Angie requested a photo of me.

by Bella Rum

Well, here it is: no makeup, bed head and all. The only concession to dignity was the selection of a photo in which my grandson’s head was conveniently blocking my “melting chins”… as he likes to call them. Don’t I just love the honesty of those little ones? Not so much. My granddaughter once asked me, “What are those lines in your face, Nona?” I told her that we sometimes get wrinkles when we grow older. To which she replied, “But not always because Grandma Zia doesn’t have them.”

Bed head abounds in this pic because we were fresh from sleep. Only a few minutes after this was snapped, they were strapped into their car seats, bagels and Nutella® in hand, blowing kisses and waving goodbye to their heart-sore Grandpa and Nona. And so are the ups and downs of long-distance grandparenting.

There you go, Angie.

In other news…

I can’t stop eating. Oh, my. This is so very terrible, bad and not good. This happens occasionally. When we have company or go on vacation or partake in one of The Brother’s feasts, I can’t pull the plug when it’s over. I continue to eat BIG for a while… until I can wrest control from the food monster.

It’s TIME to get back to normal, healthful eating. My body is screaming for simple vegetables and fruits and grains and lean meats, but my turned-on brain is still craving that unbeatable combo of sugar, fat and salt. Who was the guy who wrote a book about that? I did a post on him. The brain gets turned on to foods with a high sugar/fat/salt content, and it can’t seem to stop craving them.

This reminds me of religion, philosophy or politics. Sometimes when you’re introduced to a new concept, you immediately know that your belief system can’t embrace it. You think, how can anyone believe that? Then there are other times when you hear something for the first time, and you immediately recognize it as truth. It’s as if you’ve always known it. This brain turn-on to the layering of sugar, fat and salt is one of those things. It’s a big, old, fat truth. And I’m sticking with that. It’s every bit as good as “the devil made me do it.” I even ate Mexican. I never eat Mexican anymore. And cheesecake. Cheesecake for heaven’s sake. With cherries.

It’s quiet around here.

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