Starting Over, Again

Ok, I've messed around for the first half of the year and I weigh 3 pounds more than I did at the beginning of the year. Argh! The worst thing is that my body fat percentage has increased to more than 42%. I'm embarrassed to put that down. Enough. I've decided to go back to the basics. I logged back into Spark People and will begin recording my intake and output again. I have resisted doing this just because it becomes another opportunity for me to fail, but I have to do something. My first day I went 300 calories over my max. That's ok since it is a weekend, but I can't believe I ate so much. The most telling thing is that I'm at the high end of my fat calories and at the low end of my protein. I'll fix that this week.

Today is my baby's birthday. I can't believe he is a grown man – 31. That makes me, well, old. But I don't feel old, just empty. It seems like yesterday that he was a little boy, but he's all grown up. I wish I could go back and have a do over. I'd pay much more attention to my children and much less attention to my job.

Happy birthday son!

 

The Biggest Loser, Not

It is ridiculous. Style TV is running past seasons of The Biggest Loser. I've Tivo'd them on the TV in my bedroom and watch them obsessively. Obsessive is the key word. It is sick probably. But I love to watch the weigh-ins and see people drop 7-20 pounds in one week. It is totally amazing that people can do that. Of course, they work out for endless hours and eat next to nothing – fish and chicken and steamed vegetables.

Every day I say I'm going to start doing that. I used to work out – maybe not that hard, but every single day. I was up at 4:45 today and don't have to go to leave for work until 7:30. So what do I do? I don't work out, I watch the season 2 finale for the umpteenth time. Every day I get up and say, "Today, I'm going to eat healthy." Then my husband calls me at work and says he wants to make his world famous hamburgers for dinner and I say "OK". (They are really good). And since we're eating beef, we have that really good bottle of cabernet that goes so well with it. And I eat and drink and watch TV and go to bed. And there goes another day with no workout and no healthy eating.

I made chicken fajitas for breakfast with the leftovers from last night. They were almost as good leftover, but I don't even know what the calorie content was. After logging my eating at Spark People for over a year, I just absolutely cannot bring myself to do it right now. It didn't make a difference anyhow. I just felt depressed about my failure and beat myself up for it. I downloaded Dr. Monte's book on successful weight loss and I know all this material he presents is true. But I find myself in a hole that I am having a terrible time digging myself out of.

So today I am declaring "No more!" Instead of trying to be an overnight success and completely change my lifestyle in a flash, I'm just going to work at getting healthier – a little bit at a time. Like Petra said in Dr. Mone's interview, NO MORE EXCUSES. I really want to get the energetic feeling back I had when I worked out regularly – when I was in training for my marathons or a bike trip. I really want to not wiggle when I run. I really want to feel comfortable in my clothes. What will I weigh next year if I don't start now? What will I weigh next year if I only lose a pound a week – or ½ a pound a week? NO MORE EXCUSES.

Home again, home again

Jiggety jog. Today I had to go back to my job.

Still enjoying the vacation aura but I am very tired. Even just one hour time shift has made me feel like I'm moving through mud. I wish I had taken another day before going back. Who am I kidding? I wish I didn't have to go back at all.

The trip back was uneventful except for having to ride on a donut down the interstate. The right rear tire had developed a slow leak and we figured it was better to go ahead and change it rather than take a chance of breaking down on the highway. The problem was that the sensor kept coming on reminding us that we only had 3-1/2 tires. My husband kept the speed down but I sweated the entire ride to the airport that we'd break down and miss our plane. I was definitely ready to come home. We made it with plenty of time to spare.

I should live practice the Serenity Prayer and stop wasting energy on the worrying:

The Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;

courage to change the things I can;

and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;

Enjoying one moment at a time;

Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;

Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is,

not as I would have it;

Trusting that He will make all things right if I surrender to His Will;

That I may be reasonably happy in this life

and supremely happy with Him Forever in the next.

Amen.

--Reinhold Niebuhr

We, of course, lost the car. I accidently erased our location in long term parking while in Chicago. Fortunately my son remembered where we were. I really worry about my poor husband sometimes. He insisted that we were in remote parking. Turns out that we were in long term 2. Alls well that ends well.

We found the car and made it back in record time. Work wasn't too bad today, but it is year end and I needed to hit the ground running. That didn't happen. I tiptoed into the day, leaving my brain asleep on my pillow. Tomorrow will be better and I'll be back on top of it.

Chicago, Day 8

The long awaited reunion occurred. We arrived at Elizabeth Conkey Forest slightly before 11:30 and a little the worse for the wear after closing the blues club last night. The temperatures were already in the upper 80's and the humidity had to match it. To make matters worse, the cicadas are doing their every 17^th year return are out in droves. We walked under a tree near the parking lot and apparently angered them because we were swarmed by hundreds of them. They don't bite but they hiss when you make them angry by disturbing them.

We met so many people, most of who are related to my husband in some form. I can't remember the names of most but remember that they were all so nice. It certainly is a Midwestern trait to be friendly. Everyone hugs everyone, so introductions take a lot of time. I remembered some of the children from the last reunion we attended in 2001 and was amazed to find the children so grown up. The Swedish genes are also apparent in so many fair-skinned blondes.

One tradition is setting up a piñata for the children and each gets three attempts to break it, starting with the youngest child who is able to swing the bat. This year it was a three year old. Finally one of the moms had to hit the darn thing because it just wouldn't break. They all scampered to get their share of the candy.

Several of the older boys ate a cicada. I guess it is no different than eating grasshoppers or termites which I understand some cultures view as delicacies, but seriously. . . .

