I got the notice from my doctor that my insulin resistance has moved to prediabetes. It’s not a crisis, but it means I get to make some lifestyle changes. My upper carb limit was 180g per day, but I was starting to gain weight on this even with 5 days of exercise. I knew something was wrong, but like most people, I didn’t want to face the music.
Of course, I was having to clean out CORNIE’S CLOSET to make room for some “girthier coverings,” an act which required a bit of retail therapy. I have a rule, if I can’t wear it after one year, I don’t keep it, but take it to the consignment store. Someone else should wear it while it still looks good and is in style.
Cleaning out the closet makes me think about cleaning out the kitchen cupboards and the icebox. I have a harder time here, for I was raised by Depression Era parents. My generation of children cleaned our plates and ate “druthers,” or leftovers. People were starving in China, so we had to eat our meals. It didn’t help the Chinese one bit, but we cleaned our plates. Leftovers were called druthers, as in “would you druther have this or that?” As a result, I only buy foods I need or small amounts of foods that are “off program.”
I was in a tizzy over the last weeks, for several friends were having meltdowns in their personal lives, ISIS was executing innocents on a mountain, schools and churches were gearing back up for the fall, and I had a commissioned painting to finish and a new sculpture to complete for an upcoming show.
When I hit my local Kroger, I somehow walked out of there with FOUR PINTS of hard core, first class, premium ice cream! Three pints of very dark chocolate (my personal self medication drug of choice) and a pint of pomegranate gelato. How the last snuck in my cart, I have no idea. It must have been cloaked or in stealth mode.
I did only eat one of these pints before I managed to come back to earth. Autumn comes around every year, this craziness happens every year, and every year I realize how much I miss my mother’s presence in the kitchen. September is the anniversary of her last illness and her homecoming.
Sometimes we need to change the way we’ve always done things so that we get a different result. In my case, I get to change again my eating plan once again. Each change “cleans it up” or in the spiritual language, “I get to change my wicked ways” so that I can stay as healthy as possible.
Also, another change I want to make is to celebrate my mother’s life, rather than to remember the struggle of her last battle with cancer. My mother was the one who taught me the joy of sharing love from the kitchen; the power of communion and community that comes from the cookies, cakes, and casseroles; and the hope and healing that comes from working together in a kitchen.
I’ll still be making cookies, but I will be sharing more, and testing fewer. I won’t be eating pasta as often either, but that means I get to be creative in the kitchen!
In reply he said to them, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.”