Guest Post: An Update From My Brother

My brother discovered a love of writing about five years ago and has written more than 200 essays. However, Marty's "voice" has been silent since June when a series of seizures left him with substantial memory loss (click here to read more about this). Since then, many of you have asked how he's doing, and I'm thrilled to let him tell you himself. The following is Marty's first essay since his brain injury. I couldn't be more proud of the progress he's made.

“I have no yesterdays – only today”
By Marty Haraldson

A person reading the title of this short essay might say that I have written that incorrectly. It should read, “I have no ‘tomorrow’ – only today.” We are never guaranteed tomorrow. But on the morning of June 23, a Thursday morning, things for me went from normal and everyday to extraordinary and life changing. It was on that morning that I lost my yesterdays and started struggling to recall the events of each “today.” Now, if I do not record the events of each day, those events fail to become memories.

It was a Thursday morning. It was trash day in our neighborhood. That meant taking the garbage can and the recycling container down to the curb early in the morning before going to work. I did just that. That’s the last thing I remember doing for the next three weeks. After walking back into the house, I apparently suffered a “rapid succession of un-witnessed seizures,” according to the medical report. These seizures caused a neurological memory loss and a psychological memory loss. I spent the next two weeks in the hospital and a third week in a care center.

This event makes it difficult for me to learn new things and remember new things, even simple things. As far as remembering what I did yesterday or the days preceding, I cannot remember unless I have a written record of what happened. If I fail to write down what I did yesterday, where I went yesterday, or whom I saw yesterday, I’ll most likely not be able to remember it. I’m embarrassed when I walk into the offices where I once worked for 30 years and not remember everyone’s name. It bothers me, too, that I cannot remember all of my neighbor’s names. Even more embarrassing is when I cannot remember my own phone number or my home address that I’ve had for 20 years. It’s then that I realize and accept that something is really wrong with me.

When the doctors and therapists say my “possible” recovery may take a very long time or that my recovery may not be “full” or “complete,” I must prepare myself for that possibility both physically and mentally. I cannot live with blinders on. I’ve always taken on life and responsibilities with both eyes wide open and given it my all. There’s no reason for me not to do the same in my present situation.

I realize that this is not what I asked for. I’ll now be living on disability income. My life now moves at a considerably slower pace. I’ve been accepted as a volunteer at the S.T.E.P. program in my city where I’ll be helping with their food shelf program. My truck and I will be put to good use to help those in need. I hope to get back to my former self, but much has to happen before that is possible. Until then, I’ll make the best of what God has allowed to happen in my life. I hope you, too, allow Him to make the best of your life!

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Stirring The Mud. Settling The Mud.

When I grow up, I want to be as kind as my grandson, Luca. (“Sure!” is his standard response to questions.)

As happy as my granddaughter, Maelie (who, despite cutting what seems like 40 teeth at the same time, still puts on a happy face).

And as unaffected by what others think as my granddaughter, Claire. She wore her Captain America costume to the park yesterday, which drew some looks from adults and children, but she could have cared less.

In the meantime…

I want to live by the quote I heard today from Tara Brach’s dharma talk, “Learning to Respond, Not React.” This isn’t verbatim, but the gist is this: Can I sit long enough in a moment/feeling to let the mud in the river settle?

“Buddhist teachers compare calming the mind to letting muddy water settle in a glass. The water goes clear in its own time and there’s nothing you can do to hurry it up. In fact, if you try to hurry it, you’ll only stir up the mud.” From Buddhismand Gardens

It’s hard sometimes to see the forest for the trees, only because I don’t see my life as a forest, just as I forget that I function better when I swim in clear water as opposed to the muddy mess I create when I kick up sediment from the bottom of the river of my everyday life.

The following is going to seem a bit disjointed, but bear with me. I promise to bring it all together at the end.

I remember when I first contemplated a career in nutrition. I was with Joy Bauer in the Today Show green room (seriously, I’m not making this up OR bragging…this is really where it started). My then-husband, Larry, a biochemist, was talking to her about her education. Joy has a bachelor’s degree in kinesiological sciences and a master of science in nutrition. She’s studied a lot of chemistry. She and Larry had a LOT to talk about.

Being an English major (read: a right brainer), I knew I was in for a challenge. The only science I had to complete my BA was human biology, which turned out to be the most challenging class of my college career. I got a B, even though I was on the cusp of a C. Why? Because I have a difficult time with absolutes and memorization.

I’ve always challenged absolutes. I’ve always been able to defend – in a liberal arts kind of way – why I believed 1+1=3. Math and science, however, are unyeilding. They don’t bend for some awesome new insight into Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “Young Goodman Brown.” Carbs are carbs, lipids are lipids, amino acids are amino acids. Hormones and enzymes do what they do. Mutation is often a precursor to disease. How could I retain all that in my right-brain head?

Yet here I am, a few years later, in school again, taking two nutrition classes, a foods lab, and a class about what the dietary field is about.

To get to this place, I had to let the mud settle.

I’m on day four of my no-wheat challenge. I’m feeling…eh…better. The first few days were rough. I couldn’t stop thinking about bread and chips and every other wheaty-thing I’ve consumed since I grew teeth. Is it withdrawal, as Dr. Davis said might happen in “Wheat Belly,” or is it a placebo-type effect? There’s definitely less fluid in my joints, and I wake up feeling “thin” in my stomach, as I used to a few years ago. But is it due to no wheat? Or am I riding a wave of menopausal denial?

The mud’s still settling on this.

Here’s something you are NOT going to like. I hate it. I hate that I did this. And I’ll rectify it, but I need to say it here: I stiffed a server last night. Why? Because – first reaction – I was mad.

I took Luca and Claire to Bob Evans for their favorite ice cream sundaes. They were all kinds of energetic and I was tired and the server was clearly not in a good mood from the moment she said hello. That doesn’t excuse my choices. I’m just laying out the scenario.

Fast forward 20 minutes after the sundaes and hadn’t seen our server, I decided we’d go to the cashier to get our tab. The kids were still behaving well, although understandably they were a little restless. (“Up, Grammy!” “When can we go home?” Things like that. Nothing loud, nothing intrusive. Just a lot of child energy surrounding the Grammy nucleus.)

I asked the cashier…three times…to ask our server for our tab. Ten minutes later, the manager handed me a receipt and simply said, “Here you go,” to which I responded, “That took a LOT longer than it should have.” He looked at me like my head was screwed on backwards. I rolled my eyes, gave the cashier my debit card, signed the receipt without adding a tip, and walked out feeling all kinds of justified.

The mud was stirred up.

I dropped off the kids at their home. I complained to my daughter and son-in-law. Then I sat in the emotion of the experience as I drove down Route 28. What was really going on? Surely some server’s lack of attention wasn’t causing the anxiety and restlessness I was feeling, although it was easy to blame that. I didn’t give it much thought again (still feeling justified) until I woke up this morning and listened to the Tara Brach talk on responding and not reacting.

