As Feather's in the Wind

Once upon a time there was a quaint village of angry people whose lives were in relentless turmoil. There was so much bickering and fighting and pandemonium betwixt the citizens of the parish their infamous behavior was heralded throughout the neighboring countryside. One could not so much stroll down the street without a person busting out of a shop or home and pointing an accusatory finger toward the passerby. One could never reach their destination without encountering a dreadful disagreement with a fellow resident. Invariably, the indictments would be met with counter allegations and a fight would almost always ensue.

A young priest journeying to a nearby monastery made his way through the discontented village in route to his destination. Aghast, he glanced from one side of the cobblestone street to the other witnessing every imaginable conflict as he made his way through the town. Fatigued from his long journey, and disheartened from the utter chaos he had observed, he decided to stay at a local inn for the night. The innkeeper and his wife laid aside their differences just long enough to check him in and take his money. In his small room he took out from his knapsack a bit of bread and cheese for his evening meal. A young boy knocked on his door to bring him a towel and water for his basin. The priest opened his purse and took out a coin, but before handing it to the child, he inquired of the nature of all the tension throughout the entire community. The boy explained that an old widow woman who lived all alone went visiting from one house to the next carrying tales of scandal and gossip and any news that might be of interest to her neighbors. Because she was full of interesting stories, everyone welcomed her into their home.

Early the next morning as the priest prepared to begin his journey, he spied the old woman already hobbling from one house to the next. Weary from her morning's travel, she plopped down on a large stone to take a short rest before her next stop. The priest saw it as an opportune time to make her acquaintance.

Good woman," he said, "I perceive that you are able to retain a jovial relationship with all the townsfolk. And yet, they seem quite cross with almost everyone else they encounter. How is it that you are able to remain at peace with all these tormented souls?"

The old woman smiled pleasantly at the priest and stiffly put out her gnarled hand for an introduction. "I don't believe I have had the pleasure, good sir. My late husband was a very prominent man and we knew everyone for miles about. Since his passing I continue to visit my fellow townsfolk and deliver news of neighboring towns, alluring accounts of recent occasions and charming tales of good fortune, tragic woes and winds of affection that I pick up here and there. I provide and carry useful information. Everyone here expectantly awaits my arrival with great anticipation. I weave wonderful tapestries of fascination and imagination. People so enjoy interesting tales... hearing them… telling them… Where, sir, might I inquire, is it you are from and to where, good sir, are you going?" she asked as her eyes danced in anticipation of his response. "Might we look forward to your extended stay in our humble little hamlet?"

Though it was yet quite early, the pandemonium had already begun to stir up the small municipality. Two bellowing men crossed from opposite sides of the street ranting and raving at each other and were about to come to blows. "My good woman," the priest retorted as he watched the two whose quarrel had now degenerated to striking each other, "can you not see what your tidbits bring to this borough? You're carrying of tales hither thither and yon have brought much heartache and antagonism to the good people of this township. Observe the fruit of your labors!"

The old woman watched as the two men, brothers, thrashed about on the cobblestones, fighting like schoolboys, and, the gentle breeze carried the echo of angry voices that wafted as a quiet whisper of discontent throughout the village. A window flew open and a woman spat on a man as he passed in front of her house. The elderly woman looked around the town and a large tear rolled down her old weathered cheek. "I meant no harm, sir," she whispered.

The priest opened his knapsack and withdrew a pillow from within its contents and handed it to her. "Your intentions mean little in the face of all that you have done old woman. As penance, I want you to take this pillow, open it up and distribute the feathers hither, thither and yon as you have spread your tales, and when you are free from the contents, come back here and tell me what you have done."

Reluctantly, the tired old woman struggled to her feet and began to distribute the feathers one feather at a time as she moved in pained steps down the explosively animated avenue. The priest waited on the large stone for her return. It was afternoon before the fatigued old woman reappeared with the limp pillow casing. Slowly she reached out her arm stiffly to return it to the priest. "I have scattered the feathers as you required, good sir. I have learned my lesson."

The priest made no move to receive the empty pillow casing. "There is but one more part of your reparation yet to do, old woman. Now, I want you to go back and gather all the feathers that you have painstakingly thrown about the town and put them back in the casing.  Do not return until you have gathered back each and every one of them."

The old woman's face contorted into a twisted grimace upon hearing the demand. Astounded, she stood motionless and began to shake her head. "Good sir," she gasped, "there is no way that I can gather up all of those feathers back into this pillow casing again. Surely by this time they have been carried about on the winds and blown into the distant countryside hither, thither and yon. It cannot be done!"

