"Spark of Madness": On Losing Robin Williams

I don't remember the first time I saw him.  It might have been on Mork and Mindy--I was born in 1977, after all.  But I cannot remember a time when I didn't love him.  It probably started with Popeye, which, incidentally I forced Emily to watch today.  Pretty sure my viewing trajectory followed with Good Morning, Vietnam, Dead Poets Society, Awakenings, Aladdin, Mrs. Doubtfire, Nine Months, and The Birdcage, (Jumanji, while released at this time I did not see until many years later).  That takes me through high school.  And, in addition to that, I remember his involvement in Comic Relief with Whoopi Goldberg and Billy Crystal.  I'm sure he was on SNL a few times when I used to watch it live, as well.

So, on August 11th, at about 4pm, when my friend informed me that "Robin Williams is dead," I told him to "shut the f*** up."  When he lifted his iPad and showed me the news story, I said, "Get the f*** out of here.  How did he die?"  When he said, "It looks like he killed himself," I physically assaulted him.  At which time he took me in his arms and said, "It's not your fault."  I acknowledged the joke and said, "I know, I just can't believe that."  To which he responded (of course); "It's not your fault."

On the point of his suicide, I have only a serious and, perhaps, unanswerable question: Why at age 63, when you've gone through God knows how many counseling sessions and 12-step programs, would you hang yourself?  Doesn't it seem like a thing to do three decades earlier when you don't have nearly the scope and perspective of someone who has been struggling with addiction and depression his whole  life?

Meanwhile, let's resume his "dramatic" career, which if I may say, was part of his best work: Good Will Hunting, What Dreams May Come, Patch Adams (the REAL guy this movie was based on was a freak--Robin Williams turned him into a hero), Jakob the Liar (never saw), Bicentennial Man (never saw), Artificial Intelligence (never saw), One Hour Photo, Death to Smoochy, Insomnia.  I mean, seriously, at this point, none of us knew who "Robin Williams" was anymore, right?  BUT, they were good movies, nonetheless.

Then, he went on to make about 20,000 other movies you may or may not have seen.  My favorites happen to be DPS, Awakenings, Aladdin, The Birdcage, and Good Will Hunting.  The thing is, Robin Williams was exactly what you wanted him to be.  When you needed a clown, he was a clown.  When you needed a humanitarian, he was a humanitarian.  When you needed a freak, he was a freak.  He was that worst and best part of all of us, and we are all eternally grateful to him for that.

RIP Robin Williams.  We ALL loved you.

Whatever It Takes: One Woman's (Albeit Skittish) Commitment to Achieve Pre-Baby Weight, So Help Me God.

**NOTE** 

Due to the extended nature of this project, this blog is fashioned to read with the most current material first and follow chronologically backward--both for whatever readers would ever be interested in such a thing, and for me--as to not have to scroll down forever to update.

COVID REBOOT--DAY 4 (4/29/20)
163.2
A little bit of movement in the right direction is a good thing.  Finally, after 5-6 weeks of the "Shelter in Place" order (which I've come to affectionately refer to as "quarantine"), I stopped eating every stray carb I brushed off of another carb I was eating.  Perhaps it's the Zoom prayer groups I'm regularly attending--and the amazing fellowship therein--but I feel less compelled to eat my feelings these days.  I replaced grilled cheese sandwich crusts, myriad pasta shapes, ice cream, and cookies we bake every week with salad and fruit mostly.  I have also been religiously faithful in walking at least a few miles every day.  It's become as necessary as breathing air.
If I could start drinking water with any regularity, you might not recognize me ;-)

I'd like to think the drop of two pounds in three days is somewhat attributable to mindful choices about food and movement.   Deliberate actions I am taking to move toward a life I want to be living.

As God would have it, this day didn't end as well as it started -- and I dove into a plate of chocolate chip cookies my kids forced me to bake tonight.  Ok, I ate three.  It could be worse.  But then I ate Nestle Crunch ice cream.  And a piece of pizza.  I might "forget" to check my scale in the morning.

Tomorrow is another day.


COVID-19, SHELTER-IN-PLACE, DISTANCE LEARNING and COMFORT EATING (4/26/20)
165.0 (30 pounds to lose--25 would be just fine)
Hmmm, so, I'm in-process of writing a blog about the experience of living through a global pandemic (God willing!) and it occurred to me that this doesn't have to be a time of reckless self-indulgence just because I can only be seen through a small square on a Zoom screen.

By now, you know my capacity for ravenous consumption of processed sugar and carbs.  Well, that stops today.  Also, my "exercise" (should we really be so bold as to call it that) amounts to a 3-mile leisurely stroll with my dog once a day.  It's time to ramp that up as well.  Ugh :-)

Food Intake

Physical Exertion

POST-CHRISTMAS POST (NEARLY ONE YEAR LATER)
160-ish (not willing to get on a scale--but the last time I did, it was juuuuust below this) 
I could sum up by behavior over the last couple of months in four words: junk food vacuum cleaner.  While I have been running pretty faithfully every Tuesday and Thursday (about 3-4 miles each run), it has not been nearly enough exercise to battle the toxic waste dump I've allowed my gastrointestinal system to become lately.
I clearly do not have the self-discipline for a low-carb diet (the only thing that ever really works, mind you) and I DEFINITELY do not have the drive to increase my physical activity.  Soooo, we'll test out my former personal trainer's philosophy on food intake: "Breakfast like a queen; lunch like a princess; dinner like a pauper."
I also attribute some of my weight gain to losing my last Fitbit to a watery death in my washing machine.  Not having the wearable reminder of my sloth has probably had implications.

Food Intake
Starbucks toffee nut latte (grande) --another addiction!
Bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats
Super Veggie Baby Burrito & chips
Kettle Corn and pieces of kids candy (Pitch Perfect 3)
Pretty sure I had a piece of left over pizza at some point during the day as well.
See!-->GARBAGE DUMP

THE RARE "LEAP" DAY (2/29/16)
150.2

Humph.  So it goes.  You start drinking water and eating food again and the pounds pile back on like football players claiming a fumbled ball.  Ok--so the final 10.2 lbs it is.

Food Intake
Not much, except toffee nut lattes from Starbucks (two, to be exact).
And then whatever the heck I could get my hands on when I returned home from work.
Then dinner.

Physical Exertion
Pretty typical work day with no effort to work out or do walking errands.  Did manage, however, to accrue 11K steps on the Fitbit today.  Not the worst start to my Workweek Hustle challenge :-P


DAY BLAH BE DE BLAH (2/21/16):
147.3
Now we're getting somewhere!! 15 lbs lost since returning from Malta in August--and nearly a mere 7.3 lbs away from "pre-baby weight."  What accounts for this victory, you ask?  Treating my body like a punching bag during a Mom's Night Out last night helped a little because my body, in furious revolt, decided to expel anything not nailed down in there.  And the revolution rages on today.  This number won't stick--it's merely due to empty stomach and dehydration, BUT it was nice to see it, however fleeting it may be.  However--the more accurate number is 150--the 10 lbs I HAVE truly lost are entirely due to a reduction of calorie intake.  The more I experiment with these weight-loss endeavors, the more I realize the truth behind the adage (that doesn't really exist) that it's 90% food intake, 10% exercise.

DAY SEVENTEEN.2 (10/10/15):
153.4
Haven't seen this number in a long time.  The majority of the credit goes to my severely reduced appetite at work.  Busy like a bee and not devoting time to eating in order to get work done.  Hey--whatever works.

Food Intake:
Seared ahi salad and diet coke at BJ's (took the kids for lunch after Emmy's soccer game).  Okay, and if I'm being honest, we can add a few fried mozzarella sticks and some shoestring french fries off the kids' plates.  Damn it.

