Pop

I remember when, as a child, my mom told me that the "poor pastor's family" could only afford one 8-pack of Pepsi a week. I pitied them. I remember when, as a child, my dad would tell me that (in days of yore) two or three people would have to split a 16-oz Pepsi, and that having a whole 12-oz can to myself was more than enough. Then I pitied myself.

Now I'm one of those moms who buys pop, but we usually only have it 2-3 times a month. There's still something reminiscent in me that wants cola with potato soup or clam chowder, like we had back at home when I was younger. Besides being expensive, pop is full of all sorts of chemicals and sweetener. I am convinced that sugar is better for a person's body than the Equal and Nutrisweet. But pop isn't even made with sugar: it has super-refined high-fructose corn syrup. ("High fructose corn syrup." My children have learned that those words on a label will often get a product banned from my grocery cart.)

If I didn't have enough reasons to avoid the substance, my husband ran across an article on Drudge Report about research on pop. They have found that it messes with DNA. Good grief! I like a decaf Pepsi now and then, but I'm beginning to think pop is a plague on our country as bad as cigarettes. (Which does NOT mean they should be regulated by the government. That's a whole 'nuther issue!)

I almost feel like a drug dealer, passing on leftover pop to Nathan and Justin after the wedding.

I sure do love my kombucha. After learning to enjoy it, after coming to crave it, AND after learning its health benefits, I just don't find much enjoyment in pop anymore. I am going to have to get around to posting kombucha instructions on my website.

(Wisconsites -- including my children -- can just substitute the word "soda" for every "pop" in this post, and chill out about the Illinois girl. Okay?)