Savor every meal, every Mets win

Savor every morsel. That’s what I learned this weekend.

This started with a visit to the doctor on Friday morning because my company requires annual health screenings. I bounced in there proclaiming that I was fit, but just needed them to fill out the company’s form, which requires blood work to check cholesterol glucose and some other basic things.

But it’s never going to be as easy as that, and I knew it. After getting poked in both arms to draw four vials of blood, the nurse had me lay down while they used a new machine that taped electrodes to my right foot and right hand. Somehow that would allow them to take all kinds of readings about my insides.

Doc soon came in with the results. And despite being somewhat on the pudgy side he pronounced me to be fit and in good health. Except for one thing.

I’m going to spare you the details. But he said, “Lucky for you, it’s the weekend.”
He informed me that I would not be eating anything for three days, but instead be drinking these concoctions.

“Don’t worry,” he assured me. “They’re filling.”

He also made it clear I’d need to stick close to home, especially on the second day, when the Desired Effect would be at its strongest.

I went home and downed the dose, which was powdered wheatgrass, which tasted like liquid seaweed. I later followed with the main course, which is a blend of powdered carrot, powdered okra, cooked soybean powder and powdered passion fruit. The box said this was coca flavored. No, did not.
My goal was to head to work without anyone noticing this, so I slipped my box of packets into my lunch bag. Before long my head was pounding from a lack of Diet Coke. Doc said I shouldn’t eat anything, but didn’t say anything about not drinking anything.

I drink too much Diet Coke. I’m aware of this. I don’t smoke, drink or gamble. My vices are limited to drinking Diet Coke, obsessing about the Mets, hating all things Yankee, and grumbling that Twisted Sister is not given the respect it deserves. I am OK with this.

I allowed myself a Diet Coke.

Work was tempting. One co-worker brought in a batch of brownies, another had a big bin of donut holes. I avoided by getting another Diet Coke late around 7 p.m.

Around 8 p.m., Jimmy John’s called. “Where’s Dave? Did something happen to him?”
Following the Mets winning and Phillies losing to jump back into first place proved to be a worthy distraction.

As we know, it takes strength to be a Mets fan. I sought to prove this Saturday morning by volunteering to get bagels and Starbucks for the rest of the family. The Big Apple Bagel folks were stunned and possibly a little hurt that I didn’t also ask for two poppy seed bagels, as is our routine. I didn’t explain.

consuming the lunch “cocoa” mix, I noticed the pizza pan from the kids’ frozen pizzas the night before. There were tiny bits of melted cheese. I scraped some off with my fingernail.
They were delicious.

I sought distraction by scanning slides into the computer, rearranging the Mets bobbleheads in the baseball room, and making some additions to the Glorious Wall of Cool Stuff. The wall will be entirely devoted to the Mets at some point. But it’s huge, so some neat artifacts from other teams are there. Some Tigers and Padres bumper stickers and pins were removed for the Mets Uno game I picked up from the Ford Museum and the mini Jose Reyes McFarlane figure I grabbed at Shea in June, both still in their packages, which only happens to items destined for the GWCS.

The Desired Effect has yet to occur, at least not as promised by Doc.

My daughter decided to watch a Food Channel program that picked out the 10 best McDonald’s in the world. I thought this was safe, since I don’t like McDonald’s I bet haven’t had anything other than a Diet Coke or ice cream from a McDonald’s in years.

I was craving a Big Mac by the time they got to the Mickey D on Broadway.

Showing more strength, I picked up shakes and a snack for my wife and kids at Arbys. I was so hungry that the new “Mac and Cheese Snackers” that on any other day would appear dreadful actually looked good.

I picked off the rest of the pizza pan, then washed it to remove all future temptation. It was delicious.

Following the Mets on the net proved equally frustrating. When Pedro drives in the only run of the game, it’s not a good night. I showed great strength by not running in circles on the lawn and screaming. Mets’ loss and the Phillies’ win push us back into second place.

Sunday was destined to be tough. My caring wife sensed this, got up early and made breakfast for the kids, knowing that I would be struggling.

Panera Bread called. The staff is worried because I haven’t been there in two days. They fear they’ll be next in line for the government bailout if this keeps up.

I spent the afternoon staying out of trouble, following the Mets, again without the Desired Effect. Because nothing goes better with a wheatgrass drink than watching Scott Schoenweis blow another game.

Maybe, I thought, watching ESPN’s wretched coverage of the demise of Yankee Stadium II would be enough to push me over the edge. I hopped on the treadmill, but with the lack of fuel could barely muster the energy for 3 miles, about half what I usually run.

Monday morning I crabbed to the doctor’s staff that their wheatgrass and powdered okra were worthless and proceeded to Panera for what was possibly the best-ever chocolate chip muffie and sesame seed bagel, followed at lunchtime by the best-ever peanut butter and jelly sandwich and later by the best-ever half-portion of chicken and broccoli.

I enjoyed every bite, and thought back to Friday’s Mets game that put us back into first place. I didn’t quite enjoy it as much as I should have, especially after the following two games. We need to enjoy and celebrate each victory as it comes, especially as this season winds down and we face fall and beyond. Even if they make the playoffs, there won’t be many days like that again.

With this new-found state of mind I intended to enjoy Monday night’s game against the Cubbies. And I did so, until our pitcher allowed the rival pitcher to hit a grand slam.

On the bright side, it seemed to induce the Desired Effect.