LIGHTS, TRAVELS, FOOD

Well....HELLO!  It's been a month since I've shown up here on the View page and I realize in the 10 years I've been doing this blog, I've never missed a calendar month of at least one post, so here I am!  

My more disciplined blogger friend in Michigan writes twice weekly and sets up prompts for herself to do so.  I just wait for the Muse, who is often on vacation.  She might show up at 3 a.m. with great ideas and beautiful turns of phrase, but by 7 a.m. she's long gone and so are her good ideas and lovely words.  Then I'm just stuck with me.  Like now.  Let's talk about the weather -- the refuge of challenged conversationalists everywhere.

It's dark and rainy here, finally.  We've had the sunniest, driest November on record and it has been totally great and totally weird.  November is usually very wet and blustery.  We might have some lowland snow next week, but I hope the mountain passes aren't too awful because we are heading east on Friday so I can go to a body-work, mostly silent, nurturing retreat for women at a forest retreat center north of a fake Bavarian mountain town that will be decked out for Christmas.  It's the town's annual WinterFest season, which brings in thousands of tourists.  So I'll have no cell/no wi-fi in the forest, but crazy Christmas excess in town.  It should be both relaxing and fun.  Hub is going along even though I will abandon him for my full day of introspection, massage, journalizing, silence, and sister-connections with 14 other women.  He's planning a hike, I think. Or soaking in the retreat center outdoor hot tubs.  Not a bad way to pass the time.

Anyway, Hub has taken advantage of the cold bright weather this month to install landscape lighting around our property -- something that's been on the "to-do" list for 40 years.  Better late than never?  YES!  It looks just as lovely as we'd envisioned.  We can see now driving up our long steep driveway and walking up our long flight of stairs to the front door.  (A little late on that one, since no one of our age-cohort visits, especially after dark, anymore.  Some struggle to navigate the stairs due to creaky knees and/or decreased lung capacity as well.  Whatever the reason most of us just stay home.)  We aimed some spotlights up into trees and bushes, one on the side of the house on the brick face, and a couple on some yard art in our garden.  I hope it's not too much -- I'd rather not look like a museum, although I do love the MET.  Anyway, we are delighted with the whole thing.  No one can see the garden art since it's behind our "privacy fence" of arborvitae, but if you can brave a nighttime visit, we'd love to show you around! 

Thanksgiving has come and gone.  We had a nice day with Son-One and his family.  Son Two and my DIL ditched us all (her family and ours) to travel in Italy over Thanksgiving.  They FaceTimed us from Salerno.  I'm not at all miffed that they decided to travel over the holiday.  Covid Times taught me life goes on when traditions are smashed, and in fact it's a bit freeing.  I'm actually envious.  I have long wanted to ditch Thanksgiving.  To me it's a day devoted to non-stop cooking, eating, and cleaning up.  And gluttony.  It's a little gross.  But I get the whole Norman Rockwell thing.  And I will say in my family of origin and in the family I created, we pretty much fit the painting.  We do all the traditional foods (mostly my mom's recipes) and everyone is in good spirits, feeling deeply grateful for family, food, and warmth.  Son One is our tradition-holder and would never let me not be here for the big holidays, and I love that about him.  So, I won't indulge my Thanksgiving fantasy of ignoring the whole thing.  Bring on the stuffing!

Speaking of stuffing...my new healthy Noom body FREAKED OUT in the middle of the night after our Thanksgiving indulgence. I did not pig out at all and was rather proud of my mostly modest portions (except for the pies -- yes, plural.)  Nevertheless I was miserable for a few wee-morning hours and I believe it was the realization that in spite of my enviable portion control skills, every single bite I took was full of butter/fat!  I am not at all used to that anymore.  Thinking it through, I know how much butter I used in the stuffing and candied yams (a lot).  I watched my DIL make mashed potatoes with half n' half and gravy with pan drippings.  The green bean casserole was full of fresh veggie goodness held together with a rich white sauce.  You can't have dinner rolls without butter.  And my DIL's delicious Dutch Apple Pie and Pumpkin Cheesecake may have also had a tab bit of fat in them.  Arrrrgggghhhhh.  The only items not drenched in butter or fat were the brussel sprouts and cranberry sauce.  

Yesterday I ate a bit of unadorned left over turkey, a few brussel sprouts, and a huge salad.  Yesterday we were also back to the intermittent fast thing Hub and I are doing -- 16:8  No food for 16 hours (for us that's from 7 p.m. to 11:00 a.m.) and all of our meals are within the remaining 8 hours (11 a.m. to 7 p.m.).  It's supposed to be a way to help the body clear toxins or something.  Adds to longevity.  We're a week into it (except for Thursday) and I was starting to feel really great.  But it's early days...

Anyway, lesson learned on that whole fat thing.  With Christmas coming right up, I'll be VERY aware of what I'm shoving into my mouth.  But we don't really do a huge Christmas meal anyway.  We do a mostly finger-food buffet on Christmas Eve, so I can just take the healthy stuff (lots of crab and shrimp!)  On Christmas we have buffet leftovers and maybe some roasted turkey breast sandwiches.  It's cleaner eating, although can be sugar-heavy, which is my everyday nemesis anyway.  I'm already craving frosted sugar cookies in the shapes of Christmas trees.  But I can walk off all the calories taking night strolls through my lighted garden.

At least, that's the view from here...©

POST-CHRISTMAS HEALTH CONTEMPLATION

I'm thinking a lot about health as this year ends.  It's been a challenging year in some ways and I was not at all well for many months of GI distress and migraines and general stress and anxiety and overwhelm due to that "little" (haha) relationship disruption I wrote about previously.  My therapist was rather alarmed at my lack of sleeping and eating, or leaving the couch. Sigh.  So, yeah, I wasn't taking very good care of myself there for awhile.

Now, being back on track emotionally gave me the space to take a look at my physical symptoms and decide to do something different, like sleep....

This morning, I was up by 5:00 a.m.  Again.  Still, my Fitbit tells me I had a FAIR night's sleep, likely marked down some by not hitting my 7 hour minimum sleep goal, but hitting all other benchmarks for the sleep cycles.  So many variables go into the calculation of the Fitbit "sleep score", which has become my barometer for knowing if I slept well or not, instead of trusting my body and the degree to which I feel rested. 

