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?

Chicago, Day 4

At least we did something today in addition to eating. We visited the Art Institute of Chicago. Our guide book said Tuesdays were free days but we ended up paying $12 a piece. It was worth it. The Institute has a huge collection of paintings, some sculpture, furniture and a paperweight collection as well as other pieces. I don't have any education in art appreciation and some of what we looked at I couldn't figure out why it was in a museum. But some pieces just jumped right out at me. This is one of that I really liked by Henri Fantin-Latour. In the painting, the flowers in the foreground are reflected in the silver pot. It made for an enjoyable morning; we could have spent the entire day.

We left the Art Institute in search of a Chicago-style hot dog. The restaurant in the guide book was no longer there so we ate at Relish in a mall on Michigan Avenue. Frankly I wasn't impressed. I'm sure that it depends on what style hot dog you were raised on. I grew up eating southern-style dogs: mustard, onions, slaw and chili. These hot dogs had mustard, onions, dill pickle, tomatoes and hot peppers on a poppy seed bun and were sprinkled with celery salt. The celery salt was the part that made it especially distasteful. But I can mark that off my list: Chicago-style hot dog, check!

After a brief episode of wrong-parking-garage blues, we were able to find the car and head back to the hotel to clean up for dinner. I know it sounds like all we do is eat, but with afternoon traffic, the trip back was two hours. A quick change and we were off again back downtown, so that's another two hours. I guess the traffic is something you get used to but what a waste of time. We decided that next time we come we'll look for something a little closer in.

This dinner was the meal my boys had been looking most forward to this whole trip: Smith and Wollensky. Of course, large portions of beef are involved, so they'd love it by definition. But they had eaten there last time they came without me and had those wonderful, slightly enhanced memories of the perfect meal at the perfect restaurant. It was good, don't get me wrong. But I didn't think it was worth the prices we paid. Steak is seldom my first choice for an entrée, but mine had a streak of gristle running through it that I didn't think a $40/10 oz steak should have. We had creamed spinach and onion rings for our vegetables and neither impressed me as all that special. The waiter was indifferent and service was about the same as what we experienced at TGIFriday's the first night we arrived.

The wines were of course excellent, but at those prices they should have been. Our son treated us to a bottle of his all time favorite, one that he had previously received as a gift – we don't go around spending that kind of money on wine. It was good but exorbitantly expensive and the puritan in me kept thinking of all the things we should spend that money on. I wasn't really disappointed with the place. If we hadn't already gone to Cafe Spiaggia this would have been the best. I just wasn't all that impressed.

Chicago, Day 3

The problem with trying to recreate a magical moment from the past is that failure to do so robs the memory of the magical moment from you forever. When we visited in 2001 we stumbled upon an Italian restaurant in Old Town called Orso's. The day was perfect, cloudless, warm with low humidity and a light breeze blowing. We sat on the grape vine covered patio and ordered a carafe of red wine and asparagus risotto. We had an endless supply of homemade crusty bread and good quality olive oil to dip it in. The food was great as was the service. It was a magical meal. We said we'd return to spend an afternoon lingering with a liter of red wine and we'd while away the afternoon. That was a mistake.

We went there today when the temperature was about 10 degrees hotter than in 2001. Either our palate had changed or this was not the same house red wine we had enjoyed so much. The bread no longer had the texture of a hand kneaded dough and the food, while not bad, was nothing special. It wasn't awful, but neither was it magical so now our memory of Orso's is one of disappointment. It was a mistake to go back.

We had arranged to meet part of the other side of the family and ended up driving across town to dinner. Although it took us several hours to get there and we chatted a few minutes before going to dinner, there is something very wrong about leaving one table to go to another one as the total day's activity. Really, I just want to focus on tasting menus right now. This restaurant was a neighborhood Italian, nothing fancy but good food. I ordered chicken cacciatore and they brought an obscenely huge serving. It was good if not exceptional. The best of dinner was chatting with the family.

Husband's paternal side of the family consists of nine brothers and sisters from the first marriage, in addition to the four from the second one. Although we didn't have a lot of contact with them in the early years of our marriage, they have reached out to him in recent years. They host a family reunion every June – the purpose for our visit. I regret not knowing them all those years before because they are truly nice people.

The youngest brother, with whom we had just eaten, drove us out to Orland Park to look at his new condo which is directly across the street from the older brother. This concept is totally foreign to my family, whom I barely see in any given year. I do wish we had that kind of family life.

