On What's In My Food

One of the very few vices I have any more is caffeine. Oh, I like bacon, and still find myself eating from time to time like a man half my age, but certain things have had to improve in my life. Caffeine is not one of those, however.

Specifically, Coca-Cola is usually my caffeinated beverage of choice; followed by Earl Grey or Chai teas. And even those are in moderation anymore; not because of the caffeine but because without a gallbladder I have enough issues with stomach acids. (I’ve discovered a wonderful thing called Prilosec. It’s been very helpful with certain issues.)

Anyway...the missus and I went shopping one evening in preparation for a camping trip we were taking. Because she has to be careful of what she eats (and I ought to be), we spent a lot of time looking at labels. She’s done this for a number of years now; and I’m trying to be supportive of this little habit. Tonight, however, I’ve hit on something a number of you probably already know: High Fructose Corn Syrup (aka “Corn Sugar”) is in bloody near everything we eat. 

Why?

It’s in spaghetti sauce. Hot dogs (which I know aren’t terribly healthy to start with). Breads and buns. Pickle relish-which to me is silly, as it’s supposed to be sour. Graham Crackers. Ketchup. And yes, in almost every soft drink-where I would reasonably expect to find it. 

It’s no blessed wonder we’re all getting fat and becoming diabetic!

Try it, next time you go to the store. Look at the labels; I think a number of you will be mighty surprised at what’s in your food. You don’t need to be a cook, you need to be a chemist.

Now...I’ve said before my body is a product of science. Better living through chemistry; as a lifelong epileptic I know what my meds have been slowly doing to me over thirty five years. I’ve become hideously light-sensitive, for starters. We won’t discuss the long term effects of my meds. The alternative-Grand Mal seizures-is a far, far worse thing, however. But back to my main point: The amount of corn sweetener-or any other sweetener-in our food is disgusting. I’m not a big fan of it in my caffeinated beverage of choice, but will keep drinking the stuff anyway.  

I’ll also admit I like presweetened cereal as well. But that is a treat, not a daily occurrence. Most of the time (not all, but most) I try to eat something for breakfast that’s reasonably good for me. (I’m enjoying Northern Gold granola with raspberries and blueberries for breakfast these days, for example.) If I get a box of Sugar Frosted Flakes, I expect sugar. (Duh. That’s why I buy it.)

But breads, sauces, and other things shouldn’t have that kind of sweetness to them. We feed ourselves and our kids this stuff, then they lose recess time and PE, and then we wonder why children are drugged with Ritalin to calm them down. They’re on a perpetual sugar binge!

Now I can’t change things that much. But I am learning to watch what’s in food...and it’s making me want to tell you to do the same. You don’t have to buy organic (I don’t-we can’t afford it!) but you should take a good look at what’s in all the food you buy. It’ll be an eye-opener for you.

It has been for me. 

Enough for now.

On Why Cold Weather Is Just Wrong

(Note: To celebrate (?) the 3 plus inches of snow we got overnight, I decided to post this. I wrote it originally in 2006. Enjoy a peek into my past.)

Underbritches. T-Shirt.

Getting dressed in the morning is hard enough, some days. Getting dressed to go out in snow-which is against my nature, as well as my better judgment, is that much harder. Especially when the temperature this fine morning is a balmy 5 degrees Fahrenheit. It shouldn't be legal to get this cold.

Long-john top. Matching pants. Lightweight socks.

It's not really my idea of fun, but the missus loves to ski. So we are up with friends who live near Mt. Bachelor, OR. for the weekend. They're going skiing; I'm going to go innertubing, as I don't ski at all. I think I'll have fun…if I don't freeze my buns off. What on earth possessed me to agree to doing this, anyway? Oh, yes…these are my friends we are staying with, and so I kind of needed to come along for this one.

Black long sleeve T-shirt. Blue jeans and belt. Heavy socks.

I kid people sometimes that the missus and I have a mixed relationship. I like the San Francisco Giants baseball team; she's a card-carrying Chicago Cubs fan. (Hey--at least we kept it in the National League.) She loves football; to me, football fields are for band practice. She toured Europe; I’ve been to Guam and Japan. She's a morning person; I'm a night owl. She burns; I tan. She loves all the winter stuff; I would just as soon be lounging on a beach somewhere, having swam, surfed, and enjoyed a barbeque on the beach, and am now watching the sun go down, a no-booze Pina Colada in hand.

In short: She's a snow bunny. I'm a beach bum.

Black fuzzy vest. Snow pants. Scarf. Ski jacket. Blue fuzzy earmuffs.

Any activity that requires one to bundle up to three times normal size isn't a good thing to me. If the Almighty had wanted man to ski, He'd have attached skis to our feet and would have provided natural resistance to wind chill factors that are colder than my freezer. It's getting hard to flex in this outfit. How am I supposed to walk, anyway? Much less sit in the van that will take us to the winter wonderland called Mt. Bachelor. I sort of sit on the edge of the bed I'd really much rather being lying down in.

Knit hat. Snow boots. A Masque.

The Masque is a thing that goes over the nose and lower face, to prevent frostbite. My personal feeling is that if I need one of these things, I'm either (a) robbing a bank, or (b) it's just too dang cold to be outside. Obviously, it's the latter. This just feels wrong!

Sunglasses. Ski goggles. Ski gloves.

I would take a picture, but I can't handle a camera due to the newly fattened fingers I have because of the gloves. I feel like I look like an idiot. It's hard to look good when you look like a pill bug on steroids. This is not normal for me; I really prefer more tropical settings, or at least a more temperate climate. I have some 30 pounds of additional weight on my frame, and it's all designed to keep me warm and prevent me from going blind. It will succeed wildly; I can't move.

The missus comes bounding in. She asks if I'm ready to go. I tell her no, I'm not, but I am going anyway. The Masque muffles my response enough to make her giggle. She looks absolutely like her Nordic ancestry (she's descended from Anglo-Nordic stock). She looks like she belongs in this kind of weather.

Now, in all fairness, I own all the cold weather gear I put on (except The Masque). Before moving to the Midwest, we went up to Heavenly Mountain for a few days. Before we went, I had to get equipped for snow. So not only do I feel like I look stupid, I look dated, too. But it all still works, and most of it looks new. Looks new? It is! Because with the sole exception of the jacket, it all has been worn exactly once. (I lived in that jacket for a number of winters while in Chicago.) I still own most everything.

The missus had a blast. She really enjoyed being back up on skis, and wants to go back soon. I hope she returns there at least one more time this winter. As for me…I don't even like ice in my drinks, kids. I’ll admit enjoyed myself as well, but am in no hurry to return.

Enough for now.

(Posted 12/15/08)