Lest you think I'm the only one Fitbit dependent, a friend of mine made an emergency doctor visit after a period of time in which her Fitbit did not give her any sleep score at all due to being unable to gather enough data while she was asleep.  She first, wisely (haha), bought a new Fitbit but when that didn't solve the problem she was off to the doctor to have her heart checked. They sent her home reassured, and we all had a stern talk with her Fitbit for playing naughty tricks on her...and learned that maybe these tracking devices are not infallible.  Go figure.

Anyway, my Fitbit also sends data to my Medicare Advantage Preventative Health plan which gives me "dollars" to spend on gift cards, as allocated by how many "active days" (based on steps taken) and exercise classes, etc I take with Silver Sneakers or on my own, as well as keeping up on preventative medical visits and tests.  This year I've earned $160 to spend on gift cards and mine will all go to the Amazon option.  This is a mere pittance of what I'd earn if they paid for ALL my classes. (They only allow you to "claim" 4 classes a year!  Ridiculous! I take that many in a week.)  But I'll enjoy a few freebies from Amazon, so that's some motivation, I guess.

In addition to sleeping better, I decided to eat better too.  After watching the documentary (on Netflix -- check it out) "Forks Over Knives",  I started in early November to eat a mostly plant-based diet.  No land or air meat at all.  Maybe every 10 days or so some prawns.  (Holding out on a decision on salmon next year when it's back in season.)  For a few weeks I was vegan and ate no dairy and no eggs, but I've eased up on being that restrictive.  I eat those infrequently, but without hesitation.  And guess what?  I feel so much better!  I know it could be the relieved stress helping my symptoms, but I just feel so much better overall I can hardly believe it.   I'm sticking with it.

The biggest hurdle this holiday season, as every year, is my descent into sugar addiction.  I swore it would not happen this year, given my new healthful eating plan.  But it did.  Cake, cookies, brownies, pastries, candy, ice cream, mochas, eggnog lattes...oh my.  These are my drugs of choice.  I am powerless.

So yesterday, in a fit of disgust, I Googled "giving up sugar".  There are hundreds of "hits" for articles, books, documentaries, essays, ads....  I settled on two guides to start with:  "Beating Sugar Addiction for Dummies" (cuz I find those "dummy" books about complex subjects to be very readable, so I guess I'm the target "dummy" audience) and "Year of No Sugar" by Eve O Schaub, whose memoir writing is so funny and down-to-earth true; I love her.  This one is about how her whole family spent a year not eating any added fructose in anything!  I don't know if I can go that far, but what I've read about the way sugar ravages our bodies makes me want to purge 69 years of sugar consumption and get on the stump with a megaphone.  I'm going to start with just eliminating anything I know to be purposely sweet -- the aforementioned cakes, cookies, sugar drinks, etc.  -- and not worry too much yet about what sugar there is in my Dave's thin-sliced multi-grain bread.  I will leave off the jam though.

Like any good resolution-maker, I'm starting in earnest on January 1.  This will be VERY challenging for me.  Society uses sugar in so many ways that have nothing to do with nutrition (of which there is none) -- it's used to say "I love you"; "Let's celebrate"; "Feel better", etc etc.  Sugar is everywhere -- not just the hidden kind (read the labels!) but the obvious kind too.  There are whole cookie aisles! Whole bakeries within the supermarket!  I know!  I love them!!!

I am heartened, however, to realize I've already given up cigarettes (1982, but with a very occasional, like on average less than once/year "cheat", until 2011), alcohol (2011), red meat (sometime over the past 15 years; not sure when exactly), and the rest of the land/air animal flesh 6 weeks ago (OK, two chicken cheats) and now I miss none of it and don't feel weird or socially out of place (most of the time) with my choices.  So I hold out hope for this to be difficult for awhile (2 weeks is the typical 'withdrawal/craving' timeframe for sugar addiction) and then, hopefully, easy. (Easier.)

If you've gone before me on this sugarless path, send suggestions for not gnawing my fingers off.  I can't help but assume there is some trace fructose in my new Lemon-Rosemary Balm hand lotion and it will sound awfully good in a few days...I can see myself licking my paws like a cat, can't you?

At least, that's the view from here...©

PS:  I just checked my Dave's bread:  2 grams sugar per slice in the form of organic fruit juices to supply the "sweet".  Ms. Schaub would have eliminated this from her diet.  I'm not gonna.  Yet.  I get into trouble and have zero long-term follow-through when I go all or nothing on things like this.  Baby steps.

Photo Credit:  www.pixabay.com

HAGGIS & SWEETS

Before our trip I had lost about 12 pounds following the Weight Watchers points system. It's easy!  It works!  I also took some dance classes at the Y, a strength training class, and my usual yoga practice.  I was in a groove of healthfulness and felt great.

Then we left town, and our routines, behind.  The only thing that saved me from gaining more than the three pounds I gained on the 5-week trip was the amount of daily walking we did -- over 200 miles in total; about 6 miles/day.

Breakfast was provided every morning on the tours.   I didn't want to fill up on pancakes, and the eggs, I'm sorry Britain, were always too runny for my taste.  "Traditional" Scottish and English breakfasts include lots of meat, which I don't eat except for the occasional chicken dish and Thanksgiving turkey, so that was out.

But let me say a word here about haggis.  In Scotland, haggis is always on the menu, and it is part of the traditional breakfast.  I swore I would not go anywhere near it; would NOT put even the smallest taste into my mouth.  But....I did.   Our first night in Edinburgh we found a local pub and Hub dove right in and ordered the Haggis, Neeps and Tatties (mashed turnips and mashed potatoes).  I ordered the lentil cottage pie -- a lentil mixture with mashed sweet potato topping. So good!

Here is the Wikipedia definition of haggis, if you are unfamiliar:  Haggis is a savoury pudding containing sheep's pluck (heart, liver, and lungs); minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and cooked while traditionally encased in the animal's stomach though now often in an artificial casing instead.

On the plate it didn't look too gross, so I took a small forkful and found it savory and flavorful and not at all disgusting.  Still, being full of organ meat was a bit of a turn off for this 95% non-meat eater, so that was my one and only foray into the Scottish delicacy.  Hub enjoyed it with most of his breakfasts.

