Down to the Last Plate of Cookies

Christmas 2009 is over. It was a very good one, full of good cheer, family, friends and delicious meals. It was also very full of cookies. Allyson and I made fourteen different kinds of cookies, which comes to about 600 in all. We spent an entire day unpacking them (half we had frozen as we had baked them earlier in the month), putting each in a decorative paper cup, and then

re- boxing them in assortments to send off and give away to friends and relatives. Joe and Al did the postal packing and trip to the post office. For the longest time I only ate one of each batch. As they came out of the oven and cooled on the rack, I felt I had to try one of each to make sure they were OK. They were OK. In fact, the were damn good, if I do say so myself.

Aside from the occasional tast-test cookie, my eating approaching the holidays was OK. And them came Dec. 20, a date that shall live in infamy, as the day I gave in to to cookie craving. It began innocently enough, with a single peanut butter cookie for breakfast. The rationale went something like this: peanut butter has protein so this cookie will probably be OK for my blood sugar. Then I ate a second, and then a third. Finally, I told myself that Dec. 20 would be a dietary restriction-free day, so for lunch I had cottage cheese and cookies. And for dinner I had soup and cookies. And before I went to bed, I fixed myself a plate of beautiful, iced Christmas sugar cookies, which are Allyson's specialty. There were green trees, pink angels, yellow stars, and my absolute favorite, blue snowflakes. I made myself a cup of herbal tea and sat on the sofa, enjoying every bite while gradually getting sleepier and sleepier. At 11:00 pm I stumbled off to bed.

At 2:30 am I awoke with something I can only describe as a combination kidney stone and gall bladder-like attack, as my digestive track, fined tuned from days of whole wheat, oatmeal and vegetables, went into a state of complete rebellion from the cups of butter and sugar I had consumed the day before. I was up and down all night. Now you would think that any rationale person would go back to healthy eating the very next morning. But, nope, I went straight back to cookies and other refined carbohydrates. And it has been that way every since, culminating with the wonderful prime rib dinner we had yesterday, on Christmas day, which included my daughter Lilly's famous candied yams, and was topped off by my daughter Rose's amazingly good mince pie and eggnog.

Within a few days my stomach has regained its capacity to digest contraband, and I have been sleeping through the night without problems. I have not been exercising. I am afraid to get on the scales. Today so far, I am doing better, gradually retuning to healthy eating. Tomorrow Allyson and I leave for a three day escape to NYC to see Kandinsky at the MOMA and other shows. I am hoping all the walking will help me get my leg strength back. Right now I feel like my first mile might as well be a marathon.

Sick, Sick and Sick Some More!

Nobody wants to hear about old peoples' illnesses so I haven't been writing for awhile. Yes, I have had two more viruses -- the ten day lung busting cougher and the 48 hour neck radiating head-splitter. Not to mention that every part of my body itches from dry skin. I was under the impression that I was sick all the time my last couple of years at work because my job was physically stressful , especially all the plane travel. But apparently I am just a weakling, prone to catching every germ in a ten mile radius. Or perhaps 60 is a year like three or 14 or 33, all years which I spent working my way through virus after virus after infection for no good reason.

My exercise regime is at a halt. Now that I am better I must start again, but a cold gray winter sky makes outside look very inhospitable. Inside we have a roaring fire and a beautiful tree, decorated by Allyson's and my grandchildren, with an over abundance of every kind of ornament imaginable. Under the tree is a profusion of gifts, each beautifully wrapped by Allyson or me. Gift wrapping seems to be the only activity I can truly enjoy while sneezing, scratching and coughing. Don't worry those of you who are my gift list. I washed my hands after every sneeze or sniffle. I love the wrapping process, all the colored papers and the contrasting ribbons, wide or narrow, shiny and curly or straight and textured. Adding the little gift cards to each package makes me especially happy. The gift cards make the presents seem finished and personal. How I love paper! It is one of life's greatest blessings.

I am also baking, but believe it or not I am not overeating. I am still in a good food period that is reflected in my declining weight on the scales. I am down 15 pounds now. I keep telling myself it ought to be easier to walk. I am able to visualize 15 butter boxes removed from various parts of my body. This is a ready image because every cookie recipe requires at least half a box of butter. After I bake them, I pack them in perfect geometric patterns in plastic containers and pop them in the freezer for unpacking day, when they all emerge and Al and I put each cookie in a colorful paper cup and arrange them in assortments for gift giving.

As you can probably tell I am into Christmas big time. I keep thinking of the scene in the grandparent's house from the movie Fanny and Alexander, which captured a feeling I am hoping to pass on to my grandchildren. It's a feeling of comfort, warmth and joy, and also of peace and harmony. OK, that may be a bit unrealistic given the size of my family, but at least I can feel peaceful and harmonious, and hope that my mood is as contagious as the local viruses.