WALKIN', WRITIN', WIT & WHIMSY

Well, my first mistake was thinking that I’d wait until the sun was high in the sky and maybe it might be a little warmer. Not so much, because when I left the house at 9:30 this morning the temps were at the freezing mark, the wind chill hovered in the teens and the winds were howling at over 20 mph. I almost changed my mind and came back inside, but I figured the weather was dry and it took me fifteen minutes to get dressed so I was staying outside. I was at the first bend in the road at Council Point Park when the snow squalls started with a vengeance and the wind was so blustery it made it difficult to walk straight in the wide-open spaces. It is only November for goodness sake!

I had packed up some peanuts and bread tidbits to take to the Park and chuckled to myself that I am starting to look a little eccentric of late, as I arrive daily, toting my bag filled with critter treats. As I walked along, some inquisitive squirrels came toward me and I gave them a few bonus peanuts as I felt badly for them foraging for food in this cold weather, and because I heard the media reporting that scientific research was touting the terrific benefits of eating nuts. I know I love peanut butter. The Park squirrels are much leaner than their chubby residential neighborhood counter-parts who glean their treats by raiding homeowners’ feeders or suet holders, or are simply living the good life with lots of peanut or walnut handouts. Location, location, location. I had 1/3 of a loaf of bread and broke it up before I left, intending to give it all to the ducks, but my heart went out to a few grumpy-looking robins searching for worms in the frozen ground, and a handful of sparrows who were sitting huddled together to keep warm, the wind ruffling their feathers, and looking downright miserable. I know how they felt. With all my layers, my exposed face stung from the cold wind and I was shivering under my parka. Time to revisit the cedar closet for more warmer clothes.

I went to the concrete ledge to share my bread with the ducks and found about 50 of them grouped together and quacking noisily. I stood there for awhile, idly tossing bread to them as they came closer and closer until were almost right at my feet at the water’s edge. Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I saw something large and white in the distance in the water. I assumed it was just a plastic grocery bag that was caught on a toppled tree branch and blowing in the breeze, and I just kept feeding the ducks until the bread was finished. I turned away to climb back onto the path when it was my good fortune to see the most-beautiful and regal-looking swan I have ever seen in my life. It was huge, pure-white, with an orange bill and as it glided along in the murky Ecorse Creek, oblivious to me, it was occasionally dipping its slender neck and head underwater. I was just mesmerized by its size and beauty. I pointed it out to a couple of walkers who were strolling the path not far behind me, and they also stopped and marveled at this wondrous water fowl. This was on my first go-around of the Park and the second tour I passed the alcove where I saw the swan, but this time it was gone. I was curious if it had taken flight or just glided downstream and I lost sight of it. When I got online I Googled to get some information on it and determined it was a mute swan and one of the heaviest birds to fly, so evidently it did fly away. I hope to see it again. I often see Canada Geese, but I think they have already migrated as I’ve not seen any in about a month.

My five-mile trip yielded some good exercise in the great outdoors, and I arrived home, smelling of fresh air, sporting red cheeks and feeling lucky and blessed to have glimpsed such a stunning sight as that graceful swan. It made my day and I remembered this quote I tucked away awhile back:

Remember when you were little and you thought, everything was amazing? It still is.
~Anonymous

Today dawned with misty fog and heavy cloud cover and would be best described as gloomy. The weather matches the glum mood of those old enough to pause, remember and reflect about the tragedy on that fateful day in Dallas on November 22, 1963. Throughout the day, we’ll collectively listen to news media retrospectives and will repeatedly hear sound bytes of Walter Conkrite’s voice announcing the 35th President of the United States had been shot and then later confirming that he died. The images, so familiar to us, will assail us on social media or television as they chronicle the every movement of JFK and Jackie that day, from the time they disembarked Air Force One, to the limo ride in the motorcade, then a frantic Jackie cradling the President after the shots rang out and finally, Jackie, still clad in her blood-stained, rose-colored suit, watching LBJ take the oath of office. We can’t even count how many times this past five decades we have seen the pictures of that day and its aftermath – a flag-draped coffin, the funeral cortege and then sadly, John-John’s salute to his father which cannot help but pull at our heartstrings. We often see the final resting place for JFK and the eternal flame as pictured above. The Zapruder film allowed us a glimpse of our vibrant President and the First Lady as they rode through the throng of people who wanted to see, and perhaps snap a photo of, the motorcade on that sunny Dallas Friday, but of course it captured more than the joy of the innocent bystanders, who watched in horror as a reportedly trio of shots took down their leader. Anyone over the age of 55 or 56 should be able to recall the events the day of the assassination; by now you and I have already heard a host of recollections and reflections of people like you or me via our local radio or TV stations, and now my thoughts will be included herein.