I hit up the Continental breakfast buffets instead and found so many favorites!  Danish!  Croissants!  Pain au chocolat!  Toasts and jams!  Bran flakes (which for some reason are a binge food for me, and binge I did!)  I also ate oatmeal, yogurt, fruit, and nuts, which sounds healthy in normal qualities.  We won't talk about my quantities.

Lunches were on-the-go affairs, rushed in restaurants, so we took to stealing breads and cheeses (and another croissant and a few mini-pastries) from the breakfast buffet to build our own take-along sandwiches and treats, along with an apple (healthy!), and copious numbers of Shortbread cookies -- which became a bit of an obsession.  Also, our nicer hotels provided "snacks" mainly consisting of chocolates that we hoarded in our "treat bag" in my daypack.

Dinners were plentiful, delicious, and unconcerned with caloric intake, but with rarely a salad in sight!  Our English tour guide said salads were traditionally considered "poor man's food" and if you were rich and/or wanted to impress guests, you served meat! Greens were an insult. I'm not sure why this tradition continues in most restaurants.  Salad is healthy!  Still, I was grateful for the variety of vegetarian main dish options, even if no salads.

Most deadly for me, however, was that every single dinner came with a delectable dessert.  Two local favorites became my faves too:  Eton Mess and Sticky Toffee Pudding.  OMG!

Eton mess is a traditional English dessert consisting of a mixture of strawberries, broken meringue, and whipped double cream.

Sticky toffee pudding is a British dessert consisting of a very moist sponge cake, made with finely chopped dates, covered in a toffee sauce and often served with a vanilla custard or vanilla ice-cream.

But even if those weren't on the menu, there were brownies, ice cream, cakes, pies....let me just say I fell off the low-sugar wagon big time.  BIG TIME!

So I swore to get back on Weight Watchers when I returned and get back on my yoga and YMCA schedule.  Good intentions have been thwarted by jet-lag, illness, conflicting commitments, sloth, and sort of an "I don't want to" near-depression blues that has been winning the battle between good and evil.

Now I tell myself that November 7 is my start-over date.  I will have been home for a month, plenty of time to recover, and the mid-term election will be over.  Win or lose I will have to be in good shape for what comes next.  2020 is just around the corner -- the year my younger son will be married and the presidential election is held.  Let the goal-setting commence; a year should be long enough.

At least, that's the view from here...©

Photo Credit: Alamay and  BBC.com

GIVING THANKS LIST

I recently was reminded of the importance of a daily gratitude practice.  I used to keep a Gratitude Journal back when it was recommended by Oprah and I always did as Oprah directed.  But as those things do, it fell by the wayside.  It may be time to start again.

I've had a hard time feeling grateful this month.  First of all I've had a cold and lingering cough for over a month that is just about to take me under.  Of course the election result actually did take me under for about two weeks, as I dealt with the raw gut punch of that reality every morning upon awakening.  I emerged from my coma of grief and disbelief almost a week ago to find myself moving toward determination and activism, if not optimism.  Last Saturday it felt like the fog was lifting -- or maybe I'd just stopped taking codeine cough syrup during the day.  Whatever.  I felt I could actually function again without spending part of every day in tears and despair.

So, on this Thanksgiving Day I give thanks:

1.)  I am incredibly grateful for the wise, witty, determined example of those who are walking this path of political outrage and determination with me:  Pantsuit Nation and Pantsuit Nation Washington Chapter are a constant source of online inspiration and support; dozens of columnists have written eloquently about the election -- the whys and what nows -- in ways that increase my understanding and serve as motivation and a reality check; personal friends have come together in community to share and support each other.  I hosted a group of women friends a week ago -- six of us sitting in my living room expressing outrage, fear, and grief, but leaving with a sense of not being alone and that we can stand and rise again; our Tribe of friends gathered at our house last Saturday for a similar time of sharing, then focused on what we are grateful for, which served to shift energy away from despair to hope; my FB family and friends who share and comment and offer counsel and support.  Say what you will about social media, it has its good points.  I'm thankful for this:  http://www.onbeing.org/blog/parker-palmer-start-close-in/9057

2.)  Aside from the cataclysm of the election, this morning I write in this damp dawn, watching the rivulets of rain on the window and am grateful for this earth that sustains us, for the food I'll eat today that came from this earth and for all of those planters, growers, harvesters, transporters, marketers...everyone it took to create a feast at my table.  I'm thankful for the life of the turkey we will eat and hope that 'free range' allowed it at least a little more movement in its brief life.

3.)  I'm thankful for my lovely home, which we use to seek refuge, to welcome friends, to gather in family; for the electricity that illuminates my desk; for the clean clear water that made my coffee; for the warm radiators that are heating my house on this cool, damp morning; for my stove and refrigerator and all the conveniences I have that make my life easier.  I'm thankful for my car that allows me freedom of movement and facilitates adventures and connections near and far.

4.)  I am thankful for my teachers -- those who broaden my intellectual horizons; those who know the ways of the body and how to keep it healthy and strong; those who hold my emotional upsets gently and give me tools for going on and teach me to radically accept myself and have some self-compassion; those who show me my true Self through meditation, yoga, and Kirtan.

5.)  I'm thankful for friends -- for those who know me and love me anyway, who have my back and offer wise counsel, astute challenge, and ready celebration.  I hope I'm as good a friend to them.

6.)  I'm thankful for my extended family -- sisters-in-law, nieces, nephew and their families -- reminding me that I am not alone in the world as the only surviving member of my original family.  Life goes on and family endures.

7.)  I'm thankful for the family I've created; incredibly, indescribably thankful for my family.  Hub my mate for 48 years, since our first date, and 44 years married; what would my life be without him in it?  My sons who will never, ever know the depth of my love for them because it is unfathomable.  For my daughter-in-law who is an example to me every day of quiet grace, determination, and humor.  For Son Two's girlfriend who brings him such happiness and who has joined our family with kindness and good humor.  For my granddaughters who are only the most beautiful, courageous, brightest stars in the galaxy.  I look at them and hold them with such joy, such hopes for their future, such confidence they will make the world a better place as they grow into their power and presence in the world.  They are my legacy and if I can influence them even a tiny bit with my passion for life and good works, I will feel my life justified.