Clearly there are other things at work here. There are more trees in my forest than I realized. But seeing myself for the challenged, confused, and driven individual I am no longer scares me. My feet have the power to stir up mud. They can also acquiesce and float or tread water as I wait for the mud to settle.

Right now, I’m floating. No doubt my feet will stir up the mud again sometime this week. It’s what we do. We stir and settle, but maybe not settle as much as we should.  

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I *Heart* October

I love fall. It's my favorite time of year, especially with that "extra" hour we get when daylight savings ends.

I won't bore you with a lot of words. I'll just bore you with photos :)



Fall means:

Pickled beets from BFF Sharon in Kansas. Beets good.

G-baby Claire was born in October 2007. Grandma Julia and Grammy Lynn have no problem sharing.

Autumn Leaf Festival and fire truck rides!

Claire wants to be a firefighter. Or a police officer. She can't decide.

I always wanted to be a fire fighter. I blame "Emergency!" and Randolph Mantooth.

Handing Luca over to a firefighter so I could jump down. Nice bra strap, Lynn.

Papa Larry, Claire, Luca, Me, BFF Pam and her son, Alex waiting for the fire truck rides

What's a carnival without rides!

Claire is adventurous.

Luca? Not so much.

But he does love a piggyback ride.

And Grammy loves the bike trail. It soothes my soul. And reminds my thighs who's boss :)


Thank you for indulging me. I adore fall, even more so because of the months that follow. Fall has always been the time I gather my "memory nuts" to keep me mentally sustained for January, February and March.
 
Tell me about your fall. I hope it is treating you well and providing you with the fuel to help you through winter. Unless, of course, winter's your thing :)

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Knowledge is King & Breaking Bad…A Tale of Bread Addiction

I’ve been counting Points for nearly 7 years without giving much thought to how my diet breaks down in terms of fat, protein and carbohydrates. I lost counting Points, I became a vegetarian counting Points, I maintained counting Points, I gained some counting Points, and I’m losing once again counting Points.

Then along came the class “Fundamentals of Nutrition” and last week’s 3-day Intake Analysis assignment, and it was like someone opened the curtains in a dark room. All my nutritional info tumbled out on the screen and it took my eyes a few minutes to adjust and my brain to assimilate. It was the darndest thing.

Being a vegetarian, I'm asked a lot, “How do you get your protein if you don’t eat meat?” I’ve been a little concerned about that myself. Obviously not concerned enough to actually track my food intake, but I wondered. Apparently my concern was for naught. I exceed the recommended daily intake of protein for a woman my age and size by 30 percent! I take in a solid 61-80g of protein per day, well above the recommended 54g.

How, you ask? Here is a list of my top 15 as it pertains to my 3-day intake. Keep in mind this does not include other protein sources such as legumes, oatmeal, and peanut butter as this is only a snapshot of three days.

Fage yogurt – 15g

Soymilk – 5.1g
Homemade Curry Carrot-Leek Soup – 5.67g
Roasted soybeans – 7.57g
Genisoy soy chips – 7g
Asparagus – 4.37g
Egg whites – 10.79g
Sargento reduced-fat Swiss cheese – 7g
Homemade vegetable soup – 4.11g
Ak-Mak crackers – 4g
Homemade horseradish hummus – 3.16g
Crimini mushrooms – 3.74g
French bread – 3.76g
Cabot 75% reduced-fat cheddar cheese – 9g
Veggie burger – 7.13g

When combined, my spinach salads weigh in at over 15g of protein. My salads always include some type of protein (cheese, beans, edamame) in the 7-10g range, and together the vegetables contribute another 5-8g.

This analysis confirmed for me once again why I became a vegetarian: I like to eat. A lot. I’d rather obtain 15-20g of protein by eating a bigass salad that takes me 20 minutes to consume than eat a 3-oz piece of white meat chicken that’s gone in a few minutes or less.

Other things I learned: I’m smack dab in the middle of the recommended daily intake for each of the macronutrients. Approximately 53% carbs, 15% protein, and 21% fats.

Speaking of carbs, a friend recommended the book “WheatBelly: Lose the Wheat, Lose the Weight, and Find Your Path Back to Health” by William Davis, MD. Davis is a cardiologist who makes the argument that cutting wheat out of our diets drastically improves blood sugar levels, decreases risk of heart disease, and – of particular interest to me – reduces the pain of osteoarthritis.

I started reading “Wheat Belly” yesterday while sitting in an Irish pub in downtown Lancaster. I was dining alone, so I brought my Nook. I was enjoying a glass of wine (yes, it was 1:30 in the afternoon…*grin*) and had ordered a chicken and bacon salad sans the meat. The greens and veggies sounded awesome, as did the accompanying avocado slices and gorgonzola cheese (I’m a freak for bitter cheese). I wondered if they’d serve it with bread. The thought wouldn’t have crossed my mind a few weeks ago, but I’ve been giving serious consideration to going wheat-free, thanks, in part, to my friends Debbie (who recommended the book) and Lori at Finding Radiance).

Sure enough, on top of the salad was an amazing looking whole-grain-something kind of breadstick with little seeds in it. I wanted to eat it sooooooo badly, to dip it in the roasted tomato vinaigrette and take in every last bite until I was in a temporary psychedelic carbo-coma. But I didn’t. I ate all but one avocado instead. And to think, I used to be afraid of avocados! I mean, come on…avocados are nothing but fat, right? Run away! Run away!

But avocados are NOT the food to freak out about. Avocados are rich in poly and monounsaturated fats, the “good guys” of fats. Not that it’s wise to overindulge on the good guys, but eating avocados was a better choice than the god-only-knows-what’s-in-that-breadstick breadstick.

I admit…it was rough. I’m so completely and utterly devoted to wheat it’s sick. Yes… sick. I want it all the time. Some people easily control themselves, and I do control myself most of the time, but it’s a fight every day. The craving has me in a stranglehold, baby. (OK, now I have Ted Nugent in my head.)

So…what to do, what to do? The answer is obvious. I need to cut out wheat for awhile and see how I feel. Be my own science experiment. This will take some planning. I don’t do cold turkey well. If any of you have ideas, please pass them along! If you limit or have eliminated wheat, how did you do it? How do you feel when wheat-free?

As to the nutrition assessment, I learned a lot from the analysis assignment, but I’m not going to quit Weight Watchers. Counting Points works for me and I’m not in the mood to reinvent the weight-loss wheel. But I highly recommend that those of you who count Points, or anyone who doesn’t know their dietary intake numbers, to track their food intake in a program such as SparkPeople’s nutrition counter or Calorie King’s Nutrition and Exercise Manager. Know your numbers! It’s pretty darn empowering. 

