We have been cleaning, shoveling OUT! As an Army Brat who moved many, many times (8 schools, K-12), not much was saved from my or my siblings’ lives. There were weight allowances each time we moved and so, mom didn’t save much. Regrettably, my husband and I both save too, too much. And we’ve been tossing some of that “too much” the past few days. Our oldest son is here visiting and he’s ruthless. I believe part of that attitude is the fear that someday (hopefully a long time from now) he will have to toss the stuff. I also think that if I had a daughter that she’d be thrilled to have some of this stuff. But, both kids are male and they have no interest in saving old stuff. Much of it is their’s so, out it goes after they’ve expressed zilch interest. I had (notice the past tense): essays they wrote in school, photos from school, programs from school – – – well, you get the idea. We also threw out the newspaper from the day before our wedding – it was August 9, 1974 and Nixon resigned. Some of the fun yesterday included what my son termed, “Your 70’s cookware.” The pile consisted of a pressure cooker (I was always scared of it), 2 fondue pots (one was even electric!), a cheapy slow cooker thingy and a small plastic coffee pot. We bought the coffee pot to take on vacations so we could make coffee in the hotel/motel. Now of course, just about every hotel/motel has a coffee pot w/ everything you need to at least make a couple of cups in the AM. We now have more storage space and no, I’m not planning on buying any more stuff to fill it up. We also have a garage full of various bags, boxes to go to the recycling center. Throwing out is not easy in our small town as everything has to be sorted before being taken to the recycling center. And, as good citizens, we do sort every damn thing. We have 4 trash cans. One for garbage and three more for recycling.
I really like pizza and wouldn’t have known it could do such a job on blood sugars without reading many of the blogs I’ve become addicted to since my diagnosis 2 years ago. I’m not on insulin so it’s not like I have to do the number crunching that so many of you have to do. But, I sure can see the difference for about a day or so. So, I enjoyed it for supper last night, it was fun, and I probably won’t have it again for another month or more. I refuse to call eating a pizza, cheating. I hate that term for eating as a diabetic. It’s not cheating, it is making a choice and living with that choice. For now, I have that option.
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DisclaimerI am not a physician! If you are seeking medical advice, please speak with your own doctor or medical professional.