Bumpity, Bump, Bump

The last couple days have been bumpy, and I trace it back to the plan, or lack thereof.

Wednesday we arranged to grab a bite to eat to kill some time before an indoor lacrosse game. That was fine and dandy until I ran into an old friend, Tim Horton. He brought along a few mutual acquaintances, Timbits.

Why do those damn things always seem like a great idea at the time and taste so good going down? Once they mix with digestive juices though they turn into lead anchors before they find their way out. The “old fashioned” varieties nostalgically transport me to childhood. I didn’t practice very good portion control with them then either.

The unexpected donuts didn’t send me to the dark side, all wasn’t lost. I recorded them in my electronic food journal and moved on.

Yesterday, I felt like crap most of the day. I even thought about passing over lunch because my stomach felt queasy. What? Skip a meal? Are you serious?

I mustered through with a salad topped off with black beans, which didn’t really help matters, but that was the only protein available. I munched on Tums all afternoon hoping I didn’t blow chunks before the end of the day. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been physically sick in my lifetime, and I was not about to go down that path, thank you very much.

I stopped on my way home from work for a diet pop and saltines. I thought that might calm things down. That really didn’t help much either, and I still managed to nibble my way through a sleeve of crackers. Did you know there are eight servings in one sleeve of saltine crackers? That’s like 480 calories – crazy talk I tell ya.

After that I didn’t feel it wise to eat a big meal so I opted for two tablespoons of hummus on a whole grain cracker that I’m pretty sure was actually tree bark. I also ate a small banana.

A phone call with some discomforting news a couple hours later left me searching for something to smooth over my emotions. I thought some high fiber cereal might do the trick. Big surprise, after a couple bowls the only thing I felt was bloated. I guess the consolation is that I conducted a very economic cleansing program for myself.

I have a little better plan of attack as I begin a new day….mindful eating and spending some time in the sunshine.

Got An Aspirin?

Lyle stayed up all night last night – seems pretty stupid to me, and I don’t know how or why he does this. He says he loses track of time. What? He will end up with a headache strong enough to choke a horse, and we will all pay dearly.

I didn’t even notice until I woke up this morning – completely refreshed. I now know why Lucy and Desi had twin beds in the I Love Lucy show. It had nothing to do with the Puritanical rules set forth by the FCC in the 1960s. It was all about the snoring, grunting and stealing of the covers.

Play Time

I don’t work on Tuesdays and Fridays. I like the part time gig because it gives me a professional fix, and I still have time to manage the Fast household in a way that works well for our family. Too much “programming” makes us all nasty and hateful.

I realize with a schedule like this, it is easier to find Me Time. I get that, and I feel blessed to have the ability to make that choice. Today is the first time though in several weeks that I feel good enough to do anything remotely self-centered, which is much different than self-preserving. Survival mode revolved around our house during the flu quarantine and we have been making up for lost time ever since.

Anybody Have Extra Time?

I feel like I’m living on borrowed time during these sunny, warm November days. I’m generally a pretty optimistic person, but I can’t help but dread the inevitable cabin fever of February so I feel like I must take advantage of the pleasant weather now.

I came home from work today and set off with the dog for a little stroll, and we ended up taking a 4.5 mile walk. For those runners out there, or others who maintain a rigorous exercise routine, that may not seem like much, but it tickled the hell out of me. Between the walk and my daily activity, I’ve put in 9 miles today, which is 20,351 steps, and I think I deserve a pat on the back – maybe even a hot fudge sundae!

Success Beyond Perfection

I live in a lake community, which is a pretty social place, but once Labor Day arrives, everyone rolls up their sidewalk and hibernates until mid-May.

Some friends suggested we start a book club to keep in touch through the fall and winter months, but we encountered a few glitches. First, several in the group only want to read fluff. I like to read a junky novel as much as the next guy, but I don’t want that to be dictated by someone else’s guilty pleasure. Several women don’t ever read the monthly selection, and lastly, the discussion portion is really only a front to drink a couple glasses of wine and munch until we all implode. This is the part that causes me the most grief.

Weighing My Options

People think I’m a morning person, but I hate the alarm as much as the next guy. I choose to get up before anyone else in the house because I need time to get my filter in place. Coffee helps.