"Indeed it cannot be done madam. Nor can the words you have carried from place to place be eaten back in your mouth. For by this time, they have been carried into the distant countryside as well. But unlike feathers, your words bring pain and heartache to all who suffer under the weight of their cruelty. Remember this lesson now when you go home and consider the value of speaking your words cautiously."

1:37 AM

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Learning the Style of Healthy Living

I'm putting my next diet session together on FitClick.com and an add pops up for the new healthy choices at McDonald's.  The Wildberry Smoothie catches my eye.  Curious, I check out the calorie count, ingredients.  Can McDonald's make anything that's actually healthy?

I know I sound wildly skeptical.  But even with my picture above, are those foods as healthy as they look?  Our wheat is genetically altered... to have more gluten.  Our fruits and vegetables are grown in poor soil, inundated with chemical fertilizers and radiated for bugs and durability.  Our chickens are fed a diet of GMO grains tainted with cannibalistic fillers.  Milk contains formaldehyde, and the whole process of pasteurization and homogenization, antibiotics and Monsanto's rBGH, no longer required to be listed even in ORGANIC products. So, yeah, I'm a little skeptical... maybe wildly so.  However, my diligence to maintaining a reasonably organic diet did save me from things like High Blood Pressure, and High Cholesterol even with my serious weight issues.  I ate too much, exercised too little and ate way too rich, but my diet was still filled with things that you could pronounce, low in designer sugars and things I couldn't pronounce.  I always skimmed the fats off beef and didn't eat any pork or seafood, i.e. shellfish, or Crustaceans-adhering to a biblical based diet. Despite my gastronomical shortcomings, I avoided a lot of the more common bullets of obesity.

Okay so my 12 oz Berry Yogurt Smoothie is 161 Calories, 5 grams of fiber, 9 grams of protein, 0 fats and 23 grams of sugar, from the fruit because I use berry stevia to sweeten it with instead of sugar or juice concentrates--although, a little frozen concentrated Orange Juice makes for a great smoothie.

McDonald's 12 oz Wild Berry Smoothie is 200 calories, 3 grams of fiber, 3 grams of protein, .5 grams fat, 44 grams sugar.

Now I use a plain Greek nonfat yogurt, which is high in protein, and instead of ice and wild berry fruit base, I add frozen fruit and and the end result is that I have just as much flavor, less calories and more protein, less sugar & more fiber.  Its real fruit instead of "fruit base" more yogurt, less water.

I remember a very wise saying from my earlier days, eat foods that will spoil, and eat them before they do.

It's still a much better choice than their milk shake... and I'm not against McDonald's.  It just concerns  me that the public seems so pathetically unaware of what constitutes nutrition and are inundated with high calorie, low nutrition alternatives.  If the sign says healthy, well, isn't there truth in advertising laws?  I guess the question is, what constitutes health?

We are what we eat.

I Stumbled on a website that was a real eye-opener to me.  It talked about calorie condensed foods.  I'd never really considered that before.  It showed several examples of comparisons of fruits and vegetables to commonly consumed foods, like apples to a fast food meal.

It was disturbing.  I see the kids where I work eat this meal every day.
He went on to show he ate about 4 lbs of food a day and that:

4 pounds of raw veggies will provide 400 calories

4 pounds of raw fruits will provide 1000 calories

4 pounds of cooked whole grains/legumes provides 1600 calories

4 pounds of nuts/seeds provides about 10,000 calories

4 pounds of Lucky Charms, Pop Tarts, Cheese provides about 10,000 calories

When I first started trying to change my eating habits, it took me a couple of hours to consume an apple.

As I ate it, I swear, it kept getting bigger.  But determined to make some changes, I forced myself to eat 2 pieces of raw fruits every day.  It was punishing. But 2 years later, I can really pound it down pretty quick and wish it was a little bigger.

I had a bad weekend and suddenly my weight was up by about 10 lbs.  I almost fell off the scale.  I was panicked and backed out of the bathroom like it was a murder scene I'd stumbled upon.  I'm  not kidding.  It was traumatic.  What was I going to do?  It was like a little voice in my head that said, you're gonna get fat as soon as you stop this diet, just like very other time... all you're doing is delaying the inevitable.  But, I went back to my website, changed my targets to a higher protein, lower carb ration and in less than a week I was back to the last end of session weight.  It was beautiful.  I can maintain what I've lost.

I've figured it all out.  Stepping on that scale and seeing it back where it was supposed to be was a real moment for me.

