Advice from a small town girl

This past Sunday, I spent much of the day outdoors, trying to reclaim what little there is of a vegetable garden.

Which got me to thinking about how much trouble I have managing my time.

Which, in turn, got me to thinking about how fast we all seem to think we need to go.

Mind you, there was probably not a direct line between those two concepts. It’s just the way my thinking goes.

At any rate, by the time I was done spending some quality time with my hoe, I had decided that I need to slow down.

There’s a certain allure to the concept of doing things the old-fashioned way. By hand.

I’m not altogether sure if that allure is the call of a siren, trying to wreck me on the rocky shore, or if it truly holds the promise of peace and contentment.

Somewhere in between, I suspect.

My father-in-law has been gone for some years now, but I was always amazed at how long he made a meal last.

He wasn’t distracted from his meal. Nor did he talk a lot.

Instead, Walt chewed his food.

I don’t remember the last time I chewed my food.

You know what I mean. And if you don’t, I congratulate you.

Usually it’s two or three good chomps and down the hatch. And as that mouthful is making its way down, another forkful is usually already in the mouth.

I’m pretty sure I used to chew my food.

I just don’t remember when.

And I’m not sure I can remember how.

So.

This morning, I decided to try chewing my raisin bran. And the number 30 popped up.

Thirty being the number of times you are supposed to chew a mouthful prior to swallowing.

Now, I’ve been told by any number of weight-loss professionals that if you chew your food thoroughly, it will take you longer to finish eating, and you’ll feel full before you’ve actually stuffed yourself like a Thanksgiving turkey.

I wouldn’t know.

But I thought I’d give it a try.

It was an interesting experience.

The first swallow was easy. I paid attention to all the sensations – crunchiness, sweetness, chewiness, et cetera.

Same with the next few mouthfuls.

That was when the trouble started.

Suddenly, I discovered that I was no longer paying attention to the raisin bran. I was thinking about writing about the raisin bran.

Then I was thinking about what I had planned for the day.

Then I was thinking about redoing the back bedrooms. And watering the garden. And the darned elm leaf beetles.

I suspect that more than a few mouthfuls were disposed of with minimal chewing.

I dragged myself back to my seat and my bowl of cereal and tried closing my eyes in order to maintain my focus.

It worked pretty well.

I chewed the rest of my raisin bran the prescribed 30 times.

But I have to say that by the time I got to the bottom of the bowl, sweet and chewy were still there, but crunchy had long since departed.