The condos are beautiful – much nicer than anything we've seen at home. The grounds are beautifully maintained and there is small grassy area between each duplex, which is further away than many of the single family homes we've seen in Chicago. I don't know how much they cost, but they are truly beautiful; I'd certainly love to live in them.

After talking for about an hour, we all hopped in the car and drove to the Plush Pony for ice cream. These portions have to be a Midwestern thing. I ordered a single scoop in a cup and got about a pint of ice cream. I nibbled at it, but could not do it justice and ended up tossing most of it.

It was a good family day. The only food thing to report is that there was too much of it. Tomorrow we need an activity.

 

 

 

Chicago, Day 2

A much better time was had by all today.

We eventually managed to get ourselves dressed and in the car. With only one false start, a Starbucks was located at a nearby Dominick's. Husband and Son immediately perked up! Properly fortified, we were off to downtown to drop son off at the Chicago Blues Festival.

We wandered a bit downtown, looking for a likely lunch spot. The problem when your stated vacation goal is to eat is that every single meal has to be an experience. I had left my restaurant guide in the car so we were hiking the streets trying to discover a suitable place and all we were seeing was restaurant chains. It seems so strange to us that with all the good food in Chicago the fast food chains could even establish a toe hold. Of course, you don't have to go too far in Chicago to find a unique restaurant and on State Street we came upon Quartino's. Wine by the liter, a basket of crusty, rustic bread and a bottle of excellent olive oil on the table and we knew we'd found a good spot. They make their own bread and buffalo mozzarella daily. You can order the components to create your own antipasto platter, much like ordering a sushi tray. Husband ordered the orecchiette with sausage and mozzarella, Son ordered the risotto with sausage and I ordered the Sausage pizza with roasted fennel. Do we see a pattern here? Give the South its due. We have great barbecue and our own particular culinary specialties but good Italian food isn't one of them. We all love Italian sausage!

The servers bring the dishes as they are ready so that one dish arrives at a time instead of all the plates being ready at the same time. This worked out fine because we each shared the others' dish. The orecchiette was my absolute favorite. The sausage was tasty without being dominant and mozzarella made the tomato sauce creamy. The risotto was also good, it just isn't one of my favorite dishes on a good day. Our wine was excellent. Alas, my pizza never showed up. They offered to make us another one and we could have sat there drinking another ½ liter of wine while waiting but we had promised to meet Mother-in-law's side of the family in Indiana in just over an hour. So we settled up the bill, dropped Son off at the concert with a prearranged meetup spot and hustled back to the parking garage to pick up our car.

We had to pay for the parking at a machine in the lobby, only $18, which isn't bad unless you come from a place where parking is always free. Descending the steps to the parking garage was the first moment when we realized we hadn't noted where we'd parked or even what street we'd entered from. After wandering around about 15 minutes, a kindly attendant in a golf cart offered to drive us around to find our rental car, which I couldn't presently recall what make or model or color it was. But we found the Grand Prix all in good time and our rescuer asked where our payment receipt was. "What receipt?" we asked and soon we were back in the golf cart racing back to the kiosk to retrieve the errant receipt. What a nice man, he wouldn't accept a tip for his trouble. Chicago people are very friendly and helpful by nature.

Husband was stressed because we were going to be late meeting Mother-in-law's relatives, but they were very gracious and we were less than an hour late – nearly on time in our normal timetable. They had prepared hamburgers, hot dogs and a variety of salads so it turned out to be a good thing that my pizza had not arrived. I don't know either side of my husband's family very well. I've met the cousins of course and vaguely know how many kids each has but I really don't know them well enough to ask any intelligent questions. As it turns out, this is not a problem with that side of the family. They talked nonstop, sometimes all at the same time, regaling us with vacation adventures and family history and tidbits from everyday life. There's a first grandchild due imminently and there was a big shouting match about the parents-to-be's decision not to have the baby baptized until it reached the age to decide for itself which religion to be baptized into. This discussion soon expanded to a shouting match about the Pope's failure to stop the priests from preying on children – or whether this was even one of his responsibilities depending on which side of the argument you were on. Somehow Bush and Iraq wove their way in and out of the discussion before finally the parents-to-be decided the argument was closed. I have strong opinions about all those topics and am not typically one to keep quiet in a rousing debate, but it seemed sitting back and observing all the happenings was the right decision. As the party wound down and each person departed, kisses and hugs were given all around. Everyone kisses everyone. There was no sense of resentment or hurt feelings, just genuine love and affection for everyone. If that was my parents and brothers and sisters, we would have all stormed out and wouldn't be talking to each other six months from now.