Physical Exertion:
Running around soccer game, cheering (in part), but mainly trying to keep warm.  It was flippin' freezing for the 8:30am game today.  Only 4669 steps on the Fitbit so far today.  Gotta get moving if I'm going to match my 22K tally yesterday!

DAY ONE.2 (9/24/15):
Can't count days because it's more than a year later.  Can only BEGIN AGAIN!  Story of my life.
156.1
Last time I stepped on a scale (earlier in the week!) I was at 161--so this is a pretty significant drop given the time frame.  Admittedly, I've traded in the wine for vodka and Pellegrino with Crystal Light flavoring.  Unlike my last "commitment" blog--this is merely to do with weight loss.  We'll focus on wellness later.  Be patient.
Leaving tonight for a 20-year high school reunion and funeral across the country, and will make greatest effort to be physically active (walks, playground time--maybe even waterskiing if I get a wild hair).

Food Intake:
Today, nothing so far (6:18pm)--again--wellness is not our goal.  The lack of food today has nothing to do with an effort to not eat, but being so consumed with things at work that I forgot.  But it will probably help the scale number tomorrow to an extent.

Physical Exertion:
So, far I've registered nearly 9500 steps on the Fitbit--just over half of my daily goal (15K).  I'm sure mental and emotional exertion count for some calorie usage--right?

*********************************************************************************
DAY TWENTY-THREE (8/27/14):
156.0
Alright--feelin' some progress.  My problem is that I'm limiting my food intake so much during the day that by the time I get home in the afternoon I'm starving.  Like, to the point that I can excuse nearly any food item--certainly red wine, left over tortellini from the childrens' dinner, and a spoonful or two of chocolate ice cream seem utterly deserved after the breakfast of Light & Fit greek yogurt and the Kind bar I ate at lunch.  However, as most people know, the later one eats, the less chance of burning the calories and the greater chance of increased fat storage and cholesterol.

Food Intake:
black coffee
banana
Dannon Light & Fit Greek Vanilla Yogurt
3/4 cup of Cracklin' Oat Bran cereal mixed in with the yogurt
Kind bar (dark chocolate & almond)
a LOT of eggsalad
1/2 avocado
a couple of pieces of watermelon

Physical Exertion:
I registered 13K+ steps on my Fitbit, but I think I register a few steps while I'm driving to and from work that shouldn't be there, but I did go on a decent walk in the evening with Joey in the stroller.  This level of physical "exertion," however, is by no means enough to offset the caloric intake, however reduced it may be.


DAY THIRTEEN (8/17/14):
159.0
Still movin' in the right direction--after that circus and birthday party debacle, who could deny the goddess of dieting is on my side?

Food Intake:
Greek omelette, english muffin, and black coffee at Baywatch Cafe
2 slices of pizza at Pump It Up (4-year-old birthday party, I swear)
A smidgen of birthday cake that I was primarily feeding my 15 month old
Afternoon snack of 1/2 cup sugar snap peas, 5 cherry tomatoes, and 2 tbsp of hummus
Trader Joe's Mozzarella and Tomato Salad for dinner
more wine

Physical Exertion:
This would have been unspeakably greater had my son not slept through the birthday party at Pump It Up.  He woke up just in time for pizza and cake, though.  Of course.
I did manage a 30-minute elliptical work out afterward (3 miles, 350 cals) and a walk to and from Burlingame--a grand total of 20K+ steps registered on the Fitbit today.  Doin' alright.


DAY TWELVE (8/16/14):
159.1
It has taken two weeks to see some scale movement in the right direction, and, to be fair, I was pretty much eating whatever I wanted for the first 8 days or so of this endeavor.  Knowing, as I do, that food intake is pretty much everything when it comes to weight loss, I finally have taken some proactive steps to curb my eating and maximize the food calories I am taking in (so I can drink a glass of red wine or two).  I'm also drinking vastly more water.  The Fitbit is great in this capacity, as it allows me to log my food (with substantial ease) and my water intake as well.  The big challenge today will be taking Emily to the circus and avoiding the food, while allowing Emily to eat fun things like cotton candy and popcorn.

Food Intake:
black coffee
1 scrambled egg
1 slice of bacon
1 container of Dannon Light & Fit; Fit Greek Vanilla yogurt
(breakfast totalling a mere 185 calories)

Okay, here's where things get sad.  Let's just say, I have no will power and leave it at that.
Circus
3/4 of "Em's" chicken tenders and fries
glass of merlot
7/8 of "Em's" cotton candy
Relative's 40th b-day party (catered by Armadillo Willy's for Christmas' sake)
An entire corn bread muffin with that scrumptious cinnamon butter
baked beans
avocado and corn salad
and more wine

Physical Exertion: 
a small walk to downtown San Mateo to buy paper towels.  Just cleared 10,000 steps on the fitbit today.

DAY THREE (8/7/14):
162.1
This is why my friends insist, "Don't weigh yourself every day!"  To which I am forced to respond that for better or worse, I have to continue to heed the scale.  I'm not an idiot.  I know the demoralizing potential of getting too wrapped up in what the silly electronic contraption is reporting, but if I take my focus off the scale, then I stop caring about the whole enterprise.  It's just another motivator, especially when the number continues to climb in these early days.  The bastard.

Food Intake:
Left over chicken tenders (2)
packet of Buddig Beef
string cheese
two wedges of canteloupe
2 handfuls of Cracklin' Oat Bran
black coffee (as if it matters after that breakfast!!)
Thus, I've allowed myself about 400 calories for the rest of the day.  It's 10:00am.

Physical Exertion:
6-mile WALK (lest I break my knee cap this time--I think it's best we build back up to the running gradually).
The good news is that the Fitbit replacement tracker I ordered yesterday arrived this morning!!  I have another "assistant" in my endeavors.  My daily step count today totaled over 25,000 steps :-)


DAY TWO (8/6/14):
161.6--while on the surface this would appear to be progress, I believe I weighed in yesterday morning at the same time at 161.1, so I am actually up .5 lbs from the same time yesterday morning.  I blame myself, of course, for my "self pity" calorie intake that occurred post exercise-attempt injury.  I start this morning with black coffee (blech!) and figure we'll make it a fasting day to renew this project.  Any religious exercise includes fasting and prayer--both of which seem necessary and appropriate today.

Food Intake:
I successfully fasted until about 1:30, having only consumed black coffee.  While my son was napping, I broke the fast with two handfuls of salted almonds.  Once my son awoke from his nap, I snacked with him vacuuming 2 slices of colby jack cheese, 1 slice of provolone, a slice of avocado, and 1/3 of a delicious plum.
I finished the evening with six boneless buffalo chicken nuggets (thank you, Safeway) and two glasses of chardonnay.  Humph.
I've never been a good faster--one reason anorexia was never a possible solution for me in high school when so many of my female friends and acquaintances were abstaining from food for weight loss/maintenance reasons.  Instead, I need a diet like Paleo or Atkins or South Beach that says, "Go ahead--eat however much you want, but only of THESE specific items!!"

Physical Exertion:
4.5 mile walk with the stroller
playing "sports" in the backyard with Joey

DAY ONE (8/5/14):

162.2 (after breakfast and a doctor appointment that solidified this project)

Tuesdays are a weird day to start any sort of commitment, but if I put it off another week, I might have five more pounds to add to the "drop" amount.

