Sports fans, the title of this blog is no mistake. It is the exhortation to please respond. Not that I am asking you to respond to me; I am asking you to respond to your potential hosts or hostesses!
Really! Pick up the phone or send a note or an email with either your regrets or acceptance to his or her soiree! It's not that hard, people, and your hostess wants you to do it so she may plan accordingly.
It's just not optional. If the host puts R.s.v.p. on the invitation, for crying out loud, respond! Even if he doesn't put it on, respond anyway! Help the poor individual who is trying, against a mighty social tide of indifference, to entertain you and share your company.
And while we're at it, only the people to whom an invitation is addressed are the invited parties! From time to time, if you have an extra houseguest and your potential host is a close friend, you may ask if your extra person may be included. But don't substitute your kid for your husband if he can't make it, or bring your kids with you when their names are not included on an invitation. And don't ask. If your hostess meant for your kids to come, she would have included "and family" or their names on the invitation.
Finally, send a thank-you note when you have partaken of someone's hospitality. You do not always have to bring a hostess gift, expecially when you are not staying overnight, but a nice bread-and-butter note is always a nice surprise and greatly appreciated. And it should go without saying that you send a note in thanks for a gift.
Sigh.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Travel is Broadening
We succumbed to the lure of the Caribbean cruise, and spent a week on a ship to celebrate our 30th anniversary later this month.
I felt the facility left something to be desired (none too clean and almost every piece of upholstery needed redoing; food was mediocre) but I enjoyed the ports of call.
It is very clear to me why people in Central America and Mexico want to live in America illegally. Even the worst slum I have seen in this country hardly compares to a lot of the living conditions in Belize. We saw some Mayan ruins there, and to get there took a long bus ride on a narrow, very bumpy road. There were a few nice homes, but most people lived in corrugated iron shacks with no window glass. The area near the docks was okay, but again, nothing compared to Florida or California, or even Cozumel, Mexico.
Guatemala is a beautiful country, but again people lived in relative squalor. There are no true sand beaches there that I saw, but it is very green and hilly. They have a great shipping industry, too, so I hope the commerce there will eventually raise the standard of living.
The Americans on the cruise were very obese. It was amazing--I have never been around so many fat people at once in my life. It was possible to eat very healthfully on the cruise, but it was also possible to eat a lot of junk--including cheap ice cream, cookies, and bland, tasteless desserts. The best dessert I had was a dish of raspberry sherbet.
There was a lot of hard selling of jewelry and art--and only some of these things were truly worth buying. There were some Picassos and Ertes and even a couple of Peter Max paintings, but a lot of it was very pedestrian, including the Painter of Schmaltz, Thomas Kincaid.
Cozumel was very tourist-trap, but a lot of fun. We had a fantastic lunch at a restaurant called Pancho's Backyard. Best taquitos with guacamole and salsa I've ever had.
The key lime pie on Key West was surprisingly underwhelming. My own is better!
Wes drank Cokes in every country to compare them. Yes, there is a Coca-Cola bottling company in Belize!
Nice to come home, though. It was fun, diverting and broadening (and we bracketed the trip with trips to the Disney resorts and Downtown Disney, which was, as always, lots of fun) but now it's time to get down to business for Christmas!
Thursday, November 25, 2010
On Athletics and Authority
Can we ever surmount the traumas we experience as young children? I don't know.
I do know that if you are blessed with a strong character, you can push forward in spite of them.
This morning, as I worked out in Jazzercise class, the subject of shoelaces came up. They don't seem to stay tied as readily as they did when I was a child, because now they are made of polyester which is much more slippery than the good old cotton ones I had in my sturdy leather orthopedic shoes. (The cotton ones broke a lot, though.)
Those shoes were the bane of my existence. I hated them. Not only were they ugly, the slick leather soles made me unsure on my feet; I could not run well in them and I was constantly falling down. I earned the reputation, and felt the stigma, of being non-athletic. This was the kiss of death in the American elementary schoolyard of the 1960s.
I was born with a congenital deformation of the bones in my legs and feet. My feet curved in, my knees knocked, and my hipbones are angled differently than most people's. To this day I sleep with my toes facing in, and I still throw my left foot in slightly when I walk.
My mother adored, even worshipped, our pediatrician, who should have known that I needed outflare shoes and special diapers or a foot bar to keep my hips positioned so they would develop properly. Instead, once I started walking I was prescribed special shoes which were ugly leather oxfords and cost a fortune. I wore them every day, including summertimes, until the sixth grade.
It wasn't until I had kids with the same problems that I learned that orthotic inserts could be made to correct the problem. My kids wore the outflare shoes and had a bar attached while they slept, which worked wonders. I was so chagrined to find out these appliances had been available since World War II.
One day, my preschooler son was attempting to climb some chain rigging at the playground in his leather-soled shoes. He slipped and couldn't climb well, while my friend's daughter, shod in sneakers, nimbly climbed right up. It dawned on me: the shoes had been my problem. My parents never gave it a thought. To them, leather shoes were better because that's what good parents put on their children, while sneakers were a sign of poverty. Even living in Los Angeles, they never even tried to find an alternative to my pricey shoes that would be more stylish (all the other girls had go-go boots) and give me a purchase on that playground tarmac. I don't know why they didn't take me to a podiatrist or an orthopedic specialist, who would have had access to more options.
So I grew up thinking I was awkward, un-athletic, nerdy, uncool. Even though this doesn't matter now, it had a profound effect on my self-image as I grew up. Truth to tell, I could dance and ice skate well. I now do aerobic dance for exercise, and I am good at it.
My parents' generation did not question authority, and so accepted what was told to them. I so, so wish my mother had found a more personable, sympathetic doctor than the one we had--who was too cold and businesslike to be dealing with children. Maybe such a doctor didn't exist.