At age 57, for me there are only four significant historical events that stand out in my mind – JFK’s assassination, the moon landing, the Challenger incident and 9/11. The moon landing of course was not a tragedy, but a triumph, and it has its own place in history. I don’t recall what I was doing that day, but it was certainly spoken about and all over the television. The Challenger tragedy happened while I was at work, as did 9/11. Someone heard the news about the spacecraft and we gathered in the conference room while the explosion of the space shuttle was played and replayed. I will never forget the date because my grandmother died the next morning of a massive heart attack enroute to the hospital after suffering chest pains. In my mind, I will always equate those two sad events. I have already recounted my recollections of 9/11 in an earlier post. But on November 22, 1963 I was living in Oakville, Ontario, Canada. I have vivid recall of that afternoon as if it were yesterday. I was in second grade at E.A. Orr Elementary School and my beloved teacher, Mrs. Jamieson, was standing near the blackboard, her back toward us, chalk in hand while she showed us the fine art of cursive as to the letter “S”. We watched attentively while she was encouraging an improvement to our penmanship by slowly writing the letter “S” on the blackboard. We all sat with our pencils poised on our paper. Suddenly, an announcement came over the crackly public address system that President Kennedy had been shot while riding in a motorcade in Dallas. Mrs. Jamieson whirled around to face the class and kept saying “oh my, oh my” with her hand over her heart. She, usually a very prim and proper, old-marm type schoolteacher, was suddenly all aflutter. While I have fond memories of a kindly teacher, eager to help her students and loved by all of us, she was not the type of person easily given to emotion. I can picture her standing there, now facing the class, in her black, lace-up oxfords, a pea-green, two-piece knitted dress, a small string of pearls, perm-waved hair and her eyeglasses dangling from a chain around her neck. She had rather a shell-shocked look, then hastily pulled a kleenex from its usual spot, near her wrist in the sleeve of her outfit. She dabbed at her eyes, but the tissue was not large enough to soak up the moisture when her tears flowed quickly and heavily and soon were streaming down her face. We, as second graders, did not fully understand what was going on and were bewildered, if not scared, by Mrs. Jamieson’s sudden emotions. Like our teacher, we heard the announcement, but unlike her, it did not immediately register. But we began to get sad as we watched Mrs. Jamieson struggling to get a grip on the situation for which she had sadly lost control. She walked over to her big desk and sat down for a moment, gulping down sobs, and then reached into her desk to get another tissue, resulting in more eye dabbing and noisily blowing her nose. Finally, she resumed her composure somewhat and addressed the class, asking us if we understood what had happened and then requesting we put our small hands over our hearts and follow her as she said a prayer for President Kennedy’s recovery from the bullet wound. We collectively murmured the prayer after our teacher. After we said “amen” and our heads were no longer bowed, Mrs. Jamieson stationed herself once again at the blackboard, and though visibly shaken, she tried, once again, to impress upon her young charges how to make the curves for the letter “S”. Later that afternoon, a second P.A. announcement confirmed that President Kennedy has indeed passed away from his wounds, and again Mrs. Jamieson lost her composure and reiterated what the principle had said so as to reinforce the full effect of the tragic loss in our young minds. She then apologized to her class for getting upset and I remember her saying “you will soon go home and see your parents upset like me for the country which is our neighbor and friend”. I remember television images that weekend and the following week as my parents watched the replay of the tragedy and the poignant days that followed, and though I am not an American citizen, I am just as sad as you to recall and recount this sad event.