After picking up our son we began our search for a parking space near the place I had chosen for dinner. From our restaurant guide I liked the description for Cafe Spiaggia and it did not disappoint. Located in the Magnificent Mile on Michigan Avenue, it was the more casual version of Spiaggia. Small, dark and beautifully decorated, it created a sense of intimacy and relaxation. We had a glass of Chianti at the small bar while waiting for a table and the Maitre D' stopped by every few minutes letting us know of the progress of our table preparations.

Once seated, our waiter had a brief scurry to find us a bottle of the Chianti we had been enjoying at the bar. Another bottle was not to be found, but he recommended a slightly more expensive alternative which we all agreed was the best yet, although slightly more expensive was actually 33% more. We each selected appetizers to share: beef Carpaccio, fresh mozzarella with roasted San Marzano tomatoes, olive oil and basil, and tuna tartar with capers, olives and marinated rice beans. The Carpaccio, one of our standby favorites, while good, was actually the worst of the dishes. The tuna tartar was excellent! For entrees we chose: Roasted venison with creamy polenta, baked sand dabs with Tuscan greens, and roasted chicken with potatoes and Tuscan greens. The waiter quietly assured us each choice was better than the other, and all in all, we had chosen the absolute three best selections from the entire menu. And he was right! We shared all around and each one us loved every dish. The Tuscan greens were my favorite. I couldn't tell exactly what they were, probably a type of kale, but they had a taste similar to collard greens. They were tender and sweet. The polenta was great too with a cheesy undertone.

Although stuffed, we succumbed to our excellent waiter's suggestion to try a desert. We settled on two to share: fresh strawberries with mascarpone and strawberry gelato and profiteroles with hazelnut gelato and chocolate sauce. The maitre d' apologized that our dessert was taking too long to prepare although we were unaware of a delay. Our waiter brought us a glass of a sparkling white wine by way of apology – all this just minutes after we had place our order. Although the profiteroles were a little tough, both desserts were heavenly. What a wonderful dining experience – Café Spiaggia far exceeded our expectations!

In Chicago, sleeping with two men

Well, really, not sleeping with two men. My husband, my son and I are on vacation in Chicago. There's a family reunion next weekend and since there's so much to do in Chicago, we got here a week early. We decided we'd rather allocate our money for food and entertainment – as we tend to do – and share a cheap hotel room. At 3:00 this morning I realized this was a huge mistake. My grown son's snoring is louder than his Dad's by at least a factor of 10. I had the sense to bring ear plugs, but they were powerless against the ear splitting decibels of his snores. I had my ipod turned to full blast and that helped a little until the power ran out.

And the pillow – oy! The difference between my solitary little pillow and a 1 lb. sack of frozen peas was temperature. That is truly the worst pillow I have ever had. Tonight I'm ordering up about 10 extra pillows.

We arrived around 8:30 last night. We were supposed to go a graduation party for the daughter of one of the cousins but missed our exit off 94 and ended up downtown. At the intersection of Milwaukee and Ogden, we had to wait for a parade of about 200 hundred cyclists – most of whom were naked! What a hoot! I guess it was a Critical Mass ride. The temperature was probably in the low 60's, so there went some pretty hearty cyclists!

We missed the graduation party and came out to the hotel room, checked in, grabbed a quick dinner at TGIFriday's and called it a day. My son said that if that was the worst meal we had in Chicago, he'd be happy. I suspect it will be. Starting today, nothing but real Chicago-style food.

 

 

Blacksburg, VA

Nearly a week later and we're still wringing our hands over the coverage of the massacre at Virginia Tech. We'll continue to do that for a while and then we'll go on to something else until another "incident" occurs at which point we'll wring our hands anew. Meanwhile, the NRA reminds us that "Guns don't kill people. People kill people". A person who had been involuntarily committed in the recent past because of apparent mental instability could buy a lot of guns. A child dies because an unsecured gun has been found in the house. A domestic argument escalates until a handy gun permanently ends the dispute. Some type of reasonable gun control is necessary.

We want the right to bear arms, but Homeland Security would swoop down on us in a New York minute if we tried to protect ourselves from the government with a gun. We want the right to shoot Bambi. This one I may concede. Talking to friends that enjoy shooting Bambi, apparently culling the deer overpopulation is necessary. But I can't figure out how the NRA can blindly oppose any form of gun control. It is like the pro-choice people who argue that any form of restriction on abortion must be vigorously opposed. It is reasonable to place limits on the people who can buy guns as well as the quantity and types of guns they can buy. We can get so caught up in our position that we fail to acknowledge that any argument is seldom black or white.

