There Goes the Diet
"The first thing you lose on a diet is your sense of humor. " ~Author Unknown
In the corner of our house are a few cases of Girl Scout cookies. This is our daughter's first shot at Girl Scouts, she is a Brownie, and I wanted to do it big at cookie time. Honestly, I just wanted to have an unending supply of those cookies in my house. There is a special patch the girls get, it will be sewn on their vests, if they sell more than 100 boxes of cookies. I never knew that these sort of things mattered to me, but I'm starting to see my own competitive side awaken.
The problem with it all is that I am on a diet. We left Germany and I swear I brought 20 extra lbs of it with me just for safe keeping. The food in Germany was tremendous. Everything cooked with all natural ingredients. Real butter and gravy over everything. The pastries alone were proof that God loves us. Don't even ask me about the bread. Oh the bread. My kids will occasionally say they miss Germany, and when they do, I ask what it is they really miss. It is always a meal somewhere. Schnitzel, crepes, hot dogs so long you have to hold them with two hands....
When we lived in Korea, the food took some getting used to. We moved there in the summer and it took me until Veterans Day before I would allow Vic to take me to a restaurant outside of our housing gates. He chose one with a cow on the front, believing that we would be safe from the "What type of animal are we eating?" question. We ventured in at lunchtime, with Mitchell in a stroller. The owner was very nice, and showed us to a table. Across the room was the owners father , eating with some friends, and he immediately came over to welcome us. We were unsure what to order, so he helped us pick what he gestured was the best thing to eat. The table we sat at was the kind with the grill in the middle and the short table around the outside. We were instructed to cook the meat that came to us and eat it with the various raw vegetables and sauces that were brought on a plate. When the meat came out we began to cook and eat. Some of it was delicious, some of it , well..... not so much. But we ate. The owner and his father, and now almost everyone in the restaurant, were watching with that same anticipatory smile that your mom gives you when she slaves over you favorite meal. "Do you love it?" they all seemed to say. When our waitress came back, I tried to ask which part of the cow we were eating. I gestured toward the muscle parts of my back. She understood me and started pointing at the front of her own body. I watched in horror as she pointed out that we were eating cow heart, lungs, stomach, liver and intestines. With everyone in the restaurant still watching, Vic and I contined to eat our first Korean meal. Our host nation was being gracious, this was not the time to throw a fit. After we paid and left and were walking back to our home, Vic thanked me for not divorcing him. When I recounted the days events to my mom, the same lady who dealt with my picky eating, she rolled in laughter. I believe those are the days that parents live for, when their kids get paid back in full for making them wait in the "Have it Your Way Line" at McDonalds so many times.
Food has been a very important part of each of the cultures we have lived in. Memories of that food and those meals are all fond ones. Even the one on Veterans Day. In honor of those great memories, I'm opening up some Girl Scout cookies.....
In the corner of our house are a few cases of Girl Scout cookies. This is our daughter's first shot at Girl Scouts, she is a Brownie, and I wanted to do it big at cookie time. Honestly, I just wanted to have an unending supply of those cookies in my house. There is a special patch the girls get, it will be sewn on their vests, if they sell more than 100 boxes of cookies. I never knew that these sort of things mattered to me, but I'm starting to see my own competitive side awaken.
The problem with it all is that I am on a diet. We left Germany and I swear I brought 20 extra lbs of it with me just for safe keeping. The food in Germany was tremendous. Everything cooked with all natural ingredients. Real butter and gravy over everything. The pastries alone were proof that God loves us. Don't even ask me about the bread. Oh the bread. My kids will occasionally say they miss Germany, and when they do, I ask what it is they really miss. It is always a meal somewhere. Schnitzel, crepes, hot dogs so long you have to hold them with two hands....
When we lived in Korea, the food took some getting used to. We moved there in the summer and it took me until Veterans Day before I would allow Vic to take me to a restaurant outside of our housing gates. He chose one with a cow on the front, believing that we would be safe from the "What type of animal are we eating?" question. We ventured in at lunchtime, with Mitchell in a stroller. The owner was very nice, and showed us to a table. Across the room was the owners father , eating with some friends, and he immediately came over to welcome us. We were unsure what to order, so he helped us pick what he gestured was the best thing to eat. The table we sat at was the kind with the grill in the middle and the short table around the outside. We were instructed to cook the meat that came to us and eat it with the various raw vegetables and sauces that were brought on a plate. When the meat came out we began to cook and eat. Some of it was delicious, some of it , well..... not so much. But we ate. The owner and his father, and now almost everyone in the restaurant, were watching with that same anticipatory smile that your mom gives you when she slaves over you favorite meal. "Do you love it?" they all seemed to say. When our waitress came back, I tried to ask which part of the cow we were eating. I gestured toward the muscle parts of my back. She understood me and started pointing at the front of her own body. I watched in horror as she pointed out that we were eating cow heart, lungs, stomach, liver and intestines. With everyone in the restaurant still watching, Vic and I contined to eat our first Korean meal. Our host nation was being gracious, this was not the time to throw a fit. After we paid and left and were walking back to our home, Vic thanked me for not divorcing him. When I recounted the days events to my mom, the same lady who dealt with my picky eating, she rolled in laughter. I believe those are the days that parents live for, when their kids get paid back in full for making them wait in the "Have it Your Way Line" at McDonalds so many times.
Food has been a very important part of each of the cultures we have lived in. Memories of that food and those meals are all fond ones. Even the one on Veterans Day. In honor of those great memories, I'm opening up some Girl Scout cookies.....
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