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“Pack your bags!. We’re going on a guilt trip!”

When I was in North Carolina last month, I bought a notepad with this cover:

Know what I use that notepad for? My grocery list!

Yesterday on my Lynn’s Weigh Facebook page, I posted a link to this article: “Middle-aged women happier with moderate exercise.” I wrote:

“I've been thinking about this a lot lately. I do much better when I'm not killing myself with vigorous exercise and yet, I feel so guilty for not exercising like I used to.”

Reader Michelle posted this response: “I don't get the feeling guilty part. Why do something that doesn't make you feel good?”

Guilt, among other definitions, is “self-reproach for supposed inadequacy or wrongdoing.” I don’t know why guilt is easily absorbed by some and rejected by others. All I know is that I don’t remember a time when I haven’t known self-inflicted guilt. Guilt in the form of having let someone down. If I didn’t make my bed, I let my mom down. If I didn’t get an A on a test, I let my teachers down. If I hit a pop fly into right field, I let my softball team down. And whenever I gained weight, I let myself down.

Over the years, I’ve grown a thicker skin, something less porous. I can better discern those actions that are “worthy” of guilt and those that are unproductive self-flagellation. Better, but not perfected. Food and exercise are those precarious areas in which I am most vulnerable to the kind of guilt that produces feelings of “inadequacy and wrongdoing,” largely because their effects are physical. If I gain weight, I’m not only letting myself down, but also a community of people who have followed my blog over the years.

So what’s a more proper response? Michelle has me thinking that it’s probably not guilt *smile* Guilt is counter-productive and paralyzing. A better response would be….? Hmmmm…. A commitment to improvement? Mindful investigation about how a certain exercise makes me feel? An acceptance of the way things are now as opposed to what they were four years ago?

Yes, yes, and yes.

I found this quote recently: “Hard though it may be to accept, remember that guilt is sometimes a friendly internal voice reminding you that you're messing up.” I’m messing up when I don’t feed my body right and when I don’t move it the way it is capable of moving. And "capable" has changed over the years. I used to hit the cardio really hard, but my arthritic joints said, "No more!" and I had to dispense with the 90-minute workouts. Yet, despite the reduction in pain due due to more moderate exercise, the guilt remains.

Guilt is one of the hardest emotions to wrap our arms around and let go of (when appropriate).
But with a little introspection on this rainy day, the fog is lifting and I’m seeing guilt for the inappropriate response it is.

How much happier would we be if we approached our bodies with care, acceptance and wisdom rather than guilt? Mess up? Yeah, we’re gonna do that sometimes. The best solution? Self correct. Don’t dig out the knotted cords.

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Thinking Ahead Leads To Headache

I’ve been in this “last time” weight-loss/maintenance mentality for nearly 7 years (how crazy is that?). Enough time to sit back and recognize cycles. There are times when I’m all in, no holds barred. There are times when it takes everything I have to stick with it. There are times when I’m, “Eh…whatever.”


For instance, I’ve learned to not look ahead at the assignments on the syllabuses for my courses because I get so dang anxious about all the stuff I have to complete before the end of the semester, even though the end of the semester isn’t until mid-December! My teachers didn’t cram every assignment into one week because they know it takes time for students to take in every aspect of a particular course. They don’t expect us to know how carbohydrates are absorbed until we know what the heck a carbohydrate is. They don’t expect us to know how to prepare a complete meal for 300 people until we know how to order and figure (using math…of course…which gives me a headache) the proper amount of food needed (“as purchased” vs. “edible portion”). Looking ahead only gives me sleepless nights. Who needs that?

When I read the following blog from January 2009, I was reminded to “stay with the drip,” to stay present. So I am posting it here again…probably for the 10th time, since I seem to be reminded of this often...to remind myself that I am losing 10 pounds the right way and I’m learning dietetics the right way. Slowly. In order. In the moment. I hope it will speak to you, too, whether you are losing, maintaining, studying, raising children, taking care of someone, or otherwise needed in some capacity. Breathe. What else do you have to do right now? 
“With dripping drops of water, even a water jug is filled.” Dhammapada 121-122

How many times have you read an inspiring quote like this and said, “Yeah…I’m going to remember that,” only to fall back five minutes later into the same old same old?

This quote, though…I need to give this quote props. When I read it on Tuesday night, I was distracted by the sound of water dripping in the kitchen. Thinking I’d left the faucet slightly on, I ignored it and figured I’d check it out on my next visit to the kitchen. A few minutes later, I heard “splat, splat, splat” and I knew it wasn’t the faucet. We were having an ice storm, and what I found was water dripping from a leak in the roof.

I dug out a bowl and a towel and laid them under the drip. Water dripped slowly with an off-beat cadence for another few hours. Eventually it stopped and the bowl had filled to a few inches. I could have dumped it into the sink, but then I thought, What the heck? and watered one of my plants instead.

What a little serendipitous outcome. If my original plan had been to gather enough water from this roof leak to water my plants, I’d have been ticked off at all the time it took to gather a few inches of water. But my plan was to merely save my kitchen floor from a mini flood. The bonus wasn’t foreseen.

But isn’t that what a “diet” is? A bucket and towel and only one hopeful outcome? But when you stick to it, that rudimentary plan reaps far greater benefit. That’s what most people who aspire to lose weight miss.

I remember when I weighed 300 pounds and all I wanted was to lose weight IMMEDIATELY! As in RIGHT NOW, the moment I decided to join Weight Watchers. But it didn’t work that way. Not everyone gets that because right now, Weight Watchers centers and gyms all across the country are filled with people wanting a torrential wave of weight loss rather than a slow, steady drip.

But as so many of you reading this know (and I realize I’m preaching to the choir, but with the hope of reaching a few new eyes), weight loss is a slow, steady drip. Four years ago, when I started this journey, if someone had told me I’d still be grappling with weight issues after the big loss, I’m not sure I’d have kept it up. But plugging along month after month with the drip, drip, drip of a pound here and a pound there, it wasn’t (and still isn’t) so bad.

What I’m saying is, stay in the moment. Day after day. Count your calories, Points, fat grams, carbs, whatever, but stay with it. Stay with the drip. Your bucket will fill up eventually (and your ass will diminish). Be patient. Be still.

And remember, roofing contractors don’t usually work in the winter. You’re on your own.

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Are You Your Own Priority?

“Woke up. Fell out of bed. Dragged a comb across my head. Found my way downstairs and had a cup…” and that’s where my life stopped being like the rest of the song today. I don’t smoke and I didn’t go into a dream. I did, however, read the news. Oh boy.

Today I’ve spoken aloud three times: to the clerk at the liquor store, the clerk at the grocery store, and a guy standing at the ATM. Our conversation:

Him: “It sometimes does an upgrade thing at 3:00. It usually only takes a few minutes.”

