‘Salt Sugar Fat’ will make you rethink what you put in your mouth

As someone who can’t eat dairy—one test, years ago indicated I wasn’t lactose intolerant and not allergic to milk, yet my body can tolerate only a token amount before I have to race to the bathroom—I actually get angry when I go out to eat.

salt sugar fatMy wife and I scrounge up the cash, choose a restaurant and feed the kids, only to end up challenged by a menu on which most items have cheese or dairy as a key ingredient. “Why do they have to bury everything under cheese?” I whine to my long-suffering wife. She’s sympathetic, but she’s also heard it all before: “Why do people need cheese stuffed into their pizza crust?” I shout at the television. “Can the average Pizza Hut customer discern the delicate interplay of the five carefully selected cheeses on their revolting-looking Five-Cheese Pizza?” I ask in response to a radio commercial. “The Pioneer Woman put an entire brick of cream cheese into her freaking mashed potatoes!” I tell my children at the dinner table to let them know the horrors that face them when they leave the loving bosom of home. Continue reading “‘Salt Sugar Fat’ will make you rethink what you put in your mouth”

At long last, a soul sister

One of my favorite New Yorker cartoons depicts an angry looking customer at a restaurant examining the menu. He tells the waiter, “I’ll have the misspelled ‘Ceasar’ salad and the improperly hyphenated veal osso-buco.”

Ask my long-suffering wife: That man is me. Continue reading “At long last, a soul sister”

90 percent not caring

HappierThere was a time when I, stupidly, let negative people and their games into my head. I recognized what was happening, but I couldn’t help myself; so much seemed at stake.

That’s when I first read a self-help book. My wife suggested a work by Dr. Wayne Dyer. I don’t remember much about it, not even the title, but I took away some techniques I use every now and then when I face challenges. Then I listened to a book by Marianne Williamson. Again, no clue what the title was, but I added a few aphorisms to my self-talk (the best one: Why do I care what people I don’t respect think of me?) that can talk me out of a funk. Self-help books are not a staple of my reading list by any stretch of the imagination, but I dive in every once in a while. Continue reading “90 percent not caring”