8.)  I am thankful for my health -- physical, emotional, and spiritual -- all of which allows me to sit in this place of grateful humility this morning with the hope that I'll be here throughout another unfolding year, with its joys and challenges, knowing every day will be a day for which to be grateful.

At least, that's the view from here...©

SHOPPING FOR FIGS

All was calm, all was bright....until today.   Readers know I have teeny, tiny stress and Scrooge issues around the holiday season.  I always participate, often grudgingly, in all the traditional hoo-hah.  But I mostly just keep December 26th in view, ready for the checkered flag.

But this year, I've been...dare I say it?  Relaxed!  Happy!  Not stressed or resentful or overwhelmed or exhausted.  It's all seemed pretty easy-breezy.  As I said in a previous post, I've cut way back on many of the usual activities of the season and that likely helped.  So yay me!

But today.  Today I tackled the grocery shopping chore of the season.  We do a Christmas Eve Buffet and a Christmas Dinner for the family.  It's usually the same food every year and I'm frankly sick of it, so I decided last year that this year would be different.  I got on Pinterest and found some really cute and easy "finger food" ideas for the buffet, including a dessert that features figs!  Figs!  Just like the song!  Cool, huh?   We are having a different menu for Christmas dinner too.  I'm excited about both.

But it would be hard to overstate how much I HATE to grocery shop.  I mean I truly detest the whole ordeal.  Hub does 90% of our food shopping.  But he is working Monday thru Wednesday this week and we have our grand-girls with us Wednesday and Thursday too, so there was literally no time for him to hit Costco and the regular grocery store in time to have the ingredients here to prep.  So off I went this morning.

Costco was a madhouse by 10:30 a.m.  I drove around forever looking for a parking spot and finally got one a day's hike from the entrance.  Let me say something about shopping carts at this point.  I think we need to institute a cultural norm that when you exit your car and see carts in the parking lot cart coral, you grab one and push it into the store.  I did that this morning and was glad of it because people were literally milling around outside the entrance waiting for someone to bring the carts in from the parking lot and replenish the cart area.  Really?  JUST GO GET ONE!

But most people must not have been in much of a hurry because once inside the store, jammed with  shoppers pushing their Costco-giant-sized carts, one would think the ventilation system was pumping out sleeping potions.  Every single person seemed to move in slow motion in every aisle.  And "keeping right" seemed to be a pie-in-the-sky notion because people generally moved down the very center of the aisles, sometimes two and three abreast, literally coming to a dead stop at frequent intervals to check their lists, chat with an acquaintance, or abandon their cart altogether to head for ubiquitous food sample tables.  Please!  JUST PULL OVER!

I finally made it out of Costco and through the parking lot again where cars were at a standstill waiting for parking spaces to open up.  I should have taken bids on mine, in spite of its distance from the store -- I had three people jockeying for position as I pulled away.

I then had to go the "regular" store, also jammed.  As I headed in, I found myself in the crosswalk in front of the store where pedestrians ALWAYS have the right-of-way.  But as I crossed, a big blue Oldsmobile came bearing down on me.  I really and truly hate to say this because I am a proud and vocal anti-ageism proponent, but the woman driving appeared to be well over 80-85, could barely see over the steering wheel, and had absolutely no intention or thought that she should maybe be stopping for me, even though I WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER as she coasted (thankfully!) to within about a foot of my right leg.  I yelled, "JESUS!  STOP!" and jumped out of the way.  She just kept creeping along, foot never touching the brake, as I turned to watch her proceed at a snail's pace through the parking lot.  I am grateful she wasn't gunning it.  I'd have been a goner.

Here's a pet peeve:  grocery shopping is so inefficient.  I lift the items off the shelf and put them in my cart.  I push them around the store like some precious fragile cargo, then I stand in a long line, pick them up again and put them on the conveyor belt where someone else picks them up to scan, and yet another person picks them up to bag.  Then they are returned to me in my cart, where I wheel them gently to my car and pick them up again (at least now nestled together in bags) and put them in my car.  We drive home, where I pick the bags up yet again (!) and lug them into the house where they are plopped on the counter top and picked up AGAIN! to be put away.  By now I think we've developed such a meaningful and long-term relationship that it's no wonder I don't want to disturb them to pick them all up again to actually cook!  Ugh!  There must be some way to get that food from the store to my kitchen via quantum physics parallel universe convergence or something.  There's far too much touching and lugging.  And I don't even like to cook, so half the time my good intentions come to naught and the perishables perish before they are even put in the pot.

But that won't happen this week, because it's Christmas.  So bring me some figgy pudding...and bring it right here!

At least, that's the view from here....©

FOOD ISSUES

Oh geez...I've become a full-fledged "one of them".  Have I written about this before?  Well, maybe, but now I'm way over the edge.

I have "food issues".  Oh, how I ridiculed people who complained of "too rich", "too spicy", dairy and gluten sensitivities (undiagnosed, so not "real" in my mind), too sweet, or not vegetarian, etc etc.  I'd roll my eyes and dig into anything put in front of me.

Then a dozen years ago or so I started to get a very dramatic reaction to rich foods and gone were the cream sauces. No more Fettucini Alfredo.  Not long after that I noticed a similar reaction to spicy fare.  Thai food, among my favorites, became a one-star affair instead of three.

I read two brilliant books a year or so ago, "Salt, Sugar, Fat" and "Grain Brain".  The first put me off any processed foods, the second was an indictment of gluten and most grains and carbohydrates.  I started to clean up my diet and let my eating choices be not only health-related, but also a statement about my opposition to being sold a lie by corporations that wanted me to be addicted to unhealthy processed foods for profit.

Four years ago (today!!!)  I quit drinking alcohol.  Two years ago I mostly gave up caffeine (now only a cup of half-caf in the morning and decaf any other time.)  For several weeks last fall, including over Halloween (a real test of my commitment!), I went sugar-free.

Then I fell off the wagon.  Grains and gluten snuck back in.  I started to have a nightly helping (or two or three) of dark chocolate with nuts and sea salt.  I reached for the pastries instead of the veggies at church coffee hour.

And then the headaches and gut issues this summer had my anxiety rearing its ugly head, trying to convince me I had something dreaded happening inside me.  Hub more rationally suggested a couple of weeks ago these symptoms could be diet-related.

