Well Thank Gawd That's Over!

Whew! After yesterday I wasn't sure I was ever going to recover. I felt horrible.

After stumbling around the house at six o'clock yesterday morning, I got the cat re-settled and then went back to bed until almost nine o'clock when I got up. In the midst of some more stumbling around, I got my coffee and did a few other things. A couple of hours later I laid down again and napped until three o'clock. I hate doing stuff like that because I feel like I'm sleeping my weekend away. But I did and then I woke up, showered, dressed and went out to do the shopping.

Costco was a much happier experience this week. I got into line behind three other carts. The man immediately in front of me looked around just as the person in front of him got to the belt and started laying out their stuff.

"You have just that? Go on ahead."

Wow! Make-up for last weekend's nightmare or what? I thanked him, had my cards ready to go and wham, bam, thank ya Stan, I was out and done. It was a pleasure. I didn't even think about getting gas. I'll do that Monday morning instead of making the same mistake I made last weekend.

In all, the shopping at Costco and PetSmart took me under an hour and I was home in time for the debate.

That was interesting but predictable, although I was thrilled to see Christie step up and make points. I like Christie. I like his moxie and think that he is a good, viable candidate. My dream ticket is Trump / Christie because both are strong characters, both are outspoken and no-nonsense. Trump brings the business acumen while Christie has the political acumen. I think the two of them working together could make amazing changes in this country, building jobs and creating opportunities, getting the borders under control and undoing a whole lot of the economic damage that's been done to this nation in the past fifteen years - since Bush II was sworn in January 2001

We watched that followed by some of the analysis - equally predicable - until about eight-thirty, then hubby insisted on watching 'Wonder Woman'. Oh... My... God... How stupid is that? I ignored it, playing games on my iPad instead. He didn't comment for a change. Then he wanted to watch 'Star Trek'. That, while still cartoonish, wasn't quite as bad. I was a fan when I was a kid, so I kind of watched it between computer games.

At ten o'clock we started watching Svengoolie. It's funky and silly and definitely geared toward teenagers and/or men who haven't grown up entirely because the whole schtick is just... childish. I mean, how can you take this seriously?

But it's campy harmless fun. Dumb jokes, rubber chickens, a flimsy plywood coffin and a mix of 'horror and hilarity'. I wouldn't go so far on either side of that - little hilarity (light amusement) and less horror (sometimes the movies are laughable by today's standard), but it's humorous and sometimes informative - if you happen to have a 'thing' for B movies. Last night's was Bela Lugosi in 'Murders in the Rue Morgue' from 1932. Little better than a silent film and, based on the number of stars (two), a poor adaptation of Poe's original story.

In bed at ten thirty, after half an hour of nonsense (about all I could stomach).

This morning I actually feel human. Coffee didn't hurt that, and I got my quiche made for the week.

How to take the 'joy' out of cooking? Count the calories in what you're cooking. That's what I do because I want to make sure that I know what I'm consuming and what the chances are of losing weight. I sure do need to lose weight and I'm struggling as everyone does.

One thing I've discovered, though, is that it's not just calories. It's how the foods and nutrients interact with one another. Take my quiche, for instance. Full of protein from the eggs and the chorizo sausage (which I cooked before adding it to remove more of the fat / juices), with a reasonable amount of cheese (1 C = 880 calories / eight servings). I added broccoli and ground flax seed. After adding and dividing I found there are 326 calories per serving. Which is good - but there is a lot of fat because of the cheese, so I need to cut back elsewhere. It's important to track that stuff so that I can, and I will.

The one thing I know is that, no matter what you're eating or how 'good' it is for you, it's quantity more than quality. My biggest problem is that I love to eat. I love it and have a hard time slowing down and stopping.

Of all the addictions a person can have, eating is the one you cannot do without.You don't need to smoke or drink or do drugs but you do have to eat, and that's why losing weight, controlling your habits and portion size is such a nightmare.