At the same time, NBC should not have broadcast Cho's video manifesto. I'm sure they agonized over their decision. But, at the end of the day, ratings won out and the families and the nation were subjected to the depraved rants of an insane kid. NBC tried to assuage its guilt by describing the dilemma in deciding whether or not to air the video. But, I think they risk sparking other incidents by inciting other people on the edge to go for their own fifteen minutes in the limelight. The media will argue the appropriateness of the decision but ultimately decide to get it right the next time – really, for sure.

Woe for the people who were killed and for their families, friends and classmates. Woe, too, for all of us who lets this latest incident pass without demanding gun control.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Boston

I'm sitting here at 11:10 pm watching the replay of the Boston Marathon. Thank God for DVR. This horrendous storm that delayed the golf tournament at Hilton Head blasted through here with several inches of rain yesterday and tremendous winds today. It knocked out our power shortly after the start of the Boston marathon so I'm just now catching up with the details.

I've entered the lottery for the NY marathon this November but I would have watched Boston anyhow. I love to watch endurance sports like this and the Tour de France. These to me are the true test of athletics. I don't follow any sport that involves a ball or an engine, but the human powered ones fascinate me.

This marathon was of special interest since one of my favorite podcasters is running it. I've been following Steve Runner's training for months. It really enhances the excitement when one of your friends is racing. But, even if Steve wasn't in it, I am fascinated by this race in particular. All of the history and mystic that surrounds Boston makes it so exciting. I just wish they could find someone besides Al Trautwig to announce it.

The women's race this year has been the more exciting. I would have loved for Deena Kastor to win, but what an exciting finish, with Grigoryeva powering to the finish line! Until her break away surge I had her pegged for 3^rd. Congratulations to her! It wasn't Deena's day and she'll comment on her difficulties later I'm sure. Cheruiyot's win was less of a surprise, He's won before, he knew the course, he knew how to pace himself and how to finish strong.

Everyone who finished today is a winner. The weather was clearly abysmal. A marathon under ideal conditions is tough enough. To race against driving rain, cold and brisk winds, as well of the course itself is unthinkable. If I had been there I don't know whether or not I would have finished. Of course, my goal is to get there at all. I can't even imagine myself qualifying. If I did, perhaps I'd have the courage to finish on a day like today.

I'm motivated even more to get out there and train. Today I signed up with the Podfitness workout site. I start the first one tomorrow. Maybe between the excitement of Boston and a new workout I can finally kick my fitness goals.

 

 

 

So Out of Shape

We're going to Chicago for a family reunion in June – 8 weeks away. That's about the same time that I'll be finding out if I "won" the NY marathon lottery. I need to be building base miles and getting in shape ahead of seeing family and starting a training program and yet I am so out of shape that I despair that it will happen.

I stepped it up a bit this week: more, longer walks with occasional jogs, I rode my bike for the first time since October, and I got back in the gym. Yet, I am starting so far down the fitness ladder that it will take supreme effort to climb the next few steps. I am at a near high weight – including pregnancies and I really need to drop 50 pounds.

No excuses, but I've been working very long hours. When I finally get home and get dinner fixed and served and have downed a few glasses of wine, it is time to go to bed. My stress level is high and I comfort myself with food. Then, I feel bad about how fat I am so I have a little something to comfort myself.

It is a vicious cycle that I have decided to break. If a year from now, I haven't done anything about this situation, I'll be heavier and more out of shape. So today I am committing to working out at least 6 days a week for no less than 1 hour per day. I will do a variety of aerobic and weight training as well as work to build up base miles from which I can start my marathon training program,

In addition, I'm going to cut out the wine and cheese, my two biggest calorie busters. We've been experimenting with various wines over the last few years and we've easily slipped into splitting a bottle (or two) every night. Not only is it packing weight around my middle, it is also killing my initiative to exercise in the morning. Lately, we've been enjoying different varieties of cheeses. They taste so good, but they mostly fat calories.

Even starting today, it will take a lot of effort to overcome inertia and develop some kind of fitness level by the middle of June but I hereby declare that, come mid-June, I will be in better shape than today.

