Susie's Snippets

               Lately, I’ve seen a lot of advertisements for losing weight that talk about being in a “calorie deficit.” Basically, these folks (whoever they may be) want you to track your calorie intake and stay around 1000 calories per day.

               Well, duh. I guess you’ll lose weight.  You’ll also lose muscle and damage your organs.  That’s not a healthy calorie intake for any adult (unless you happen to be 4’ 5” and weight 80 pounds).  At any rate, I don’t need to be in a calorie deficit to lose weight.

               What I DO need to do is pay more attention to “portion size” on the backs of packages of food.  I have a feeling that when (and if) I do that, I will lose weight.  Because recently, I have paid attention to that information and I’m eating way more portions than are recommended.

               Let me give you some examples.  Last night, in an effort to eat food from our freezer, I baked up 5 fish sticks.  They were crunchy, flaky and delicious and I paired them with homemade tartar sauce of sorts.  I ate four of them – they were about three inches long each and about an inch wide.  I also had a serving of low-cal jello mixed with pineapple.  I was full and satisfied.

               Then I read the package.  Apparently, one (ONE) of those fish sticks is considered a portion.  One of those fish sticks wouldn’t have satisfied my cat.  It was absurd.  But I spent the evening with the sad knowledge that I had – again, apparently – overeaten.

               Last week, my husband and I splurged on a bag of potato chips.  It was a normal size, not the “party” size, and I made dip and we enjoyed this treat while we watched a game show.  The bag was about half gone when we folded it up and put the remaining dip in the fridge.

               As I folded the bag, I noticed that the data on the back said “Bag contains approximately 13 servings.” If that was true, two things were clear right away.  First, a “serving” of these potato chips is about 4 or 5 chips.  Secondly, half the bag was empty, so we had each consumed about 3 ½ servings of chips for our treat.

               This is bad news.  I went through my pantry to see what other items I have been routinely eating way too many portions of.  Three mozzarella cheese sticks comprise a serving.  I’ve never seen anyone stop at 3, but hey, there you go. Three mini-sized Butterfinger bars are a serving, as well.  That’s about 1/3 the size of a normal-sized Butterfinger candy bar.  Come on, you barely get a taste  – that’s literally 3 bites of candy!

               The good stuff that has low calories (but sometimes high sodium) counts, as well.  Little pimento stuffed olives?  Five olives, my friends.  That’s a serving.  And that well may work if you count them in martinis, but I can eat four or five times that amount at one sitting.

               Nuts are good for you, but basically you can have 25 pistachios, 14 cashews, and 7 macadamia nuts.  Very easy to go overboard on those, I know.

               There’s good news, though.  One can of tuna makes up one serving.  And carrots are almost unlimited.  They don’t even put serving sizes on bags of carrots.  Enjoy!  If my diet is tuna and carrots, I’m very likely to lose weight.  Also, you can visit me in the hospital.   

Why am I constantly misplacing things?  If you worry about something like this, you can do what I do to research.  No, not discuss with trusted friends.  Certainly, do not go to a doctor!  No, the best thing to do is to look it up on your internet, so that A.I. can tell you what in the world is wrong with you. 

               I did that and A.I. told me that I was either “trying to do too many things at once,” or perhaps “under stress,” or that I wasn’t registering where I put things down.  Well, duh.  That didn’t really help me stop misplacing things, now did it?  Because I have always – ALWAYS – done too many things at once, I don’t embrace stress, and I never register where I put things down.

What kinds of things am I losing?  Well, unfortunately, these are important things.  For example, a few years ago I called my husband from the car in a parking space downtown.  I was frantic.  My purse was updumped all over the front seat and I was nearly in tears.  “I can’t find my phone,” I wailed.  It took a second or two, before he calmly said, “Look in your hand.”

I looked down at my empty hand and said, “There’s nothing there.”  Oh, he meant the other hand.  The one holding…the phone.

Then a couple of weeks ago, I was going to the bank and couldn’t find the check we had to deposit.  It wasn’t in my purse, or in the desk drawer, or anywhere on the counter.  I scoured the house for it, and finally in despair didn’t go to the bank. Later that day, when I was using my husband’s truck, I remembered where it was – in the viser of my car.  A poor choice of places for an important check, but I’m sure I was convinced that I would remember it was there when I needed to.

That’s fairly typical of me when I misplace things.  I vividly remember thinking, “I need to put this here so I will remember where it is when I need it.” But remembering where “here” becomes problematic.

Yesterday, it wasn’t even my fault!  I was making casseroles for a church breakfast and my hubby was helping. As I cracked eggs and threw the shells into the open garbage can, he walked behind me.  I saw something sail into the corner of the full garbage bag.  I asked him what he had tossed in there, and he looked surprised.  “Nothing,” he said.

Oh, no.  I felt my ears.  Yep, one earring on my ear and the other…gone.  I took the garbage outside and sorted through the 24 eggs shells, empty packages of cheese and ham, paper towels, coffee pods, and other assorted disgusting items.  Twice.  The second time, I found the little earring! 

I looked up what to do about this problem.  Again, excellent advice from the computer.  One suggestion was to state out loud where you are putting things as you put them down or away.  It appears I’ll be talking to myself all day long.