Traditional diets are a joke because if you 'diet' as the tradition dictates - cutting calories but not changing habit, you are just about guaranteed to rebound once you revert to your regular behavior. That, right there, is the hardest part - making the changes lifestyle changes. Particularly if you're not the only one in the household or the one doing the cooking.

That's where the rub is for me. I have twelve hours per day in which I can be reasonable and reasoned, but it's that evening meal that's the struggle because, honest to God, hubby is a fabulous cook. Not so great in other aspects, but a fabulous cook. So I'm going to try something new.

We'll see how it goes. I've tried it before and I've had some success (thirty-five pounds a few years ago - twenty-five of which haven't found me again). I just need to get back on track, make it a real habit and stick to it. It'll be a week or two before the habit kicks in and I start seeing results - good or bad - and then I'll know what I need to do.

In the meantime, though, I'm going to go finish the laundry and get some other chores around here done.

Have a wonderful Sunday - Go... I still can't decide between the Broncos and Panthers so I'll split the difference: Go the Best Team on Sunday!

Best~
Philippa

Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories

I Believe It. I Really Do.

Whew! Monday came and I think I figured out why I felt like I was hit by a stampede this weekend.

Aside from the general stress of wedding stuff and standing around and walking for the better part of ten hours, I think it has to do with what I've been putting into my body.

I am not a big health freak. I do not do, I categorically refuse to do, the vegan "thing" or the vegetarian "thing". Human beings did not evolve with fad diets and affected (or effete) dietary restrictions. This is, I believe, another thing that leads to health problems because human beings did not evolve as vegetarians or vegans. We evolved the same as other creatures - with specific dietary requirements. Mess with those too much at your own risk.

So I am proud to be an omnivore with no significant health issues. If I crave something - be it grain, vegetable, dairy or solid protein, I eat it. I figure if my body is screaming for something it's because that something has something that my body needs. I am very much a believer in we are what we eat and sometimes the taste buds direct us down the wrong path for too long.

Given that I was still stiff and sore this morning, a highly unusual condition for me, I started thinking "what have I been eating lately?"

The answer to my internal query is: protein. Thinking back for the past couple of weeks, I have been eating lentils, beans, meat, more meat, eggs, more... protein. Very little in the way of grains and veggies.

This, I suspect, is why my muscles and joints are aching. So I stopped at the store this morning and bought a container of tomato soup and another of chicken corn chowder. Yes, the latter has protein, but in such a negligible amount it doesn't count. I also bought a couple of rolls. Not health food stuff, at all, but bread. Ate one and immediately started feeling a little better. Despite my craving to chow down on the other one, too, I held it back and will have it tomorrow. After all, enough is enough, right? That, and the bagel... With the whipped cream cheese (mostly air so a little goes a long way). It does tell me, though - both the speedy response of my feeling better and the intense desire for more - that my body does need something other than protein.

Next I'll get some greens - kale and other stuff - and do that, too. In a couple of days, if I'm right about what's wrong, I'll feel much better. I suspect that I'll even start sleeping better with fewer 'power surges' and 'night glows' ('sweat' brings up too unpleasant an image, even if it is factual, so I'll go with 'night glow').

I've also solved the walking problem - the concern about the reason for my daily excursion down the street, etc.

We've had another change in staff here and things need to be gotten back under control in one area. I volunteered to help and now I'm up and down the street twice as much as I used to be. Heck, this morning was great! I walked down to drop off some of the what needs control, came back and a calendar reminder had popped up. I was supposed to be down the street for a meeting in... oh, two minutes. Grabbed the laptop and hustled back down the street.

Twenty minutes later I'm back here. Then, after I finish up my lunch (and this post), I'll get back to controlling what's run rampant, and will have another "excuse" to hustle down the street and back. That'll clock about a mile on the odometer. So, no need at all to worry about the walking. It's taken care of for the foreseeable future.

And joy of joys! I am feeling better. Isn't it great when you pay attention to your body and the signals it sends? I'll see how long it lasts, but for now, it's all good.

I hope you are too, and that you're having a spectacular Monday!