Pre-Doctor Appointment Food Intake:

pita chips and black bean hummus (breakfast of champions!)

bowl of Cracklin' Oat Bran with 2% milk

coffee with fat free hazelnut creamer

plum

Post-Doctor Appointment Food Intake:
pita chips and basil and sundried tomato hummus (damn that stuff!)
kettle corn
chocolate velvet cupcake
wine
(see note about "Physical Exertion" below, please)

Physical Exertion:

So, this is interesting.  About 6 steps into my run at the Sawyer Camp Trail this afternoon, my knee buckled and I fell to the ground with the full force of 162.2 pounds.  I landed predominantly on my left hand and my left knee (not sure why).

My knee was shielded with running pants, but still slammed against the concrete in a way that led me to   believe I might not be able to complete the 6-mile run I'd intended.  So what did I do?  I looked to my right to see a woman sitting on a bench pretending not to have seen a thing.  I looked directly ahead and read a woman's lips (I still had my headphones blaring): "Are you okay?"  "Yep," I said and put my ghastly hand up to show her all was hunky dory.  Then I drove home, poured myself a glass of cabernet to mute the pain, ate things I knew I would be giving up in the months to come, and watched an episode of Masters of Sex.  I'll start this mutha tomorrow.

INITIAL RATIONALE:
I was a skinny kid.  And by skinny, I mean my knees were about twice the circumference of my thighs.   The kind of skinny where a pre-pubescent girl wears bathing suits with no self-conscious thought whatsoever.  The kind of skinny where this same girl wears the shortest shorts imaginable because it's the Eighties and she hasn't gotten new hand-me-downs from her older sister in over a year.  This thinness was, in part, due to genetics--my grandparents, my parents, all four of my siblings and most of my cousins shared the same body type.  It was also due to the fact that my Dad exhibited a food phobia that trickled down through my older siblings to me and my younger brothers.  The extremists in the family feared any food that contained the slightest hue of green or brown.  I was named "Piglet" in my infancy because of my deviant ability to consume fruits and vegetables with which my older siblings and my father would not share the same room space.  My food aversions mainly centered on any food I could not readily identify.  Soups or casseroles that had myriad ingredients were summarily avoided, for instance.  I recall my best friend's mother fearing I would starve to death on her watch when I would politely, but consistently refuse any food she tried to serve me.  So, again, I was a skinny kid.

My body shape changed around age 16 when honest-to-god puberty raged and the "experimenting," or, as some call it, "alcoholic" behavior set in.  I hauled aboard dozens of pounds with every case of Milwaukee's Best and case of midnight munchies that so often plagues teenagers like the one I was.  Because of my height (5'9'', and thank God for it!) and Dunnington good looks, I still managed to feel "pretty," despite my size 12.  By the time summer ended before my junior year of college, I was weighing in at 180 and wearing a size 14.  I distinctly remember returning to school and my best friend gasping before she could help herself, "Oh my God, what did you do to yourself?!"  I told her, quite candidly, I spend the summer working at Applebee's, in the kitchen, picking off the line all day, and avoiding exercise entirely.  How could I be to blame under those circumstances?

By the next summer, I was nearly back down to fighting weight--about 145--just from walking to class several times a day, and not working the line in the Applebee's kitchen.

If we fast forward 10 years (yes, thank you!), we would find me at 145 in my first trimester of pregnancy with Emily.  At that point, I was up about 7 pounds from the day I was married roughly 6 months before (4/18/2009).  In this pregnancy I would gain 40 pounds--15 more than my obstetrician wanted me to.  After a rigorous commitment to "breast is best," I shed 30 pounds quickly in the first few postpartum months--giving me ten extra pounds clinging for dear life when I embarked on my second pregnancy journey two years later.  I only gained 30 pounds with Joey, but only lost 20 in the postpartum months.

So, here we go, those of you out there who for some reason or another are still wading through this post!

In a similar fashion to my earlier post about a wellness commitment--I will be logging my progress herein until I have achieved 135-140 pound range.  While my first wellness kick had more to do with generally being "well," this journey has ONLY to do with physical fitness--thinness, if we're really being honest.  If I do not proceed publicly, this enterprise will fall flat on its round cheeks with the full force of 162.2 pounds behind it.  Let's commence, shall we:

Ahab's Daughter: On Detesting Pet Fish

Moby Dick seeks thee not. It is thou, thou, that madly seekest him! --Herman Melville

When my husband suggested buying a fish aquarium for my daughter's fourth birthday this year, I probably rolled my eyes.  Having never had them as a child because my family subscribed to the philosophy of owning pets with which you can actually interact, I have never understood why anyone would want to own fish.  Moreover, while aquariums may provide some scenery in the doctor's office waiting room, it always strikes me as sad.  I actually feel sorry for the fish, evolved to exist in a vast ocean, river, or lake, confined to a few square inches of space with immutable scenery and food.

Let's talk about the food.  We have owned three fish now in the span of two months.  One has survived.  According to the pet store merchants (aka: aquarium life experts), we are "overfeeding" the poor things.  Of course we are.  How does one interact with a fish?  You feed it.  That's it.  That's all there is.  Flounder, our lone survivor, must be the piscine equivalent of the orchid--a virtually indestructible houseplant (although, I have been known to kill the latter).  As a result, the name "Flounder" will necessarily live on in our household as a ubiquitous symbol for that which perseveres against the odds and certain death--in short, that which cannot be destroyed: as in, "Emily really pulled a Flounder passing that test she didn't study for."  

I've secretly wondered if Flounder is not somehow responsible for the death of his fallen comrades.

We are waiting to set Flounder up with another victim, errr companion, until we feel more secure about our ability to feed fish without lethal consequences.  At this point Emily is reluctant to get attached.  She doesn't even want to name the new fish anymore after her first, Purple Rainbow (a yellow and white fish, of course), passed into that Big Ocean in the Sky.  After Purple Rainbow came Mickey--perhaps more reasonably named for the black marking on his tail that exactly resembled a Mickey Mouse head silhouette.  I had such high hopes for Mickey.  He/she (who the hell knows!) actually came to meet me when I looked in to check the survival rate.  He/she seemed so hearty and active.  The creature, whose gender we will never know (another flaw of the fish pet, I firmly believe), was, it turned out, just days away from a slow death of food-induced toxicity.  Not a pretty way to go.

I suppose there are (yet undiscovered) rewards to owning fish--a satisfaction akin to seeing a houseplant thrive, maybe.  But, really, at best, the payout seems to be the feeling of not killing something.  A mediocre "reward," methinks.  When the house pet becomes an activity in checking for signs of life, maybe it's time to consider the effects on the children.  It may, in fact, be time for a kitten.  A cat at least lets you know it can't stand you, and there's some recompense in that kind of certainty.

Baby Daze: Back in the Saddle of Infant Tyranny

A baby is an inestimable blessing and bother.  --Mark Twain

Ask my three-year-old what babies do and she will respond with some varied order of, "They eat.  And they sleep.  And they poop.  And they cry." It's such a simple life plan that anyone should wonder what could be so difficult about newborn care?  At five weeks postpartum with my second child, I'm submerged in the absolute rule of a tiny, helpless being--an experience that so easily and utterly faded from memory after my older child's infancy melted into toddlerhood.  Overall, I would say this second trip to the circus has been much easier--in that my husband and I are not bat shit crazy over every hiccough, sneeze, and gas pain cry.  There is, however, an attention demanded that is completely exhausting and that, if I'm being completely honest, sometimes invites the question, "Why did I want to have another child again?" 

"Breast is Best," They Say . . .

