|Breakfast of Champions|
Jed and I are in Ottawa, staying at my family home. My mother Violet, the healthiest women in all the land, has zipped off to an aquafit class in her new blue Honda, leaving me here with a treasure trove full of low fat foods.
Maybe it’s because I’ve got Sober-itis, or maybe it's my treatment, but lately all I’ve wanted is my mother’s food. I’m craving the low-sodium- heart- smart- stir-frys that used to make me cringe, and the giant pot fulls of steamed rapini. Inside the fridge, everything has a number on it. 2% this, 1% this, and 1/3 reduced fat gouda that could sometimes be confused with wax.
Unused to my easy going nature, she can’t believe that I’m so satisfied with everything that is here. Now I'm her dream daughter, as I sit patiently while she reads me the back of a cookie package, riveted by the information. The salmon that she made me last night was perfectly seasoned, and served with a mound of things colourful and delicious. Tonight, instead of going to Big Daddy's for martinis, I will probably stay home, and like last night, be in bed by nine.
Now my mom is bobbing in the water, probably baffled by her perfect daughter. To complete this rosy picture, she would probably like me to have a game of Scrabble. But that would be taking advantage of my newly generous nature. So a game of Scrabble (which I still loathe) is highly unlikely.
|Mexican Bribery. Light.|