Best~
Philippa

Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories

The Beginning of Success

Oh, frabjous day! A month ago I decided, firmly, to do something about my weight. Then I had my confrontation with flax. Flax won, temporarily, but now I’m back on track. Last weekend I finally sucked it up, gathered my courage and stepped on the scale. Surprise! It wasn’t as bad as I expected. It also set the bar – the benchmark of my starting point and told me how far I have to go to get to where I want to be.

Today I stepped on the scale again, after a week of ‘being careful’ and watching what I eat, denying sometimes (not as often as I should). Four pounds – one tenth of my goal – is gone. Yay, me!

I have a long way to go, and there will undoubtedly be ups and downs, times when I do better than others. It’s a start though, a good one. It’s also the downhill portion because it was mostly water so now starts the *ahem* heavy lifting.

Yeah, yeah. I know this is boring, no one but me cares, but it’s important to me so, because this is my blog, I’m going to crow about my successes.

As I said in a previous post, I’ve been here, done this diet / weight loss thing before. I know what’s required. It takes discipline and I know from hard experience that denial is a death knell for any diet.

When I was in high school, where my weight problem started, I would get home from school and make toast. Not just a slice or two. It was usually four or five slices, slathered in butter. It was like my gateway drug. From there I expanded to bags of chips. Not little bags, big ones, and cans of premade frosting.

Thinking of that stuff now it makes me sick, but that was how I got started. Then, when I was seventeen, I started to change how I eat, and I lost the weight. Then I got married and the yo-yo started.

Within a year after our wedding, the Fates delivered their twenty pound wedding gift to my belly, hips and thighs. To get rid of it, I tried a ‘fad’ diet. It was the early 80s and the diet du jour was the Cambridge Diet, a powder that you mixed with water and drank.

You were ‘allowed’ to eat celery and then one ‘good’ meal per day. In other words, not enough to keep an emaciated rabbit alive and, because I had nothing in me, I ended up with massive stomach pains. That time I went to the ER and the doc was like, ‘Duh!’

That was all I needed to teach me that fad diets are probably a bad idea. Won’t do ‘em, won’t pay for food separate and apart from what the family is eating because, undoubtedly, I would end up looking longingly at the other plate, thinking how unfair life is.

So I cook for myself. I like to cook, but I don’t like to spend hours in the kitchen and I certainly don’t want things that use a gazillion pots, pans, or utensils. Cleaning up is the worst part of it. Prep is only slightly behind cleaning, so I want things that are quick and easy, tasty but simple. One pan, maybe two and I make things for breakfast and lunch that I like, things that are reasonable in calories and fit my requirements. For dinner I typically eat what the family eats and, after years of struggle, have made it clear that I prefer to serve myself.

For two decades my husband served everyone – he is the cook, he deemed it his right. Since he’s a guy, he always served more than this gal needed or wanted but, dutifully, because I had been taught as a kid: if it’s on your plate, you eat it because of starving children in China. One day I decided ‘this is really stupid’. I said, ‘no thanks, I’ll serve myself.’ We argued, more than a few times over more than a couple of years, but I eventually won. Now I serve myself – small portions. Not necessarily as small as they should be, but smaller than if he portioned it out.

One of my favorite movie lines – and I only saw the trailer, not the movie – was a family sitting around the dinner table. Skinny sister looks at ‘fat’ sister and says something along the lines of, ‘who’s holding a gun to your head to make you put that into your mouth?’ Too true! So it’s on me and I have it pretty much under control.

This week’s lunch menu is pork roast, roasted Brussels sprouts with garlic, sautéed mushrooms with bell peppers, and rice. In case anyone is interested, here’s my recipe for sautéed mushrooms and bell peppers. Try it, maybe next time you’re having company so if you don’t like it you’re not stuck with a bunch of it. Or you can make less, if you’d like, but I make this and then keep the extras in the fridge to be rewarmed to have it with my meat, over rice, inside a warm tortilla or on pizza.