Whew! Thanksgiving Day is certainly creeping up; now it is just a week from today. It seems as if I was just musing over all the harvest décor that suddenly cropped up right after the Labor Day holiday. In my daily travels, I’ve been checking out the Turkey Day decorations. They are actually few and far between. Unbelievably, there are still some Summer decorations hanging around, i.e. red, white and blue bunting and Uncle Sam paraphernalia, and psst … I really need to dish about Dracula rubbing elbows with some kitschy, hot-pink flamingos in the same front garden. Not to be outdone with that mixed-holiday décor, the next-door neighbor’s home is festooned with Santa and ALL his reindeer, his elf helpers, his Missus plus some angels and Victorian carolers thrown in for good measure.

As to Thanksgiving decorations, I’ve seen several of those inflatable turkey lawn ornaments, collapsed or otherwise, on homeowners’ front lawns in recent years. I pass one or two every day, and I’m thinking those blow-up turkeys with their humongous bright-yellow, scaly-looking feet and pilgrim hat slightly askew, look about as stuffed as you feel after the big meal on Thanksgiving Day. Collapsed, however, they resemble a massive parachute stretched across the front lawn. Sometimes, the upcoming holiday décor is more subdued with a pair of pilgrims solemnly standing side-by-side on the porch or near a cornstalk, haystack or some pumpkins.

But my all-time favorite Thanksgiving decorations are those good-looking gobblers adorning the windows of the local elementary school or front and center in someone’s living room window, for they always evoke some warm memories on a coolish morning as I stroll by. I’ll bet if you think hard enough, you can remember making “hand turkeys” when you were back in grade school. The materials and concept were pretty simple. You traced the outline of your hand onto a piece of white construction paper. Then miraculously, as you carefully crayoned inside the lines, your “fingers” turned to “feathers” and your thumb became the gobbler’s head and neck. You added a few items: a dot for an eye, a small beak, a side wing, a red wattle for authenticity and a pair of stick legs and feet (a far cry from the actual drumsticks) and voila … a masterpiece was born! After your creative juices stopped flowing, you admired your hand turkey and either pasted it onto the classroom window with white school glue, or took it home, where the little gem was proudly displayed in the front room window or on the fridge. Now, that was a hands-on project and I’m surprised to see kids are still doing this simple, but cute artwork. I would have thought our modern-day students would simply download a turkey picture from Google Images, Photoshop it a bit, then print it out on a 3D printer before presenting it to their parents. Then, of course there’s probably an app called “Talkin’ Turkey” where the parents can photograph their offspring’s treasured artwork and share it with the world on social media in the blink of an eye. I really like the old-fashioned way better.

As I started along the perimeter path at Council Point Park this morning, I could not help but notice that the path was a plethora of wet doggie paw prints. Nearby, the light glaze of frost had been stepped on, was slightly matted down and lacking the frosty covering, no doubt accounting for those medium-sized wet blobs. I suspected the pair of Chocolate Labs, with their owners in tow, had arrived before me today. Sure enough, when I rounded the first bend, there they were, untethered from their respective leashes and frolicking through the wide expanse of the Park, tails just a’waggin’ and they were smilin’ – yes … you have seen dogs smile haven’t you? Their joy at being allowed to roam and run in the Park off-leash rivals that of any kids turned loose in the playground area.

It was a quiet journey today, and except for the Labs and their pet parents, I saw no one else on the Park path. The little alcove was devoid of ducks and they were absent from their alternative spots as well. I saw a branch with a few bedraggled sparrows sitting in a row, and figured they’d appreciate some tasty tidbits of bread so I tossed it on the ground toward their tree. They all flew down at once, grateful for the unexpected treat.

Next, I dragged the bag of peanuts out of my pocket to dispense them to my squirrel buddies. I didn’t see any for a few minutes, but I guesssed that once the squirrels were assured the dogs were far enough away, they spied my zip-loc bag and me so they ventured over to get the scoop on any salty snacks. It seems unbelievable that a mere five days of feeding them peanuts on an every-day basis and they now know me by the moniker of “Peanut Buddy”. I scattered some nuts, and they just went nuts, and soon their family and friends were there for a meet-and-greet and to grab some peanuts as well. Their best method is to go for the gusto – one nut gets placed into one chubby cheek “to go” and the second one is gobbled up on the spot. Those little buggers are much more clever than people give ‘em credit for. Smart as a whip when it comes to their food; unfortunately, not always so smart when they chase one another down from the tree and into the street. I always gasp and look away, then soon I see them scurry back to the curb in the nick of time just before a car zooms by, or perhaps I hear their nails as they shimmy up the tree at the speed of sound. Some are not so lucky of course.