 

 

IMUS

I don't watch Imus or listen to him although I have infrequently in the past. I switched over to NPR years ago, mainly because I don't want to listen to someone screaming at me in the morning and I just got too impatient with commercials. Lately, I've even stepped away from NPR, at least in real time. I podcast the programs I want to hear – none of which are "news" shows – and read newspapers on line and in several papers and weekly magazines for my news. But I've been following the latest faux paus by someone motivated by ratings, distanced from reality by a huge salary and plenty of yes-men staff, stretching for the laugh way past what he might say in his real life.

Imus is rude and crude – not Howard Stern crude, but certainly not Ms. Manners on the radio. Apparently, millions of people find this interesting. Not me. But he seems to have done some good things with his life – most notably, the camp he funds for children who've experienced misfortune. That, too, is not without controversy. And he does try to poke a little hole in the hot air windbags that appear on his show. Amusing? Not to me. But the insults are his shtick, not unlike Don Riddle from years gone by. What he said about the women of Rutgers basketball team is inexcusable, but not the worst thing said on the radio. I endorse his suspension. Certainly his remarks were insensitive and smacked of a racial slur. But many of those protesting are living in glass houses. The Reverend Al Sharpton may have forgotten the Tawana Brawley affair as I'm sure he'd like the rest of us to – an example of someone who clearly misspoke while trying to entertain his audience.

The point I may not be making too well is that we all have said some really stupid things we wish we could take back – things we might not even believe. Imus has the added misfortune of saying it in front of millions. He is clearly remorseful and he will endure a two week suspension. If we are going to police the air waves, let's not stop with him. Let's look at Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter, Jerry Falwell, Pat Robertson, et. al. Let's make the airwaves more civil and take them all off indefinitely.

 

 

Easter 2007

This is the first Easter in 30+ years that I haven't decorated and hidden eggs and/or cooked a ham. The kids are grown and not married. We don't have any grandchildren yet (thank goodness, since the kids are not married yet). We've been working all kinds of crazy hours and I just wasn't up to cooking a family dinner for Sunday.

Now, I regret it. If we're not careful the kids are going to drift away. They're working and meeting with their friends. I feel like it is up to me to keep the family thing going on.

Today was cold and windy. We set record lows and we had snow flurries Friday night. All the azaleas will be brown and crispy by tomorrow – they starting wilting today. I just don't feel like doing anything. Sadie and I walked two miles, but the wind was strong and cold and neither of us felt like doing it.

I finished my son's taxes and e-filed them. That only leaves ours to file. I should be able to get the last of the info I need tomorrow – just missing one 1099, then I'll get them filed. We squeaked by this year – or I calculated very well. We have a $243 refund that I'll apply to next year and file our estimated taxes on 4/17/-07. I'm going to give it one more look-see this week to make sure I haven't missed anything and get it sent off.

Just a blah day. At least I had a three-day weekend.

MEN ARE DIFFERENT

My husband can tell me in endless detail every stroke each of his buddies hit on a round of golf two years ago. And he does. I've learned to listen with that "yes, dear" look. You know what I mean. A smile is frozen on my face and I periodically nod and murmur "really" or "amazing". All the while I'm thinking about the grocery list, future vacation plans or what I'm going to fix for dinner tonight. Of course, he can't go to the grocery store to get three items without a written list. My daughter calls it testosterone poisoning.

Don't act shocked. Men have perfected this "absent presence", I've just acquired it through training. My husband has denied ever being told that one of our children was thinking of changing jobs, that I was concerned about the state of the tires on my car or that I had no intentions of using my vacation days to visit his mother. After all these years of marriage I know that we inherently think differently than each other and accept this fact as the way, together, we make a complete unit. He thinks about what he considers important and I do the same and between us both we almost cover everything important to our family unit. Sometimes the part not covered is significant, other times it doesn't matter.

Still I am occasionally surprised by unexpected differences. Tools are a new revelation. My husband has never been Mr. Fix-it. I sort of knew this when we got married but I always figured I was marrying the most wonderful man in the world and I could always hire someone to fix what needed to be fixed. Little did I realize how much these fixers charge. So it comes as a bit of surprise to me this latent tool accumulation syndrome that my husband is developing. He has always had to have the latest golf clubs, but power tools are new phenomena.

I was working in the "natural area" – that's the bulk of our front yard where we are unable to grow grass – last weekend. We have an outcropping of green onions that I had decided to eradicate. My trowel was inefficient so I asked him to go to Lowes to get me a hand tool to dig out the bulbs so I wouldn't also dig up the hostas. I had this in mind.