Me: “I’ll come back later.”

My conversations with the clerks were shorter. “Credit, please” “Paper,” and “Thank you.”

I’ve grown accustomed to days like this. Accustomed and desirous. I need days like this – totally disconnected from oral communication and human contact – in order to focus on school and my goals…daily or long-term.

The woman ahead of me in the grocery store checkout bought $194 of groceries. Said she’s feeding two sons and a husband. I used to do that. Feed kids and a husband. My weekly grocery bill was crazy, too. As she paid her bill, I looked in my basket: one nectarine, two plums, one leek, 10 ounces of mushrooms, a package of spinach, a head of red leaf lettuce, two crowns of broccoli, two bananas, a bulb of garlic, one mango, one red pepper, three plum tomatoes, a loaf of light whole wheat bread, a dozen brown eggs and a container of grated parmesan cheese. Total: $27.57.

This morning I took a 102-point exam in Foods and a 30-point quiz in Nutrition (got 29 out of 30!). I printed out all my assignments, wrapped my head around more math, watched another episode of “Mad Men,” and washed the dishes. Oh…and I steamed and ate broccoli with parmesan sprinkled on top; ate a piece of bread with jelly because it just sounded so darn good; sautéed snow peas, carrots, garlic, onion, zucchini and slivered almonds in a little sesame oil, soy sauce, ginger and red pepper flakes, and served it over quinoa; and I’m thinking a spinach salad is what’s for dinner. Maybe popcorn. I don’t know yet.

Right now I’m drinking a glass of Chardonnay and staring at my Dietetics textbook. Chapters 5, 6 and 8 need to be read by Saturday. Foods, Nutrition, and Assessment need my attention, too. So does my diet. So does exercise. So do my grandkids and my children and Colton and my plants.

You know what I mean. I have no doubt that all of you have similar responsibilities and priorities, all within a household of what seems at times to be a dozen people. You have my infinite respect and awe. I know what that’s like because I was there once myself. And I was rarely my priority.

So I ask you, how do you make yourself a priority amongst the chaos? How and when do you focus on your food plan? It’s not too hard when you’re one person, but when you’re responsible for two or five or more…it’s not just a matter of waking up and having a cup and catching the bus and going home. There are infinite other things tugging at you, wanting your attention. You have many more conversations within the day than simply, “I’ll come back later.”

I look forward to your answers.

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Help Motivate Diminishing Lucy

In 2008 Lucy made the decision to transform herself from an obese 275 pound goddess to "a lithe and supple goddess of healthier proportions". She has lost about 85 pounds so far and feels she has about 38 more to go.
She has a great blog at Diminishing Lucy. Please go visit and give encouragement.

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A Tale of 20 Pounds

I couldn’t wait to see Denny yesterday. We met for breakfast at King’s in Kittanning, even though we were hoping to find some dive in East Brady, which probably exists, but not on Google.

Denny’s a long-time friend of ex-Larry, and they’d been on a “Sideways”-ish tour of the NY and Canada wine country over the weekend. Denny is also my friend, and the thing about friends when you get divorced, they either pick one side of the couple to side with or they throw their heads back and say, “I like you both. I’m not gonna choose or get in the middle.” Denny’s that friend.

When I walked into King’s, Denny was seated in a booth facing the entrance. When he saw me, he stood up, gave me a big hug, and said, “Hey, I was expecting that waif of a woman in a pink shirt! Your face is fuller. You look great!”

What I heard: “Damn, Lynn, you gained weight again!”

The last time Denny saw me I looked like this:

This is what I look like now:

My lowest weight was 125. I am now 145. Twenty pounds in two years. The gain has stopped, and I know why it happened (surgery, menopause, divorce, move, stress), but still…

I sometimes want to be that waif again.

At least I think I do.

And yet….

1. When I gained 10 pounds last year after my knee surgery, my body felt better. I have severe osteoarthritis, and when my body-fat levels were low, I was in a lot of pain. I’ve not been in as much pain at 145. Hmmm….

2. I like my current food regimen and I don’t want to change or reduce amounts at this point. I eat healthy foods, I’m still a vegetarian, but I’m no longer a food Nazi. I police myself, don’t get me wrong, but I let a baguette or full-fat cream cheese or a piece of my daughter’s banana bread fall through the cracks sometimes. I confess: I’m human.

3. This gain has stopped (I’ve stayed the same weight for 3 months) and I’ve fell in love with exercise again. It was a rough summer. My brother’s seizures and my pending school schedule had my undies in such a bundle there was no way to detangle them. Now that things have settled down and I have a better understanding of what’s what, my exercise schedule and nutritional intake are front and center again.

I learned that in times of stress, that when I stay focused on my health, my principles will not fail me. In the last three months, I’ve made the best decisions I could and stayed conscious of everything I put in my mouth. My food plan – culled over the last six years – has become rote. And that is what I think is the key to success. When the diet you choose becomes second nature, and you allow for some latitude and yet reign yourself in when you go too far, you are there. You get it.

My body has a few more curves than before. I’m no longer a waif, and that sometimes makes me sad. But I feel better physically. I’m strong and I look…eh…well, I’m still working on that positive. I look OK. I fell in love with being skinny. Waifishly skinny. That’s a psychological thing I’m still working out.

Today I was driving down Route 28 on my way home from Claire’s taekwondo class. A man – who I’d guess was in his late 60s – driving a late model (1980s?) black Jaguar passed me, and he was wearing a safari hat like the Man in the Yellow Hat from the Curious George books. There was what looked like a book mark hanging from his rear view mirror. He was singing. I imagined the book markish thing was some kind of saying or verse that he liked that kept him grounded. I thought about what mantra I might hang on my rear view mirror, what words would remind me that I am OK here in this moment, at 145 pounds, happy to be alive and singing in my car.

I’m open to suggestions. What mantra do you live by? What words give you strength?

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September 11...

I concluded today - after two weeks of no bike riding - that riding my bike is the number one stress reliever/mood lifter/mind clearing activity I engage in. It surpasses (and please don’t laugh or judge) sex, cooking, and watching reruns of “Frasier.” Spending time with my grandkids is usually really awesome, but sometimes I leave my daughter’s house needing to de-stress, so technically they don’t qualify. Riding my bike always relieves stress.

On today’s ride, I encountered five new things. 1. A woman riding a horse; 2. A Blue Heron. 3. A couple smacking down a dog toy from a tree branch 10 feet off the ground. They used a very big branch and their Golden Retriever was very anxious to have his toy back. I slowed down on approach, and just as I was going to pass them, the man whacked the branch successfully and all was well in their world; 4. This lovely red mushroom:

And 5. This tree:

I discovered it when I parked my bike on a ride back in May and went hiking down the stream that runs concurrent with the trail. I love the bend of this tree and its moss. I imagined it was the the kind of tree the Victorians leaned against to read “Jane Eyre” or “Age of Innocence.” I visited it again today and thought, ‘Hmmm….I need to bring a book along next time.’