               Throughout my life, I have become aware that sometimes things I worry about or dread turn out to be much easier than I thought they would be.  Of course, the reason I still worry and/or dread some events is that there have been occasions when things I believed were easy, just weren’t what they seemed.  This has happened to other folks I know, as well.  These occasional events, that turn out somewhat badly or strangely, continue to reinforce my tendency to worry about things.
               For example, I am very timid about needles.  Not sewing needles, needles that doctors and medical staff plunge into your body.  So, blood draws and blood donations are a dreaded event for me.  Last year, I went for my annual blood work and, as usual, I was not anticipating it with joy.  The results of the test didn’t worry me, but that needle did.

               I sat down and per my routine, began actively looking at the art on the wall and out the window.  The phlebotomist was very kind and told me it would be over quickly.  She poked around with her hand a bit, applied the tourniquet, and then, wham!  it was done!  I breathed a big sigh of relief, and said, “Wow, that was easy.”  She smiled and said, “That was the alcohol wipe.  I haven’t put the needle in yet.”

               Yikes.  It wasn’t easy, and I still dread every needle stick.

Years ago, when drive-through restaurants were very new, we had some friends who were older and had never been to a drive-through. They were nervous about trying the experience, but decided they would do it. They pulled into the lane with about 2 cars in front of them, and soon there were 2 cars behind.  Eventually, they arrived at the window to pick up their food and paid the bill.  As they drove away, the man said to his wife, “Gee, that was easy!”  She smiled, and then, as they continued down the road, she looked at the sack of food and asked, puzzled, “How did they know what we wanted?”

They had not stopped to order at the little grid machine. (Note:  Nowadays, the little machine is embedded in the huge, digital menu, so much harder to miss – even for first-timers!)

Once, on a return trip from a vacation, my husband and I took a toll road home.  We thought the only downside would be slowing down to pay the occasional toll.  On the last toll, we notice the outside lane had no line! The sign above it said “EZ” and we went through it without a hitch.  We slowed just a little, but there was no one there to collect money.

My husband commented to me, “Wow, that was easy!”  And it certainly was!  Of course, about two weeks later, we received a notice in the mail (along with a picture of our license plate) that informed us using the “EZ” lane without an “EZ” pass was a traffic violation.  Twenty-five dollars later (plus postage), we realized, it hadn’t been so easy.

Have you had experiences that you thought would be “easy,” but weren’t?  Do tell!

               Many years ago now, I went on a gal-trip to Charleston, S.C. with a dear friend.  On the way, we stopped (as people do) for bathroom breaks and coffee.  It became apparent to us that bathrooms in many of the states were not particularly well-kept. In fact, some were so poorly kept that they were hysterical.

               One of our finds was in West Virginia, where the gas station and its restrooms were part of the tire center, hair salon, and pizzeria.  The bathrooms for men and women were comprised of separate commodes in rooms, both of which opened into a communal area with a sink. This is the same sink, we surmised, that allowed for dish cleaning, food preparation, and hair washing.

               Later, in a more southern state we found a bathroom in a gas station convenience store.  Well, it was attached to the convenience store.  To enter the bathroom, one had to enter the store, then exit by a side door to an attached walkway that was semi-enclosed.  At nearly the end of the walkway, near the back of the building, a room had been added, which comprised the ladies’ room.  Further down at the end, was another added room – for men.  The door to this ladies’ room opened all the way, but only closed to within about a foot.  Straight through this foot-wide opening was the commode stall.  The stall door closed completely, but left a three-inch gap.  So anyone passing by the ladies’ room had a full on view of activities within the stall.

               My friend and I took turns holding her giant sweater up, long-ways, to avoid anyone seeing anything they shouldn’t.

               It was at this point that we decided a coffee-table book entitled “Bathrooms of the South” would be a great venture.  We continued to find unique and sometimes unusable bathrooms throughout our journey.

               Then the world experienced a pandemic, and we forgot about our book idea for a while. 
               Recently, I had the occasion to travel again to South Carolina.  I discovered a whole new chapter for the book!  It will be the “Welcome Centers of Tennessee.” These welcome centers are simply fabulous (and after all, we have to include the good, the bad, and the ugly).  The rest rooms rival a 5-star hotel with amenities, cleanliness, and lighting.  They are roomy and well ventilated.  These are must stops if you are traveling south.

               We also found a restroom on the top of a very high mountain within a gas station.  A restroom, I must stress.  The men’s room, my hubby discovered, was permanently locked.  I started toward the women’s room and a person who can only be described accurately as “an old geezer” informed me, “There’s a man in there, honey.”

               I veered away and feigned interest in the display of key rings.  After a few moments, a man did exit the women’s room and he and the old geezer walked out.  I motioned my husband over and said, “it’s unisex – get in there!”  I stood guard while he did just that, and he returned the favor for me.  Needless to say, we did NOT stop there on our return trip.

               “Bathrooms of the South” is now a project back on my front burner.  I just need to start collecting pictures!  My favorite is the rest room that used the inside door knob as a toilet paper holder.  That’s something you really need a picture for.