As an adult, I now do physical things I hated as a child, and though I don't necessarily enjoy sports, I am not afraid to try them. But those years of being unsure on my feet marked me for life. It's hard to unlearn something learned so early, but it can be recognized and compensated for.
I do know that if you are blessed with a strong character, you can push forward in spite of them.
This morning, as I worked out in Jazzercise class, the subject of shoelaces came up. They don't seem to stay tied as readily as they did when I was a child, because now they are made of polyester which is much more slippery than the good old cotton ones I had in my sturdy leather orthopedic shoes. (The cotton ones broke a lot, though.)
Those shoes were the bane of my existence. I hated them. Not only were they ugly, the slick leather soles made me unsure on my feet; I could not run well in them and I was constantly falling down. I earned the reputation, and felt the stigma, of being non-athletic. This was the kiss of death in the American elementary schoolyard of the 1960s.
I was born with a congenital deformation of the bones in my legs and feet. My feet curved in, my knees knocked, and my hipbones are angled differently than most people's. To this day I sleep with my toes facing in, and I still throw my left foot in slightly when I walk.
My mother adored, even worshipped, our pediatrician, who should have known that I needed outflare shoes and special diapers or a foot bar to keep my hips positioned so they would develop properly. Instead, once I started walking I was prescribed special shoes which were ugly leather oxfords and cost a fortune. I wore them every day, including summertimes, until the sixth grade.
It wasn't until I had kids with the same problems that I learned that orthotic inserts could be made to correct the problem. My kids wore the outflare shoes and had a bar attached while they slept, which worked wonders. I was so chagrined to find out these appliances had been available since World War II.
One day, my preschooler son was attempting to climb some chain rigging at the playground in his leather-soled shoes. He slipped and couldn't climb well, while my friend's daughter, shod in sneakers, nimbly climbed right up. It dawned on me: the shoes had been my problem. My parents never gave it a thought. To them, leather shoes were better because that's what good parents put on their children, while sneakers were a sign of poverty. Even living in Los Angeles, they never even tried to find an alternative to my pricey shoes that would be more stylish (all the other girls had go-go boots) and give me a purchase on that playground tarmac. I don't know why they didn't take me to a podiatrist or an orthopedic specialist, who would have had access to more options.
So I grew up thinking I was awkward, un-athletic, nerdy, uncool. Even though this doesn't matter now, it had a profound effect on my self-image as I grew up. Truth to tell, I could dance and ice skate well. I now do aerobic dance for exercise, and I am good at it.
My parents' generation did not question authority, and so accepted what was told to them. I so, so wish my mother had found a more personable, sympathetic doctor than the one we had--who was too cold and businesslike to be dealing with children. Maybe such a doctor didn't exist.
As an adult, I now do physical things I hated as a child, and though I don't necessarily enjoy sports, I am not afraid to try them. But those years of being unsure on my feet marked me for life. It's hard to unlearn something learned so early, but it can be recognized and compensated for.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Ronnie, We Miss You
I saw a t-shirt in a catalog recently. It was a picture of Ronald Reagan, with the caption, "Miss me yet?"
Yeah, I'll say we miss you.
Ronald Reagan understood the American people. He was one of them. He wasn't afraid to do the right thing. He was not afraid of calling a spade a spade (the Soviet Union was an evil empire!), and he had great gifts, one of which was knowing how to lead.
We have not had his like in the White House since.
I spent nearly eight hours standing in line in front of the Capitol building to merely pay my respects and walk by his flag-draped casket when he lay in state. Around 4 a.m., I got my turn, and nearly burst into tears. A great man was gone.
I am so glad I gave up a night's sleep to do that. I will never forget it. It was the least I could do for someone who set such a great example.
Reagan restored sense, nobility, and class to the office of the presidency. He believed in the moral superiority of the mission of the United States and he wasn't afraid to proclaim that. He never allowed the naysayers and the so-called experts to dictate what he did--he listened to them, but then he decided what to do based on what was best for his country, and what his moral compass told him was right.
I don't know if I can ever be as great a person as Ronald Reagan, but that's the kind of person I strive to be.
I can only pray that someone else of his high caliber will come forth to lead this country again.
Yeah, I'll say we miss you.
Ronald Reagan understood the American people. He was one of them. He wasn't afraid to do the right thing. He was not afraid of calling a spade a spade (the Soviet Union was an evil empire!), and he had great gifts, one of which was knowing how to lead.
We have not had his like in the White House since.
I spent nearly eight hours standing in line in front of the Capitol building to merely pay my respects and walk by his flag-draped casket when he lay in state. Around 4 a.m., I got my turn, and nearly burst into tears. A great man was gone.
I am so glad I gave up a night's sleep to do that. I will never forget it. It was the least I could do for someone who set such a great example.
Reagan restored sense, nobility, and class to the office of the presidency. He believed in the moral superiority of the mission of the United States and he wasn't afraid to proclaim that. He never allowed the naysayers and the so-called experts to dictate what he did--he listened to them, but then he decided what to do based on what was best for his country, and what his moral compass told him was right.
I don't know if I can ever be as great a person as Ronald Reagan, but that's the kind of person I strive to be.
I can only pray that someone else of his high caliber will come forth to lead this country again.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The Nature of Courage
Recently someone told me that I had a lot of courage. This surprised me; I have not ever considered myself a particularly courageous person. But as I pondered this compliment, I realized that I truly have been able to incorporate into my life something I value greatly: personal courage.
I have pondered this concept for years, intending to write about it, but I have never applied it to the things that I do, myself. I think personal courage is an exemplary virtue, and it is largely unsung. We honor military heroes, for instance, who throw themselves on a live grenade, sacrificing their own lives to save those of their comrades. This is an example of tremendous courage, but the truth is that very few of us will be called upon to make such a supreme sacrifice.