So I was going to start again this weekend but I'm sick as a dog... my gut is all messed up.  Everything I eat makes me sick.  The upside is, I'm losing weight anyway... but I feel pretty rough.  Actually I haven't been sick in a while.  I really think its the lack of sugar.  I've been using Stevia instead and pretty well redefined my idea of dessert.  Its a work in  progress.  14 lbs from now, I'll have lost half of me... and I'll go from obese to just simply overweight.  20 something more lbs after that, I'll be within the high end weight range of normal weight for my height and age.

I'm coming along.  I'm not there yet.   But I'm starting to see a faint light at the end of the tunnel.

Kitchen Cheat Sheet

this graph should be helpful

by shellshockuk. Learn about infographic design.

BEGINNING AGAIN, AGAIN

I have taken a break from my diet since last August. Jenny and her children left in July and I got in a quick session--but, once again,  I failed to meet my weight goal.  I was limited to the shortest session permitted because Stephen and I had planned to attend the Feast of Tabernacles in September--and feast we did.  Just before we left for Kentucky, Steve's sister,  my good friend, Barb, and their mother came into town to set her house in order for the winter.  They stayed a month after we returned.  Naturally, we celebrated their visit with epicurean cuisine, dining both in and out.  Immediately following their departure, there was Thanksgiving and all that accompanies the bounteous occasion.  The labyrinth of  festive activities focused on feasting and too many days of caution cast to the wind has taken its toll.

I wish I could say I  hadn't  gained any weight during all that time.   Unfortunately, by the end of November I had a lot in common with the Thanksgiving turkey and managed to shove in an additional 15 pounds of stuffing into my girth.  Should I continue my course of celebratory indulgence it would lead to an additional 60 pounds a year.  Somehow, I've got to find a way to regulate my gastric profligacy so as to minimize the repercussions without resorting to bulimia.  So while my vacation from dietary sanity has been a lot of fun, the carnival has come to an end.  I don't want to have to raid the bags of triple X wide sized clothes destined for Good Will.

I was really worried it was going to be very difficult to get back into the diet. I have not been off the diet this long  since I started, almost 2 years ago now and I've never allowed myself to stray so far from the end of the leash.  I envisioned myself doing midnight raids on the refrigerator in the basement.  I'd even dream I was eating up the rest of the stuffing and Turkey and gravy.  I could already imagine people looking at me,  shaking their head and saying I knew that tubbo couldn't keep this up.  It was a pretty good run but, hello! Reality Check!  People don't really change.

Of course, that's not true.  They do change.  I mean, I used to be pretty thin growing up... but I changed.  I put on weight.  Now I just need to reverse the process.  I'm still waiting for that trigger in my brain to switch on that tells me that Grilled Chicken and Steamed Broccoli with a couple of sprays of "I can't believe its not butter" accompanied with a glass of water really is my food of choice over a plate of fully loaded nachos and a mug of beer.  I can do it with the drops.  I can avoid the chips on the 1500 calorie, low carb maintenence... I spend multiple hours trying to put a daily plan together at fitclick.com during phase 3... and I'm incredibly good about sticking with it... the problem comes in when I'm back to living freestyle.

I'm still waiting for that natural break to come on and let me know that I'm about to hit TILT.  So far, it doesn't really light up for me till I plant my puffy feet on the bathroom scale and see that needle continue to climb several pounds past the previous days weight.  Suddenly, the bells, whistles, alarms and the big red flashing TILT are reverberating in my head and I try not to go off and drown myself in a large cup of creamy coffee, a huge cheese omelet and toast dripping with butter and jam.  15 lbs.  It took me 3 weeks to get back to the weight I was at when I went to the Feast.  Somewhere there's a balance.  I've just got to find mine.

I suppose part of what helps keep me from giving up is that curious people are constantly seeking information about my diet.

Wow!!!  You've lost a LOT of weight.
Yes, I've lost quite a bit.
How much have you lost?
Well, quite a bit...
You're looking much better.
Thanks, I feel much better.
I mean, comparatively speaking, you look really good.
Thank you.  I'm working on it.
Are you still on your diet right now?
No
Why not?
I'm taking a break for the summer.
Are you still going to go back on it?
Yes, that's the plan.
Well how much HAVE you lost?
Not as much as I need to.
What do you weigh now?
uhhh...

There are interesting suggestions that are made as to other forms of fad diets and a lot of people like to tell me my diet is dangerous.

More dangerous than being morbidly obese?
Well, there are better ways to lose weight.
Yes, I suppose there are but I was having trouble finding it.
Still, you're putting your health at risk.
Well, I figure it was pretty much at risk anyway.
Have you tried Weight Watchers?
I've tried everything...

Okay, so I'm 3 weeks into the diet, and almost back to my not quite goal weight of the previous session.  I don't really have a goal this time.  I think I'll probably try to stay on this session until the spring Holy Days.