I can’t imagine what the squirrels are eating these days – a few bushes still have berries, but there are no oak trees in the Park, so there are no acorns to munch on and use to bulk up for the long Winter ahead. Soon, I left the little nippers behind and continued walking. The sun was up and cast a pale light on the trail and me as I walked, then I noticed a small shadow on my heels. I turned around and there was one brown squirrel trailing along behind me as if he thought I might perchance adopt him and take him home as a pet. He had such a sweet face and I told him he was lucky that I was down to the dregs of my nut cache, but I had a few just for him. I bent down close to his level and tossed the peanuts toward him. They rolled a little and he seized the opportunity to grab them and vamoose.

Once again I resumed walking, eager to get back on the trail and maximize my miles since it was a beautiful morning. The Park was so quiet and I was enjoying the peace and solitude when suddenly the train gave one extraordinarily loud, shrill whistle and infiltrated my wool-gathering and I nearly flew out of my skin. I would have liked to have another turn around the Park, but my bird and squirrel sessions ate up some of my “me” time so I just headed home, having clocked 3 ½ miles more to add to my grand total of 426 miles so far in 2013. That’s 53 more miles that I have driven. Another 74 more miles to go to reach the 500-mile mark, and still hoping that the weather cooperates, although it may not over the course of the next few days.

I left early this morning for a walk preceded by a quick trip around the house to inspect for any storm or wind-related damage, and thankfully there was none. Our neighborhood looked, for the most part, to be unscathed by those howling winds which lasted nearly 24 hours, but two blocks away I saw a beautiful tree that had split down the middle, and branches were resting up against the back windows of the home. The fury of this recent wind whisked through the neighborhood and Council Point Park stripping the trees of their remaining foliage, leaving them bare and forlorn looking. The huge squirrels’ nests are now exposed and I marvel at how those massive twiggy nests remained intact after such gusty winds. I took along some critter treats and while the ducks were acting rather blasé this morning, the squirrels quickly scrambled to attention and scurried near the path where I was walking to ensure they were in my line of sight. I dipped deep into my pockets to produce some peanuts for them and tossed them out and immediately I had multiple takers, including one small fellow who scampered out from behind a bush. I thought of my grandmother when I arose this morning and later as I idly watched the squirrels’ antics. Wilhelmina Godard, née Klein was born on this day in 1906 and passed away in her 80th year. She was known as “Minnie” to friends and family and I called her “Nanny”. On her first trip to the U.S. back in the late 60s, she stayed at our house one entire Summer and was astonished to see our brown squirrels with their bushy tails … “your American squirrels” she called them. You see, in Toronto’s residential areas, as well as the parks, they had the much-smaller and sleeker black squirrels which I’ve been seeing here in our own neighborhoods the past few years. My grandmother could not believe how large our backyard fox squirrels were and then we told her that the neighbor a few yards away regularly shot and ate them. He and his wife were from the South and he proudly told us that “shooting the little varmints helped keep the squirrel population in check and the wife makes ‘em into a tasty squirrel pie” … (yep, turned my stomach just a tad too).

