I was going to catch up with my blog last night but WNED ran 5 episodes back to back of The Forsyte Saga, so there went the evening.

So - another word that is being over-used as a connective or pause - I’m trying to cut it out.

So (ignore that) - I told you about CLSA, the Canadian Longitudinal Studies in Ageing, a survey that has been ongoing for at least four years now. I received my second interviews (by phone), in the past several days, three in all, covering physical health, mental and spiritual health, and emotional health - I guess. I fielded some shocking (to me) questions that made me realise how wide and far-reaching the survey must be. They were about physical and financial abuse, none of which I have ever experienced. These questions caused me to review all the questions and my answers. I always answered truthfully to direct, specific questions (“Have you ever been forced or cheated, yes or no"; my answer was always no, a factual, truthful no.) But my responses to more general queries as to my happiness and attitudes were always positive, cheerful and optimistic. I warned my interviewer (three of them, one per session) that I am a glass-half-full kind of person. And then, too, there was my father’s influence.

As you may remember, my father was a doctor. He spent every day listening to people’s complaints and hard-luck stories, and his job was to listen and to make them better, at least to help them as much as he could. When he came home at the end of the day he wanted to hear good news and up-beat stories from his family. It was incumbent upon us to report amusing events and personal achievements (exaggerated if necessary).To this day when I go to a doctor, always and only if I have a problem, and he asks me how I am, i always say, “Just fine!” as brightly as I can. Later, when the exam begins, I confess to an ache or a pain or a rash or whatever. My father actually sent me to school on two separate occasions, once when I had mumps, and once when I had chicken pox, because I said I felt fine when I didn’t. I was sent home at recess.

Thus, during the survey concerning my wellbeing, I answered in a positive way, glossing over any minor complaints as being common to everyone. I realised how fortunate I was when made aware of problems that other people on the list apparently had and I didn’t. But the day after my last interview I was feeling a bit down, depressed, in fact, and realised how much I make light of my (so-called) troubles. It depends, I guess, on what day it is. On the other hand, we see on the daily news what dire fates people in the world are suffering and we know how lucky we are. How can we complain?

How can we?

Here’s a big print blurb I cut out from the NYT:

THE MORE TIME A NATION DEVOTES TO FOOD PREPARATION AT HOME, THE LOWER ITS RATE OF OBESITY. IN FACT, THE AMOUNT OF TIME SPENT COOKING PREDICTS OBESITY RATES MORE RELIABLY THAN FEMALE PARTICIPATION IN THE LABOUR FORCE OR INCOME.

I remember a comment by a Quaker sociologist, one of my favourite women, Elise Boulden (1920-2010), internationally influential in her peace work, always based on family values. She said once that the family was held together by the tablecloth (read: dinner table), that I translated later in something I wrote, as the place mat. Families that eat together stay together. That, of course, involves cooking, not noshing, not taking out or eating alone or in front of the television, or some other screen. That would include banning the smartphone at the table. I read recently of a restaurant dinner gathering when the participants were required to put their cell phones in the centre of the table. The first person to reach for a phone was required to pay for the meal.

Forgive the tangent.

But the cooking - yes, that’s an important, key part of what occurs at the dining table: pleasure in the food as well as in the company. I love to cook, I always plan my meals, I suppose because I am, as you know, a leftover freak. I hate to throw food away. But it has to be interesting and good-tasting. This morning I had Egg Florentine, one egg. I had leftover spinach and beet greens, part of a fish dinner menu I had the other night. I heated them and poach-fried an egg that I slid on top of the warm veg, sprinkled it liberally with crumbled feta cheese and broiled it briefly till the cheese was melty and browning. Num. I’ll use the leftover fish in a famous taco recipe. I looked it up this morning. I had it last at a restaurant in San Diego on one of my cruises. I’ll add a little rice vinegar to the leftover (roasted) beets for instant pickled beets as a condiment.

I’m still talking about obesity, I think. Those meals I prepared are not loaded with fat or gluten or calories or any of those nasty things the food experts threaten us with. Even though I eat alone most of the time, I still spend time on food planning and preparation. It’s good for the morale and the budget as well as the body.

What are you having for dinner?