I'm doing okay.  The first couple of days I had a pretty bad headache.  I felt nauseated and exhausted.  I'm not sure if it was the diet or the lack of coffee.  Either way, I'm past all that now and feel pretty good.  I hit a plateau... the same one that I'd hit at the end of my last session.  But all in all, I'm doin okay,

I just waiting for the scale to stop screaming "OUCH!  Get off you cow!!!" or to be out of those clothes with the X's or W's in the sizes.  At least I don't panic anymore when I'm directed to a chair with arms or a booth that I have to squeeze my girth into at a restaurant or a theater.  I actually have a waist again. I can feel my shin bones and I can cross my legs again.  Most important, I can move, even quickly if I need to.  I can walk fast, even break into a short run.  It's little improvements but they are great advancements for me and encourage me to continue to move forward.  Every session from this point forward brings me closer and closer to normalcy.

Normal is what I'm seeking.  I'd be good with that.   

Paleo Diet Infograph

Looks like a diet I can live with... emphasis on live.


The Paleo Diet – An infographic by the team at DrVita.com

You see, I have to get my breakfast...

I stagger out of bed at 4:30 am each morning... well, if you don't count the 4:20 am preamble to getting up.  The one where I get out of bed, stumble over to the desk, hit the 10 minute snooze button and get back under the covers.  On rare occasions, I'll hit it a second time, but I always sorely regret having done that.

I have learned to shower in my sleep, to drive a car while in a state of insensibility and to begin my work-day while simultaneously bordering on the edge of REM until I consume enough coffee to jolt me into consciousness.

I'm uncertain as to the age of the building in which I work but they have a very unusual distribution of equipment.  There is a kitchen at the far end of the building which houses a large ice machine but their coffee maker spits out ice cold water on the grounds, making for a less than palatable cup of coffee.  At the other end of the building is another kitchen, with a working coffee maker but the ice maker doesn't make ice.  So I arrive at work a little before 6:00 am, abandon my belongings at my desk, forage around for the items I need to take with me-like my coffee cup, my insulated water glass, perishable lunch items and anything that may need to heated for breakfast, head for kitchen number one to start making the coffee.  The recipe is one packet per pot but the coffee is pretty weak so I add another  packet... I need a substantial pick me up that early.  Once the coffee is started and my lunch items are deposited in the over full refrigerator, I head for kitchen number two to get ice in my water glass.

This morning, the scoop was buried under an avalanche of ice.  Apparently the last person to use it failed to put it back in the holder.  I wash my hands and begin digging through the craggy frozen nuggets of ice trying to grasp enough of the ice scoop to pull it free from its glacial tomb.  The little lumps are adhering to each other and what is coming lose is sharp.  I finally grab the handle and pull it free striking my arm against the door which gives way and slams down on my hand.

If you yell obscenities into an empty building and no one is around to hear, does it really make a sound?

There is usually me and one or two others, IT (internet technicians) guys in the entire building that early.  I rarely make contact with them.  I know they're there because when I arrive, there are almost always 2 other cars besides my own, one on the front parking lot and one in back where I park. But being there is one watering hole with a working coffee machine, from time to time our paths will cross.

This morning, after returning back to kitchen number one, as I'm pouring my first cup of the much needed molten stamina, one of the two IT guys, saunters past me to the vending machine and deposits his coins into the coin slot to obtain a soda.  The soda clangs loudly as it crashes to the bottom.  I hear the coins tinkling yet again, this time into the snack machine to obtain one of the packaged pastries for his nutritionally challenged breakfast.  After a couple of garbled expletives, his fist makes an explosive contact with the vending machine, which, I imagine, gave back as good as it got.  More expletives, and another blow.  Having just become a victim in my own battle, man against machine, I turn to watch as he then lifts the machine off the ground and rocks it back and forth, crashing and banging until the machine agrees to yield him his pastry.

I sip my coffee and stare in wonderment.  Finally he unhands the misappropriating mechanism, reaches down, retrieves his pastry and saunters over to the coffee pot.  "Did you get it?" I say admiringly.

He nods.

I laugh.  "You know," I say still smiling, "there are statistics that somewhere in the neighborhood of a dozen people a year die from vending machines falling on people."

He holds up the cellophane wrapped danish menacingly and says flatly, "You see, I had to get my breakfast."

I nodded.

It's the hunt.  Men no longer bring home the kill.  They bring home a pay check.  They drive to work, they passively sit at a desk, they quietly do their job... but all the while that cave man is in there, always there and at the most opportune rare moments, they get the opportunity to reach into the depths of their being and become the neanderthal that still lurks in the recesses of their brains.