Breasts are a scandal because they shatter the border between motherhood and sexuality.  --Iris Marion Young

Let's just begin with the breastfeeding.  This mission, should you choose to accept it, enslaves you to the time frame of a teeny gastrointestinal system.  Every 2-3 hours, and at times more often, the baby needs to be fed.  There are women out there who have mastered the art of public breast feeding.  I am not one of those women.  The thought of being caught in public and having to feed my child is so unappealing to me that I will, at all costs, make sure it does not happen.  I remember a couple of wretched occasions wherein I had to nurse my firstborn in the car.  This time, I have planned my outings and ignored a screaming infant in order to be able to nurse in the privacy of my home.  To those women who can throw a blanket over their hungry baby and proclaim to the world "To hell with it," I salute you!  You make me and those around you uncomfortable, but I salute you nonetheless.

Sleep No More

The best cure for insomnia is to get a lot of sleep.  --W.C Fields

I have a theory that the true reason for Lady Macbeth's insomnia (and subconscious fascination with milk) was a restless infant that Shakespeare forgot to tell us about.  The decision to nurse also means a decision to be sleep deprived.  No one can feed your child in the middle of the night for you.  This is not to say that midnight and early morning feedings are not disruptive to my husband's sleep--I'm sure they are--but it's not nearly the same level of disruption, right?  It's the difference between being aware of the screaming child at the back of an airplane and actually having that child sitting on your lap.  I'll admit it--I LOVE to sleep.  It's one of my favorite things to do.  At present my rest is broken with 3am and 5am feedings--motivated only with necessity and made bearable with I Love Lucy and The Golden Girls reruns.  And while "sleep while the baby sleeps" may be words of wisdom to help someone avoid the insanity of sleep deprivation--I don't know how anyone with an older child or house to run can actually follow this advice.  Therefore, mom's increasingly nutty, but the bills are paid and laundry smells great!

**I will mention here that in neither of the two areas above have I ever garnered sympathy from my parents (who, incidentally, had FIVE children over the span of 11 years).  On a visit to Virginia during my oldest child's infancy I remember my mother, after a pronounced "Ugh," asking "How long are you going to do this [read: breastfeeding nonsense]?"  Evidently, she was tiring of the backward planning required when adhering to a command feeding schedule.  On the second point, I recall her saying around the same time, "Well, you kids either never cried in the middle of the night, or we never heard you."  God bless the stock of previous generations.

There Will Be Poop

Politicians and diapers should be changed frequently, and for the same reason.  --Eca de Queiros

Having successfully potty trained my daughter months ago, I did not begrudge the loss of diapers.  The infant tyranny emerges in this area for a few reasons, but not the least of which is the dreaded diaper rash!  Along with hunger and gas, this affliction must be in the top five reasons why babies cry--so, the call to change the diaper is frequent.  To all those moms out there (there must be a few of you!) who choose to diaper your child with cloth, I again salute you and your efforts to save this planet as I simultaneously counteract your benevolence with every 50-pack of disposable diapers I burn through.  I realized with some horror yesterday that we had ONE diaper left in the house.  To feed, dress, change, and load up the baby in time to drive to a store and buy another pack before he needed to be changed again was not within the realm of possibility, so I enlisted the help of my angelic mother-in-law who ran to Walgreens for me :-)  Thus, the tyranny extends itself beyond this kingdom and into the universe at large.

Cry Me a River

I don't know why they say "You have a baby."  The baby has you. --Gallagher

They say "Misery loves company."  Well, being an infant cannot be easy.  Let's just take the journey out of the womb, for starters.  You leave a place that's warm, dark, cozy and quiet.  A place where you float in euphoric dependence--where all of your needs are met without the slightest bit of effort.  You enter into a place that's freezing cold, blindingly bright, horrifyingly open, and disastrously loud.  And if you've been born vaginally, all of this has been achieved only after you've banged your head a few hundred times against a wall and then squeezed out of a hole one-tenth the size of your body.  All of a sudden your body has to WORK.  Your lungs have to breathe (ouch!), your esophagus has to swallow (choke), your bowels have to move (arrrgh).  You'd cry your ass off!

     There's something unignorable about the infant's cry--and this is clearly to secure survival.  It is the only  tactic the infant has in this new abominable world.  One of the weirdest jokes God played on man was to give him an utterly helpless, constantly dependent being and deprive the latter of any clearer form of communication than the ability to cry.  Babies cry because they're hungry, too full, tired, bored, overstimulated, gassy, too hot, too cold, itchy, malpositioned, irritated by clothing, naked, dirty, being washed--really for any possible state of human condition that does not directly mirror life in the womb.  The fun part is the guessing game for the caretaker who believes it is his or her obligation to stop the crying once it has commenced.  And it's in the time and energy devoted to this quest for serenity that an infant's tyranny has the most sway.  In my experience, nothing gets done as long as the baby is crying.  My poor daughter has ill-timed some personal need of hers when the baby is screaming for one reason or another and has met with, "I can't help you until I get the baby settled down."  In her infinite patience, she will slink off to either develop her skills of self-reliance, or wait until the hissy fit has abated.  In truth, I'm not sure I could, over a lifetime of instruction, ever cultivate in her the quality of patience that a month-old infant can foster in a couple of weeks.  She, like I, has absolutely no say in the matter.

So, we will continue to press on under the rule of the tiny dictator.  As he becomes more accustomed to this world, his power will weaken.  He will begin to socialize himself with smiles and coos, and this is truly the beginning of the end for him--as his authority will slowly but surely yield to social conformity.

     

To Cheat or Not To Cheat?: Disney Doesn't Care

So, I'm trapped in my house on a pretty day grading mildly horrible analytical essays on Frankenstein that, yes, I brought on myself.  Emily's Disney Channel cartoons from the morning have evolved from the preschool, educational shows that I can actually tolerate (Jake and the Neverland Pirates, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, and Doc McStuffins) to the slightly older target audience of "Good Luck Charlie."  Although these shows focus on high school life, no teenager actually watches them--they truly are meant for kids in 2nd or 3rd grade at the oldest.  

I was able to ignore the show for the majority of the 30 minutes it wastes as mere "background noise," until the very end when a panicked boy asked his mother to assess a dress he made for his (art?) class.  The dress, comically enough, was made from candy wrappers and ribbons and construction paper--yet functionally wearable by the four-year-old model he used to help him construct it.  The next scene shows the boy in a classroom with his teacher (poised with her gradebook and pen in hand, ready to assess his project).  He shows off a cute, sleeveless sundress while he narrates how the young girl wearing it will be both free to move and dance while adhering to the highest fashion trends of the top (pre-pubescent?) divas.

The teacher, clearly impressed, discusses the fine attributes of the dress--the "clean lines," "excellent fabric choice," and "elegant design" of the pattern.  At this moment, he picks up the girl model and the teacher notices a price tag sticking out of the back of the dress.  "Is that a price tag?" she asks.  He admits that, yes, it is a dress he bought rather than made himself.  The teacher sighs and scribbles in her gradebook while announcing, "Alright . . . B minus!"  
"Really?" he emits, incredulously, "because buying is a creative way to solve the problem?"
"No," she retorts, "because this is your third time in my class.  We're DONE." (insert laugh track)

So, here's my problem.  Before these viewers even come close to entering an academic environment in which they will be significantly challenged to think for themselves, to fail multiple times before succeeding, to exercise some shred of integrity in a world that makes it so incredibly easy to eschew, Disney is teaching one solid lesson: As long as you fail--or cheat--enough times, someone will merely push you through a system that ostensibly is set up to assess achievement.  In other words, there's no actual achievement necessary in order to pass a class or graduate a program or collect a degree. 