He bought this. The difference in price is about $24.00. I should have known better; I should have gone myself to get what I wanted. But I made it work and got up most of the onions. The next time I'm at Lowes, I'll pick up what I wanted to start with.

The difference is mostly nice. He thinks about grass and trees and shrubs that need pruning. I think that God put those trees there and will take them down when He sees fit. He can figure out when we need to buy a new car and what we should buy. As long as it runs and I can par it I don't have any interest in this topic. He can't figure out that if you put the largest items on the bottom that you can stack more pots or bowls in the cabinets. I think if we use less salt and butter our health might be better in later years. Each of us has our own particular area to be a specialist and over the years we've worked it out. So I'm not complaining. I still think I married the most wonderful man in the world. I say vive la difference!

Working More, Enjoying Less

The faster I work, the behinder I get. After several years of a down economy, responsibilities for aging parents and our own health issues we're finally getting to the place where we can focus on us. Yet I feel like everything is falling apart. We should be having a lot more free time and playing, traveling and planning our retirement or just enjoying our time. Instead, we both feel like we're constantly running to take care of commitments to others and not to ourselves.

My job is absolutely insane. I'm pretty sure sometimes that I work for crazy people. Since the beginning of the Bush era we've spent our time figuring out how to cut or control costs, work with a reduced staff and redirect the company's focus more towards service than new construction. In the process we've endured major illnesses by a few key people, the loss of a few dear ones, and have shrunk our staff to the minimum. Suddenly, finally, the area economy is picking up and people are building again. At the same time, the service side, where we've directed so much energy and resources, is beginning to take off. We have added new people, who haven't stayed or have been asked to leave. Now we have three new people in key positions and we're trying to train them at the same time we're trying to keep up with the ever escalating volume of work. On top of it all, those of us who have slogged through the lean years doing double and even triple duty so we could keep costs down are tired. It doesn't help that I have a boss who believes his role in the company is to find out what we're doing wrong. So, instead of feeling supported, I'm constantly on the defensive for everything that has gone wrong or that he imagines has gone wrong. Plus, he doesn't differentiate between really, terribly, drastically wrong and a simple error. If it is wrong, it is wrong and everything else is probably wrong too.

With all this going on, I need to upgrade my hardware, so I may as well upgrade my software. So while I'm upgrading the software, I want the new technology: bar coding, document imaging, wireless, mobile and paperless. This is the part that is fun; the part that I really love. But I have to cobble together all the pieces from several different sources who don't necessarily want to work with each other. Everything must be compatible and the function must be seamless with no redundancy and no holes. Unfortunately, I have to educate myself on a lot of the technology and train new people and keep up with the daily stuff. I haven't reconciled bank statements in six months and just writing that makes me hyperventilate. The quotes came in at about 30% over what I thought and, based on past experience, will run 30% over that. On top of it all, if I get all this approved and implemented, I'll have to support it.

I work with people who, at best, think that technology is a mystery. At worst, they think they are there to do the "real" work and it is my job to provide them with all the support and comfort that they need and want. I am rarely the first one in, but I am always the last one out.

Writing all this out, I realize my only solution is to win the lottery and walk away. I could do that with no regrets but chances are slim that will happen so I'm going to have to come up with a plan B. Tomorrow I'll start working on that; tonight I am done.

 

 

 

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SUNDAY NIGHT COMING DOWN

Here it is, Sunday night again. We didn't win the lottery – again – and I have to go to work tomorrow. I DON'T WANT TO GO TO WORK! Even though the days just fly by during the week, they don't go half as fast as my days during the weekend. I always have so many things on my To Do list that I don't seem to get to my Want To Do list.

Saturday morning I spent spray painting protest signs. I get such a kick out of this, that 30+ years later, I am making protest signs. This time, instead of protesting the war, I'm protesting neighborhood rezoning. It would be a far nobler thing to be protesting the war, but I just painted Don't Rezone on 100 +/- signs, front and back with a group of my neighbors. Seems the local car dealer wants to buy three houses on the next street and pave the back yards for "employee parking". Then, since he has stated that he doesn't want to be a landlord, our theory is that he's going to sell the houses to a local developer who told one of our neighbors to get used to the idea, because the property was too valuable to just sit there. Since current lot sizes are much smaller, we speculate that he'll replace the three houses with six to nine houses.