I’m feeling less overwhelmed than I was last week because: A. I discovered once again the importance of a to-do list; and B. Prioritizing. My school schedule is a normal school schedule, but the difference between in-class and online classes is that I have to do the “Xeroxing” myself.

Remember how you used to sit in rows in class and the teacher would hand the first person in the row a pile of papers and he or she would take one and pass it back? In online classes, you have to make your own copies. And not only do you have to make copies, you have to determine what’s relevant. Your in-class teacher always did that for you, right? I don’t know what to learn, so I’m learning it all.

Today I experimented with a bean burger recipe and it turned out…well…not so good. The remnants will become sloppy Joe’s tomorrow. I made hummus, too. But the thing that remains with me today (and is in my head more often than I can say) is what happened 10 years ago.

As I listened to Bruce Springsteen’s CD “The Rising,” I – as millions of us in the U.S. and around the world – remembered the uncertainty, the fear, and the incomprehensible grief and loss and confusion of that day. What stays with me the most is the will and the bravery and the ultimate loss.

I don’t know if we’ll ever wrap our brains around that day. Certainly we’ll never understand it. But what I owe every life lost that day is to appreciate and understand the precarious nature of life. To appreciate a tree, a mushroom, or a bike ride, grandchildren and children, and even people we encounter in traffic. I mean, heck, we’re all trying to live our lives as we know them in this moment, same as the folks who died 10 years ago today in NYC, PA and Washington.

I hope you can value your life, at whatever weight you are, and know that you are loved and would be sorely missed if you weren’t here anymore.

May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love

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Saturday's Alright For...School

It’s been 15 years since I spent Saturday mornings in a classroom. My alma mater – Augsburg College in Minneapolis – offered a weekend program for working adults. I went to school on Friday nights, all day Saturdays and Sunday afternoons every other weekend for four years to get my degree.

I loved Saturday morning classes the most. My kids spent the day with my sister or my parents, so I didn’t have to worry about daycare. There was no traffic, so the I-94 loop around downtown was a breeze. And I could listen to NPR without hearing “Change the station!” from the back seat.

Today (a Saturday), I went to my first Foods lab at my new school, Community College of Allegheny County. It’s there in the photo below, just up and across the highway from Heinz Field (home of the Steelers and Pitt Panthers), which is in the lower left corner.

Foods is a class I’m really going to love. I know my way around a kitchen, so I shouldn’t get too lost. Wait until I take chemistry and biochemistry, though, then you’ll hear some definite groaning and requests for sharp objects to stick in my eye. Thankfully I’m friends with my ex, Larry, who has his Ph.D. in? Ah….biochem.

I’m taking four courses this semester (12 credits), two of which are Fundamentals of Nutrition and Nutrition Assessment. In Fundamentals, I will have to track my own diet. In NA, I will track the diets of three other people. I admit *hanging my head* that I’ve not been the best at tracking my food intake this summer. I start out great most mornings, but by evening, I’m like, “What did I eat this afternoon? Fruit? Yes? Just pop some popcorn for dinner and call it a night. I can’t think.”

This convergence of getting my food mojo back and taking classes in nutrition and food preparation will screw my head on straight again. I didn’t lose it completely; it’s just that the mojo took a hiatus this summer after being thrown that curveball called brother-with-brain-injury.

I admit *hanging my head again* that prior to June 23, I was pretty cavalier about the role emotions and time constraints played in planning, executing and maintaining a healthy diet. I subscribed to the edict: YOU come first. YOU decide what goes in your mouth. YOU are in charge. While these platitudes are true on the surface, they don’t always apply to every situation.

When you’re busy caring for someone else, you don’t come first. When you’re in a rush and pressured to get to this appointment and that, you’re not always focused on what you put in your mouth. Sometimes a cheese sandwich on whole wheat bread is the best you can do in the moment. “Could you throw some lettuce, onions and cucumbers on that, please?” was sometimes my best effort to get in my veggies. Yes, I’m in charge of myself, but autopilot Lynn is still in training. In the six years I’ve been losing /maintaining weight, I’ve not been as crazybusy/stressed as I have been the last three months. I’m adapting. And learning. And forgiving myself for my transgressions…for the most part.

So….Saturday mornings. Driving to the city. No traffic. I get time in a kitchen with people who seem to be fun, including the instructor. And I can listen to “On the Media” with no one yelling for me to change the station. Just like old times.

Can you dig it? Yes, I can.

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"...it's just a moment of change..."

Hello, my name is Lynn, and I write this blog. You wouldn’t know it, given my 2-week absence, but life got (and still is) really crazy. Let me catch you up.

Two weeks ago I went back to Minnesota to catch up on my brother’s health. Marty is still recovering from the series of seizures he had June 23, which left him with short-term and working memory loss. Caring for Marty was the purpose of my visit. Caring for me happened in the spaces in between.

 My care came from, in no particular order:

 • Jack, who is BFF Pam’s 8-year-old son and the one who gives up his Vikings bed when I stay overnight. Since he learned to talk, Jack has asked the most *interesting* questions. My favorite one from this visit: Lynn, do you have handcuffs?

•  The fire pit at Pam and Mike’s.

•   Sand cranes. There were two standing near a swamp early Sunday morning when Pam took me to the airport.
•  John, my high school boyfriend. Our friendship has endured for 33 years. My daughter Cassie calls him her “Should-be Daddy.”

•  Time alone with my mom.

•  Time alone with my dad.
•  Dinner with Mom and Dad. It was fun to hear them talk about their Hawaii years. Dad was stationed at Pearl. They were married there, and Marty was born at Tripler.

•  The fabulous grilled veggie sandwich at TJ’s. (Thank you, Adele and Jackie, for taking me there!)
•  My brother Matthew’s home-grown tomatoes, potatoes, cucumbers and poblano peppers.
•  Lunch with my niece Michaela.
• Yana, from Israel, whom I’d never met before I walked into the JC Penney’s salon in Maple Grove. She cut my hair and waxed my eyebrows and made me feel pretty again.
• The two pairs of jeans I bought at NordstromRack. Not only were they 70 percent off, they fit perfectly. Unheard of!
• The kind man who sat next to me on the flight out who talked me through take off (my least favorite part of flying).
• Listening to JT Hodges at 6:30 a.m. while getting ready to go home. Click on this link and listen to “Hunt You Down.” That man is seriously yummy *smile*
• Having the entire row to myself on the flight home.