Now, for countless occupations (including blogging :-)), this lesson may not matter.  But what happens in twenty years when our western world is peopled with aspiring and practicing doctors, lawyers, financial advisors, engineers and architects who have absorbed through their earliest media digestion that cheating is as valid a method of achievement as actually learning content or acquiring competency?

Once Emily is sufficiently knowledgable with her shapes and colors and letters and numbers, we'll switch over to the Discovery Channel or National Geographic where she will learn true lessons about what happens when you're NOT the fastest animal in the African savannah.

In the meantime, at least, Disney will furnish me with fodder about which to blog :-)

"Get It Together": A One-Month Commitment to Wellness

I am not an easy person to be around these days. Ten years into my high school teaching career, three years into marriage, and two years into motherhood, I seem to have hit a slump. I am 20 pounds heavier than I was the day I was married and for the first time in my life I actually need to wear make up to conceal the nascent stages of sagging skin. Physical appearances aside, I am a tremendous bummer. Spend five minutes with me and you'll walk away reeking of a negativity and cynicism it usually takes a 30-minute episode of South Park to instill.

So, three days ago--I wrapped up the school year with the customary uphill climb toward the finish line. Reading 8-10 page critical research essays minutes before submitting my grades and waving goodbye had many of my colleague blinking in befuddlement: "Why does she do this to herself every year?" their pity-laden eyes suggested. Once I had my last "check out" item initialed and I breathed a quiet sigh of diminished return, I developed a rare desire for rigorous physical activity. I left school and drove to Rancho San Antonio Park in Los Altos (I think) with an intention to tackle the formidable "PG&E" trail--an 8-mile hike the mere thought of causes wincing.

The trail consists of two parts--"the climb" and "the slide." The Climb includes three "hells." Some would call them hills, but they're really more aptly termed hells. The hike begins with a steep incline--the first hell. Since it is the very beginning of the expedition, when energy is high and memory poor, the first hell is a mere warm up for the remaining two. There is a nice plateau before the second hell, the latter of which can only be described as pure agony. While climbing the second hell, one will frequently see others stopped, bent over in a near vomiting, or gulping down water with the mere hope for the will to continue. Beyond the second hell lies a shaded, rolling recovery trail that would be perfect, were it not for the hiker's "sitting duck" position for mountain lions and creepers--due to the remote location, the thinned out number of hikers at this altitude, and the distraction of utter exhaustion. I call this area the "danger zone,"and it is due to this region of the trail that I always carry pepper spray with me. Between the second and third hells is a series of hills that calls to mind poor Sisyphus rolling his rock uphill only to have to chase it back down and roll it up again. And the last stretch to the summit is bearable because you can actually SEE the top.

The "Slide" begins with a rocky, unstable decline that is almost as slow-going as the steep inclines of the hells. But beyond that is the gradual, heavenly, 4-mile "slide" toward the parking lot. By the end of the hike, my hip joints are pleading for a rest and my arches are threatening to collapse--but it's all in the spirit of health . . .

DAY ONE (5/30/12)

Weight: 155

Physical Exertion: PG&E trail (8 miles (see above)) in 2 hours and 15 min

Playlist: You can hear a lot of songs in two hours, so I will just summarize the songs that kept me going
--Changes by David Bowie (a perfect song to kick off a self-directed wellness program, I think)
--Ramble On by Led Zeppelin
--Don't Fence Me In by Buck Howdy
--Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough by Michael Jackson
--Beyond the Sea by Bobby Darin
--Me and God by Josh Turner (in the depths of the second hell!)
--Let Your Love Flow by The Bellamy Brothers
--Our Lips Are Sealed by The Go Gos (a karaoke favorite to be sure!)
--Dance, Dance, Dance by Steve Miller Band
--Online by Brad Paisley
--Get Down On It by Kool and the Gang
--Good Lovin' by The Rascals
--Rich Girl by Hall and Oates
--Get It Together by The Beastie Boys (inspiring the title of the blog!)
--Dynamite by Taio Cruz (the song that kept me jogging the last leg of the trail into the parking lot. I'm not sure any other song could have done such a thing).

Reflection:
It was an interesting transition from my head completely submerged in end-of-the-school-year muck to a clarity about the importance of taking time for myself and committing at least a fraction of that time to healthy activity. My decision to post my experience online was partly due to the belief that no one except me reads this blog, and partly to keep myself accountable to the public (however potential it might be!).

DAY TWO (5/31/12)

Weight: 154

Physical Exertion: Sawyer Camp Trail (SCT)--5 miles in 1 hour and 30 min

Playlist: None--I had my daughter, Emily, with me in the stroller and actually forgot my phone, so it was nature sounds and the ceaseless babblings of toddler.

Reflection:
I started the walk with my friend Monica, who makes a regularly broken committment to wellness and decided to adopt my plan. She most likely thought this will be a short-lived exercise (probably even shorter than the "month-long" projection), so what's the harm. Monica had to turn back after twenty minutes to be present for a conference call at 1:00pm, so Emily and I trekked on alone. This most likely shortened the walk because Emily was restless. I considered my options: press on and risk a miserable walk with a tired, but not sleeping two-year old who just wants to get out of the stroller, or cut losses and turn back earlier than desired. I chose the latter, turning back at the 2.5 mile mark, which, in retrospect, was for the best considering the uphill climb with a stroller was much more exhausting than I thought it would be, and considerable soreness from my 8-mile hike the previous day was certainly setting in.

I bought new running shoes, as a reward, I supppose, for keeping my wellness plan alive for two whole days. A talk with my husband this evening caused some "issues" to resurface, and I began checking WebMD for symptoms--resulting in a clear diagnosis of "depression." Humph.

DAY THREE (6/1/12)

Weight: 153

Physical Exertion: 3 miles on the elliptical machine in 30 min; 6 miles on the recumbant bicycle in 30 min (500 cal total)

Playlist: None--continued reading from the second installment of The Hunger Games on my Kindle (the MAIN perk of working out at a gym)

Reflection:
My husband has charged me with restoring data to an Apple laptop HE accidentally wiped, but first I had to take it into the Apple Store to reset the password he had long since forgotten. What a clusterfreak that place is! I arrived 15 minutes after opening and was told that the next available appointment would be at noon. Realizing I did not have enough time to tackle either of the trails, I decided to head to my overpriced and underutilized gym--where, at least, I can indulge in the literary junk food that is the Hunger Games trilogy.

I reconnected with my acupuncturist, Eunice, today for the first time since my third trimester of pregnancy.  When I go--I go hard.  During the "intake" I broke down sobbing about my life after her simple question, "So, how's it going?"  I snotted my way through some questions from her--executed with a tone of I'll try not to seem alarmed by your emotional disintegration, but I am rather taken aback, I must say.  I asked Eunice if she could hit me up with a needle for appetite suppression and maybe one for mental stability.  She said she'd see what she could do.

DAY FOUR (6/2/12)

Weight: 152.5

Physical Exertion: SCT--5 miles in 1 hour and 15 min.

Playlist: conversation (which I much prefer, to be honest)

Reflection:
This was Emily's birthday, so it was slow going in the morning. I made us scramled eggs and bacon and we played with puzzles and read books most of the morning until my mother-in-law came to pick her up. My husband and I had a 40th birthday party to attend that evening in Rocklin, CA, so I figured I could squeeze in a five-mile walk. My friend Elizabeth joined me, and despite her labor with the trail (not having done it in a long time), we still made pretty good time. It was 15 minutes faster sans stroller!

I was very good with food this day--eating virtually no carbs. I even avoided the birthday cake, which I can usually justify eating without incident. Something like, "It's bad luck to not have a piece of birthday cake!" No--I was a rock when it came to the food. I did however have at least six glasses of wine, so the carbs were getting in one way or another. My body decided around the sixth glass that I'd had enough--THANK GOD--because I actually felt fairly normal the next morning.

