about five days now. There are no more bananas in the house anymore, I must go shopping tomorrow but waiting for them to ripen is an exhausting ordeal.

When I want them to ripen faster I put the bananas in a brown paper bag with an apple tossed in because I once read this hastens the process. If it doesn’t at least I don’t have to see green edges, which in fact, is the only way my mother and son can eat bananas. Raw bananas? Ugh. There must be a science to banana eating and yes, I have also heard that you should peel a banana from the bottom like the monkeys do. I’m flexible, I do that once in a while but eating them while they are green? No, that will never do and don’t confuse green bananas with plantains because that is just entirely different. You need bananas with freckles, especially if you are baking with them, carmelizing them or using them in a yummy smoothie. I also make a mean banana bread but so far, that’s a family secret.

I am sharing my banana smoothie recipe with you, I only hope it gives you as much joy as it gives me:

In a blender put:

3 ripe bananas (RIPE is the operative word, not okay if they are green)

a  small container of yogurt (you choose) I have used strawberry/banana yogurt, cherry vanilla or plain yogurt (I use 0 percent)

a bit of crushed ice (many people like icy smoothies, like my daughter, so feel free to add ice cubes or more crushed ice-I like them more creamy)

a dash of vanilla and almond extract to taste

2-3 Tablespoons of vanilla ice cream or low-fat vanilla ice cream (optional)

one teaspoon of brown sugar (optional)

a peach, plum, raspberries, cantaloupe or any old fruit that needs to be used (again, optional)

Blend at High for about a minute.

Take a Tablespoon to taste, adjust as needed. Pour, serve and enjoy!

To Reach A Hidden Heart

heart

I’m a mom, a fifty-four year old, plump (not so pleasantly),  kind, giving person but I laugh too loud. Sometimes because I have only fifty percent hearing in my left ear, I also don’t always hear things perfectly. I wear old mom jeans, sneakers instead of  gold strappy sandals, or even unlaced Keds, because my feet hurt and ache constantly. I have plantar fasciatis and just walking in any shoes is uncomfortable.  I have Fibromyalgia, Hashimoto’s Thyroididtis and numerous other ailments. I’m old.

I don’t wear flirty skirts because (see above) it would just look plain silly. I can’t wear tight shirts (well, I could) but the stomach bulges would hang over my jeans. I used to have pierced ears but I think they closed so I don’t wear much jewelry anymore. Most importantly, I don’t wear make up from Sephora or MAC or Bobbi Brown. When I wear lipstick, which I do almost every day, I consider that enough. Should I be ashamed of these things, proud or just accept them? I’m okay with it but I have an almost seventeen year old daughter who most probably wishes, I was a cooler mom. A much cooler mom.

It’s not as if I stay in the kitchen and make home-made oatmeal-chocolate chip cookies because I don’t. I spend money at the supermarket and look at every single product, especially new ones.I bake brownies from a box (Ghiradelli) and the only thing I bake from scratch is an amazingly moist banana-raisin -chip loaf. My son adores it and appreciates it, my daughter won’t even try it because she hates any type of raisin and anything resembling a mushy banana. The only banana flavor she eats is mixed with strawberry in a pink container that has artificial  flavorings called yogurt. Sometimes, if my husband makes a smoothie (with ice and ice cream) she will drink it; when I make a smoothie it isn’t cold enough.

More importantly I wear my emotions like I would a soft new white scarf. Actually, you can see how I feel miles away. The worst offense, I’m mushy. My daughter is not. She keeps her feelings inside of her so even when I attempt to tone down my mushiness and delicately try to give her a compliment, she turns inwards. I wear my heart on my sleeve, you can see my emotions a mile or two away, my daughter keeps her feelings way deep inside her. I’m trying to connect with that but I’m not having much success. I know she loves me, I do know that and of course, I love her more than anything (read this kids: I love you both equally.)

When my daughter was very young, I was her world. She needed a lot of comforting and she could find that only in my arms, her tear-streaked face blanketing my neck like a worn-out washcloth. Now, she’s an amazing young woman, sure of herself, has a lot of friends, talks to me about them but her feelings are buried down deep. She is like my husband before my constant influence on him for the last 24 years. I want my daughter to know how much I love her, how proud I am of her, how I know she is incredibly intelligent and kind but I’m not sure I’m getting through. Yesterday, we spent the day together and I delicately told her how happy I was to spend time with her each week. I got this as a response: “ok.”

I feel frustrated but I guess my job as a mom is to make sure she knows I love her and that I will always be here to listen if she wants to talk. If I turn down my emotions any more I will be mute. The only thing I can do is wait and see what happens and accept her for who she is. I am happy that she talks to me about her friends, I am thrilled she is affectionate with her friends; I hope they can reach inside her wall and feel her beauty, her heart and her strength. I hope someday I will have the same privilege too.