Personal courage, however, is smaller but more common, persistent acts that come to define a person's character. For example, the personal courage of the individual who daily struggles with a handicap and manages to rise above self-pity to live a productive life is very seldom remarked upon. The courage to do something unpleasant, such as bravely and honestly confront a co-worker with a problem, or apologize when one has been wrong, are examples seldom seen any more. This kind of courage is not a defiant, in-your-face arrogance, but instead the determination to calmly, sometimes quietly, seek and confront the truth about something or someone--even oneself--no matter how threatening or distasteful, and to conquer that problem. Personal courage takes great strength of character.
It takes courage to do what one knows is right, regardless of the disapproval of others. I went off to college barely knowing only a couple of souls on that huge campus. I joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints 35 years ago, even though I knew my father did not approve of my choice. To this day I am an active member, and my sister joined the Church as well. My husband became a convert to the Church after we met. Now my family all live in Utah, and my sister and I have raised five children, three of whom were married in Mormon temples. My son has served a mission. The entire course of my family's life has changed because of my willingness to make the courageous choice to live the gospel of Jesus Christ, including the ancestors of both my husband and me, whose temple work we have done.
My life is not easy all the time. I have heartaches, regrets, and fears with which I must live every day, as do we all. I have had many failures, and many embarrassments--more than most people, because I do have the courage to get out there and take my chances. I have tried to instill this virtue in my children, as well.
I don't know what made me this way; I think a lot of it was just a part of my personality from the start, but it's also something I developed without really thinking about it, simply by trying to do the right thing regardless of the consequences, every single day. I don't think it makes me better than other people, and I don't think I've been somehow singled out by God for some special blessing. But I know that I am courageous, and I am grateful to be that way, and I know the Lord will sustain me as I try to serve Him.
I have pondered this concept for years, intending to write about it, but I have never applied it to the things that I do, myself. I think personal courage is an exemplary virtue, and it is largely unsung. We honor military heroes, for instance, who throw themselves on a live grenade, sacrificing their own lives to save those of their comrades. This is an example of tremendous courage, but the truth is that very few of us will be called upon to make such a supreme sacrifice.
Personal courage, however, is smaller but more common, persistent acts that come to define a person's character. For example, the personal courage of the individual who daily struggles with a handicap and manages to rise above self-pity to live a productive life is very seldom remarked upon. The courage to do something unpleasant, such as bravely and honestly confront a co-worker with a problem, or apologize when one has been wrong, are examples seldom seen any more. This kind of courage is not a defiant, in-your-face arrogance, but instead the determination to calmly, sometimes quietly, seek and confront the truth about something or someone--even oneself--no matter how threatening or distasteful, and to conquer that problem. Personal courage takes great strength of character.
It takes courage to do what one knows is right, regardless of the disapproval of others. I went off to college barely knowing only a couple of souls on that huge campus. I joined the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints 35 years ago, even though I knew my father did not approve of my choice. To this day I am an active member, and my sister joined the Church as well. My husband became a convert to the Church after we met. Now my family all live in Utah, and my sister and I have raised five children, three of whom were married in Mormon temples. My son has served a mission. The entire course of my family's life has changed because of my willingness to make the courageous choice to live the gospel of Jesus Christ, including the ancestors of both my husband and me, whose temple work we have done.
My life is not easy all the time. I have heartaches, regrets, and fears with which I must live every day, as do we all. I have had many failures, and many embarrassments--more than most people, because I do have the courage to get out there and take my chances. I have tried to instill this virtue in my children, as well.
I don't know what made me this way; I think a lot of it was just a part of my personality from the start, but it's also something I developed without really thinking about it, simply by trying to do the right thing regardless of the consequences, every single day. I don't think it makes me better than other people, and I don't think I've been somehow singled out by God for some special blessing. But I know that I am courageous, and I am grateful to be that way, and I know the Lord will sustain me as I try to serve Him.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Miss Manners, we need you!
I almost couldn't believe my ears when I heard the new tag line for Charmin toilet paper, "Enjoy the go!" Do they really mean to imply that Charmin users should enjoy the experience of defecation?
Backing up a bit, I have deliberately never bought Charmin toilet tissue. I thought the Mr. Whipple "Don't squeeze the Charmin!" ad campaign idiotic, and I was turned off by the cartoon bears doing their business in the woods with a roll of toilet paper stuck on a tree branch. Ha ha ha. "Does a bear [defecate] in the woods?" Major, major, turnoff.
Now they have combined the animated bears with the tag line. What are they thinking?
Well, I found out that they are putting a bunch of portable toilets in Times Square at Christmas and hiring five bloggers to talk to people who "really, really enjoy going to the bathroom." The chosen five will receive $10,000 each for their blogging/Twitter/YouTube stints. I can only hope that this project is felled by the kind of snowstorms we got last winter.
It seems to me the only people who will really get a kick out of such stuff are those who have scatalogical tendencies. Frankly, I, and most people I know, do not want to broadcast their personal business for all and sundry on social networks to see.
I recall a story about Jackie Kennedy running the tap while she used the bathroom in the Kennedy family home. Her in-laws made fun of her for this, but I don't blame Jackie a bit. It's embarrassing to have to use the facilities in close proximity to others.
Miss Manners put it best when she opined that anything that goes on in a restroom is private and should never be remarked upon. As for me, any activity behind a closed bathroom/restroom door, short of murder and mayhem, is none of my business and what I do in there is none of anyone else's.
My mother insisted on using only Charmin; I refused to buy it when she visited my house, so she bought her own. (Digressing now: when she complained that my basic-basic cable didn't have "enough channels" for her, I ordered full basic the next time she visited. See? I'm not unreasonable and I do look out for the comfort of my guests!) The Charmin inevitably clogged up the pipes. I know this is a common complaint about the brand.