Well, I don't eat hardly any meat -- no beef, just a little pork (oh, delicious pig!), some chicken and lots of salmon and seafood.  Pretty healthy.  I do love mozzarella cheese sticks and Greek yogurt.  Ice cream is a trigger food which I limit due to its addicting qualities.  I watch the carbs.  But the grains and gluten had snuck back in with the sugar and the ongoing dairy.  My weight started to creep up too, beginning to negate the 25 pounds I'd lost a few years ago.

So, here we go....elimination diet.  NO dairy.  NO gluten.  It's been 2 weeks and my headaches have subsided and some days are gone completely.  My GI system seems to be on the mend.  I've lost 2-1/2 pounds.

I'd feel happy and self-righteous if I wasn't so annoyed that this is working.  I know that makes no sense.  Of course I want to eat clean and be healthy.  I just don't want to be "one of them".  I want to eat any damn thing I please! But that is wishful thinking.  No one can do that and not pay the price in weight gain and disease or be party to the profit motive of Big Agra and its less than stellar track record with farm animals, pesticides, and creating addicting combinations of tastes and textures in fake processed "food".

So, I'll keep on, slowly and moderately re-introducing a bit of dairy in a couple of weeks to see how I respond.  I sorely miss my nightly Greek Yogurt and blueberries with a sprinkling of walnuts and cinnamon.  Oh....my....I miss it.  And a smidgen of dark chocolate can't possibly be deadly can it?  I'd like to reintroduce that soonish too.  The other stuff I find I don't really miss.

Except, well, for the occasional "special treat", like the teeny tiny slice of the Key Lime Pie my son and daughter-in-law made for Family Dinner this week...it would have been rude to refuse.  See?  I'm not perfect, but I do confess my sins of ingestion.

Bon Appetit!©

At least that's the view from here....

DANCING QUEEN

Oh dear….where to start?  First, I keep hearing my mother's admonishment: "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all."   Oh well, I have usually been successful at ignoring that kind of advice and besides, I can say a few nice things.  So here goes….

Hub and I went to Dance Camp last week.  (Pause for laughter and/or puzzlement to subside).  And I am going to put this on him -- it was his idea to go and he mostly enjoyed it.  I wasn't so keen on it, but it was being held in a beautiful place and I decided it would be fine.  The location was a fairly "rustic" retreat center (part of a State Park) on the waterfront of a small island about 2 hours from us.  We took the truck camper and parked under the trees, thinking the week would be part dance, part nature, and all vacation in one of our favorite areas of the state.

On Day 1 we walked into the registration building at the camp and my eyes first went to the couple seated at the registration table -- he pushing past 60 and she on the upside of 40 on his lap, arms intertwined, nuzzling.  They didn't appear to be registering for anything, or talking to anyone, or doing anything in particular -- just hanging out.  When they saw us waiting for a seat, they got up and retired to a mat in the corner, covered with an animal print fabric, and lay down, again entwining arms and legs in repose, as if clinging to each other and napping in public was the main activity of the afternoon.  Hmmm….

We sat across from a guy named Cougar, dressed in purple velvet, who was friendly, if a bit confused, but we managed to sort out the bumps along the registration path and got our work assignments (shared community means pitching in).  We were to work in the kitchen for the first 4 meals of the week.  We liked thinking our duty would be done early with only dancing and beach-walking to worry about for the rest of our time there.

So, let's start with the kitchen:  The Dance Camp folks rented it, so it was an all-volunteer staff.  A very friendly woman greeted us; her husband was the main cook and he was nice enough too.  A surly monosyllabic man in a chef cap was also on hand to sort of berate the volunteer staff with a large cleaver in his hand.  Not friendly.  Another woman who spelled her name Anna had her panties in a knot over something or other of an organizational nature and had verbal fisticuffs with the nice woman.  Also Anna was completely disgusted with eye-rolling frustration when I mispronounced her name, as I bet you would too:  Anna is ANN'-ah, typical pronunciation, right?  Nope.  "It's AH'-nah!" she informed me and turned quickly away so as not to look upon me again, ignorant scullery maid that I was.

We were totally confused, there was little direction as to our tasks, and even less idea of how those in charge were to supervise volunteers.  Lots of roaming around, bumping into each other, and guessing what we were to do ensued.  We got enough direction to finally complete a few tasks, then the hoards (about 100 participants) arrived for their supper of watery soup, a mostly greens salad, a scoop of some nondescript veggie mixture and a biscuit.  Everything was vegetarian and gluten-free, which is actually just fine with me.  But there were also dizzying other options: soy/ no soy; diary/no dairy; rice flour or corn flour; no onions (?)…on and on.  Little signs printed with all the ingredients stood in front of the serving pans where we stood behind at the ready with our serving spoons to offer a dollop of food ("Not too much..we might run out; no seconds until everyone is served").

Everyone had to read the signs to be sure they weren't ingesting some poisonous concoction of eggs and flours and then came the demands:  "Can I have just the top of the casserole; I don't eat carrots (the under layer)."  Or "just from the bottom, please, no cheese topping."  Or "Could I have a larger scoop?…Oh! Not that much!"  Or "Just a little, please.  Well…more than that!"  People and their food issues!  And rude issues!  I wasn't having fun yet -- and never did with the kitchen experience, which went on like that for all 4 of our work-commitment meals, except that we did eventually find things more easily and developed a sense of humor about the whole craziness.  By dinner the next day (our last meal to serve) Hub and I were tempted to dump every lasagna option together in a big pan, mix it up, divvy it out again with a variety of random ingredient signs and see if anyone noticed or cared since it all looked exactly alike anyway!  But we didn't.  That would just be mean….like AH'nah.