Thirteen people a year die from taking on the vending machine and falling prey to it's retaliatory aggression.  Although, in the end, just prior to them losing balance and being crushed under the weight of the pilfering monstrosity, there was that moment of refusing to stand down and accept defeat, and their proclamation was, "You see,  I have to get my breakfast."

I gathered my mug of coffee and my water glass and grabbed a spoon for my yogurt and as I headed back to my desk, I glanced down at the roughed up skin on my arm and the bruise on my hand and thought, "I totally get that."

The last lovely day of Autumn...

Some things come about at such slow intervals you don't notice the pivotal moment of modification.  One day you look to discover the transition has already occurred in plain sight without detetection.  Your child becomes a teen... your hair turns gray... your pants don't fit.  The transitions are so gradual, when you suddenly realize that you've witnessed a huge change and you're pondering how and when it came about. 

But some things, you see them encroaching upon you in the distance, edging closer and closer. You're intently aware there are modifications looming on the horizon.  Today was that day... the last day of a beautiful Autunm. 

The summer was blisteringly hot and dry.  Dry to the point I was concerned we might even lose our trees.  The sump pump in the basement which was the replacemnt for its well worn predecessor never ran.  We went to Grant's Farm on one of the many, many 100° days we endured over the summer, and it was even more than the African Elephant was willing to tolerate.  At the end of the day, the children were wilted.

Our trees survived, as did the children and the Elephant at Grant's Farm.  Toward the end of August, the weather finally broke and the rains came.  Despite my usual angst toward the arrival of Autumn, I can honestly say that this year, I felt a strange anticipation for  Fall to arrive with cooler days and rain.  And while the stress of the heat and drought had made for a trying summer, it has certainly developed into a brilliant fall.  The trees this year were vivid reds and golds and greens and oranges and all the shades and hues between and the hills were flamboyantly ornate. 

Just at the end of June, I had made a $50 purchase of potted Gerbera Daisys & Red Geraniums on clearance at a local open air market. I couldn't get them in the ground that weekend and by the next week, the weather had dramatically deteriorated into fiery days and steamy nights with no relief.  I kept thinking it would break and tried to hold off planting them under the glowering rays but the heat intensified and the ground cracked and the flowers began dying despite my attempt at guardianship.  So I soaked the flower bed one evening for several hours so I could get the shovel into the impenetrable bed and insert the plants, hoping for the best.  I didn't expect they'd survive... and for a while it looked pretty bleak.  I lost several plants despite the late night waterings.  The sun and heat were reletntless and nothing I did could quite overcome the offense. 

But finally the rains came. The foliage turned a rich dark green.  A rainbow of color popped out in late August and the incinerating brutality of former days seemed entirely forgiven.  The weather remained pleasant and rains were more plentiful and the flowers filled their bed and at the first cold snap, the trees began to compete with the flowers as if to brandish brilliantly their ability to transcend the floral beauty by their enormity. The hills were an emblazened palate of crimsons and ambers and lemons and flaming coppers and burnished brass.  Stepping outside, driving thru the country, or just looking out the window overwhelmed the senses with the dazzling array of color everywhere. 

It was a glorious Autum.

Thursday was a record setting 85°,  and as I walked through the neighborhood, the yards were blanketed with lush green grass peeking through blankets of fallen leaves of reds and golds and the trees were vibrant and the sky was blue and the flowers still copiously flourishing their beds.  It was a lot to take in on a late October afternoon as my mp3 player pounded the piano of Yurima in my head.  I was glad we'd taken the drive up to Augusta on Sunday, despite the overcrowded state of the wineries.  The vision of the rolling hills was worth the lack of elbow room and the strenous climb to the top of the hill for lack of parking spaces.

But everything has a shelf life and while some things end without notice, this phenomenal Fall was not one of them.  Friday morning, the temperature had dropped into the low 40's and the wind was gusting up to 50 mph and the temperatures were expecting to fall at night into the 30's. And when I came home early from work, I tried to take it all in. 

The trees were already exhibiting signs of the ravages of the glacial gales.  I tried to talk Steve into covering the flower bed with a tarp to preserve the flowers a few more days and he readily agreed that he had the means but made no attempt toward accomplishing the goal.  It was merely a futile attempt to inhibit the impending winter. 

This morning the lovely flowers are crumpled and the leaves lie at the base of the naked trees in heaps and gobs of faded color... and the awesome Autumn has come to an ignominious end.  I know there's also beauty in winter but I dread the cold and the ice and the snow.  Its the kind of beauty I see from the window and wish away for more temperate days. 

143 days till spring and counting...