Unfortunately, I think encouraging people to "enjoy the go!" is going to look quaint and downright modest compared to what's going to be included in ads five years from now. In the meantime, though, boycott the Charmin!
Backing up a bit, I have deliberately never bought Charmin toilet tissue. I thought the Mr. Whipple "Don't squeeze the Charmin!" ad campaign idiotic, and I was turned off by the cartoon bears doing their business in the woods with a roll of toilet paper stuck on a tree branch. Ha ha ha. "Does a bear [defecate] in the woods?" Major, major, turnoff.
Now they have combined the animated bears with the tag line. What are they thinking?
Well, I found out that they are putting a bunch of portable toilets in Times Square at Christmas and hiring five bloggers to talk to people who "really, really enjoy going to the bathroom." The chosen five will receive $10,000 each for their blogging/Twitter/YouTube stints. I can only hope that this project is felled by the kind of snowstorms we got last winter.
It seems to me the only people who will really get a kick out of such stuff are those who have scatalogical tendencies. Frankly, I, and most people I know, do not want to broadcast their personal business for all and sundry on social networks to see.
I recall a story about Jackie Kennedy running the tap while she used the bathroom in the Kennedy family home. Her in-laws made fun of her for this, but I don't blame Jackie a bit. It's embarrassing to have to use the facilities in close proximity to others.
Miss Manners put it best when she opined that anything that goes on in a restroom is private and should never be remarked upon. As for me, any activity behind a closed bathroom/restroom door, short of murder and mayhem, is none of my business and what I do in there is none of anyone else's.
My mother insisted on using only Charmin; I refused to buy it when she visited my house, so she bought her own. (Digressing now: when she complained that my basic-basic cable didn't have "enough channels" for her, I ordered full basic the next time she visited. See? I'm not unreasonable and I do look out for the comfort of my guests!) The Charmin inevitably clogged up the pipes. I know this is a common complaint about the brand.
Unfortunately, I think encouraging people to "enjoy the go!" is going to look quaint and downright modest compared to what's going to be included in ads five years from now. In the meantime, though, boycott the Charmin!
Thursday, August 5, 2010
The Only Time is the Present
I think about the future a lot. Well, I worry about it a lot, anyway. Where will I live? What will my children be doing? New one: Will I be healthy? Will we have enough money?
My mother was a great worrier. I guess she thought it helped; she certainly felt that it was necessary in order to show caring. It's taken me a long time to get rid of some of the worrying I do.
Worry is entirely counterproductive--it can become an obsessive, paralyzing preoccupation. In most cases, it's wasted on things we cannot change or fix. Concern is different. Concern means that there is some apprehension about the person or situation, but there is something about concern that indicates it's not dwelled upon, and that it is outside the jurisdiction of the person who is concerned. Concern is appropriate; worry often is not.
I realize that I have no true legitimate reason to be overly concerned about the future, so that immediately negates any productive reason to worry.
Wish it were that easy.
My mother was a great worrier. I guess she thought it helped; she certainly felt that it was necessary in order to show caring. It's taken me a long time to get rid of some of the worrying I do.
Worry is entirely counterproductive--it can become an obsessive, paralyzing preoccupation. In most cases, it's wasted on things we cannot change or fix. Concern is different. Concern means that there is some apprehension about the person or situation, but there is something about concern that indicates it's not dwelled upon, and that it is outside the jurisdiction of the person who is concerned. Concern is appropriate; worry often is not.
I realize that I have no true legitimate reason to be overly concerned about the future, so that immediately negates any productive reason to worry.
Wish it were that easy.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Ah, the Joys of eBay!
I love eBay.
When I went to Laura Ingalls Wilder's home in Missouri, I was taken by a little depression glass butter dish in a case. She had several pieces in this particular style. Well, it can't be the only one ever manufactured, I reasoned.
In less than ten minutes on eBay, I identified it as the Jeannette Glass Company's Sierra/Pinwheel pattern in pink. They also made this style in green. Bada bing, in a few days I was the owner of a platter in this style.
My older daughter has some pink Depression glass, largely because it's her favorite color and I've bought it for her. It's fairly inexpensive, pretty, and goes with her stuff.
So I purchased four plates in the same pattern, and I will keep after the elusive butter dish. It's kind of fun owning something like Laura had.
As for breakables--ever since my youngest turned three and was less of a hazard, I have been collecting dishes and other stuff like that. eBay has helped a lot! I was able to get matching wine and water goblets to match my mom's (which she had given to me), and add to her diminished everyday china pattern. I've also bought stuff to match my own china, and added to my beehive collection. Finding a nice hefty brass trash can for my bathroom was futile until I looked on eBay. I snagged a great one for $20!
This is a great country.
When I went to Laura Ingalls Wilder's home in Missouri, I was taken by a little depression glass butter dish in a case. She had several pieces in this particular style. Well, it can't be the only one ever manufactured, I reasoned.
In less than ten minutes on eBay, I identified it as the Jeannette Glass Company's Sierra/Pinwheel pattern in pink. They also made this style in green. Bada bing, in a few days I was the owner of a platter in this style.
My older daughter has some pink Depression glass, largely because it's her favorite color and I've bought it for her. It's fairly inexpensive, pretty, and goes with her stuff.
So I purchased four plates in the same pattern, and I will keep after the elusive butter dish. It's kind of fun owning something like Laura had.
As for breakables--ever since my youngest turned three and was less of a hazard, I have been collecting dishes and other stuff like that. eBay has helped a lot! I was able to get matching wine and water goblets to match my mom's (which she had given to me), and add to her diminished everyday china pattern. I've also bought stuff to match my own china, and added to my beehive collection. Finding a nice hefty brass trash can for my bathroom was futile until I looked on eBay. I snagged a great one for $20!