I don’t work on Friday so sometimes I sleep in until 6:30 a.m. – woo hoo! I’m also having a hard time sleeping right now, which makes me a little slow on the uptake. The remnants of this damn flu bug linger. I feel fine except at night when I start coughing like a 12-pack a day smoker.

Black Bean Soup

1 16 oz bag of dry black beans (soak overnight in a big bowl of water)
1 ham bone
5 bay leaves
1 tsp. oregano
1 small onion chopped
8 quarts of water

Boil above ingredients over medium heat for one hour until meat easily pulls off bone. You can cool broth in refrigerator and skim fat off top or proceed to the next step.

2 c. chopped ham from ham bone (or leftovers)
1 Tbs mild chili powder
1 Tbs cumin
½ tsp. smoked paprika
1 clove minced garlic
¼ tsp. onion powder
1 tsp. oregano
1 small 15 oz. can packed pumpkin
1 c. chopped carrots
1 Tbs hot and spicy chili powder
1 can refried beans (optional)

Put all the above ingredients into a slow cooker and cook on low all day. If you don’t have a crock pot, you can cook over medium low heat on the stove. About a half an hour before you are going to serve it, I stick a potato masher (or a big tumbler with a flat bottom) into the soup to mash up some of the beans. It helps make the broth thicker. You can also add a can of refried beans to thicken the broth.

Nutrition information is figured with the broth being skimmed for fat and without the refried beans. Each cup has approximately 100 calories, 1.6 grams fat, 5.5 grams of fiber and 8 grams of protein. It equals 1 Weight Watchers Point. Fair warning – 2 cups equals 3 points because you max out the fiber Points.

It Can Be Done

I’m pleased to report that I made it through baking and eating birthday cake without any negative consequences. It was a damn good birthday cake, I might add.

My brains momentarily poured from my head when I lifted the layer cakes from the cooling rack and a moist hunk remained stuck. I raked my hand across the tines and before I could give it thought, rammed my finger tips in my salivating mouth. It didn’t mix well with my minty-fresh gum, which I strategically placed there for that very reason. I quickly plopped the racks in the soapy dish water and went about the task at hand without further incident.

Know The Limits

The Finished Product - so far so good. I'm keeping to the plan!

I knew I would need to detox from sugar just a bit when I got back on track. She has been an evil houseguest, and I decided to kick her to the curb.

The challenge now is that today is Russell’s birthday. We aren’t having a big celebration because we gave him his present early and he opted out of a party. He still wants a cake, which is a reasonable request.

I asked him earlier in the week if he would like a cake from a new local bakery. I thought he would jump at the chance, but he looked at me as if I punched him in the gut and said, “No, I want you to make me a chocolate cake like last year. That was the best cake ever!”

Chocolate layer cake with chocolate icing – he is my kid.

The difference last year was that there were six boys in the house to make it go away. Lyle and I each ate a small piece, and then I got out the back-hoe. I was the coolest mom ever when I loaded the boys up with the biggest hunks of cake they had ever seen. Problem solved.

So here’s my plan. I’m eating one piece of cake because I cannot smell it cooking in my house and skip the eating part. I’m certain the world would cease to exist as I know it. That and I’m afraid of the deprivation collateral that would result. But I promise not to roll around in it, and eat it until my skin hurts.

I looked up the nutrition information – 560 calories and 12 grams of fat – in one piece. I guess it’s safe to say, fiber is of little consequence since I’m using white pastry flour.

Yesterday when Russell and I were at the store, he asked me if I needed flour to make the cake. I knew he was worried that I might try to sneak whole wheat flour into the batter. I assured him there would be no healthy substitutions. I can’t do that to the kid – he endures enough of my healthy cooking experiments. He’s entitled to a birthday cake.

In exchange, he must take the leftover cake to school. He really doesn’t want to share it. Truth be told, he and Lyle can keep baked goods around long enough that mold starts growing. I simply cannot fathom the concept, which speaks volumes, I know.

I thought I could let him keep it around for a couple days, but then I noticed the dimples on my fanny increase in size at just the anticipation of cake being in the house. Who am I kidding? I am not on good terms with chocolate cake, nor do I ever expect to be. The best I can strive for is good behavior with limited visitation.

I think I can stick to my plan, but I can’t trust myself any further than tonight. Perhaps it’s pathetic that I find it impossible to coexist with a chocolate layer cake, but it is realistic in my world. Every girl needs to know her limits.