Then we went to the first dance, which was sort of fun/interesting/weird/OK/familiar/unfamiliar.  We've been facilitators of a small Ecstatic Dance group at our UU Fellowship loosely based on Gabrielle Roth's 5-Rhythms Dance.  It's a cool, internal, meditative practice.   A clip below will give you an idea, but bear in mind, we don't look like these groovy dancers:  We are mostly over 40, or 50, or 60, or 70; wearing regular clothes, and not so intensely tranced or comfortable in their skin as these accomplished dancers.  We're "just folks", dancing in meditative movement, not making eye contact, sometimes hiding in the back -- just learning to love our own internal rhythms, our bodies, and ourselves in spite of our years, weight, and arthritis.  But anyway, here's Gabrielle Roth and her crew:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8cYYzcTzm6Y

So we get to the dance and find something very different.  Many are wearing colorful, flowing pants and skirts, tiny tops, dreadlocks.  Many are doing Contact Improv dance.  Now, I knew going in what this was and I warned Hub that there might be a lot of this going on.  There was.  We decided we would not participate.  We didn't.  Still….this was what we saw (Check out the couples at about the 3-5 minute mark for the full-on effect, but at Dance Camp there were often 3-4 dancers together):  https://www.youtube.com/watch?  v=kQDZT6vfEyQ

Still, even that wasn't the problem with the Dance Camp.  But let me say the nice things first:  I loved just doing our own thing at the dances, although I felt like a voyeur with all the "contact" threesomes going on around us;  I loved the women-only circle and learning about/doing Sacred Tantra Dance (not sexual at all -- very beautiful and soulful); I loved the Kirtan (sacred chant); I loved the voice classes with instantaneous harmonies; I (mostly) enjoyed a couple of sessions of "small group time", with six of us meeting for a "sharing circle".  Hub liked the Breath Work class (I thought it was weird and refused to participate -- bad attitude?) and we tried the Massage and Bodywork class, but it didn't meet our expectations, mostly due to the instructor's style.

No, the real problem with Dance Camp was the campers.  Most were parts of large dance communities in the Northwest and California.  Most perhaps knew each other, or of each other, before arriving.  Most were into the Contact Improv or Zipper Dance (similar), and many struck me as an unfriendly, unwelcoming, insular clique who were so focused on "creating meaningful connection through community" that their style of dress, speech, near constant eye-gazing and stroking each other ended up feeling like such an orgy of sensuous exhibitionism that any sense of true community was virtually impossible.

So I basically dropped out after Day 2 (of 6).   Hub went to a few more sessions than I, but we also both escaped to a small town we love in the area, walked on the beach, watched sunsets, ate in restaurants that served food actually seasoned with interesting flavors, visited with a friend, explored.  Dance Camp became a place that more creeped me out than  delighted me and I plan never to return.  And I feel sort of badly about that.  I think there were a number well-meaning people there, people who I might have liked but who were so caught up in the group "dance" of Ego and even some neuroses, that the whole scene felt like a place to flee from rather than embrace.

That said, I'm sure their closing circle (which we skipped) was one of prolonged hugs, misty eye-gazing, promises to meet again, and declarations of "best ever" experiences.  So, maybe it was just me.

Had we stayed up late for the "Sultry Cafe" from 10 p.m. - 1 a.m., I might have come home with a new attitude. When we asked what that was, we were told:  "Oh it's the best!  It's where you can really strut your stuff!  Wear something sexy!!!"

Or, I might have come to the same conclusion about Dance Camp after all.

At least, that's the view from here….

P.S.  There were two serious sprains and one broken foot at the camp; Hub and I both came home with a gastrointestinal "bug" that may or may not be related to the well-intentioned, but lax kitchen cleanliness standards.  Just sayin'. ©

FOOD FIGHT

This one is for the galz.

Is it just me or does junk food seem even more delicious when your man is out of town?

Hub and I are healthy eaters.  Except in December, we almost never have chips, crackers (except those little rice cracker discs), candy or desserts in the house.  We rarely eat white starches -- pasta, rice, potatoes, or crusty breads... hot from the oven... slathered in butter... Oh! I digress!

But the minute he leaves town for some reason, I am all about the "forbidden fruit"-- light on fruit, heavy on forbidden.   Recently, within 2 hours of his departure, I ate a large slice of carrot cake I impulsively bought at the store, while shopping for kale. That was at 10:00 in the morning.  Then I made a batch of popcorn for lunch.  Dinner was pizza and a salad ("I'm not completely crazed", I thought to myself, munching on a forkful of sweet pepper and romaine between cheesy bites of 'za).  Later in the evening I was kicking myself for not grabbing a small container of ice cream while shopping that morning.  I had Greek yogurt and blueberries instead, with granola and walnut topping.  And a cherry.

It might have to do with what I observed as a child.  (Yes!!!  Let's continue to blame my mother for my life-choices!)   My dad was a meat and potatoes guy.  The meat and potatoes should never touch each other.  Sometimes a scoop of corn or beans could also find a spot on the plate, but nothing exotic like broccoli or cauliflower.  So when Dad went to his company conference for one summer weekend each year, we ate.... wait for it.... SPAGHETTI!  CASSEROLES!!!  And sometimes, HUGE TUBS OF BUTTERY POPCORN -- FOR SUPPER!!!!  And my FAVORITE!  CHOCOLATE CAKE AND POTATO CHIPS!  (The absolute perfect combination of sweet goo and salt crunch!  Mmmmm...my mouth is watering.)

So, maybe it's just me and my mom still hanging out when Hub is away.  She's not in this realm anymore, but I do smile remembering those rare days of eating any damn thing we wanted to eat, whenever we wanted to eat it.  It was fun!  Hub's not so fussy as my dad, not at all.  We eat a large variety of really yummy stuff.  But not much 'junk'.  So the Rebel Ivy reaches for the Snickers and throws caution to the wind...

Here's to us, Mom!  The kale will keep.

At least, that's the view from here....©

ROCKIN' in my chair N' ROLLIN' my yarn ball

This is what it comes to, I guess.  I am 62.  Do the math.  I was in my 20's in the 70's -- the days of sex and drugs and rock n' roll.  I did some damage.  And OK, looking back, I could have been a wee bit more cautious.

In the intervening years, I did grow up, learned to be responsible and accountable, and loving of those other than myself.  I had a job, raised kids, took care of aging parents and nurtured a marriage.  Settled down, in other words.

Settled WAY down, as it turns out.

On Monday I decided to curtail the sweet tooth I'd indulged over the holidays and cut back on my mochas too.  I did great for 3 days.  But today I was out shopping mid-day for yarn to crochet a "throw" for an upcoming fundraiser at my church.    And I got hungry.  I should not leave the house on an empty stomach because I tend to get a little shaky when my blood sugar plummets.  So, what to do?

Well, you know what is on every corner, luring me like the Sirens in the Odyssey....that wily green-haired mermaid!  Walking through the door of Starbucks, my reusable cup in hand (save the earth!), I looked furtively about (as if anyone cared), feeling like I was walking into a crack house.  Ashamed.  Desperate.  Eager.