This is a great country.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Check This Off my Bucket List!
We got back early Tuesday morning from our trip to Utah. We drove a car out for our daughter to use, and we flew back. We took four days to get there, and I got to go to one of my dream destinations: Laura Ingalls Wilder's home in Mansfield Missouri, the "Little House in the Ozarks."
I was a major Little House fan as a kid; that was before the television show, of which I was not a fan, because it varied so much from the books. When we drove to Minnesota in 1972 or '74, we stopped in DeSmet, South Dakota so I could see the Little Town on the Prairie. There was not much there. The caretaker of the home Laura and her family wintered over during their first year there was not too keen on leaving his dinner table to let me into the house, so I had to content myself with peering into the windows. The town was still little, though; probably much as it had been when Laura left.
The Mansfield home was where Laura lived as an adult and wrote her books. Almanzo, her husband, built the house, which is small and very modest by today's standards. Their daughter, Rose, built another state-of-the-art home on the property, and presented it to her parents for Christmas in 1928. They did not like living there and moved back into the original farmhouse in 1936.
It was interesting to see Laura's belongings. This woman never threw anything away, evidently. She even saved the handwritten invitation to her first party in DeSmet! Her clothes looked like they would fit me. Come to find out, she was only 4' 11" and Almanzo was my height: 5' 4".
This was a fascinating place and I am glad I went, but there was not as much to see as I had hoped. The little museum needs serious revamping of its exhibits. But Laura was an unassuming woman. I got the impression that she was thrifty, careful, and didn't want to boast her success in her home town.
We drove on through Denver and into Wyoming, reaching Salt Lake City on Tuesday, June 8th. It was fun to spend several days with family and friends, though I spent far more than I care to think about on cleaning supplies for my kids. I stripped floors in my son's house and replaced rotting sponges and burned-out bulbs in my daughter's apartment.
As far as my diet goes, I have not lost any weight during this entire month so far. I have fallen off the wagon again--but I must say that I have cut back a lot on fatty foods. I am still having trouble eating fewer carbs and sweets, but vacations do that to me. While I did better than usual this vacation, I still ate too many carbs and sweets. Back on the wagon again.
So, three pounds down and fifteen to go. I am going to put off my doctor's visit until after I see the oncologist in July. Let's see what I can do in one month more!
I was a major Little House fan as a kid; that was before the television show, of which I was not a fan, because it varied so much from the books. When we drove to Minnesota in 1972 or '74, we stopped in DeSmet, South Dakota so I could see the Little Town on the Prairie. There was not much there. The caretaker of the home Laura and her family wintered over during their first year there was not too keen on leaving his dinner table to let me into the house, so I had to content myself with peering into the windows. The town was still little, though; probably much as it had been when Laura left.
The Mansfield home was where Laura lived as an adult and wrote her books. Almanzo, her husband, built the house, which is small and very modest by today's standards. Their daughter, Rose, built another state-of-the-art home on the property, and presented it to her parents for Christmas in 1928. They did not like living there and moved back into the original farmhouse in 1936.
It was interesting to see Laura's belongings. This woman never threw anything away, evidently. She even saved the handwritten invitation to her first party in DeSmet! Her clothes looked like they would fit me. Come to find out, she was only 4' 11" and Almanzo was my height: 5' 4".
This was a fascinating place and I am glad I went, but there was not as much to see as I had hoped. The little museum needs serious revamping of its exhibits. But Laura was an unassuming woman. I got the impression that she was thrifty, careful, and didn't want to boast her success in her home town.
We drove on through Denver and into Wyoming, reaching Salt Lake City on Tuesday, June 8th. It was fun to spend several days with family and friends, though I spent far more than I care to think about on cleaning supplies for my kids. I stripped floors in my son's house and replaced rotting sponges and burned-out bulbs in my daughter's apartment.
As far as my diet goes, I have not lost any weight during this entire month so far. I have fallen off the wagon again--but I must say that I have cut back a lot on fatty foods. I am still having trouble eating fewer carbs and sweets, but vacations do that to me. While I did better than usual this vacation, I still ate too many carbs and sweets. Back on the wagon again.
So, three pounds down and fifteen to go. I am going to put off my doctor's visit until after I see the oncologist in July. Let's see what I can do in one month more!
Thursday, May 6, 2010
A New Era
So, I finally go in for a physical. Fasting blood test to check my thyroid levels and cholesterol. I have gained some weight, but everything was fine, except...
My triglycerides went from 98 to 166. Oops.
Although there is rampant heart disease on both sides of my family, I figured that since I exercise a lot and have low blood pressure, I was okay with eating just about anything I wanted.
Nope.
I don't want to go on cholesterol-lowering drugs, so I am changing my eating habits and will go back and get checked in another couple of months. I'm not taking any more meds! I take enough, what with the vitamins and the thyroid stuff. I'm kind of granola-hippie-ish when it comes to taking care of my body. I don't like artificial stuff and I don't believe in taking hormones or, really, anything that is not absolutely necessary. And I don't think cholesterol meds are necessary for me, if I am eating properly.
However, ever since I had cancer four years ago, I have been eating to comfort myself. I didn't feel particularly comforted by anyone or anything else, frankly, and I honestly didn't think I could give up the food. I felt like it was the only thing enjoyable in my life. Hence, I gained 14 pounds on top of the 4-6 I already had to lose. Enough to make me hate my body and feel uncomfortable. I just didn't know how to stop, though. And I didn't necessarily want to. The carbs and chocolate I ate too much of just really did it for me.
Well, not anymore. The party is over.
I found a new book in the library, Shrink Yourself by Gould. It's fantastic--it's a treatise on why we emotional eaters derive so much from eating. He takes the reader through exercises that teach how to solve problems without eating to stop the feeling. This is good for many areas of your life, not just times that prompt you to run to the chocolate. I found its insights extremely helpful and wish I had known these things 20 years ago!