Game Over

I scared myself with this recent fluctuation. Maybe it’s because it is so close to the holidays, which brings all kinds of dangerous eating opportunities, or perhaps I noticed a sense of reckless abandon lurking in the shadows.

I admit when I finally confronted my behavior, part of me wanted to throw a two-year-old temper tantrum and scream about how unfair life is. Poor me for not being able to maintain my weight as I try to move nighttime snacking onto an Olympic platform – I’d really like one of those gymnast’s butts.

I decided instead to pull on my big girl panties and compare the difference between recent behavior and when I first lost weight. Is it conceivable that I might uncover the magic pill I’d yearned for all this time? Good luck with that dip shit.

How did this gig become so complicated all of a sudden? Then I realized that I completely stopped planning – meals, special events, work lunches, you name it. I momentarily adopted an attitude of, “l’ll make up for it later.”

Can you say, “Let the games begin?”

There is no room in my life for that attitude. When I began this journey, I discovered the mental aspect of this process played a huge role in my ability to lose weight. Once I embraced the notion that Life Is A Celebration, no longer did I find it necessary to eat my way through each “party” that presented itself.

I still enjoyed festive occasions, but I didn’t turn each dining experience into a competition. Nor, did I approach an event where I had little control in the food served like it was The Last Supper.

Yesterday served as a great reminder. We went to a sports banquet at a gourmet pizza and pasta restaurant. I looked online before we left the house so I would have an idea of what might be served, but I anticipated, rightly so, that I might confront a buffet.

I developed a plan and stuck to it. I ate a snack high in protein and low in calories ahead of time so my head wouldn’t spin off my body as soon as I smelled the roasted garlic billowing through the air.

I also skipped the cocktails, which provide too many calories and increase the chances of making poor food choices. I loaded up on salad leaving very little room on my plate for pizza or pasta, but I opted to eat a very small portion of each, followed by a small piece of tiramisu. Oh, and I ate a piece of bread dipped in olive oil.

Now, did I eat more than what I originally calculated? Perhaps, but the important thing is that I practiced responsible portion control. I came home and skipped my snack, which reminded me that it is indeed possible to sleep through the night without having a evening snack, who knew?

All in all, it was a successful event, and it reiterated that I still possess the skills to be successful. While I could be tempted to beat myself up over a few weeks of poor choices, I gain more from learning from the experience and moving forward.

Tell Me The Difference

Is there any difference among desires, obligations and responsibility?

Does our outlook change on any of it as we age? Russell complains constantly that I micro-manage his life – do your homework, pick-up your dishes, take out the dog, go to bed, wake up. I try to back off, but some things just gotta get done, right?

I must accomplish certain things in order to exist and function in my family and in society as a whole. I go to work, abide the laws set by the government, well most of them, follow the hygienic rituals our society deems appropriate and other numerous tedious customs.

Technologically Challenged

Most days I get up and function pretty well, but once in a while, usually when I’m in a hurry, answers elude me, which frustrates the hell out of me.

I experienced one of these moments with my computer recently as I tried to download some photos onto the blog. Usually this is an easy-sneazy process, but I tried to simplify my life with Picasa, which is a web-based photo storage place – at least that’s what I think it is supposed to be.

Digital photography is a wonderful thing. It enables me to snap as many pictures as my little SD card will hold, which is considerably more than I need or want on any one given outing. But then I have to figure out what to do with the photos.

I decided to open a Picasa account so the images wouldn’t bog my down my laptop, but so far, I haven’t taken the time to really learn how to use the program. I have the patience of a turnip. Essentially, I want to open something and immediately know how to use it. I think that is why I like my iPhone – any idiot can pick it up and use it immediately. Can I blame Apple or technology in general?

I no longer have to wait for anything. Most correspondence comes in the form of email, texting and instant messaging. I carry a cell phone now wherever I go so I can be in touch with everyone I want and even a few who I wish would lose my number. If I want I can even order Chipotle while I’m on the road – there’s an App for that.

I fought the idea of a lot of these gadgets for quite a while because I thought it diminished the personal interaction that we need to truly thrive, but now I’m as hooked as the next guy, but does convenience come at a price? I don’t think my interpersonal skills have gone down the tubes just yet.

I enjoy unplugging and we did just that yesterday when the family went to Yellow Springs to tromp around in the woods at a state park. We took Sonya with us, and we all had a fabulous time. I think we are quickly becoming a dog family.

