November 14: Overeating, Hunger, Winter's Fairy Tale

...As a result of overeating, Templeton grew bigger and fatter than any rat you ever saw.  He was gigantic.  He was as big as a young woodchuck.

Templeton eats at the end of Charlotte's Web.  Winter sets in.  Snow comes.  The rat moves into the barn, makes a nest near the grain bin, and gorges himself daily on Wilbur's food.  As a result, he puts on weight.  A lot of weight.


Winter does that to people, too.  Especially in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  The weather turns cold.  Winter storms arrive.  Suddenly, all Yoopers want to do is burrow into the couch with a bag of Cheetos and eat.  I'm not sure if it's a self preservation thing or a hibernation thing.  We can't go outside for extended periods of time.  So, we stay indoors and put on weight.

For instance, at this moment, I'm craving pretzels and peanut butter.  I don't know why.  I'm not a big fan of either of those food items.  However, the idea of taking a pretzel, digging it into a jar of peanut butter, and eating it--that just sounds like an excellent thing to do this evening.  I am thwarted in this enterprise by three things.  One, I have no pretzels.  Two, I have no peanut butter.  Three, I'm too lazy to get in a car and go to a store.  Therefore, I am about to ransack the kitchen for a substitute snack.

Once upon a time, a pretzel maker named Werner lived in a small village on the outskirts of an immense forest.  Everyone in the village bought pretzels from Werner.  They were known as the kingdom's best pretzels.

On long winter nights, Werner would go to bed with a bag of fresh-baked pretzels and a pot of homemade peanut butter.  Werner would eat and eat until all the pretzels were gone and the pot was empty.  Werner grew very large.

Soon, Werner was eating his entire stock of pretzels every day.  By mid-January, he ran out of money.  Then he ran out of pretzel ingredients.  Then he ran out of pretzels and developed a nut allergy.

Werner never made another pretzel.  Instead, he gathered thistles and made thistle jam.  Nobody bought his new jam, and, eventually, he lost his cottage because of back taxes.  Werner died broke and hungry and cold.

Moral of the story:  never eat pretzels and peanut butter in bed.

And Saint Marty lived hungrily ever after.

Anybody else hungry?

August 21: More Than Generous, Food Bank, Blessings

"You've been more than generous," she said.  "You're a very sweet boy."  She certainly was nice.  She reminded me a little bit of old Ernest Morrow's mother, the one I met on the train.  When she smiled, mostly.  "We've enjoyed talking to you so much," she said.

Holden meets two nuns at a lunch counter, and he has breakfast with them.  When they leave, Holden pays for their food and gives them a ten dollar donation.  That's why one of the nuns thanks him for his generosity.  And after the pair leave, Holden feels bad that he didn't give them more money for their charity.


It really is a humbling experience to be the recipient of unexpected generosity.  My wife and I have been financially struggling these past two weeks.  We hardly had any food in our cupboards this morning.  So my wife decided to go to the local food bank to ask for a few staples to tide us over until Friday's paycheck.

Well, my wife came away with more than peanut butter, jelly, and bread.  She came home with two boxes full of groceries.   Milk and juice and pasta and bread.  My son got to eat a Rice Krispie treat tonight.  I have breakfast food to take to work tomorrow morning.  We have the makings for spinach lasagna.  So many blessings.

I'm not going to talk about any worries this Wednesday.  My kitchen is full of too many things for which to be thankful.  I am so grateful for the generosity my family received this evening.  And to start complaining about something right now would be so wrong, like biting the hand that fed us.  Literally.

I will not forget tonight.  I will not forget the relief I feel tonight.

Saint Marty is a pretty lucky guy.  Plus, he's got pretzels.

Counting my blessings tonight

August 28: Morning from Hell, Afternoon from Pretzels

OK, so I had a morning from hell.  At the surgery center where I work, we had inspectors from JCHO (pronounced "jay-co") crawling up our butts to examine every little signature and every last vial of outdated medication.  It was stressful.  Imagine being in an aquarium and having an incredible itch in a very delicate spot.  Now, imagine not being able to scratch it.  That's what this morning felt like.

Currently, I'm having an afternoon from pretzels.  Mini pretzel sticks, to be exact.  When I returned from teaching at the university, I was famished.  I ate a bowl of those pretzel sticks.  It made me happy, almost content, which is an unusual emotion for me.  It had to do with the ingestion of salt, I think.  I am rarely content about anything.  But this afternoon, taking stock of my emotions, that is the adjective that bubbled to the surface of my mind.

Saint Marty is content.  Give him a minute or so (and a good chocolate bar), and he may approach joy.

Try a little contentment