It came together with a triumvirate: the higher cholesterol, and a woman I saw on a PBS fundraiser who advocated eight eating habits that will make you healthier and slimmer.
Drum roll please: after two weeks, I am down five pounds.
I am cautiously optimistic that I will get there this time. I really wanted to conquer the food addiction; while I am not grossly obese or anything, I want to be back into my size fours and sixes. I already exercise 4-5 times per week, and at some future time I was going to really knuckle down on my eating. Well, the future is now.
The eight habits (acronym DIET FREE): 1. Drink lots of water. 2. Include breakfast, and quit eating 3 hours before bedtime (I quit at 7 p.m. unless there's a party). 3. Eat fruit or vegetables first before snacking on something else. 4. Tame your sweet tooth with fruit. 5. Check the fat in everything you eat. 6. Real food--steer clear of processed foods. 7. Eat only until you are satisfied--not stuffed. 8. Exercise, preferably every day.
Now, I knew all these things; the trouble was putting them into practice. And The Four-Day Win by Martha Beck helps with this. She also has a very insightful way to help readers change their habits by baby steps, using her four-day plan. This book has been extremely helpful for me, too. She has the reader imagine two parts of herself: a wild child that is all impulsive emotion, and a strict Nazi-like authoritarian who is constantly trying to tame the wild child. Naturally, this internal war goes back and forth, and she suggests you try to take your real self out of it and imagine these two as tiny different individuals, who the real you simply wishes well. The imagery works!
What I do is avoid carbs and junk, eat lots more fruit and vegetables, and have a little chocolate (about 100 calories' worth) every day. I eat only a little dessert at parties, and I drink a lot of water. I usually keep the diet sodas, if I drink them at all, to one a day. I also eat dried apricots as a sweet treat.
The other thing I do is weigh myself every five days, concentrating on losing only one pound at a time. I figure 1 pound every five days is feasible for me, and so far, so good.
I will have a recap at the end of June--we will see what my weight and cholesterol have done by then!
My triglycerides went from 98 to 166. Oops.
Although there is rampant heart disease on both sides of my family, I figured that since I exercise a lot and have low blood pressure, I was okay with eating just about anything I wanted.
Nope.
I don't want to go on cholesterol-lowering drugs, so I am changing my eating habits and will go back and get checked in another couple of months. I'm not taking any more meds! I take enough, what with the vitamins and the thyroid stuff. I'm kind of granola-hippie-ish when it comes to taking care of my body. I don't like artificial stuff and I don't believe in taking hormones or, really, anything that is not absolutely necessary. And I don't think cholesterol meds are necessary for me, if I am eating properly.
However, ever since I had cancer four years ago, I have been eating to comfort myself. I didn't feel particularly comforted by anyone or anything else, frankly, and I honestly didn't think I could give up the food. I felt like it was the only thing enjoyable in my life. Hence, I gained 14 pounds on top of the 4-6 I already had to lose. Enough to make me hate my body and feel uncomfortable. I just didn't know how to stop, though. And I didn't necessarily want to. The carbs and chocolate I ate too much of just really did it for me.
Well, not anymore. The party is over.
I found a new book in the library, Shrink Yourself by Gould. It's fantastic--it's a treatise on why we emotional eaters derive so much from eating. He takes the reader through exercises that teach how to solve problems without eating to stop the feeling. This is good for many areas of your life, not just times that prompt you to run to the chocolate. I found its insights extremely helpful and wish I had known these things 20 years ago!
It came together with a triumvirate: the higher cholesterol, and a woman I saw on a PBS fundraiser who advocated eight eating habits that will make you healthier and slimmer.
Drum roll please: after two weeks, I am down five pounds.
I am cautiously optimistic that I will get there this time. I really wanted to conquer the food addiction; while I am not grossly obese or anything, I want to be back into my size fours and sixes. I already exercise 4-5 times per week, and at some future time I was going to really knuckle down on my eating. Well, the future is now.
The eight habits (acronym DIET FREE): 1. Drink lots of water. 2. Include breakfast, and quit eating 3 hours before bedtime (I quit at 7 p.m. unless there's a party). 3. Eat fruit or vegetables first before snacking on something else. 4. Tame your sweet tooth with fruit. 5. Check the fat in everything you eat. 6. Real food--steer clear of processed foods. 7. Eat only until you are satisfied--not stuffed. 8. Exercise, preferably every day.
Now, I knew all these things; the trouble was putting them into practice. And The Four-Day Win by Martha Beck helps with this. She also has a very insightful way to help readers change their habits by baby steps, using her four-day plan. This book has been extremely helpful for me, too. She has the reader imagine two parts of herself: a wild child that is all impulsive emotion, and a strict Nazi-like authoritarian who is constantly trying to tame the wild child. Naturally, this internal war goes back and forth, and she suggests you try to take your real self out of it and imagine these two as tiny different individuals, who the real you simply wishes well. The imagery works!
What I do is avoid carbs and junk, eat lots more fruit and vegetables, and have a little chocolate (about 100 calories' worth) every day. I eat only a little dessert at parties, and I drink a lot of water. I usually keep the diet sodas, if I drink them at all, to one a day. I also eat dried apricots as a sweet treat.
The other thing I do is weigh myself every five days, concentrating on losing only one pound at a time. I figure 1 pound every five days is feasible for me, and so far, so good.
I will have a recap at the end of June--we will see what my weight and cholesterol have done by then!
Monday, April 19, 2010
The Dustiest House in North America, Part II
I have put a dark hardwood floor into the dustiest house in North America.
The Swiffer was covered with pollen on Saturday when I used it. Eeuuww. However, I am glad that I can clean it up instead of it settling in and bugging me forever.