DAY FIVE (6/3/12)

Weight: didn't take

Physical Exertion: none besides the running of errands in order to pull off Emily's birthday dinner

Playlist: none

Reflection:
It was a BUSY day after arriving back in the bay area from Rocklin--but any calories I burned running around, I put back on and then some with the scrumptious Mexican cuisine from La Tapatia, two glasses of champagne, and one and a half pieces of birthday cake from The Cakery in Burlingame. Why "one and a half pieces of birthday cake," you ask? I couldn't throw out the piece Emily scraped the icing off and left for dead, could I? I paid for this when I stepped on the scale the next morning :-(

DAY SIX (6/4/12)

Weight: 154.5!!!!!

Are you kidding me? Five days of rigorous daily physical activity, MOSTLY good eating, and I'm nearly back to where I started?!?!?! It's enough to make one want to quit her one-month committment to wellness. But I press on.

It rained today, so I let that be an excuse to not exercise--humph. So, I exercise my honesty instead.

**The most difficult (and resisted) part of the wellness program is updating the blog--to be sure!

DAY SEVEN (6/5/12)

Weight: 154

Physical Exertion: 2.7 miles on elliptical machine in 30 min; 9.3 miles on bike in 1 hour min (600 cal total).

Playlist: none--finished the second book of The Hunger Games on my Kindle :-)

Reflection:
In addition to getting back to physical exercise after a two-day hiatus, I saw a new dentist today. It's always an unsettling experience going to the dentist--as well as assuring. I have been told I "inherited [my] mother's gums," which seems to mean that they are in a precarious state. If I do not make an effort to rigorously floss every day, I will be in trouble. Apparently, my bottom gums are in a more serious condition than my upper gums, but at this point "things are fine." I am in need of bulking up my "oral care" (who isn't??). My sister says she just flosses about five times the day she goes to the dentist and he tells her everything is great. So, there is something to be said for cram sessions after all.

DAY EIGHT (6/6/12)

Weight: 153

Physical Exertion: SCT--6 miles in 1 hour and 20 min (wogging: a combination of speed walking and jogging)

Playlist: forgot my headphones :-( nothing to drown out the anxiety-ridden thoughts.

Reflection: I spent most of the time thinking about the importance of fitness--not merely for the individual, but its crucial place in the marital relationship. When my husband proposed to me in March of 2008, there was, I think, a tacit agreement between us that once things were settled and comfortable, that I would NOT sink myself into the depths of sloth and obesity. We were only married for four months before I became pregnant and began gaining weight (I was five pounds "heavy" at my first prenatal appointment--much to my husband's chagrin). Since having Emily, I have maintained 15-20 pounds of surplus flesh from my pre-pregnancy days. I am sure there are times when my husband, Joe, looks at me and thinks, "Oh boy--it can only get worse, right?" It's very important for a husband and wife to stay physically fit for one another--one, so that they can remain sexually intimate, I think, but also because you OWE it to the other person to take care of yourself. It's the height of selfishness to let yourself slide into high cholesterol, diabetes, sorosis, emphysema, and other vice-driven illnesses, and place a heavy burden on the ones you love to care for you. I've come to realize that it is my duty to continually convince myself that sugar is POISON. To my body and to my marriage.

I was jolted from this reverie when a creepy man asked me to take his picture with his bike (next to the restroom!). My husband would kill me if he knew this, but since I am rather certain he will never read this, I will tell on myself. I agreed to stop jogging, get close enough to the creeper to take his cell phone, take two shots of him, and get close enough to hand the phone back to him. There was no one else in sight at the moment, and in my gut, I knew it was a dumb thing to do. I was raised, however, with an intrinsic trust of people and overwhelming sense of "everything is okay." I believe the clinical term for this is "denial." Oh well, no harm, no foul, right??

When I returned to my car, I checked my school email (as I am required to do intermittently during the summer months), and received two emails from administration asking to keep the Juarez family in our prayers and that a letter would be released to the school community later in the afternoon. The emails were vague, but indicated that a rising junior student had been "tragically" killed with his grandmother while he visited family in Oregon. I racked my brain to think of any reason why a 16-year-old boy and his grandmother would be killed at the same time and could only conceive of this: car accident. Upon searching the internet (smart phones are very convenient in times like this!), I read a small article published in the Mercury News that morning that stated that the boy and his grandmother had been gunned down in her driveway by the boy's uncle who lived in the house. I was in complete shock. One of the reasons I don't watch the local news is because it is filled with unpleasant stories about kidnappings and murders--sick individuals who senselessly waste lives--and a media to exploit the drama of it all. I can recall many similar stories in local news like the one about Nick Juarez. But when you know the person--when the person is connected with your immediate community--it feels like someone punched you in the stomach and you can't figure out how to breathe. I cannot imagine the pain his family must be experiencing and my prayers and thoughts are with them every day.

Still reeling from the news about Nick, I went to my scheduled hair appointment. I get my hair cut about once a year, so my hair stylist barely remembers me from one appointment to the next. But I emerged from the salon with some fresh looking layers and my hair several shades darker. Probably took about five years off--every little bit helps.

DAY NINE (6/7/12)

Weight: 151.1

Physical Exertion: PG&E trail--8 miles in two hours and 20 min (no jogging, just fast walking)

Playlist: (a summary)
--Rock and Roll All Nite by Kiss
--Hazard to Myself by Pink (ain't it the truth!)
--You Ain't Seen Nothing Yet by Bachman-Turner Overdrive
--Deeper Than the Holler by Randy Travis
--On the Road to Find Out by Cat Stevens (a fantastic song to address the physical and spiritual journey of a one-month wellness plan :-))
--She Thinks I Still Care by George Jones (I never get sick of this song)
--Your Song by Elton John (always makes me remember a sophomore dance and the tremendous crush I had on the guy I danced with to this song)
--Ain't Nothin But a G Thang by Dr. Dre and Snoop Dog (this song ushered in the second hell)
--The Gambler by Kenny Rogers (karaoke in a bar in Nice, anyone?)
--I Can See Clearly Now by Johnny Nash
--Beds are Burning by Midnight Oil (this song closed out the second hell)
--Gin and Juice by The Gourds (if you haven't heard this hilarious bluegrass rendition of Snoop's song, download it this minute!)
--Last Train to Clarksville by The Monkees (very nostalgic memories of Nick and Nite reruns)
--Can't Fight This Feeling by REO Speedwagon (I know, I know. . . but I love it, nonetheless)
--I'm Gonna Be Somebody by Travis Tritt
--Heartland by George Strait (good song from the soundtrack of a TERRIBLE movie)
--Sweet Home Alabama by Lynyrd Skynyrd
--Who's Lovin' You by the Jackson 5 (hands down, my favorite of their anthology)
--Real Good Man by Tim McGraw
--Hello, Mr. Heartache by the Dixie Chicks (last song of the hike)

Reflection: I was actually very into the music today--and not in a particularly pensive mood.  I was dreading the hike a bit, and find it amusing that when I conceived of the wellness plan, my initial plan was to do the PG&E trail every single day for a month!  Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men . . .