Playing Solitaire...

In the midst of a crisis, I find a few rounds of playing Solitaire usually brings on a sense of organization. The inference  being, no matter how complicated the piles are, given a certain amount of time and consideration, everything can be  arranged into order.  And usually, it helps to calm me down.  Unfortunately, this morning, seeing all the cards fall to the bottom of the screen just left me feeling like I had just put it all right and now I have to do it all over again.  It seemed unfair.  I never ran into that feeling before at the end of a game.

It's been a difficult last several months.  I've made some goals and lost some friends and seen things about myself that I don't care very much for.  I'm trying to change my life, and not just my shape.  It's hard to try and see yourself as others see you and its even harder to try not to imagine what a person's motivating factors are for things that they do.  The clarity with which I envision another's driven purpose is incredible, especially given the shroud of obscurity I find blanketing my own.  So I try and get past all that... it doesn't matter why.  I can't change anyone but me and I can't let another's perceived shortcomings become the catalyst for change, else I'd be pulled in so many different directions, I'd never get anywhere.  So head down, plow through and make it work.

I pray a lot for wisdom... mostly because I don't feel very wise these days.  I don't think age makes you smarter, I think it makes you more aware of how much you ended up not knowing.  I find I'm more patient but also more cynical.  And even though I find I can be more empathetic, I am more inclined to want to expose the elephant in the room that everyone is dancing around, so we can just get past it.

But another thing I'm learning, or trying to, is that yanking off a mask is a lot like stripping a scab off a wound.  You make them bleed;  you make them really angry; they grow a new scab to continue to protect the wound and they avoid ever coming into contact with you again.  I'm learning to dance with elephants.

So, regarding the goals I actually have accomplished, I have lost 100 lbs so far.  Here is me at the beginning of the diet, and me at the end of my last round.

Zowie... What a change, eh?  If only that was the most difficult change there was to make.  Well, I'll probably start a new round in May.  Hopefully, Jenny and the kids can come home for a few weeks and this year, I'll be able to keep up with them a little better.

I actually have spent a lot of time this week getting all my jumbo size clothes packed up and found someone who agreed to distribute them to some of her relatives for me.  I remember when someone had lost some weight and gave me her coat.  Aside from the fact that it was a little small, it just screamed FATSO at me from the closet every time I opened the door and I finally got rid of the wretched thing... so I didn't want to do that to anyone.  This will be better.  They don't know me, I don't know them and they'll just be getting some free clothes.

Actually I'm a little surprised at how hard it is to let go of some of my clothes.  I can't wear them.  They drape on me like a tent... and yet, I had some things I really liked.  I actually considered just keeping them and then wondered what I was thinking?  So I've tried to be brutal, just keeping the things that still look acceptable, for now, and putting the rest in the give away boxes.  So far, I've got 3 and will have to run out to Target and buy at least one more to finish it all up.

I finally started walking this week.  I started at a mile and found it easy, except for my feet are a little sore by the end of it, so I talked it over with Steve and we decided that it might be better to hang at a mile for a while, until everything adjusts to me actually using these muscles that God gave me for more than just a filler between my bones and skin.

Well, it's a busy day today. I promised to bring some cookies for the bake sale for United Way and I have to get some stuff done toward cleaning for Passover and I want to finish getting those clothes together for Ruby.  I work from 2-11 pm tonight.  Another one of the changes in my life that came just when I thought I was getting everything together.  God is static and does not change... I would like to be that way too.  Unlike God, there is very little about me that doesn't need changing.

And also, unlike God, the unfortunate thing I finally noticed about the Solitaire game is that as soon as you think you've got it all put together just right, everything falls apart at the bottom of the screen.

Sigh.

One more day...

Well, this is my last day of drops.  I officially made my goal weight this morning thanks the advice of a young friend on Facebook, to drink more water. Thanks Adah!!  I was pretty excited this morning when I got on the scale as I had utterly given up hope of making it.  I had to keep myself from just quitting altogether. I was pretty discouraged.  But today is a new day and despite the rain and gloom outside, it's all sunshine in here.  So today is the last official drops day and then the 3 ugly days of the diet but no drops.  You can do it!!!

I've been praying a lot about being able to stick to my diet, that I wouldn't be like Esau and throw it all away for a morsel of meat... or cheesecake, or macaroni and cheese or mashed potatoes and gravy.  It's really been pretty easy these last few times.  I've not really had the bad moments like I did the first time.  

