You are currently browsing the daily archive for February 16, 2009.
I am doing something fun, usually watching a recently-released film in a theatre or ice skating (my body won’t permit that anymore, but I remember it as being my very favorite activity) when my cell phone rings. It’s my oldest boy. “Something’s wrong with Dad. I called 911 and they are on their way, you need to come home NOW.”
I hustle home as quickly as I can, but am stopped by the police on the way. The policeman walks up to my car and says, “Ma’am, you need to come with me. Leave your car here.” I try to explain about my husband and I’m sorry if I was speeding, but the call sounded urgent. The policeman isn’t impressed, and says, “Yes, Ma’am, we know all that. Please get in the patrol car.” As I step out of the car, he puts handcuffs on me and takes me to the patrol car. As he pulls out into traffic, he starts reading me my rights!
We arrive at the hospital and he takes me, still in handcuffs, to the Emergency Room. He asks at the desk for the location of my husband’s body and we are directed to the morgue. I am absolutely in a daze, in shock about his apparent demise, my arrest, what caused his death, my children, I’m almost unable to speak for the confusion and fear.
In the morgue, the policeman opens the cold, blue metal drawer containing the shell of my husband’s body. He asks, “Is this your husband, ma’am, can you positively identify him?” I say yes, and he tells me I am under arrest for murder. I call my mother with my one phone call and ask her to arrange care for the kids and find me some kind of criminal lawyer. My cell is dark and I am alone.
I am still in shock and have nearly convinced myself I am dreaming several hours later when the lawyer arrives. My husband, he tells me, died of congestive heart failure, and that he had a single massive heart attack so extreme he was dead before he hit the floor. I ask how it could possibly have been murder. “Aren’t you his wife?” the lawyer asks. “This didn’t happen instantly you know, this heart failure was brought on by years of your cooking.”
I started dinner early this afternoon, cutting up a fresh pineapple for the Clafoutis for dessert. I wish I had some whey to make pineapple vinegar, but that will have to wait. A little closer to dinnertime, I finished the dessert and pan fried some lamb chops. They were on sale this week, so instead of paying $20 or more, I got six big organic arm chops for $12. I only cooked a couple at a time, removing them to my warm oven while more cooked. I chopped up some red cabbage and cooked it gently in a little water and apple pie spices. When it was tender, I tossed in a chopped apple and let the pieces soften. I found some pretty organic purple fingerling potatoes that I boiled for a few minutes, then put in the oven with some butter and rosemary. When the lamb was done, I thew some red wine and beef stock into the pan and made a reduction sauce. We have a joke at our house that you know dinner is ready when the smoke alarm goes off. It’s not true every night, but our wimpy little exhaust fan hates me to pan fry anything. The alarm never went off, but I had to open the windows in the kitchen to the 41° night. Brr!
Everyone loved the lamb, but not the fat. We’ve never eaten game, so the stronger flavor of the fat was a bit much for the kids. The reduction was delicious on the meat, and even on the potatoes. Everyone tried the cabbage, and graciously ate it, but no one went back for seconds. I’m glad I didn’t make a lot of it! The fresh pineapple Clafoutis was popular with those of us who like pineapple, but teenaged son turned up his nose at it when he saw it wasn’t all “cakey” but “custardy” as well.
We are slowly getting over the cold that’s been going around. One child never did get it (the allergic one!) and one went into bronchitis. I’m still struggling with a very low energy level, even though I haven’t coughed, sneezed or run a fever in days. The worse of my two legs acted up today while I was on the treadmill and I had to stop before my workout was completed. It wouldn’t be such a big deal, but my right-hand-lady, my oldest girl, is off visiting friends for a couple weeks. The kids are a tremendous help, except they help like, well, kids. But, better the vacuuming be done in the center of the room than not at all!
The Dark Side of Fat Loss
