Morning cravings

Cliff and I are still weighing in at two to three pounds over where we should be.  What a drag.  It's a roller-coaster, which of course is preferable to a constant up-hill climb, but still no fun.
  
What is it about winter that makes us crave greasy, heavy foods?  I try to give us our "fix" in manageable ways.  We'll have pancakes occasionally (one large one apiece, with exactly two tablespoons of syrup and one pat of butter).  Bacon and eggs about once a week (two strips of bacon, one egg, one piece of toast).  That sort of thing does keep us sticking to the calorie plan, for the most part.  

This morning I got peaches out of the freezer, intent on having cold cereal with peaches... a delicious and nutritious breakfast indeed.  I settled down with my coffee and resumed reading the first Nero Wolfe book that Rex Stout (brother of Ruth Stout, the famous no-till gardener) wrote back in 1932, just waiting for Cliff to wake up.
  
For some reason, a little demon hopped on my shoulder and whispered "biscuits and gravy".
  
I argued with the little pest.  Usually if we're going to have biscuits and gravy, I plan ahead and buy some canned biscuits (50 calories each, so we can each have four of them), because baking powder biscuits,  even if I make them pretty small, are over 150 calories apiece, and who can stop at just one?  And you just HAVE to top off breakfast with a buttered hot biscuit with jelly.  It's too much temptation!  I make a mean batch of baking powder biscuits, by the way.  

See what that little demon started?  Are you hungry yet?
    
Finally I settled on a compromise.  A slice of bread has only 60 calories.  When I was a kid, bread and gravy was a full meal at our house, and one of my favorites, actually.  My mother used to tell about the time she put the left-over gravy outside in the dog's dish, turned her back for a bit, and looked up to see two-year-old me eating gravy with the dog.  

Two slices of bread each, and one cup of gravy.  I wonder when Cliff is going to wake up?  

We'll have the peaches for dessert at noon.    

The real problem here, of course, is the bitter cold weather.  I'm living a sedentary life right now.  My knees limit how far I can go on our walk.  I am not burning the 1,800 calories I consume each day, and I'm not willing to take in less than that.  Once I can get outside and putter in the garden, I'll be just fine, thank you very much.  At least that's what I tell myself.  

Meanwhile the scales go back and forth between 146 and 149.    

fading away

I didn't watch much of the Grammies Sunday night, but I did stay alert listening for them to announce Kris Kristofferson's appearance, because he was to be honored.  Chatting on Facebook as I am wont to do, I mentioned Kris; that's when a friend told me that Kris has something like Alzheimer's.   

Memory loss was on my mind already; last week Cliff, his sister, and I went to visit their Aunt Gertrude, the lady in the middle.  She has asthma, and is in and out of the hospital pretty frequently, but her mind is sharp.  Aunt Lois, her sister, was also there for the day.  She has Alzheimer's.  There's a couple buying her home, living there and caring for her.  Aunt Gertrude likes to give them a day off each week, so they bring Lois to her house.  


She has no memory of us.  Cliff asked about one of her boys, and she said, "Do you know him?"  
"Yes," Cliff answered, "I used to play with him when we were kids.  We used to go to your house every year for Thanksgiving."

She just looked confused.  Aunt Gert says she dreads the day when Lois no longer recognizes her.  

This is not a flattering picture of Cliff, but my blog needs this picture of them conversing

We introduced ourselves to her several times throughout the day.  She seemed to enjoy visiting with us, anyhow.  
Yesterday we got a note from Aunt Gertrude.  She wrote, "(After we left) Lois wanted to know who those people were.  She said 'they acted like they know me.  Who was that man that sat by me?  He sure was a talker!'" 
"That gave us something to talk about," Aunt Gertrude continued, "even if it was reruns."  

There's no way of knowing which of us will end up in the same condition.  If it turns out to be me, I certainly wouldn't want to know ahead of time.  I try not to think about it too much.