Actually, it's easier and faster to swiff than vacuum. Of course, I still have to vacuum the rugs and the stairs, and the dust shows up on the floor more so I have to do it more frequently, but I don't mind because it gets done so quickly. I have a thing about clean floors: when I do them, I feel like the whole house is clean.
In other news, I am in the middle of making bedding for my daughter-in-law, for whom I would do anything. I can prove this: I spent three hours just making the cording for said bedding. It will look great, though, and she has never had real custom bedding before, made out of decorator fabric which she has chosen. I hope she likes it!
The Swiffer was covered with pollen on Saturday when I used it. Eeuuww. However, I am glad that I can clean it up instead of it settling in and bugging me forever.
Actually, it's easier and faster to swiff than vacuum. Of course, I still have to vacuum the rugs and the stairs, and the dust shows up on the floor more so I have to do it more frequently, but I don't mind because it gets done so quickly. I have a thing about clean floors: when I do them, I feel like the whole house is clean.
In other news, I am in the middle of making bedding for my daughter-in-law, for whom I would do anything. I can prove this: I spent three hours just making the cording for said bedding. It will look great, though, and she has never had real custom bedding before, made out of decorator fabric which she has chosen. I hope she likes it!
Friday, March 5, 2010
It Never Gets Easier
Sigh.
My poor pristine little Volkswagen beetle just got bonked AGAIN. A guy with no insurance and no driver's license (his wallet had just been stolen, imagine!) backed into me in a parking lot. Fortunately, it's not bad. I can just imagine the look on the body shop guy's face when we bring it in AGAIN.
I ran into an old colleague from work at the grocery store and we spent about 45 minutes catching up. Her three older kids have all graduated from college--impressive!--and her youngest is at UVA. In the meantime, I am trying not to worry too much about mine, who are very close in age to hers. I love them so much, and I am so glad I have them, but I have learned that you never let go one hundred percent. Are they happy? Are they going to church? Do they have enough money?
Life certainly does not seem to get easier. The only answer is faith and prayer.
My poor pristine little Volkswagen beetle just got bonked AGAIN. A guy with no insurance and no driver's license (his wallet had just been stolen, imagine!) backed into me in a parking lot. Fortunately, it's not bad. I can just imagine the look on the body shop guy's face when we bring it in AGAIN.
I ran into an old colleague from work at the grocery store and we spent about 45 minutes catching up. Her three older kids have all graduated from college--impressive!--and her youngest is at UVA. In the meantime, I am trying not to worry too much about mine, who are very close in age to hers. I love them so much, and I am so glad I have them, but I have learned that you never let go one hundred percent. Are they happy? Are they going to church? Do they have enough money?
Life certainly does not seem to get easier. The only answer is faith and prayer.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Newsflash: It's Winter
Let's all sit down, take a deep breath, and get a grip.
It's February: we have had the winter solstice, and it's more than a month to the vernal equinox. That makes us officially in the winter season, when the temperature dips and the precipitation can freeze, creating what we all know as SNOW.
So why is everyone running around like chickens with their heads cut off, squealing about the snow?
Yes, I know that we have gotten the heaviest snowfall Washington DC has ever known. So what? We have hurricanes in the fall--that's a lot of rain. Notice the vegetation around here? Takes a lot of moisture to grow all that stuff. It's humid here--there's a lot of precipitation! And the winter temperatures make it into snow! And yes, sometimes there's more precipitation than others! So we get MORE SNOW.
Every network had people out in the snowfall yesterday--and reported on it all day long. Enough, already!
Miraculously, or maybe not, nobody has been killed! I have yet to hear of anyone's roof collapsing (private home, that is. Some commercial buildings have lost roofs).
So can we please just quit complaining and deal?
It's February: we have had the winter solstice, and it's more than a month to the vernal equinox. That makes us officially in the winter season, when the temperature dips and the precipitation can freeze, creating what we all know as SNOW.
So why is everyone running around like chickens with their heads cut off, squealing about the snow?
Yes, I know that we have gotten the heaviest snowfall Washington DC has ever known. So what? We have hurricanes in the fall--that's a lot of rain. Notice the vegetation around here? Takes a lot of moisture to grow all that stuff. It's humid here--there's a lot of precipitation! And the winter temperatures make it into snow! And yes, sometimes there's more precipitation than others! So we get MORE SNOW.
Every network had people out in the snowfall yesterday--and reported on it all day long. Enough, already!
Miraculously, or maybe not, nobody has been killed! I have yet to hear of anyone's roof collapsing (private home, that is. Some commercial buildings have lost roofs).
So can we please just quit complaining and deal?
Sunday, February 7, 2010
The Only Way Out is Through
Sometimes, you just have to slog through things before they get better. I have done this, and it has!
We got a new TV. It is fantastic. It's an HD widescreen, and the picture is unbelievable.
I got my article done on time, and the editor loved it.
Our car was fixed, and the color matches perfectly.
The flooring project is going well-except that we have some wood rotting in the floor of the dining room, and will have to replace the french doors there as well. But I love my new floor!
My daughter seems to have had a wake-up call since she did so poorly in school last semester. Let's hope she does better this one.
I had my mammogram and appointment with the surgeon. I am fine. Hurray!
It is true that time heals many wounds, and solves many problems.
We got a new TV. It is fantastic. It's an HD widescreen, and the picture is unbelievable.
I got my article done on time, and the editor loved it.
Our car was fixed, and the color matches perfectly.
The flooring project is going well-except that we have some wood rotting in the floor of the dining room, and will have to replace the french doors there as well. But I love my new floor!
My daughter seems to have had a wake-up call since she did so poorly in school last semester. Let's hope she does better this one.
I had my mammogram and appointment with the surgeon. I am fine. Hurray!
It is true that time heals many wounds, and solves many problems.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Sometimes, Even a Well-Lived Life Sucks
My head is about to explode.