I didn’t even attempt a walk this morning with winds gusting well over 35 mph when I got up. But you’ll hear no grumbling on my part since walking seems inconsequential; I’m only too glad that I didn’t lose power here. While I certainly don’t want the inconvenience of being in the deep-freeze inside the house (because that happened years ago in the middle of Winter), nor the expense of spoiled food, my main concern is for Buddy and how I’d keep him warm. Canaries are not very cuddly nor are they portable pets. My next-door neighbor Marge would take us, but her power likely would be out as well. A hotel would be the best bet but I’m certainly not the only one with that idea and there aren’t many hotels around here anyway. The rockin’ and rollin’ going on outside seems like it will never end, but those gusts last night were just incredible. I’m usually a very sound sleeper, but the wind kept waking me up. Each time I pulled the alarm clock over, then crooked my neck to see if the stove’s digital clock was casting the dim light in the still-dark kitchen as it usually does. When I saw that pale light I was relieved and knew there were no power issues, I laid my head back onto the pillow and was soon fast asleep. It seems that every time I hear an update on the area power outages, there are thousands of additional homes and businesses with no power – the latest well over 200,000. My heart goes out to the people in Illinois – the pictures of the devastation that I watched online made me gasp in horror. It is surprising more lives were not lost with this string of tornadoes. Sometimes Mother Nature just wants to emphasize who is boss … the typhoon, now the tornadoes; let’s hope the adage that “things happen in threes” does not come to fruition.

Well I really didn’t intend to go to Council Point Park this morning since an all-morning rain was in the forecast. Believing the meteorologists, last night I didn’t even set the alarm deciding to sleep in and do some much-needed chores around the house instead. I gathered the garbage to put outside, then peered out the front door to see if I could just zip out and back without a coat since the weather was so mild. To my surprise, there was no rain, the sky was blue and a pale sun was trying to make an appearance. So, throwing caution (and chores) to the wind, I decided since I had to take the garbage outside anyway, I might as well lace up my walking shoes and get some miles in. I didn’t stop to grab any critter treats or take along any rain gear since it was a spur-of-the moment trip. Just as I reached the Park entrance, which is nearly a mile from my home, there was a horribly loud and long rumble of thunder. It stopped me in my tracks and I pivoted and peeled out for home. Unfortunately, though the sky was bright, the roll of thunder was the precursor to the quick pitter-patter of raindrops and within a block a drenching rain ensued. Well, the only good thing was that it was such a mild day that the rain likewise was warmish, but still! My sweats were sopping wet by the time I reached my house and my hair was dripping as well. As I stripped off my soggy clothing, I glanced at the pedometer, grumbling to myself that the trip was rather a waste of time and energy for a measly two miles. The gadget confirmed that nearly 4,000 steps had been walked, but it also displayed a flashing “battery low” message. Well, that just added insult to injury as to my shortened walk and my mood. Luckily, I have committed my walking mileage amounts to memory for all my favorite routes, so no big deal until I replace the battery or get a new pedometer. Now, like all of you, I await and worry as this fractious storm nears and I will shut down and unplug my computer as soon as this blog about my Sunday “sogg”a is posted. I saw this picture the other day … it sure is appropriate for our impending stormy weather so I am sharing it with you. Be safe everyone.

This morning, as I scuffed through the massive piles of leaves that littered the sidewalks while I made my way to the Park, I figured most homeowners would be scrambling around later today trying to contain them. Our City’s yard waste collection ceases Thanksgiving week. Sure enough, when I was walking home, the air was abuzz with the whirring of leaf blowers either sucking up or funneling bunches of leaves and the whining of mulching mowers masticating too-full intake chutes of leaves and still-lush grass. Wide rakes scrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraped the cement sidewalk in an effort to contain leaves within the tines and get them bagged quickly and ready to haul out to the curb. I passed one house where they had a regular assembly line going – there were rakers, baggers and a couple of kids who were opening the bags and wrangling them over those tube gizmos which hold the brown paper yard waste bag upright. One homeowner had stacks and stacks of yard waste bags sitting on his porch and I called out to him that he had his work cut out for him today.

In 2011 I volunteered to be a Salvation Army bell ringer for four weekends starting in mid-November. My post was outside ACO Hardware. The store was hopping the duration of my shift, alternating between people streaming out carrying multiple waste bags under their arm or pushing shopping carts laden with outdoor Christmas decorations. One man kept returning to buy more leaf bags and said he felt obligated to drop some change into my kettle each time he passed me to access the store entrance. The last time on his way into ACO, he grinned sheepishly and declared he was “going to buy the rest of the store’s supply of leaf bags and quit this nonsense”. There never seems to be that many leaves on the trees until gravity brings ‘em free falling to the ground. After a brief drizzle, while walking home, my nose detected the leaves had a faintly musty smell and they are not so pretty now, having been whipped around possibly from blocks away, or co-mingled along the cement with their bedraggled-looking, sometimes-spotted or otherwise-mangled counter-parts. But we shan’t complain because the leaves sure look better than snow sitting on our lawns and sidewalks.