Here's what I ordered, my usual:  Tall, decaf, non-fat, no-whip, extra hot mocha.  Look at that!!!  There is absolutely nothing in that thing!  How could it be so wrong?!?  Right?  And I got the oatmeal cookie, because oatmeal is a health food.  So there!

But still, all the way out to the mall I felt guilty as I munched and sipped my indulgent lunch.  Oh, failure that I am!  Oh, weak-willed woman!

And as if that wasn't bad enough, I got to the check-out stand and discovered I'd forgotten my 1/2-off coupon!  Drats!!!  I actually thought of putting my yarn back, going home for the coupon and returning, which would have saved me a whopping $4.00!!!  (Um, about what I spent on the 'speed-free' coffee).  But I thought, no, it's OK.  The carbon footprint I would leave to make another trip probably is offset by the $4.00 overpayment....

Oh, it all gets so complicated!  Oh, for the carefree days of hip-hugger bellbottoms, the Doors, and a doobie!

And even more so when I re-read this post.  Let's find the key words of a changed woman:
"yarn", "crochet", "fundraiser", "church", "blood sugar", "decaf", "non-fat", "no whip", "oatmeal", "health food", "coupon", "Drats!" "carbon footprint".

I need a shot of tequila!                          

At least, that's the view from here....©

SOLSTICE-LIGHT-WORLDEND-BIRTHDAY-CAKE-DOC

Happy Solstice!  The light is returning!  We are alive!  I had a birthday!   I love Costco Tuxedo Chocolate Mousse Cake!  I have a doctor's appointment today!

1.  When I was flirting with "Wiccanism" I latched onto all the Solstices and Equinoxes and pagan holidays of the earth-based spirituality that Wicca actually is, but  I was a "lone practitioner", so it was a lonely little foray into that flirtation with a personal spiritual practice that didn't have much staying power.  Yet the Winter Solstice stuck more than others -- I used to make the boys go outside with me, clippers in hand, and cut away at the fir branches, holly, ivy, and laurel and bring it all in to make swags and wreaths and "bouquets" for the house.  I thought it was great fun and really beautiful.  The kids went along with it when they were young (kids just want something novel and "fun" to do); not so much as they got older, but I still enjoy bringing the greens in and decorating with them by myself.  So, Happy Solstice!

2.  It has been raining sort of non-stop for ... I don't know... years?  Not really, but we have been enduring the usual winter wet and gray and gloom for weeks now.  It gets light about 8 a.m. and dark again at 4:30 p.m.  In between is a sort of light-to-dark gray "Twilight" (Yes!  Perfect for vampires!) that never feels like true daylight.  It is a challenging time of year for sun lovers like me.   But today marks the start of the (at first imperceptible) return of the sun.  Yay!  In 6 months it will be light at 4 a.m. and not dark until 10 p.m. and that will be so totally great!  Hello sunshine!

3.  I am confident that June will come again because the world didn't end today as predicted.  Studying the Mayan calendar has been all the rage for some time since the prediction of the Mayans, according to some interpretations, was that this was the day the world would end -- 12/21/12.  I didn't follow the prophesy closely enough to understand why...but I recall we've had many such predictions and somehow we keep on keepin' on, so there's that.   Plus, the Mayans should have been focusing their prediction closer to home and they maybe could have warded off the end of their own civilization...just sayin'.  World without end, amen!

4.  So now I'm 62.  That used to seem pretty old and significant in a way that had something to do with some people retiring then and collecting social security.  At least that's what I recall about conversations between my parents and their friends.  For me, I got to get into a musical performance at the local historic theater last week on the senior discount (begging to be given the $2.00 off a few days prior to my actual birthday...nice box office worker took pity on this senior citizen and agreed to honor it).  I also thought I'd get the Denny's discount now, only to be told by Son Two that Denny's starts their senior discount at age 55, so I've been eligible for YEARS.  Of course, 7 years of Grand Slam breakfast consumption might put one at risk of even making it to 62, so I guess it's a good thing I was confused.  That and I haven't been inside a Denny's restaurant in about 15 years.  But the lure of using my age to advantage is hard to resist.  Happy Birthday to ME!

The family was all here for my birthday dinner on Wednesday.  I loved that.  I am in love with my family.  Seriously.  Oh, there are individual irritations and worries and frustrations here and there, but when we gather for special occasions, we rock!  Best behavior abounds and smiles and laughs and good cheer usually prevail.  (Hmmm...now there's some sugar-coated wishful thinking...but it's MOSTLY true, honest!)

5.  We capped the festivities with a birthday cake, naturally.  We don't bake, but we do search for really good store-bought birthday cakes and this year's was stand out.  Costco Tuxedo Chocolate Mousse cake.  OMG!  Killer good.  Literally.  No one could finish their piece of cake after the lasagna dinner (calories be damned on birthdays!), it was so rich.  But I discovered yesterday...and today...that it is the perfect breakfast dessert.  Toast and mousse cake!  Yes!  The list of ingredients, starting with "sugar", goes on for a good long paragraph and I don't know, nor can I pronounce, all the words.  But I'm telling you, it is so good!  Once a year I indulge in this kind of thing and I trust my body to get to the detoxin' post-haste once consumption has ended.  Gnosh Pit!

6.  Speaking of health...I have my annual physical today.  I think I'm holding up rather well.  I had that bout of fainting episodes for no reason a while back that landed me in the hospital and caused me near constant "queasy" nausea and anxiety for about a year, but hey, small price to pay for the ability to finally lose the 25 pounds of flab I'd accumulated over time.   My last trip to Hawaii I finally stopped obsessing about how I looked in my swimsuit and didn't even delete all the photos we took!  But since I've been feeling better, I've been back "on my feed" as they say and the scale is starting to be my enemy again.  So, I did think for a moment this morning about wearing a cotton blouse rather than a wool sweater for the weigh-in at the doctor's office.  Yes, that's my "old familiar" way of thinking about how to cheat the  truth.  But then I thought... Really???  I'm 62 flippin' years old!  I'm done lying to myself.  I'm gonna eat some mousse cake, wear whatever I like, and read the numbers on that scale with acceptance and gratitude.