I have been inundated with an avalanche of niggling little problems so far this year that have added up to a lot of stress. I don't deal well with stress anyway; I get headaches and neck aches and want to cry all the time. So it goes.
We started a project back in September--hardwood flooring in our living room, hallway, office and dining room. We ordered the wood and were told that it would not get in until December. Surprise! It arrived in October. We planned on starting the project by ripping out the old flooring in the living room at the end of the month. That plan went awry when I had to go to Utah for a couple of weeks because my mom was dying. When I returned, we opened boxes--and guess what, the trims didn't match the flooring. Back we went to the store. We ordered new trims. They didn't match either. Then the salesman told us we could have the trims custom-matched! Why didn't he tell us that in the first place?
Those finally came in around the 4th of January. We ripped out the living room floor and began. Funny, though: the boards in the boxes of flooring were only about 1-3 feet long, with the majority about 2 feet. What's the deal? I asked at the store. The salesman looked it up, and oh, this is the norm for this flooring. I had originally been told that it was as long as 6 feet. So we are negotiating what to do with the store. Grr!
My house is a chaotic mess due to having ripped out the living-room floor. This makes me feel antsy.
Last week, my bedroom TV died. It started smelling as though it was burning up. I unplugged it, and, indeed, my husband pronounced the end of its life and threw it in the garbage. We've had it since my mother-in-law sold her house in 1989; it was made in 1982. I felt like we should have a funeral for it! I miss it. I want a new one.
I have an article due at the end of the month. I have not been having much success getting interviews with the people I need to talk to. Aaaargh!
One of my co-workers lost her job for not making sales goals--a wonderful woman with whom I have worked for nine years. She did nothing wrong! Things are totally stressful at work. I have had my schedule changed and I am working a lot more, just when I need some time off. Who's next?
My back has been hurting since early November.
I am worried about my kids. And I am going to have to pay the full out-of-state tuition for my daughter, who did not do well last semester and will not get her loan this one. She is trying to establish residency and this is not going well.
Someone hit our fairly new car in the church parking lot on Sunday. It's not badly damaged, but this will probably mean that the fender and bumper will not perfectly match the rest of the car. I hate that.
I had an upsetting phone call with my dad on Sunday night. Though it was not my fault and I did nothing wrong, I feel my dad is mad at me. I am still coming to grips with my mother's death.
I need to make doctors' appointments for a mammogram, my sinuses, a physical, and with my surgeon for a follow-up. I also need to find a new opthalmologist and see the dentist.
We got a new computer and being relatively tech-illiterate, I am having a hard time transitioning between the old one and the new one. (Yes, this stresses me out!)
Yesterday I took a cashmere sweater from the dry-cleaning wrapping and put it on, to discover a hole in the left arm.
But, as a wise friend says, nobody's sick or in jail. Guess I should be grateful, huh?
Gosh, this year has got to get better, right? Calgon, take me away!
I have been inundated with an avalanche of niggling little problems so far this year that have added up to a lot of stress. I don't deal well with stress anyway; I get headaches and neck aches and want to cry all the time. So it goes.
We started a project back in September--hardwood flooring in our living room, hallway, office and dining room. We ordered the wood and were told that it would not get in until December. Surprise! It arrived in October. We planned on starting the project by ripping out the old flooring in the living room at the end of the month. That plan went awry when I had to go to Utah for a couple of weeks because my mom was dying. When I returned, we opened boxes--and guess what, the trims didn't match the flooring. Back we went to the store. We ordered new trims. They didn't match either. Then the salesman told us we could have the trims custom-matched! Why didn't he tell us that in the first place?
Those finally came in around the 4th of January. We ripped out the living room floor and began. Funny, though: the boards in the boxes of flooring were only about 1-3 feet long, with the majority about 2 feet. What's the deal? I asked at the store. The salesman looked it up, and oh, this is the norm for this flooring. I had originally been told that it was as long as 6 feet. So we are negotiating what to do with the store. Grr!
My house is a chaotic mess due to having ripped out the living-room floor. This makes me feel antsy.
Last week, my bedroom TV died. It started smelling as though it was burning up. I unplugged it, and, indeed, my husband pronounced the end of its life and threw it in the garbage. We've had it since my mother-in-law sold her house in 1989; it was made in 1982. I felt like we should have a funeral for it! I miss it. I want a new one.
I have an article due at the end of the month. I have not been having much success getting interviews with the people I need to talk to. Aaaargh!
One of my co-workers lost her job for not making sales goals--a wonderful woman with whom I have worked for nine years. She did nothing wrong! Things are totally stressful at work. I have had my schedule changed and I am working a lot more, just when I need some time off. Who's next?
My back has been hurting since early November.
I am worried about my kids. And I am going to have to pay the full out-of-state tuition for my daughter, who did not do well last semester and will not get her loan this one. She is trying to establish residency and this is not going well.
Someone hit our fairly new car in the church parking lot on Sunday. It's not badly damaged, but this will probably mean that the fender and bumper will not perfectly match the rest of the car. I hate that.
I had an upsetting phone call with my dad on Sunday night. Though it was not my fault and I did nothing wrong, I feel my dad is mad at me. I am still coming to grips with my mother's death.
I need to make doctors' appointments for a mammogram, my sinuses, a physical, and with my surgeon for a follow-up. I also need to find a new opthalmologist and see the dentist.
We got a new computer and being relatively tech-illiterate, I am having a hard time transitioning between the old one and the new one. (Yes, this stresses me out!)
Yesterday I took a cashmere sweater from the dry-cleaning wrapping and put it on, to discover a hole in the left arm.
But, as a wise friend says, nobody's sick or in jail. Guess I should be grateful, huh?
Gosh, this year has got to get better, right? Calgon, take me away!
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