I almost ran out of drops but ordered them in time from Northoods Massage Therapy (http://www.northwoodsmassage.com/)  He has them cheaper than anywhere else I had found online.  They are only $20 for a 2 ounce bottle.  I had bought some for this last session from Vitacost that were not homeopathic.  I misread the ad and thought they were.  They were $25 and the shipping and handling was free so I thought as long as I was ordering vitamins, I'd get them but it was a 1 ounce bottle and they were not homeopathic and despite their claims, they were no better than what I had been taking.  Well I still had a bit of the HCG from Northwoods at work so I would take morning and lunch time from that bottle at work and then the other HCG at night but I found no difference... except they are more than double the price!!!  I am most grateful for his  generous attitude to keep the price down.

I have the exciting task today of going Thanksgiving Dinner shopping today.  I'm going to make a couple of ducks for my mom who isn't too fond of Turkey for Thanksgiving.  Since I'm doing my dinner on Friday, that will give me time to go over to her place on Thanksgiving Day and spend some time with her and sit and chat for a while.  Wish my sister and my daughter and her family could all be here too.  Nothing a lot of money wouldn't take care of... 

I suppose to win the lottery, you'd actually have to buy a ticket or coupon or whatever it is you buy.  Maybe I should get a second job?  Wonder how you get that job where you just stand there and say, "Welcome to Wal-Mart?"  I think I'm about old enough to get by with it.  Wonder what it pays?

Coming Along

Well one more week of dieting is all I get in before Thanksgiving.  It almost sounds like I'm disappointed to stop but I was hoping to hit a certain mark on the scale before I left off... the likelihood of acheiving that goal is looking pretty dicey.  I suppose I could just blow off Thanksgiving and make a top your own salad bar for Thanksgiving but I'm thinking the family would turn into the indians and I'd be Colonel Custer... They're expecting a full blown turn out with all the fixin's... Turkey, Dressing, Mashed Potatoes, gallons of gravy, Sweet Potato Casserole with Candied Pecans, Corn Pudding, Green Bean Casserole, Cranberry Sauce, Pumpkin Pie, Apple Pie and Pecan Pie with mounds of Whipped Cream and all of us in a diabetic coma after a fabulous feeding frenzy.  It's no wonder I got fat.

I'm not sure how I'll do on turkey day as far as sticking with the maintenance but if I need to, I guess I can do a steak day on Friday... or well, actually, I think we're going to have our Thanksgiving dinner on Friday since all my kids are going to their in-laws first and they come to my house already stuffed.  I suggested to my elder son last night that maybe they'd rather have dinner on Friday?  He seemed good with the idea.  That gives me Thursday to cook and set a nice table... etc.  So I'm not quite done yet.  I was really hoping to drop twenty pounds this time, which I probably have if you consider the weight I put on at the Feast... about 5 lbs.  But all the food there was phenomenal.  I even tried to do a steak day there but it was crazy busy and everything revolved around the meals. So I was hoping to be a little further along by now but we'll see how the week plays out.

 Here is me when I first started and me now.  There is a bit of change visible if I put them side by side.

That's pretty encouraging.  

I had sort of hit a wall for about a week where I'd lose 2 lbs and then the next day I had gained them back.  Once I even lost it again and then in the morning, I had put on about 5 lbs.  But I knew I wasn't cheating and that eventually, there would be a break but it really got into the way of my goal weight I'd set... I was really hoping to be down by a full 100 lbs before the weight loss contest started again next year.  Well, no matter.  I'm a long way from svelte.  I'd really like to be out of the morbid obesity range, though.

Tuesday Erin and I are supposed to go to the Monet exhibit at the St. Louis Art Museum.  I got free tickets through work for a corporate evening.  Erin was an art major and I thought she'd really enjoy going with me.  I just love his paintings.  It's quite amazing how his best works were done as his eyesight dimmed from cataracts, much like Beethoven's greatest works were written when he was stone deaf.  He was called an impressionist and his works were not popular in the beginning but I love the feathery texture of his scenes, the vibrant colors he puts in a sunset and the way he paints a flower.  I often ponder, how does an impressionist know what it's going to look like at a distance when he's right up by the canvas as he's painting it?  I'm not artistic at all but I do appreciate that others can create such beauty out of a several pots of color.

   

Bedroom Banshee

It was the middle of the night.  A storm was raging outside.  The lightening was flashing on the curtains, thunder was rattling the windows and the wind howled eerily.  Everyone had long since retired for the night when my youngest son padded into the room in his yellow blanket footed sleeper, carrying his doll and sucking on his pacifier.  He reached his little chubby hand up over the side of the bed and patted my husband on his cheek. 

"Daddy!"  he said in an alarmed voice.  "I'm scared."