• Lunch with Cassie after I landed. It’s the first time in 4 years (since Claire was born) that I’ve had her alone for more than an hour. We went to Mad Mex, where she ordered fried ice cream for dessert. (Here she is sawing through the deep-fried tortilla. She had 700 calories to spend after spin class that morning.)

• Finding – 30,000 feet above Lake Michigan – my desire to write again. I thought I’d lost it this summer. Now that I’m back in school full time, I might not write a blog as frequently, but at least I know I still have the desire *grin*

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Dating and the FFG – Part 1: Never Assume A Man Owns Measuring Cups

Remember the scene in Bull Durham when Nuke (Tim Robbins) is on the mound wearing Annie Savoy’s garter and he rolls his eyes back and pitches the ball? That’s kind of what it’s like dating 14 years and a few hundred pounds gained and lost since my last date.

In pre-Google days, it would have been a no-brainer. I’d have waited longer than an initial coffee date to reveal that I used to weigh 300 pounds. But fortunately or not, anyone who searches my name gets the lowdown real fast. So when it comes to dating, I roll my eyes back and throw it out there. I was who I was and I am who I am and the guy up to bat has a number of options of what to do with that curve ball.

This is a first in a series of blogs I’ll be writing from time to time about my experiences as a single woman with an overweight past who is dating but not looking for Mr. Right (I won’t walk down that aisle again). The names have been changed to protect the guilty, but my hope is that it will lead to an ongoing discussion with you about relationships in relation to weight gain and loss.

PBF1 (Potential Boyfriend #1) was five months older than me, taught economics at a private college, and liked to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder and walk me around his “man cave”: a white-walled, sparsely decorated condo. He said throwing me over his shoulders was how he would be able to tell if I ever gained weight.

PBF1 said he had all a man could want: a big-screen TV mounted on the wall, a leather couch and chair, and a “summer” car stored in the garage. Because we dated in the winter, I never got a ride in it.

I wanted to impress PBF1 by making him the always homey Wild Rice Pilaf. Seriously. This stuff is love in a casserole dish. I brought all the ingredients to his condo: wild rice, long grain brown rice, butter, broth, broccoli, carrots, onions, and crushed rosemary. As he sat in his leather chair working on his laptop, occasionally gazing over to the kitchen through Ward Cleaver-like eyes (for the record, I was not wearing high heels or a floral dress with an apron), I searched for anything resembling a measuring cup, particularly since I’d altered the recipe a bit and needed the non-ubiquitous 1/3 cup. I found shot glasses, duct tape and six months of newsletters from the condo board, but no measuring cups.

“Um, babe?” I said. “Do you have measuring cups?”

He laughed and went back to typing.

Blinded by the possibility of true love, I missed what should have been my first clue that this guy was NOT kitchen savvy: an eclectic mix of plates and bowls – pieces of what used to be whole sets of dishes, given to him, no doubt, by his mother.

Knocked off my cooking game, I channeled my domestic MacGyver. ‘Hmmmm…How can I make this pilaf work?’ A shot glasses holds about an ounce of liquid. There are 2.66 ounces in one-third cup. PBF1’s coffee pot held 8 cups of liquid. I could fill water to the one-cup line and then divide it evenly into three glasses. But did he have three of the same glasses? Yes, he did! In the bathroom! Thank you Dixie!

The rice turned out perfectly, but the relationship did not, lasting about as long as it takes to cook wild rice. That’s OK. It’s hard to fall in love with someone who doesn’t know what a dish towel is for. Besides, I found out after we broke up – just after Valentine’s Day – that he is married to a woman who lives in a former Eastern bloc country. *eyeroll*

My former therapist said to me, after telling her about this dating disaster, “We all have baggage. We’re just trying to find someone with a matching set.”

“Heck,” I said, “I’d be happy to find someone with matching flatware!”

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The Here & Now

I’m in a new world with all this school, dating and perimenopause going on in my life. These changes are exciting (well, maybe not the menopause part) and I’m keeping up the best I can, but sometimes a girl just needs a day completely alone.

So today I sequestered myself with myself. I got up later than usual and made coffee and drank it in bed and played WordTwist on Facebook. I put on my biking clothes and went on a 17-mile ride. I went to WalMart and bought fruit, a travel hair dryer and dental floss. When I got home, I didn’t shower because I wanted to shave my legs in a hot bath drinking a glass of wine and listening to iTunes and I couldn’t do that at 2 in the afternoon. So sweaty me ate a salad and then made bean burgers to freeze and veggie soup to freeze and roasted a squash that tomorrow will turn into this soup: http://www.joybauer.com/healthy-recipes/butternut-squash-soup-3.aspx.

Between cooking and bathing, I talked to my brother Marty for an hour, as we do every day, and he – as he always does – floored me with his optimism, despite the fact that his life did a complete 180 on June 23.

“I can either complain and be angry and make everyone around me miserable, or I can say, ‘This is the way things are right now,’” he told me. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not enamored with my situation. I don’t wake up and say, ‘Yahoo!’, but I am thankful for the fact that things aren’t worse.”

Coming to terms with the way things are is NOT easy. We all change and morph and grow and recede. We gain and lose and learn or not learn. When I’m paying attention – where I learn about the changes and morphing – I’m in the center of myself. And whether I “get it” is determined on how much time I spend in that center. I find that when I’m most centered, I’m most mindful of my weight and my continued maintenance goal, something that is extremely important to me. But when I get caught up in the every-day craziness, I’m not always successful. That’s why I’m humbled by people like my brother who – while I wish his circumstances were different, believe me – emulate the way I’d like to view life: through that lens of here and now.

I know it’s not always easy. Jobs, family, personal obligations take up so much of our time. But do you set aside time for yourself? And if so, how does that affect your weight loss/maintenance goals?

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The Dog Days Are Almost Over

For the first time in many days, I am alone, sitting in my dining room, which has no table. My stepsons were here for a few days, fulfilling my birthday gift request: that the entire family be together for the first time since Thanksgiving.

The cicadas are singing along to “Dog Days Are Over.” They shed their nymph shells a few weeks ago, leaving brown exoskeletons scattered over my yard – paper-thin and perfectly detailed duplicates of the cicada’s body pre-emergence.

This has been a summer of change for me, and like a cicada nymph, I’ve emerged from an exoskeletal shell and am learning to use the wings I’ve grown in all the summer’s transitions.

I wrote a blog a few months ago about how a friend told me back in March that until I learned to live within the space of my new life with the same strength and determination with which I lost weight, I would be forever grasping for and holding on to bogus and temporary securities. He said I had to let the loneliness maul me, to feel it to my core and to not run away. In time, he said, it wouldn’t hurt as much and I would be stronger.