Our neighborhood was developed starting in the early 50's. The first houses are four-room, 1-bath homes built in the post war boom. Our section was built in 1960. Although our house is just a standard ranch of the era, with very little closet space and small rooms, it has a very large lot for the city and is loaded with wise old oaks. We struggle to grow grass, because these wonderful old trees provide so much shade. Lots of our neighbors are the original owners of their houses. We have a lot of rentals in the area, but we also have a lot of young couples moving in because it is an affordable neighborhood. One thing this threat to our neighborhood has produced is a feeling of community. The rezoning request comes before the City Council in a little more than a week. I hope we win, but I feel like the City has decided our area is expendable; that our land is too valuable for a middle-class area with such a good location.

After my protest painting, when I managed to turn my hands a reddish-brown tint, I was off to my shopping chores. I don't know how I used to go to school, work full time and raise two children. Now it seems like a grocery trip turns into a day-long expedition. Sunday, all I managed was reading the papers, doing a little yard work and catching up on 24. I don't think it is a particularly good program, but DH loves it. We were Tivo-ing the entire season for a marathon watch, but we're upgrading to HD satellite this week and we'll lose everything on the current DVR.

Sadie and I did manage to knock out a few miles around the neighborhood this weekend. We did 1 mile yesterday and 2 today. She was dragging a bit today because it was around 80 and she doesn't do heat too well. I've entered the lottery to run the NY Marathon and I really need to get started training. Three miles of walking per week is not going to be enough. I just can't get up for it. I've been blaming it on the stress at work, but it could be middle-age, or menopause, or depression or who knows? All I know is, the best way for me to "win" this lottery is not to train while it is still early. Twenty-six miles requires a build-up; I learned that after my last marathon. I spent several years afterwards limping and having mysterious aches.

As I write this, I am listening to APM Word for Word. Arnold Schwarzenegger is talking about his awakening to "post-partisan" politics. It is an interesting concept that seems totally obvious but it has not been observed in recent memory. I'm not sure if it goes all the way back to Nixon, but surely it goes back as far as Clinton. The gridlock and sniping and demonizing of the other side have made politics irrelevant to most of us. The politicians, now more than ever, seem to be for sale to the lobbyists and we "little people" have felt powerless to fix government. The issues are so complex and the ad writers are so sophisticated that is easy to get distracted by the side issues or personalities or to vote our fears. I get a sense that after the midterm elections the pendulum is shifting; I think that people are wising up to the clever marketing that has guided past decisions. I signed up for Unity08, an organization that is petitioning for a national online primary to vote for a bipartisan ticket for the next election. I've long thought that we need a new political party. Both parties are now so vested in consolidating their power and getting re-elected that they have completely forgotten to do what is best for the country. Ross Perot was clearly not it. The idea of Unity08 is worth considering.

    

 

I LOVE FRIDAY’S

I love Fridays. Not that we ever do anything on Friday nights. As a matter of fact, I don't want to do anything Friday nights. By the time Friday gets here I'm totally wasted, and not in a good way. But I do love Fridays. I get to come home and do practically nothing, a really perfect state after a typically killer week. We eat something evil under the new healthy eating standards, like pizza or, tonight, Reubens, from Tuedsay's leftover corned beef. We drink a little too much wine and we watch something from the DVR. Tonight it is Grey's Anatomy, one of the best programs on TV. Then we just crash. Tomorrow morning I'll sleep in until about 7:00 if I'm lucky and spend a little more time on the paper or online news, then it'll start.

Actually, just writing it out makes it sound pathetic. No wonder I can't get this weight off. I haven't done a morning workout in months. I barely even walk the dog during the week. I eat responsibly, but not lightly, Monday through Friday afternoon, then have my Friday night blowouts. I spend Saturdays doing chores and frittering away Sundays. Good grief, if I keep up this pace, I'll end up crying myself to sleep tonight. Well, as Martin Dugard says, "Onward".

This weekend is Spring, figuratively and literally. The temperatures are going to be in the low 80's with plenty of sun and no humidity. We're going to ride out bikes, do yard work and otherwise be active. The Bradford pears and various types of cherry trees are in full bloom. There is a feeling of excitement and movement in the air. Yellow daffodils have been swaying in the March winds for the past few weeks and the wild onions are springing up all over the yard.

Today I am wasted. But tomorrow, onward!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LEARNING NEW STUFF

Wow! This is exciting and also a little challenging. I'm still learning my way around my new laptop and Windows 2007 (trial version). I sometimes feel as if the technology bubble has passed me by. Just finding out what I can possibly do is mind boggling. Even though I have always thought of myself as a techie, my husband and I seemed to have reached the age when it is easier to get our son to do everything for us than to try to figure it out ourselves.