Last week I called out to Lyle and asked if Sonya was with him, and he quickly reminded me, “No matter where I am, the dog is never WITH me.”

This is the same man who scooped her up to be in a picture yesterday when we asked a fellow hiker to take a family shot of us. I would have posted a picture as proof, but I can’t figure out how to get it downloaded from my Picasa account. How I managed to get this leaf picture posted on the blog when it was in the same folder as the family picture is beyond me. Whatever.

Does it all come down to persistence? I manage most of the things I encounter by sheer determination. I’ll figure out how to use the stupid photo-storage program – I just need to put a little effort into it. I don’t think I’m all that smart, but I’m practical and have common sense. This same principal holds true with something as simple as learning some new software or some of my bigger life-altering challenges.

I know I’ve said it before, but what if giving up was not an option?

Chocolaty Goodness

Should chocolate and fiber occupy the same space?

I’m not talking about the naturally occurring fiber in dark chocolate – that’s a bonus. I’m trying to figure out if I should continue with my efforts to make a muffin containing chocolate that is also healthy. More importantly, can I expect it taste good?

This time of year finds me spending much more time indoors. I like to cook so I start playing in the kitchen. I tweak traditional American favorites in ways to make them savory and healthy.

Vitamin D To The Rescue

I think it is suppose to be sunny for the next few days, and I’m trying to soak up every available minute. I wish there was some way to bottle the stuff for February. My mood really suffers in the winter, and the idea of all the gloomy dark days are starting to worry me a little.

Calling All Knitting Needles

Snacking. It sounds like such an innocuous word, but it is causing me unbelievable grief.

I experience very little difficulty during the day with my eating. I eat modest portions of wholesome foods, which keep me satisfied throughout the day. I even plan for snacks during the day, and those don’t give me problems either. The time between 7 – 10 p.m. plagues me.

Message Received

O.K. already - I hear what you're saying.

Things are progressing well with the new washer. We discovered the reason big retailers don’t sell Speed Queen is because the manufacturer warranty is better than what most retailers offer as an extended warranty, which is where the box stores make a lot of money. I guess I’m quite happy with the little work horse we chose, and it feels good that we helped a local family-run business. It was a smart choice.

That’s all fine and good, except I think Little Ms. Speed Queen is trying to tell me something.

I blogged the other day about the fact I decided it was in my best interest to close my personal clothes boutique after I lost weight. While this is true, I confessed the other day about the two pairs of pants that offer a bit of wiggle room – I just have a hard time parting with them. One pair is plaid, the other paisley, both prints I would have never dreamed wearing 100 pounds ago.

I almost donated them at the end of last winter – they were baggy then, but I tucked them away, just in case. I even admit I was relieved when I saw them a week ago as I pulled out my fall clothes. Would they buy me a little extra time? From what? What was I thinking? I gotta throw that fat girl and all her bad ideas down the stairs once and for all, geez.

Anyway, I wore the paisley cords the other day, which don’t have nearly as much wiggle room as I remembered, and then tossed them in the wash. I pulled them out and there was this huge hole in the crotch. I admit the flu fog still landed me in a hazy place when I did laundry the other day, but holy cow, someone tell me that my arse wasn’t hanging out when I was wearing them? I think I would have noticed a breeze like that. Wouldn’t I?

I’m pretty sure it happened in the wash, but how does one completely shred the hind end of her pants in a washing machine? Maybe my new washer not only elevated me to the luckiest girl in the world, but she offers advice too. Is she the only one brave enough to call attention to what I’ve been denying for the past month?

Whether someone or something is looking after me, or my dimply bum has pushed too hard against the seams of my pants to weaken them enough for the mother of all blowouts, I’m now forced to confront the idea that I’ve been indulging a bit much.

I think this is all the only sign I need, thank you very much.

Banish Indifference

Embracing the cat's indifference will only make my pants tighter.

I thought cats only ate when they were hungry. Many of us are quick to assign human characteristics to our pets, but I swear our cat has turned to food for comfort.

We rescued him when he was a kitten about six years ago. We were at a restaurant and unbeknownst to us as we celebrated Lyle’s birthday at his favorite restaurant, the kitten climbed on top of our engine and subsequently rode 30 miles without getting mangled. We felt obligated to provide shelter; that and we had a seven-year-old kid jumping up and down begging us to keep the kitty.