I had a follow up appointment with Eunice, my acupuncturist, today.  This time, I did not collapse like a flan in a cupboard, but felt remarkably well and told her so.  I noticed she did not stick needles in any "depression" points today, like she did the other day--she has faith in the Chinese methods and that's something you like to see in your acupuncturist, I must say :-)

DAY TEN (6/8/12)

Weight: 151.3

Physical Exertion: Personal training session (30 min duration of torturous exercise)

Reflection: I scheduled the first of three free personal training sessions for this morning at 11am with Juan (and there's no anonymity here. That was actually his name).  Juan is a good-looking early-twenty-something recent transplant from southern California who moved to the bay area to be with his girlfriend.  The intake was amiable and quick.  He skipped through the health survey, taking my word for it that aside from being "out of shape," I am "perfectly healthy."  He seemed eager to prove himself as a trainer, specifically one who "hates machines" and prefers to do things "old school."  The first 30 minutes of the appointment were devoted to evaluation and selling himself (oh, and weighing me--on his scale I weighed in at 156!  A manipulative ploy to hammer the commitment to more personal training sessions??) and the last 30 minutes were devoted to me fumbling through a "circuit" that included squats, curls, presses, crunches and push ups.  I am able to do ANYTHING for a short duration of time--and thus I survived the mini boot camp that Juan designed for my first session.  My body would enact its revenge in the ensuing days.

I would have liked to continue with a cardio workout after the session was over, but I needed to pick up my daughter from my mother-in-law's house, and so that was the end to my work out.  I ate poorly for the rest of the day--justifying it with the strenuous training session in the morning.

DAY ELEVEN (6/9/12)

Weight: 153.7 (I can only attribute the gain to poor eating the day before!)

Physical Exertion: SCT--6 miles in one hour and 30 min

Playlist: Conversation with my mother-in-law

Reflection: I decided to drag my mother-in-law on a six-mile walk after she has been requesting to accompany me on a trail.  She had a different trail in mind--one that is three miles long and almost entirely flat.  I felt kind of bad, but also needed to make the point that if we're going to work out, we might as well WORK out.  I have neither the time for nor the inclination toward a leisurely stroll during this one-month wellness plan.  I mean business!

Another day of poor eating.  There's and increasingly gnawing idea that it doesn't matter how much I walk or jog or bench press if I maintain an unhealthy diet.

DAY TWELVE (6/10/12)

Weight: forgot to weigh myself when I woke up and refuse to do so at any other point in the day.

Physical Exertion: I didn't really work out today, but did pull Emily in her bad ass radio flyer wagon (complete with adjustable seat backs and drink holders) for three miles.

Reflection: I was so sore from the personal training session yesterday that it felt like someone had punched me in the ribs for several hours.  I think his name was Juan.

I was supposed to find a recipe for seared ahi tuna (I realized this when my husband was inviting a friend to dinner in the morning and telling him that's what we would be having).  When Emily and I departed for our 1.5-mile walk to the park, I had not yet done this.  I confessed to my husband when he called and he said, "Oh, it's fine--call The Cheesecake Factory and see if they'll take a reservation for 6:30."   Done. :-)

Nick, our waiter at TCF was a weird yet timely intrusion into the wellness plan.  My husband, having been recently told by his doctor that he has high cholesterol and is pre-diabetic, is suddenly very interested in "eating healthy"--a project that will be all-consuming for, I guess, a few more weeks--until he realizes he's not particularly interested in a lifestyle change and slips back into eating whatever he wants and never doing one second of physical exercise. (I hope he proves me wrong, btw).  When consulting the waiter about what to order for an appetizer (I suggested the fire-roasted artichoke; Joe wanted the deep fried avocado egg rolls.  Joe won.), Nick told us all about his own wellness plan that allowed him to drop 50 pounds in four months!  You can imagine how our ears perked up.  For those interested, this was Nick's recipe for success:

Green tea to start the day
Breakfast: oatmeal and eggwhites for breakfast
Brunch: peanut butter and sliced strawberry sandwich on wheat bread
Lunch: chicken breast, vegetables, and brown rice
Dinner: white fish (he prefers tilapia), vegetables, and brown rice
2-hour workout with cardio and resistance training (that's the use of weights to you and me)
Protein shake ("Gillian's")

The guy followed this EXACT menu for four months.  Note the conspicuous omission of any red meat or "chop" of any kind.  There's no steak, no pork chops, no rack of lamb, no meat of any kind unless it's chicken breast or white fish.  And take away egg yolks and add in a daily assault of oatmeal--you're probably looking at a well-dimished cholesterol count in addition to the weight loss.  Was this easy for Nick?  No and yes.  He admitted he would get tired of eating the same things over and over (and so he would "reward" himself every once in a while--in moderation), but that there was a security in eliminating the guesswork from a wellness program.  He KNEW that if he just exercised some self-discipline and followed the plan, it would work.  And it has.  He showed us his driver's license picture wherein he is easily 60 or 70 pounds heavier.

I'm one of those people who believes that things happen for a reason.  I don't think it was an accident that we had Nick as our waiter.  I think we both needed to hear that what we eat is as (if not more) important as regular exercise if we really want to get in shape.  I'd heard and felt as much--but the living example of Nick was just too much to ignore.  I ordered an ahi "tatiki" salad and had a glass of red wine.

DAY THIRTEEN (6/11/12)

Weight: 154

Physical Exertion: house cleaning

Reflection:  I didn't work out today because I had several things scheduled and did not feel I had time to squeeze it in (eh?).  I volunteered to help with the opening day of Summer School--an event that can only be compared to the chaos of a Pamplona Bull Run.  Because my daughter and I are leaving for a 5-week trip to Europe, I secured the help of my friend Laura and her fantastic co-worker Concha to give my house a cleaning before we depart.  I "clean" my house fairly regularly, but they clean the house.  The straightening up required before someone can actually get in to clean is a bit like a light work out--or so we'll say.

I contracted a pretty miserable bladder infection today, so had to call for anti-biotics and was popping AZO pills like tic tacs.

My mother-in-law took us out to Chili's for dinner where I ignored everything I had learned from Nick about eating properly the night before, and ordered a quesadilla chicken salad.  It would have been fine if I resisted the cheese quesadilla triangles that lined the salad.  I didn't.  I exchanged my regular "house cab" for a glass of ice water (which I hate) because my husband gave me half a pain killer to ease the discomfort of the bladder infection.  It was a good trade.

DAY FOURTEEN (6/12/12)

Weight: forgot to weigh, or didn't want to after the quesadilla salad the night before.  I also thought that my trainer would put me on a scale later in the day.  He didn't.

Physical Exertion: 3 miles on the elliptical machine in 30 min and 6 miles on the bike in 30 min (600 cal total).

Playlist:  I listened to music while on the elliptical machine, then switched to the third book of The Hunger Games for the bike.

--Magic by The Cars
--Good Day by Luce
--I'm Beginning to See the Light by Ella Fitzgerald (one of our wedding CD favor songs)
--The Girl I Knew Somewhere by The Monkees
--Movin Out by Billy Joel (give you a heart attack ack ack ack ack ack!)
--In Your Room by the Bangles
--Good Vibrations by The Beach Boys
--Survivor by Destiny's Child (always a good work out tune)
--The First Cut is the Deepest by Cheryl Crow (not sure why I like this one, but I never skip it)

Reflection: I met with a new personal trainer today--a veteran from Peru named Joseph.  Joseph's intake was much more complete.  He wanted to know all the details of my health history--which, thank God, is very brief.  Considering our interview took an entire hour, I cannot imagine how long it takes when he evaluates someone with significant health issues.  Joseph was great.  He sold himself by being knowledgeable and personable.  Maybe I prefer him to Juan because I haven't actually worked out with him yet.  During my evaluation,  I indicated that the only significant health issue I have is a high cholesterol that runs in my family.  I had my levels checked around my 30th birthday and my cholesterol level was 200, which most people agree is "on the border."  Joseph said his cholesterol was 235 and by cutting down his meat intake (again, "meat" in this sense refers to steak, pork chops, lamb, etc.) to once a week and eating oatmeal every morning for breakfast, his cholesterol level is now 175.  Oatmeal.  The miracle worker.  I had actually made a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast that morning, so there was a kinship established, I think.

