Saturday, July 1, 2017

I Have Alarmed FatSecret

When I'm motivated, I record my food on FatSecret, which is great for tracking not only calories but also nutrition. I especially love seeing how much fiber I eat in a day, as my aim is 25–30 grams. Fiber fascinates me, as it's never where I think it is. I was also astonished to see that the apple I ate yesterday had 19 grams of carbohydrates!!!! Carbs are in everything, man.

I decided to weigh in today, as it's been a full week since my scary scary weight last Sunday. And we all know it's Xanadu, what happened then and now doesn't resemble an actual weight loss plan, but nonetheless: I lost 8.5 pounds in a week.

FatSecret is concerned. They would like me to settle down and stop losing at this alarming rate. Think of your health, they said.

It was pretty funny, I must admit.

In California, my brother Mateo turned me on to a new drink — "Lemonades" — comprising vodka, tonic water, sweet and sour mix, and a product they have in Minnesota but not in California apparently: Schweppes Lemon Sour Soda (they subbed in margarita mix for this and the sweet-and-sour). And sister, those went down gooooood. I had eleventy-thousand of them.

We also ate Mexican food, a cuisine not known for its dietetic properties, like it was about to be discontinued. Oh, man. It was a good vacation.

Here are some funny bits:

As we were going over the menu for Mom's not-birthday-party, a Mexican buffet:

  • Sunny Yellow: Do we want a dessert or treat of some kind? Like, a birthday cake?
  • Me: Mom, want a cake? Do you know a good bakery?
  • Mom: Oh, Upper Crust Bakery makes wonderful cakes!
  • Me: Great! Which one is your favorite?
  • Mom: They have all different kinds.
  • Me: Well, what's your favorite cake in general?
  • Mom: Oh, I don't know.
  • Me: OK, let's look at their menu.
  • Mom: I don't have it.
[Note: At my brothers urging, she had purchased a new laptop computer, which they set up for her that morning. Her old computer, just to give you some perspective, still has DOS on it and can read floppy disks — like, the actually floppy ones.]
  • Me: We'll look it up online.
  • Mom: Or we could just call them . . .
  • Me: Mom, they're not going to read the entire menu to you over the phone, and even if they did, by the time they got to the end, you wouldn't remember what came first.
  • Mom: I guess you're right.
Mateo finds Upper Crust's website, and we begin to peruse. (Seriously, check it out. I had a small O while reading, and I'm not even a cake person.)

(In the meantime, Mom has gotten out the phone book and is prepared to launch her "Let's just call them" plan. Oh, Mom.)
  • Mateo: Mom, come look at these.
  • Mom (sighs, puts down phone book): OK . . .
Long pause.
  • Mom: They all look so good . . .
  • Me: Mom, would you like me and Mateo to choose your favorite cake?
  • Mom: Yes!
I look at the menu again, point to one, Mateo agrees. Miguelito wanders in.
  • Miguelito: So, what did you decide is Mom's favorite cake?
  • Me: Chocolate Truffle.
  • Miguelito: I knew it!
Dang me, it was good!!!!!
Mom was consistently inconsistent as to whether she wanted a party or not; we finally compromised by inviting our nearest and dearest relatives to "drop in" (though it still came as news to my youngest Chico cousin, who was only informed the night before — as in, "Hey, Cousin, could you bring Sierra Nevada beer tomorrow?" "Uh, what's tomorrow . . . ?" he said.) (He works for Sierra Nevada.)

"Dropping in" is also kind of funny, as one cousin was driving up from Southern California, but oh well. It was sweet that they all wanted to come.
My tribe. Love 'em all!!

And of course, on the cake Mateo and I wrote, "Happy Birthday, Mom! (Thanks for dropping in!)"

My adorable little nephew Walkman was less excited about the menu than we all were.
  • Walkman: Do I have to eat everything?
  • Me: Of course not, honey, it's a party. Eat only what looks good to you.
  • Mateo: Will you stop using the "P" word?? It's a drop-in.
  • Me: Oh, right. Sorry, Walkman, you have to eat all the vegetables.
Mom, God bless her, is getting battier and battier as she ages.
  • Me: Hey, it's June 14. Happy Flag Day!
  • Mom: Oh, is that why there were so many flags around town yesterday?
  • Me: Yes. Flag Day Eve is huge in Chico.
We're about to run a bunch of errands, I'm getting dressed, Mom is rummaging around in the closet where she keeps the lockbox full of financial records and other important stuff.
  • Mom (conversationally): The safe deposit key is in the folder with the passports.
  • Me: OK . . . those seem like strange bedfellows. Is it labeled clearly?
  • Mom: Yes.
I put my shoes on and prepare to leave.
  • Mom: Did you get the safe deposit key?
  • Me: Um — was I supposed to?
  • Mom: Yes, we just discussed it.
  • Me: Oh. OK. So, I was supposed to know that "The safe deposit key is in the folder with the passports" actually meant "Lady, I can't bend over far enough to retrieve the safe deposit key, so can you get it for me?"
  • Mom: Yes!
Too funny.

More to tell, but it's Chore Day at Chez Davis-Kay, I have a few more things to do, and I'm madly craving a Lemonade. It's a sultry day in Arlington, Mass.; I think I've already sweated out five pounds by vacuuming my house; a tart sparkly cocktail just fits my mood.


Lady C

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