So I am now in Northern California helping the original Sophie and her handsome Italian husband, Federico, with my beautiful, smart, and funny grandkids. I had hoped this would be the occasion for me to get back on track with exercise, but it has been unusually cold and depressingly gray ever since I arrived. Today I discovered a high school track nearby, and a patch of blue sky appeared sheepishly overhead for about 15 minutes right before sunset, so maybe tomorrow will be the day. I also really need to stretch too because this damp, Bay Area fog gets in between my vertebrae and deposits shooting pains and miserable twitches.
Despite some half-hearted efforts, my eating has also not recovered from Christmas excesses. Three days ago, I went to the local World Market and they had my favorite Christmas treat--British deep-filled (Joe once misread the label and berated me for eating "deep-fried" pies, as if the real butter crusts weren't bad enough) mini mince-meat pies on sale for 75% off. I once met a woman who told me she lived near the factory in Britain that makes these little wonders, and she said that the whole town smelled wonderfully of simmering raisins, citrus and brandy.
I bought ONLY one box of 6 and put it on top of Sophie's refrigerator along with the other goodies she keeps out of the kids' reach. No one but me knows it is there. Now, every time I go to her house, I eat just one. But one mini pie is enough to throw off my blood sugar, and make me crave sweets throughout the day, so I am also consuming the occasional organic, biorythmically produced, compostable (I am in Marin County) double-decker ice-cream cone, or three to six pieces of personally-selected See's candy. So when will I stop this self destructive behavior? In three days, when those yummy little pies are gone.