I have issues with sugar. I'm not diabetic, and I don't beat people up and steal their candy bars, but I am hypoglycemic. I have to eat breakfast to get "up" to sixty-five on the meter. I also have a serious fondness for chocolate.
A month or so ago, I had some moments when my blood sugar bottomed out. Fun times. Figuring that I must have been overindulging in my favorite food group, I dropped the sugar. Don't worry, I compensated with protein and healthy things. I just stopped eating cookies, cake, candy and such.
I also lost five pounds. Yay, me!
I'm going to do other "good for me" things like walking and drinking water, but that's a long and boring story that is nowhere near as much fun as yarn and music and food. Suffice to say, I'm going to take care of myself.
Part of this care involves a weekly treat. Ice cream, maybe waffles and syrup for breakfast; something gooey and wonderful. On the non-Sunday days, I get the occasional craving for SWEET.
Enter the fruit reaper.
I went through a bag of cherries a day when they were in season and on sale. Last week it was watermelon. Grapes, strawberries, apples; all of these are my friends. Now that the produce selection is winding down into Dreg City, I'm rediscovering the blender.
Blenders are awesome. So is Dannon, because they make a yogurt that doesn't contain Spelnda or Aspartame (they key to the taste is in the first syllable) or high fructose corn syrup. My freezer is also awesome, because it is now stocked with frozen fruit.
Into the blender goes a banana, a cup of No-Crud-Added vanilla yogurt, a handful of wheat germ, and various frozen goodies like cherries, peaches, and pineapple. Hit the button and watch it dance across the counter.
The result goes into a bowl, because even though I'm being very good and eating healthy stuff, I still imagine ice cream and the bowl lets me pretend.
Junior arrives on the scene, tapping his mouth and banging his fists together. Bite. More bite. Okay, little man. Have some.
Junior decides that this cold stuff is pretty good, and parks himself in my lap. There is a wrestling match for control of the spoon. It takes a while, but I win and we share. It may not be a hot chocolate chip cookie, or even a tepid snickerdoodle, but there's a lot to be said for a cold bowl, a warm baby, and assorted crap in a blender.