I took that challenge and allowed the loneliness to wash over me. I was in the middle of the mauling when my brother Marty had his seizure at the end of June. When he was released from the hospital a few weeks later, I went to Minneapolis to help in whatever way I could. I cried when I was dropped off at the Pittsburgh airport July 18. I cried for my brother and I cried for me. I wanted to go, but I didn’t want to go. I was afraid. I had no idea what to expect or if I was up to what waited for me there.

I worked on shedding that fear on the plane while drinking a first-class glass of wine (Literally, it was the wine they serve first-class passengers, since they’d run out of the cheap stuff they serve coach. And for my “inconvenience,” they gave it to me for free. *smile*) So while sipping said wine, I thought about my strengths: A) I am a mother; B) I used to be the secretary for the senior vice-president of a large general contractor (think airports and sports stadiums, many you’ve probably been to); and C) I’m a practicing Buddhist (I always forget that one). I possess super-human organizational skills and a little more patience than I once had, so whatever was waiting for me in Minneapolis was up against a somewhat powerful force. At least, that’s what I told myself. It and the wine helped.

Long story short, I hit the ground running. The mauling continued, but it loaned me (or “borrowed” me, if you’re from Minnesota) some strength and determination. For facing my fear, I was rewarded with a closer relationship with my brothers. Although I’d prefer the three of us hadn’t gained this closeness because of a brain injury, I’m glad for the trust it has created between us and the trust that I developed in myself. I continue to advocate on behalf of my brother and to keep his schedule from 1,000 miles away, and will go back to Minneapolis in a week. Only this time I won’t cry at the airport.

Some of you might remember that last year I was going to go back to school to become a dietary technician. The divorce, the move and the mauling made that impossible. So, too, did a worsening of the osteoarthritis in my knees, wrists and shoulders. I’m sure you’ve noticed that I don’t blog as much as I used to. The main reason is because 1) sitting for and 2) typing longer than an hour is difficult. Dietary tech classes are mostly online and require several hours a day of writing and computer reading, so I gave up on going to school and, while I was at it, blogging, too.

But feeling sorry for myself is not a favorite pastime and it was making my family nuts. It was hard to accept that I needed help, but it was harder to stay locked in self-sympathy. Hmmm…where had I felt that before? Ah, yes, back in 2004, when I understood that losing weight would be a long and life-changing process, but that it would be even harder to stay 300 pounds. I’d shed my skin then, I could shed it again now.

So in May, I called the Office of Vocational Rehabilitation and began working with a woman named Sara, who helped me think through what I wanted to be when I grew up. After evaluating my physical “issues,” she hooked me up with the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center’s Institute for Rehabilitation and Research and its Center for Assistive Technology. Last week I met John, a rehabilitation engineer, who took on my “issues” as a challenge to find the most adaptive computer equipment possible. Among other things, he recommended I use this:

Have any of you used speech recognition software before? I’m anxious to give it a try, but I have a feeling it will be like learning a new language. Or maybe it will be like a microwave. Just like, “How did we ever heat up leftovers before the microwave?” maybe in a few months I’ll be wondering how I ever typed without talking.

My friend assured me the mauling would eventually become a scratch and then a gentle touch and in time I’d come out on the other side stronger. In this shedding of my nymph shell, I find myself somewhere between a scratch and a gentle touch, definitely stronger and definitely happier. Sort of like the happiness Florence and the Machine sing about.

Happiness hit her like a train on a track
Coming towards her, stuck still no turning back
She hid around corners and she hid under beds
She killed it with kisses and from it she fled
With every bubble she sank with her drink
And washed it away down the kitchen sink

The dog days are over
The dog days are done
The horses are coming
So you better run

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Girlfriend Therapy

BF and I left Pennsylvania for North Carolina at 9:30 yesterday morning, even though the original plan was to leave at 7:00. (A little TMI ahead.) A stomach bug kept me up most of the night, and when 7 a.m. rolled around, I was still curled up around a pillow, convinced a Mack truck broadsided me during the night.
I was up and coherent by 9, and after two trips back to my house because I: A) forgot to check if the refrigerator was shut tight (it sticks and I didn’t want to come home to rotting zucchini), and B) forgot to grab my sunglasses and computer adapter out of the Jeep, we went to Wal-Mart for car food and Imodium (which I, naturally, forgot to buy). BF, to his credit, only gave me a small eyeroll and sigh, but I told him the Imodium was only just-in-case, so I said drive on, I’d be fine.

And I was.

BF ate his breakfast:

(Believe me, I didn’t pick it out. That Lunchable had 350 calories, 19 grams of fat, 1 gram of fiber and 1000 grams of sodium. Seriously?)

I drank my breakfast. Slowly:

Not my best choice, I know, but solid food and I were still fighting.

The 7-hour-and-change trip to Greensboro was uneventful, although at one point we could have recreated a scene from “Thelma and Louise” if BF had listened to his GPS. While driving over a rather deep gorge in West Virginia (like there are any shallow gorges in WV) on a newly constructed part of I-77, Garmin interrupted our conversation about the price of crude oil (honest to god, we’re boring that way): “In 300 feet, take a U-turn.” Hmmm….it’s probably time for BF to get a map upgrade.

Fast forward to the morning, I felt like myself again, and knew I was looking at a great day. It started off disappointing with a lousy breakfast bar (Grits, biscuits and gravy, Fruit Loops and white bagels, with the only fruit being green or overripe bananas. Take your pick.), and I about gagged on the one and only sip I took of the Odwalla Superfood drink I bought the day before at Wal-Mart. But the morning quickly got better when I discovered I could eat my Greek yogurt with two coffee stir sticks (I was too afraid to return to the breakfast bar for a spoon):

The morning really got good when I was picked up at my hotel by my BFF Maintaining Diva Sondra, who not only took the day off from work, but drove an hour to see me. Now that’s love.

Here we are at Natty Greene’s:

Yes, that’s a beer sampler in front of us. Beer isn’t something I drink often, but in the right company it makes perfect sense.

Sondra is one of the Maintaining Divas, my maintenance support group, without whom I’m convinced I’d weigh 300 pounds again.

We drank coffee, browsed fun shops in downtown Greensboro, at lunch at the aforementioned Natty Greene’s, and then found the best pedicure I’ve ever had. A little place just south of the University of North Carolina Greensboro campus. We talked and laughed and caught up on all the gossip of our lives, and can I just say I’ve never known a massage chair to be so aggressive? Beat us both up (in a good way) with mini karate chop-like maneuvers. Rock on, massage chair!

Sondra getting prettified:

My toes post-pedi:

In these post-weight-loss years, I’ve learned the importance of taking care of myself, especially when a boatload of stress is wearing me down. And taking care of myself no longer means ingesting three servings of dinner or two Egg McMuffins or laying on the couch vowing one day I’ll get up and exercise. It means – beyond eating well and exercising – reaching out and telling the folks who love me the most that I need them. That their presence in my life is essential. To allow them to come to me and comfort me and make me laugh.