At the Park today, in an effort to garner more miles I decided to make two complete laps on the perimeter path. On the first leg of my journey, I stopped at the cement landing to position myself, without slipping into the Creek, to dispense duck bon-bons … well, bread to us, but candy for our feathered friends. While standing there clicking my tongue and watching the mallards swim toward me, a young guy came over to sit on the ledge and we chatted. His name was Todd and I’ve often seen him running on the path or sprinting across the open soccer fields. He told me he has been working out in the Park for over 20 years, since he was 12 years old. He has watched the Park grow from one paved loop to two and told me, that if I enjoy the Park during the Spring, Summer and Fall months, I must come back in the Winter season since the City plows the Park path at 6:00 a.m. daily because there are so many walkers and runners. Todd told me where the ducks congregate in the Winter months … as many as 200 of them at a time, while seeking shelter from the cold, close to a storm sewer. He said the wetland area across the Ecorse Creek is home to fox and coyotes and when the trees are completely bare they are easy to spot. Well, that clinched it for me. Now, there will be something to look forward to in the Winter months and I will surely try to get some wildlife pictures during my weekend forays to Council Point Park. Perhaps these photo ops will yield some great shots to share on my blog posts. Finally, my bread bag was empty and so I said goodbye to Todd and moved on as I still wanted to do another full lap. Just as I was strolling along the path and thinking it was a perfect Fall day, it started to rain. Just a few spits here and there and it was more of a mist but it was getting my clothes wet nonetheless. I certainly didn’t melt and it stopped fairly quickly. During the second leg of my journey, the strains of some of the brass bands at the Wyandotte Christmas Parade came through loud and clear and I had the feeling of marching along with them in spirit. Before I knew it, two laps were done and I was heading home, with five miles more added toward my goal. The weather sounds dicey for tomorrow and I’m hoping they are wrong about their projected forecasts for thunderstorms, gusty winds and possible tornadic activity.

Love the trees until their leaves fall off,
then encourage them to try again next year.
~ Chad Sugg

The sun was up early and so I hit the ground runnin’ on this mild, mid-November morn. Destination: Council Point Park. The hunters also were early risers and they gathered en masse at the crack of dawn in search of their prey. The big bucks should watch their collective backs as firearms deer-hunting season began today. You already know I’m a softie when it comes to critters of any kind, so you can guess that I’ll cringe and turn my head the other way if I see a big buck’s bloody carcass slung across the top of a vehicle or peeking out from the bed of a Dodge Ram pick-up truck. It upsets me seeing a deer laying on the pick-up bed floor, its once-majestic head now lolling to the side. Often the deer’s neck is twisted as it lays prone, its head propped up by the antlers. It’s macabre and disturbing – to me anyway.

My high school chum Carol lives in the village of Honeoye Falls in Upstate New York. Her property butts up against a large wooded area and she often looks out the doorwall to see deer wandering around her backyard. She snaps their picture and posts it on Facebook with a description of how they meandered into her backyard, perhaps to “visit” or nibble on berries on the fringe of her very picturesque property. Sometimes the moms and their offspring will gather around the gazebo. I guess that big white structure is quite a novelty to the deer. It all sounds very idyllic to this city girl, but I know deer can wreak havoc in neighborhoods when out of their element, and of course car/deer accidents, especially this time of year, have caused the death of many a motorist. Granted, the deer herds need to be thinned out, but the nature lover in me could not see past the big eyes and gentle face to harm this creature.