The world did not end, the light is returning, and I'm still alive!  Halleluja!

At least, that's the view from here....©

CHRISTMAS FAIL

I am already thinking this post should probably be in my personal pity-party journal, rather than here to be endured by my readers.  But since this blog is about honesty and maybe validating the thoughts and feelings of others, here goes:

I am a failure at Christmas.  Take this morning.  Hub headed up to the mountain for a day of snowboarding.  I pretended I was going to clean the house. (He should have seen through that).  But, no!  Sneaky girl that I am, I saw it as a day to go out there and do some Christmas gift shopping!  I had a couple of ideas in mind, a couple of little things for Hub, as well as this's and thats for the rest of the clan.   I brushed my hair out of my face, put on a cute little outfit and sensible shoes and timed my drive to the "big mall" 20 minutes south of where I live to arrive not long after opening so I could park within 1/2 mile of the entrance.  It went swimmingly.

Then I went directly to the store where I just knew I'd have success with the items for Hub.  That's where it went wrong.  (I can't be specific here, cuz Hub reads this blog regularly, bless his heart -- "Hub, close your eyes!")   The items in question are not exotic; they should have had them.  The first, nada.  The second, a dumb and crazy-expensive version of what I wanted.  And the clerk was rude, so I left...right after purchasing the cute, cuddly jacket for myself which I found on the sale rack.  And a pair of gloves I've been wanting.  The dress didn't fit, so I vowed again to cut back on sweets and to hop on the treadmill when I got home.

I was a little flustered with my lack of success at what was supposed to be the easy part of this shopping expedition.  I got outside that store and started heading to the department store across the mall to shop for others, and with each step, visualizing that huge store, my unfamiliarity with where things were there, the plethora of overwhelming choices I would face....my steps slowed.  I stopped, closing my eyes as happy shoppers streamed around me, and decided I just couldn't do it.  I did an about-face and headed for the parking lot.

By the time I got back to my town I had thoroughly chastised myself for wimping out.  I decided to give it another go at a smaller version of the same store north of my town.   (Yes, that's a lot of miles, gas, time....Shush!)  But first I had to do something, I don't know, comforting.  Hello Starbucks!  (Forgetting that lose weight vow of only 20 minutes earlier).  Eggnog Latte and Cranberry Bliss Bar in hand I was back in the car and heading north....for 2 blocks.  Again, the store loomed in my imagination, parking, going in, choices, indecision, expense....grrr...I turned and headed home, kicking myself for not being more creative about gift-planning the other 11 months of the year.

That's where I go wrong.  I detest shopping in general.  I'm OK at specific things at specific stores, but to "go shopping" just for fun, or "nose around" for no particular reason, or "I'll find something eventually" adventures do not appeal to me.  So every December I am in this same predicament.  I didn't plan ahead, I didn't "craft" anything appropriate, any imagination or brilliance I might have had, say, in July is now as soggy and wet and inhospitable as this morning's weather.

Oh, I'll figure it out and pull it together.  I always do.  But I am not a fan of the season.  I think it's because, like with so many things as I look back, I did not pace myself.  I used to be really good at this. I was the friggin' Christmas Fairy around here, creating holiday magic and rituals and traditions, as if my children's childhoods would be bereft without them.  Then they grew up and I grew tired.

Yes, I know it's not about gifts.  But I don't even feel like decorating this year.  I'm slowly turning into the biggest Scrooge ever, if scored on the "Outward Displays of Christmas Spirit" scale.

What I want and what I will get, for sure, (gifts or not, decor or not) is... time with my beautiful family, a fire in the fireplace, yummy food, board games, jigsaw puzzles, holiday music, special gatherings and services at my church, parties with friends....

As for something to open on Christmas morning, I wish I could just wrap my heart, so full of love and devotion and pride and compassion, and offer it to everyone I care about as a talisman to keep them safe, content, and in love with life forever.  That's what I wish.  No shopping required.

At least, that's the view from here....©

CARROTS AND COWS AND SNICKERS, OH MY!

Here are some random thoughts on food:

1.  Hub brought home a FULL-SIZED (no Halloween whimpy mini) Snickers bar from work a week ago.  That's right...A WEEK AGO!  It is still sitting on the kitchen counter.  Just goes to show, my respect for what belongs to another person trumps my usual very poor willpower over chocolate and nuts.  For a week anyway.  I think beyond that, come Saturday, I am declaring it abandoned and available.

2.  I've never felt right about eating animals.  At least those that walk on land.  I do eat mussels, shrimp, oysters and clams with abandon, although shrimp do sort of have a face.  I also eat fish.  I'm sorry, but I just do and I love it.  Chickens and turkeys are technically "foul" and have wings, so I guess I don't count them totally in the land animal category, but of course they are most of time.  I only eat them very occasionally.  Cows and pigs:  Now those are really difficult for me to eat so I very, very rarely do. (Well, unless in the form of extra crisp bacon every once in awhile).  You see the problem here -- I'm obviously not a strict vegetarian, so the whole thing causes me some angst, because I really like the idea of being a vegetarian.  I once was -- didn't any eat meat at all for over a year back in the 70's.  Then I slipped up with a killer Klondike burger at the infamous Come Back Inn in Melrose Park, Illinois.  It was all over.  These days, you can offer me a smoke or a drink and the answer is an automatic no.  No thought required.  But this land animal meat food still gives me pause, especially when a guest in someone's home.  I will eat what they serve.  In my own home I mostly don't eat land animal meat.  Also not in restaurants.  I'm not sure what this means....just that I'm doing my best to be healthy and ethical.  And I worry about Karma.  One of those poor beasts may be holding the Karmic soul of someone potentially great and they deserve to live out this life fully without my intervention just cuz I had a hankerin' for a Rib-Eye.

3.  I anthropomorphize vegetables.  If an animal's Karma keeps me from eating it, veggie Karma seems to insist I devour it as its highest calling.  I'm afraid to even admit this, but I have rescued errant hunks of diced carrot from the lip of the garbage disposal in an effort to "save" them and allow them to be eaten.  I think I hear them calling, "Don't leave me behind!" when all the other little carrot hunks are already swirling in the pot happily ready to be cooked.
Anyone else share this slightly OCD predilection?  No?

Hmmmmm.....now I just feel weird.

At least, that's the view from here....©