Imagining it was a ploy to avoid sleeping in his own bed, my husband told him there was nothing to be afraid of, picked him up and explained that storms were just a part of nature.  He held him a few moments to comfort him and then sent him back to bed.

"He could get in bed with us." I said sleepily.

"No, I don't want to start that again." He said, as we respectively recalled the last time he  had slept with us.  He spun around all night like a compass in the Bermuda Triangle.  And then there was all the kicking, scratching, and thrashing about as we both struggled just to stay on the bed.

We were just getting back to sleep when I heard, smack, smack, smack. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK.

"Daddy!" the lightning flashed and I could see his big eyes widen in fright as he spoke around the pacifier in garbled words, "Daddy, I'm really scared," he mouthed around his pacifier.

My husband groaned.  "I'll get him," I said.

"No!" he said a little too firm.  "Sam, Son, what is it you're afraid of?"

"I hear noises." 

My husband sat up and explained about thunder and lightening, ionization, electricity, the necessity of rain, the protection of God and anything else he could think of that would appease a frightened little boy during a thunder storm.  "Now Sam," he said, "you go on back to bed.  There is nothing to be afraid of.  I'm right next door.  Nothing can get to your room without coming past mine."

Sam wiggled out of his daddy's arms, holding his doll, sucking rather noisily on his pacifier and padded bravely off back to bed… with the renewed confidence of his Father's assurance of protection and vigilant attendance to the least offense.

Five minutes later Sam came running into the bedroom, this time the pacifier was yanked out of his mouth with a loud pop and the doll had been dropped to the floor along the way and left to its fate.  "DAD!!!  MY BED IS SCARING ME.l"

My husband's patience was nearly at an end.  "Sam!  There is NOTHING to be afraid of.  He stood up, yanked Sammy up impatiently and they headed off down the hall.  About 15 seconds later, as curiosity got the better of me, I got up in time to see both of them backing back away from the bedroom into the hall.  My husband, a little disconcerted, looked over his shoulder and said quietly to me, "come here"

He, Sam and I crept back down the hall. By now the twins had gotten up to see what the commotion was.  

As I reached the room, Sam, feeling far braver with his whole family behind him, led the way saying, "See, see." Sure enough, the bed was literally floating around the room and dreadful howls were emanating from it.  It was like something from the Amityville Horror movie.  We all huddled together in the doorway,  staring at the aberration while I fought the urge to imagine Sam's head twisting around 360° and heaving projectile vomit.

Sammy, pointed at the bed with his chubby little finger and said wetly from the sides of his reinstated Binky,

"See." Steve picked him up to keep him back from the floating bed.

My elder son, pushed past us unnoticed, intrigued by the anomaly.  He knelt down, peering under the bed, hoping to catch a glance at the howling banshee levitating the bed.

"Dad, LOOK"

My husband realizing Danny was in the room quickly handed off Sam to me and bolted in the room to yank him up and out but as he knelt down, he began to laugh.

Our old border collie had become frightened by the storm and had wedged himself under Sam's bed but when he discovered he was unable to get back out again, he began to howl.  Unable to crawl out from under the bed, he kept trying to stand up.

Sensing the hope of immediate rescue, his moaning stopped and the bed settled back down.  My husband lifted the bed, the dog waddled out, glaring at the incompetent oafs that were supposed to take care of him as we leaned on each other laughing until we were too weak to stand any longer and finally retreated to our respective beds. 

Round Three with HCG

Okay, here I am again, starting up my third round of drops.  Actually, I've already done a week of drops and have lost about 13 lbs but if you subtract where I was BEFORE I went on vacation, then I suppose I've lost about 6... not including the weight I gained at the Feast of Tabernacles and the load days... 

My friend Kay told me that it gets easier and I was pretty skeptical but she's right.  It does get easier.  I guess the first time, your whole life is centered around meals and especially if you love to cook and to taste your wares, like me, then its such a culture shock to suddenly be reduced to two tiny meals with no snacks.  How can you survive that?  I think it wasn't just a matter of being hungry as it was a matter of adjusting to the changes.  

Speaking of which, the trees are really changing and the colors are so vivid this year.  I love fall but hate what comes after it.  I'm not fond of winter or tromping through snow or navigating my car over icy roads or shivering or dressing in layers.  Big Mama sure don't need to pile on layer upon layer to further accentuate an already portly frame.  Three layers and a coat and I can't even fasten the seat belt.  Then I get to work and spend the whole day deleting and re-adding the layers as they seem unable to find a happy medium to the thermostat.  The leaves are so pretty but they do always carry and air of foreboding and the threat of all things dreary.  

And that reminds me, I still have my frozen strawberries with Vanilla Cream Stevia to eat.  Yea!