It is really kind of karmic that I would find myself struggling with technology. Dad went through a period after he retired when he wanted to play with his computer all the time. By that, I mean he wanted to dismantle and reassemble the computer, change all the settings and then watch me spend all of my Saturday putting it back together again. I complained vehemently to my mother, who was never on my side about anything in my entire life, and she chewed me out, telling me that I would indeed spend my entire weekend putting this together for him because I owed it to him. I left their house every Saturday stressed to the max.

Turns out that Dad had dementia. Every person seems to experience it differently. Dad apparently delighted in taking things apart and then couldn't put them back together again, although he gave it his best shot. We shouldn't have been surprised of course. Growing up, we used to laugh and tease Dad that he always had plenty of spare parts left over whenever he tried to fix something. We'd have to put the parts in a safe place so we could give them to the repairman when Dad would finally cry uncle and call in an expert. Still it made going over to my parents' house even more of a chore than normal.

At work, I am the person in charge of technology. I still have my "day job" however. Lately, I've been so overworked that I tend to stay away from new things because I know I will end up taking care of them. I keep trying to hire people who say they are computer people, but they usually end up knowing less than me. Fortunately, I outsource the really technical stuff. Over the years I have developed a relationship with "my computer guy" so that I just call him up and let him talk me through it. When we went to the Window 2003 server, I basically handed admin over to him. Sometimes, though, he gets a little touchy. And sometimes lately, he gives me the feeling that I'm pushing it with him. My take on it though is that I pay him well for every hour of his time, so even if I could fix it myself, I want him to do it.

But, I got this fancy-dancy new machine and I need to learn how to use it. I also told myself that the only reason that I didn't post to my blog regularly was that I had to go down to the den and fire up the ole' desktop. So I shall learn. Maybe there are just enough brain cells left for me to learn a new trick.

Over the line

Argh! I calculated my BMI at one of the fitness websites today. I've officially crossed over into obesedom. I can feel it. I'm carrying so much weight around my middle. My backside moves in a different direction from me. My thighs have an extra layer on top of the muscle. I feel fat! I am fat!

Not too soon, I'm getting on the bandwagon again! I've been weighing myself only on the first day of the month since I tend to obsess about the scale so much - I got into weighing morning and evening and taking the best number. So I only weighed today to get my new start point - and I'm obese. I can't stand it any more.

Knowing that I've crossed the line, maybe I can stay motivated to get this weight off. Also, publicly proclaiming my fat is kind of like an alcoholic at the AA meeting. "Hi, I'm BS and I'm fat".

I'm resorting to rather drastic measures for a jump start. I'm doing the Medifast diet for as long as I can hold out. Right now the plan is for four weeks. We'll see how it holds up. It hasn't helped that I've spent the last year in home chef mode. I've spent more hours in the kitchen in the last year than I did in the gym. I guess I'll have to reverse that!

Another year, another post

I've always wondered about my ability to keep a blog. I've been busy as hell at work and I'm totally empty by the time I get home. Plus, truth to tell, I really don't have that much to say. My life is full of tasks but not much excitement. I want to change that.

I got a nifty new laptop. I've been coveting one to replace my old desktop for ages, but just didn't want to spend the money. Well, I'm not getting any younger and Costco has a special on a 17" HP with the extended keyboard - my dream machine. We picked it up yesterday afternoon and then went to a friend's house for dinner so I was only able to fire it up and play a few games last night when we got home.

This morning I started setting up my "easy to install" wireless router at 9:00. I finally ended up calling the Netgear help line at 1:30 and got it up and running. The problem was not entirely my fault since we had to change some of the settings to get it to work. Entirely annoying! Plus the help desk assistant wouldn't let me off the line until I filled out the "voluntary" satisfaction survey. Sheesh.

Next we had to go to a neighborhood meeting of our anti-rezoning group. We toured the site where the car dealership is trying to get approval to buy three houses and put a parking lot in the backyards. In reality, they want to pave our little piece of paradise and put in a parking lot. It was 40 degrees with 30 mph winds and bitter cold. But, standing out there, we affirmed our resolve to fight the developer and City Hall on this. I've had a few deja vu moments with this "protest". It brings me back to the days when I was protesting Vietnam. One big difference is that this time I'm not burning my bra!

Anyway, I finally have a chance to sit down and play with my new toy. Maybe now I will update more frequently. We shall see.