Wednesday, January 8, 2014

A Low Carbohydrate Diet

A Low Carbohydrate Diet

It all started on Halloween.

We get about 60-100 kids coming around and this year was no exception.  However, at the end of the night, we had 3 bags of Hershey’s Chocolate Bars left over.  Barbara attributed this to over shopping on my part, but the rule is if there isn’t anything left over, you didn’t buy or prepare enough.

I, being the thrifty one in the family, put the bags in the refrigerator in the garage, planning on using them next Halloween.  Barbara had other ideas.

She put bags in the refrigerator in the kitchen, where they presented a tempting vision every time I opened the door, or even thought about them.

Barbara was basically forcing me to eat them, and so we did.  

By the beginning of December they had miraculously disappeared, just in time for me to take my annual blood screening test ordered by my doctor.

We arrived at the doctor’s office.  We both had an appointment and went in together.

I sneaked a peak at the chart prior to seeing the doctor and saw what the doctor was going to be complaining about.

As expected, when the doctor came in, she admonished me over my Triglyceride level.

“Why is it so high?” she inquired.

“It’s Ina Garter’s fault,” I declared. “You know, the Barefoot Contessa. She and all the chefs on the Food Network are creating my high Triglyceride number.  All the recipes start with: ‘Get a stick of butter’. What could I do? We are cooking now for the first time in 46 years and this is what is required.”

“Hmm”, she said, “why don’t you use margarine?”

“Because it tastes like crap”, I declared.  “What’s the purpose of cooking unless it tastes good?”

“The doctor gave me the “Look”, much as Barbara gives me when she wants me to stop something.  Must be a female thing.

“Oh, and maybe because Barbara made me eat three bags of Hershey’s Chocolate Bars,” I said.

“Three Bags!” the doctor exclaimed, looking at Barbara for confirmation.

Barbara confirmed my statement (at least to my eating the 3 bags) with a nod of her head.

“She forced me,” I said, “I had hidden them in the refrigerator in the garage, but Barbara moved them to the kitchen in order to tempt me”.

Barbara rolled her eyes and gave me the “Look”.

“That will do it,” the doctor said.

“And possibly, but probably not, my eating pies might have contributed to the high number,” I added.

“Pies?” she inquired.

“Yes, I have been appointed a pie judge at the American Pie Council Bake off in  Orlando in April.  It is my judicial responsibility to eat as many pies a possible between now and then in order to get a baseline of pie tastes for judging purposes,” I said.

“Really,” she inquired, “how did that happen?”

I proceeded to tell her how I had talked my way into becoming a judge at the contest, and why, I, an amateur, was qualified to be a judge among the professionals who would be there.

“Interesting”, the doctor said, “but that doesn’t solve the problem”.

“Don’t worry”, I responded, “I will cut back on carbohydrates, like bread,and potatoes and the number will go down immediately.”

We then had a discussion about different pies I had tasted and particularly about Key Lime Pie, which the doctor said her husband was very good at baking.

“Ok”, she said, getting ready to leave, “we’ll test you again in May after the contest and see what the number is then”.

“Good plan”, I said.

As she was leaving us she turned and said, “You know you are killing me with this”.

“Killing you?” I responded, opening my eyes wide.

She left without further comment.

We left the office and surprisingly Barbara was a little upset.

“That’s it”, she declared. “You are cutting out pastries and chocolate until your Triglycerides go down”.

“Sure, sure”, I said, “I’ll cut down on bread”

“I mean it”. she said, looking very determined.

That night she asked me to make pasta.

For the next few weeks, we didn’t keep pastries in the house, except for an occasional Linzer Tart, which is Barbara’s favorite.

Last week we were forced to buy a pound of butter cookies to give to my grandson who was sleeping over.  We swore him to secrecy and by the next day the cookies were gone somehow.

I am forced to still eat pies on occasion,  particularly when we are out with friends.  They have come to rely on my judgement in these matters when we order dessert. The last time, I was coming home late and my friends called me on the phone and asked me to stop by to judge a pie they had just bought. They needed my expertise, so how could I refuse?

Unfortunately it was terrible, and they agreed with me.  They are taking it back to the store to complain.  I was happy to be of service.

Barbara and I went to the farmer’s market on Sunday.  I discovered dark chocolate covered cranberries there.  

Delicious and medicinal, how could this be bad?  Of course we bought them.

Barbara chided me on buying them and admonished me for eating them.  She confined herself to eating  pistachio nuts,  which we also bought.

Last night, while lying in bed, I brought in some chocolate covered cranberries and Barbara tasted them.

“Wow”, she said, “lets have some more”.

Now, how am I going to stick to my diet with a request like that?

Monday, January 6, 2014

Am I Going Deaf Or Is My Wife Tricking Me?

Am I Going Deaf Or Is My Wife Tricking Me?

We were in the supermarket, having just come from the gym.  I was at the checkout and  Barbara said she was going to go over to the weight scale to see how far off it was from the gym’s scale.

She returned and we walked out to the parking lot.

As we were walking towards our car, I asked what the scale had indicated her weight was.

“Are you deaf?” she asked.  “I just told you what it said when I got off it”.

“Really,” I replied, “I didn’t hear you.  What did it show?”

“There’s something wrong with you, you know that?  Has your short-term memory gone or are you deaf?” she replied.  “The scale here is two pounds light.”

We proceeded to the car and began to put our groceries in the trunk.

“Maybe you should take the eggs in the car with you instead of in the trunk,” I said.

“Are you really deaf or don’t you remember anything?  I just said that!”, she retorted.

“You did not,” I replied.  “I never heard you say that.  When did you say it?” I asked.

“Just now!” she replied somewhat archly.

“Are you sure you are actually saying these things, or are you just thinking them?” I inquired.

“Of course I said them,” she said, giving me the “look”.  “You must be deaf or losing it”.

I considered her answer and my mind went to an old movie called “Gaslight”, where the husband made the wife think she was crazy so he could institutionalize her.  Was this a reversal of roles?

In the past, when Barbara had said she had told me things, of which I have no memory, I have attributed it to my not hearing her.  She is often trying to talk to me from an another room or when I am engrossed in something else.

Her high pitched voice is also a contributing factor as I age gracefully.  Men lose the higher registers in their audio range of hearing as they get older.  Something nature does a a survival mechanism for those of us who are married.

There is also the selective deafness which has kept us happily married for 46 years to consider.  It has proven invaluable in keeping us from arguing and keeping me from having to do things Barbara has wanted me to do that I was reluctant to do.

Now, on reconsidering all that has transpired, I am beginning to think it is a plot to make me think I am crazy, and she hasn’t really said the things she says I forgot or didn’t hear.

I have asked other husbands if they have experienced similar accusations.  

They all have!

It’s time for all us husbands to form a support group so that our wives don’t literally drive us crazy.

Who wants to join?