So, throughout the evaluation, Joseph certainly reinforced the importance of healthy eating, attributing 50% of physical wellbeing/fitness to diet.   I think it's probably a higher percentage than half, but he needs to sell the priority of exercise if he is to insinuate his importance as a personal trainer.  Instead of the five to six small meal plan that Nick the waiter advocates, Joseph's meal plan is more simple: "Breakfast like a queen, Lunch like a Princess, Dinner like a Pauper."  At least initially, Joseph believes in three meals a day with breakfast being the most significant of the three.  Again, I've heard as much, but I clearly need the reminder since most days my breakfast consists of a grande hazelnut latte from Starbucks.  Joseph says in his adorable Peruvian accent, "Go big with breakfast--I don't care what you eat.  You have all day to burn that fuel.  You want to eat pizza?  Eat pizza!  But eat it for BREAKFAST."

Joseph told me he wants no less than three days a week with a minimum of 30-minute cardio workout and no less than two days a week of weight training.  I can do that.  He then stole me from Juan, insisting that I see him again Friday at noon.  Earlier in the week I scheduled another appointment with Juan on Friday at 11am.  Joseph erased it and claimed me as his own.  It was a little awkward because Juan was standing at the front desk when he did it.  It's times like this when a southern upbringing helps--when you smile and kick up the accent and pretend like everything is just fine and as it should be, y'all.

For dinner I made a garlic tilapia with brown rice and asparagus :-)

DAY FIFTEEN (6/13/12)

Weight: 153.4 *sigh*
So, here's the thing.  The number is really standing stick straight still, but I am a little narrower in the midsection and tad more taut in the buttocks.  If I were willing to take pictures of myself in my underwear and post them on an unchecked public blog, you could see that.

Physical Exertion: 3 miles on elliptical for 30 min (320 cal) and 1 mile on treadmile--incline workout--for 20 min (230 cal)

Playlist:
--Training Montage from Rocky IV (SUCH a good song to start a workout)
--Bop by Dan Seals
--I Gotta Feeling by Black Eyed Peas
--Mr. Big Stuff by Jean Knight
--If This is It by Huey Lewis and the News (I'm a sucker for Huey Lewis and the News, what can I say?)
--Pretending by Eric Clapton
--New Strings by Miranda Lambert
--Suds in the Bucket by Sara Evans
--Cruel Summer by MBugout City (the remake for the Blue Crush soundtrack--GREAT workout song; HORRIBLE movie!)
--If by Janet Jackson
--What I Like About You by The Romantics (one of our wedding CD favor songs)

Reflection:
I had green tea in the morning (it was torture departing from coffee, but I ended up at Peet's later to meet a friend, so . . . ) and oatmeal with a little brown sugar and cinnamon, and two pieces of turkey bacon. And I shared my bacon with Joe who generally wants nothing to do with it unless it's thick cut, but he even managed a smile as he crunched into an overdone piece of already "fully cooked" pretend bacon.

I took Emily to see the "doggies and kitty cats" at our local SPCA after I picked her up from "school" (our sophisticated term from day care).  I'd enjoy it more if there was any dog other than a Chihuahua or Pit Bull--but there isn't.  Any they lie too.  There was a dog whose card said Labrador Retriever that was clearly part Pit Bull.  You can by the ears and the eyes.  And I'm not kidding, I even saw a Chihuahua/Pit Bull mix.  It was an ugly dog.  My favorite section is the kitten nursery.  Emily didn't care much about the "babies," but loves to see the old, 50-pound cats and rabbits that barely move and eat you out of house and home.

For dinner, I made grilled cheese sandwiches and minestrone soup.  The whole time I wondered, "Is this more than what a pauper eats for dinner?" having known so few paupers in my life.  Yes, it must be the case, but it's less than what I usually eat, so it's a springboard toward nighttime asceticism.

I did, however, have a couple of glasses of red wine.  Baby steps.

DAY SIXTEEN 6/14/12

Weight: 151.5
Maybe there is something to this oatmeal thing, after all . . .

Valentine's Day: The Holiday You Hate To Love

So, I had every intention of sitting down and writing an intense, heartfelt, outrageously sarcastic and cynical deliberation on Valentine’s Day. But the truth is, I kind of like Valentine’s Day. In fact, it used to sort of be my favorite holiday. For those of you who’ve taken the Stanford Ennegram “personality test,” you’ll not be surprised to know that I’m a “Four”—the type that gets lost in self-centeredness, lets her emotions rule her, believes no one truly gets her, and could, one day, find herself hopelessly addicted to the cheap thrills of trashy reality TV. Okay, I threw that last characteristic in, but my point is that Valentine’s Day was made for someone like me.

I remember in lower school constructing paper mailboxes for the onslaught of valentines from classmates. Most of the cards displayed our favorite cartoon characters—the Smurfs, Transformers, Strawberry Shortcake, etc., but every once in a while there would appear a heavily “mother assisted” red velvet heart with white satin and lace trim. I remember “decoding” the valentines from boys to see which ones were expressing a tacit love. A valentine depicting GI Joe thrusting his fist in the air and shouting, “You’re mine!” was very telling of a young boy’s affections. I exercised grave caution when addressing my valentines—distributing the sappy messages to my female classmates, lest I be accused of having a crush on some boy that, let’s face it, I probably did have.

In middle school, I distinctly remember Eric Martarella (whom the boys in my 6th grade class nicknamed Eric Fartasmella) giving me a red rose and a real card—not a picture of Tom and Jerry exchanging explosive boxes of chocolate—but an actual Hallmark card in which he had written a full-page note. I do not remember the contents of the note that now sits among old scrapbooks in my parents’ attic in Virginia, except one line that read, “there will always be a place for you in my heart.” I seriously thought I was going to get a marriage proposal that Valentine’s Day in 6th grade. We broke up the next day.

In high school, we had a tradition of giving color-coded carnations on Valentine’s Day. Red signified love, of course. No one ever got a red carnation. Pink signified friendship. And white (the most coveted) indicated that the recipient had a “secret admirer.” I’m pretty sure my older brother paid his friend to give me a white carnation my freshman year—but I carried that thing with pride nonetheless!

Once out of the world of school and organized displays of affection, Valentine’s Day gets a little more complex. For instance, it must be difficult for some guys to remember not to ask a woman out on February 14th, or the few days preceding, unless he actually wants to be with her for all eternity.

I suppose I’ve always loved the idea that there is a day set aside for people who are in love. Most holidays of the Valentine’s Day magnitude (St. Patrick’s Day, Cinco de Mayo, Fourth of July) are established to celebrate one thing—the amount of alcohol you can consume in a single day. Valentine’s Day seems to celebrate something a little more intimate and emotional. Ironically, since I've been happily married to the man of my dreams, Valentine's Day has completely lost its allure. I think the day appealed to me in my single years because I was excited about who might suddenly emerge. Who might, as Nick Carraway says of Gatsby, "be delivered from the womb of his purposeless splendor." The idea that some “admirer” would materialize and covertly express his devotion with a Go-Bots valentine or a white carnation was infinitely more stirring than the current secured affections of my spouse. But, as I’ve aged, I’ve also begun to realize that I much prefer the sanctuary of a true friendship to the cheap thrill of an ugly white flower.

Happy Valentine's Day!