I hope we can return next year and see the same people and all the new babies that will be here. Some of the brothers and sisters and their spouses are getting quite old and a little feeble. I hope they all can be around next year.

I can't wait to go home.

Chicago, Day 7

We're all ready to go home, but we have one more day before we can start packing. It is the day of the reunion – the ostensible reason for our visit anyway. We decided to make the best of it and eat valiantly on.

Today we had early dinner plans with a half-brother so we went into town early to catch an early lunch. A friend of our son recommended The Patio in Little Italy. It is a small neighborhood restaurant that specializes in Italian Beef and Sausage sandwiches. We each tried a beef and, while very good, had no Italian flavors unless you count the steamed green pepper on top. I think my husband is remembering something better than it was. Both of the ones we've tried so far taste like a French Dip with green peppers on top.

The three of us split an Italian Sausage sandwich that was very good. The sausage here is much denser than what we get at home, not to mention how much more flavorful it is. If we have any more sandwiches I'm sticking with the Italian Sausage!

We killed the afternoon driving around the neighborhood where my husband grew up on Normal Ave. – kind of an oxymoron I think. His childhood was anything but normal. The old home was torn down but I could picture it from the neighboring houses still there, small little two-flats. The neighborhood is shabby and run down. He remembers it as being a nice house but said the bad times outweighed the good times there. I don't think he's too sentimental about the place.

We ate dinner at Carmichael's. The chef is a friend of the half-nephew. It is a very nice steak house with great décor. The bread basket was full of assorted artisan breads and accompanied by a tub of cheese which we later found was cheddar whipped with beer – great idea and great taste. I had a salad that was fabulous and it was a treat to eat just a salad.

We ended up the night at Blue Chicago. It is a tiny little blues club – a narrow, long room with a bar and the back corner is sectioned off for the band. My son said it is too touristy. If it is, I can't imagine what kind of place the locals might attend; this place was no-frills. The band was good and we drank too much. Tomorrow is going to start a little rough I can tell. They closed down early, 1:30, and as we were filing out the bouncer shoved me into one of the tables and grabbed an inebriated patron who was trying to touch the instruments and threw him, quite literally, out the door. I get that; I didn't get me being thrown around.

Chicago, Day 6

I finally got the chance to eat an Italian Beef sandwich, and frankly I'm disappointed. I've made Italian Beef at home for years. My husband talked about it so much over the years that I found a recipe and made it. Everyone loves my Italian Beef. But my husband said it was missing something, he couldn't quite put his finger on it. So one of my missions here was to eat authentic Chicago Italian Beef. The result was much the same as the Chicago style hot dog fiasco: disappointing. Several people recommended Portillo's and it was a good sandwich but it tasted like a French dip with a piece of steamed green pepper on it. There was no Italian taste to it. Plus, this meat was sliced and my husband always described the Italian beef as shredded.

We met the Indiana cousins there for lunch and had a great time listening to some of their travel stories. They've gone all over the world together on different trips. Again I am impressed by how close these families are. I can't imagine going on a weekend trip with my brothers and sisters. We just aren't very close. That's the way my mother wanted it – although I'm sure she was not aware of it. But she was always pitting us against each other, so we never grew up seeing each other as allies, much less friends. I can't remember a time in my life that she was speaking to all of us at the same time; at least one of us was on the outs. I really wish I could have had the kind of family my husband had.

After lunch we came back to the hotel for a quick nap before heading off to Chicago to see Wicked. I knew nothing about the story line. My son had read the book and recommended that we try to get tickets. Lining up to get in I was a little worried because of the number of children attending. I thought we were going to see the Wizard of Oz, part 2. Our seats were on the last row of the balcony and I was worried that we wouldn't be able to see. But the Oriental Theater, built in 1926, didn't seem to have a bad seat in the house. The interior was restored in 1998 and it looked like a grand theater of yesteryear with massive chandeliers and gilt trim. We had a thoroughly good time. The story was about how the Wicked Witch became what we saw in the Wizard of Oz; she was very much the sympathetic figure.

Afterwards we ate at Hugo's Frog Bar. The calamari was excellent and I hate to admit that it was nice not to eat Italian for one meal.

Chicago, Day 5

If it's Chicago we must be eating. I never thought I would say this, but I am so tired of eating. So much good food but I am stuffed. When I get back home, I'm not going to eat for at least a week and I'm not getting on the scale for at least two weeks.

We met one of the half-brothers, his wife and son at The Parthenon. This restaurant claims they introduced the gyro to the US market. We did the sampler which was good but too filling. I wish I'd only had the greek salad, which was very good. An interesting coincidence, the Chicago chapter of CFMA was having their monthly meeting in the banquet room. I introduced myself and we agreed to exchange program material.

After lunch we wandered around down by the lake and the museums to kill time until the ball game. There is a display of globes all around the lake front that people have decorated to show ideas how to save the planet. Some of them are very inventive and some are really well decorated.

We were two hours early to Wrigley Field thinking we were going to have to buy tickets from a scalper. Instead we got bleacher seats at the window – that's where my son wanted to sit. It was a good seat until the beer saturation level got too high in the guys behind us – about the second inning. They dropped a beer that splatter down my back, their language was atrocious and they were generally obnoxious. Still, we were at the Cub's game, they won, and my son was in heaven.

We stopped back at Quartino's and ordered that pizza that I didn't get the first day. I had the sausage and fennel. It was good but not what I expected. We got another one to go with a few bottles of wine and came back to the motel and crashed. Who would have ever thought that eating could wear you out so much?