In the past, I’ve recounted my wonderful memories as a child feeding the wildlife at High Park in Toronto. On vacation we’d often visit Algonquin Park near Georgian Bay in northern Canada which further fostered my love and respect for wildlife. The picture above was taken at Algonquin Park when I was six. I know those happy childhood moments contribute to my current whole enjoyable experience in my forays to Council Point Park. Maybe it is the bullfrog croaking, or perhaps it might be the sweet song of a bird high up in the tree as I happen by. Sometimes a silly smile crosses my face while I am just tossing treats to the critters. It is just such a simple pleasure to visit the Park, be one with nature and interact with a critter or two. It mellows out my morning and brightens my day. Like a condemned man counting off his remaining days, a glance at the calendar and the colder temps outside tell me to make the most of my moments at the Park before the rough weather settles in. So, before I left on my journey this morning I gathered up my treats to take to the Park … peanuts which I will confirm brought an unexpected delight to some already-chubby brown squirrels who scampered by my feet then promptly sat on their haunches and begged. Indeed, they knew a sucker when they saw one and their cute antics brought the desired result … a few more peanuts fished from my pocket to be strewn at their feet.

Our task must be to free ourselves by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and its beauty. Albert Einstein

The last few years I’ve been on a bit of a health kick. The better-eating regimen, plus my annual sacrificing of a favorite food for Lent, then just giving up that treat permanently, has left me with a healthy, but somewhat blah diet. Several years ago I gave up sweets for Lent and I can’t say that I miss or crave baked goods or gum or the occasional hard candy. I do drink sugarless chocolate milk but a tall glass of it would not satisfy a sweet craving. I have convinced myself that cornbread is not a sweet so it is an indulgence about four times a year. I gave up fast food and take-out food as well. I must admit that walking past Burger King and smelling fries or onion rings could make me re-think that move, but I’ve not fallen off the wagon yet. I don’t eat fried food at home either – health wise that’s a great move, but it is also because I am lazy. Too much grease plus too much mess equals too many dishes. Not a happy equation for me. In 2012 I gave up salty snacks for Lent so going forward those treats bit the dust. I could sing the praises of White Cheddar Cheez-its forever. I would not even have the decency to pour them out into a bowl, but would sit idly eating them straight from the box, while watching the contents dwindle down as the telltale cheddar dust lingered on my fingers. I recently gave up flavored coffee creamers and have gone back to the boring powdered creamers. Today, as I wandered around the aisles of Meijer, I did get just a tad wistful for the olden days of carefree eating with reckless abandon, especially around the holidays. I think it was the large clear Santa boot of jumbo cashews I spied when buying the peanuts for the squirrels. Cashews were my mom’s favorite and we always had them around for the holidays. Another perennial salty snack favorite at our house was what my mom called “nuts and bolts” … it is what Americans call “Chex Party Mix”. She used the same salty snack ingredients, then would toast them in the oven. Half of the batch got garlic powder sprinkled over it and the other half remained bare. The garlic stayed with you for days, but both were yummy.

Naturally, it was all about the holiday season at the grocery store. One display was all the fixin’s for the bird, right down to the lacy frills to put on its legs. The green bean casserole necessities were at the ready as well and the pumpkin pie paraphernalia was handy to just grab and go. I passed up the pie fixin’s but reached for some Piñata apples which have finally arrived. I love their tropical taste and they are so crunchy. Grapefruit and bananas rounded out my fruits and lots of broccoli and baby carrots for Buddy and me to share. Michelle Obama would give me an atta girl if she inspected the contents of my cart. I did pause a long time gazing at the various eggnog products as I tried to reconcile if this was a treat or merely a glorified milk product. I’ll consider how much wiggle room I have over the next few weeks.

Christmas definitely trumped Thanksgiving and though a few displays had some customers talkin’ turkey, Christmas toys, treats and gift suggestions were at every available end cap. I must admit I had to stifle a giggle as I saw various Chia pets on display with each one bearing a likeness to one of the Duck Dynasty boys. There is a face and the seeds are planted to become the eventual plant/beard. Looks like Duck Dynasty items are the go-to gift this season. I saw the Duck Dynasty logo everywhere I looked – well ain’t that ducky?

Two tours of Meijer’s perimeter and my grocery shopping yielded many extra steps logged on the pedometer and when I got home I was surprised and pleased to see I had racked up 2 ½ miles this morning. It wasn’t exactly a “shop-‘til-you drop” event but multi-tasking works for me.