Vacations come in all shapes and sizes, and when a good friend is involved, even those 3- and 6-hour pockets of time together can feel like a week in the Bahamas.

I’ve had the good fortune the last month to engage in some badly needed girlfriend therapy. When Tracy and I went to a Twins game while I was in Minnesota, I got energized. When Shari and I hiked last week, I got energized. When Debbie and I painted wine glasses with her BFFs last Friday, I got energized. Today, with Sondra, I got energized. That energy is infused with the understanding and care that only good friends can give. Sure beats a pint of ice cream and a 3 Musketeer.

I will return to PA tomorrow, prepared to deal with all that awaits me there and on my phone texts and on my email. That boatload of stress isn’t gone, but it’s certainly more manageable. I do, in the infamous words of Ringo, get by with a little help from my friends.

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More Fun in the Kitchen: Curried Lentils & Veggies

I’ve been asked to submit a few of my own recipes for a new book being published later this year, but as many of you know, I don’t write a lot of my recipes down. I cook like my friend Rodney types: hunt-and-peck style. A little of this, a little of that, a little of “Oh that looks about right.”
Last night I was craving a lentils and curry dish I’d made months ago, but couldn’t for the life of me remember how I’d made it. I decided to recreate it the best I could, and this time, write it down. It didn’t turn out exactly the same way as last time, which turned out to be a good thing because I liked this batch better.

Curried Lentils & Veggies
Serves 4

I like to play around with different kinds of curry, adjusting the heat to the mood of the food and the palate of the consumer. I don’t like super spicy food, but I like a nice kick.

When I originally made this, I used ¾ t hot curry + ¾ t Maharajah curry. Click here to view the curries I buy at My Spice Sage.

¾ C onion, chopped
3-4 garlic cloves, minced
1 C carrots, chopped
1 C zucchini or yellow summer squash, chopped
1½ t curry
¼ t turmeric
¾ t ginger
¼ t cumin
15 oz diced tomatoes, undrained
1 C French (green) lentils
3 T + 2 C vegetable broth
1-2 C fresh spinach
Brown rice (optional)

Spray a large saucepan with non-stick cooking spray and cook onion and garlic on medium heat for one minute. Add carrot, zucchini, spices and 3 T vegetable broth. Cook on medium heat for 5 minutes, stirring frequently. Add tomatoes, lentils and vegetable broth. Bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 30-40 minutes until lentils are soft. Add spinach and stir until spinach has wilted. Serve alone or on top of brown rice.

And speaking of curry, I think I’ll submit this next one, too. Some of you might have seen this one in an earlier blog from last year. It was one of the first recipes I’d ever actually written down.

Sun-Dried Tomato and Curry Hummus

This is loosely based on a Weight Watchers recipe (Roasted Red Pepper Hummus). I wasn’t crazy about the original, so I “made it my own,” (somewhere, Paula Abdul is clapping for me).

1 can chickpeas (garbanzo beans), rinsed and drained (reserve the drained liquid)
4-5 sun-dried tomato halves (not the kind in oil)
3-4 (or more) garlic cloves, peeled
2 T tahini
3 T lemon juice
1/3 C Greek yogurt
¼ t pepper
¼ to ½ t salt
1 t curry powder (I use a combo of hot and mild)
½ t cumin
½ t coriander

Put all ingredients in a food processor and process for a minute. Add a little of the reserved liquid (or if you forgot to save it, like I’ve done before, use vegetable or chicken broth or water) and process for another few minutes. Check for consistency and add more liquid if you want. Process for about 3-5 minutes, or until desired consistency.

This is really good right away or after a few hours in the fridge. It’s got a nice bite, especially if you add some kick. Serve with baked pita chips (cut pita in wedges, place on a cookie sheet, spray with a little Pam, bake at 375 degrees for 7-10 minutes). This is also a great veggie dip.

Makes approximately 2 cups.

I could use a Vulcan mind meld right about now. I need to come up with three more original/greatly modified recipes in the next week and they're lodged in my head. How many times have you told yourself, "Oh, I'll remember"? Then when it comes to remembering, you can't. Oh well, I love to cook so it's not like it will be torture to spend a few hours in the kitchen. I'm just not sure which recipes to choose. Any ideas?

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Reunited, And It Hurts So Good

The last time I was in a gym, my left knee was growing “cartilaginous intra-articular bodies” which “float freely within the synovial fluid.” Ah…the good old days. I had a debridement and synovectomy in June 2010 to remove the nasty buggers, but the surgery precluded me from using my favorite piece of cardio equipment: the arc trainer. And if I couldn’t use the arc trainer, what was the use in going to the gym? (Yeah…I’m all or nothing like that sometimes.)

My daughter, Cassie, started hitting the gym early on in her last pregnancy. She worked out until the day Mae was born in February and then picked it up again five weeks later. She’s invited me several times to join her, but I’ve been doing a lot of biking and walking this summer, so I told myself I didn’t see the need. The truth is, I was afraid my body wasn’t up to it. I mean, back in the day, I used to hit the arc trainer hard for 45 minutes every time I worked out. I cranked that baby up to a resistance of 50 with an incline of 4 or 5. Burned 600-700 calories. What would I be able to do now? Ten minutes? Fifteen?

But Cassie inspires me so much, and in keeping with my promise to take better care of my body, I told her I’d join her at the gym today. After all, no goal gets accomplished without a starting point. Even the most fit people in the world had to start somewhere, right? I remember my starting point. I went into exercise kicking and screaming. I started out walking a half-mile around a track. I was exhausted! But that half mile turned into a mile, then two miles, then three, then I started walking 4-5 mph, then I started strength training, then I joined a gym and fell in love with the arc trainer, then I got a bike, then I started hiking… When I walked into the gym this morning, I felt the same joy each that every one of those exercise moments had given me and I was ready to hop on the arc trainer and start over.

All the biking and hiking I’ve done this summer paid off in a fabulously empowering 40-minute cardio workout. I did 20 minutes on the arc trainer, staying between a resistance of 25-35 with a few minutes at 50 just as a reminder of where I want to be again. Then I hopped on the treadmill next to my lovely daughter, who was running, and I walked 20 minutes at varying inclines and speed. Even got it up to 5 mph because I could.

When I was done, I went downstairs to the weight room and it was like being home. I forgot how much I love the weight room, too! “Hello 15-pound weight. Oh there you are bench where I do my crunches from hell.” *sigh* There’s no place like home.

Five hours later, I’m still high from the gym. My legs are a little sore and my abs are still screaming from the workout I did a few days ago, but it’s all good. I’m starting over and I welcome the challenge.

(Now if I could just get that Peaches and Herb song out of my head…)

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