Sauteed Bell Peppers and Mushrooms

Three or four bell peppers, seeded and sliced into strips

One pound mushrooms, washed and trimmed, then sliced

Optional: Thin sliced scallion

Optional: Black pitted olives, sliced

Butter

Good quality balsamic vinegar (can substitute Worcestershire Sauce)

White pepper

Melt a small amount of butter, enough to coat the bottom of a large pan. Sauté the mushroom slices, cooking them until they are golden brown or darker (depending on preference). If needed, cook in batches. Use a slotted spoon to remove the mushrooms from the pan, leaving the liquor. Put them in a glass bowl large enough to hold all of the mushrooms and peppers, once they’re cooked. To the pan, add the sliced bell pepper in batches, without crowding, add more butter if needed. Sauté until cooked through but still firm (you should be able to cut one in half with the edge of a spoon without too much effort). As each batch is done, move them to the bowl with the mushrooms.

After the last batch is cooked, put all of it back in the pan. Add, if desired, the sliced scallion and sliced olives and reheat. Sprinkle with white pepper to taste and splash with vinegar, to taste. Reheat for about two minutes, to take the ‘edge’ off the pepper, stirring frequently.

Once the veggies are cooked, remove them from the pan leaving the juices. Continue cooking the juices down, until it thickens. This is where the salt will really come out, so you don't need to add any - you're concentrating whatever was already there from the vinegar, the olives (if you added them). When you're satisfied with the consistency, pour the liquor over the veggies, toss and serve. Or refrigerate to use later.

* * * * * *

Yes – I know the butter is ‘bad’ for you, but if you try to use cooking spray or olive oil, it’s not going to taste as good. They’ll be slimy for one thing (I’ve tried it). Just use a little – just enough to keep the ‘shrooms from sticking and keep stirring until they give up their water (and, believe it or not, mushrooms have a lot of water in them). Use the butter judiciously.

Another favorite of mine is roasted Brussels sprouts. The recipes I’ve found say ‘use a pound’ or some defined quantity. Nah. I buy two pound bags of them from Costco and use however many will fit in the roasting pan. I use a big roasting pan, so it’s usually the whole bag. If they're big and the pan won't hold all of them, I put whatever is left into a Ziplock bag, squeeze the air out and put them into the veggie bin in the fridge. They'll keep for a couple of weeks.

For roasting, though, the keys are to get ‘em all in in one layer, and to leave a little room so you can stir them and they’ll actually cook.

Roasted Brussels Sprouts

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

One or two pounds of Brussels sprouts or however many will fit in the pan (see above)

Olive oil - get the good kind, it's worth it

One head garlic, peeled and cloves separated (you don't need to trim them - the cooking will soften them enough that they're edible by the time it's all over)

Optional: one medium sized sweet onion, chunked*

Balsamic vinegar

White pepper

*Chunked – it’s what I call it. There’s minced and chopped, we all know what those are. Chunked is when you cut the onion in half, then in quarters, then cut it until you have big chunks, like eighths or ‘steenths. It’s bigger than chopped so it’s chunked.

If the Brussel sprouts aren’t already trimmed (stems), trim them. Wash them in any order – before, after, I don’t think it matters. I usually do it after because I think the water helps steam them. If you feel inclined, you can slice them down the middle. I never do because it’s too much trouble and they cook just fine.

Put a little olive oil into the bottom of the roasting pan. Add the sprouts and sprinkle the peeled garlic cloves around the pan, among the sprouts. If you're adding the onion, do that. Stir it all up to coat the veggies with the oil.

Splash with balsamic vinegar and sprinkle with a little white pepper.

Now, recipes call for salt. I never use salt. The vinegar has salt. There’s naturally occurring salt in the sprouts and onion. I don’t think the salt adds anything but if you’re a salt-o-holic, knock yourself out and have at it.

Put the pan in the oven and set the timer for 30 minutes. At 30 minutes check on them. Stir them, turn them over, and see how they’re doing. Put them back for as long as you think they might need – 10 minutes, 15, 20, use your judgement.

When they’re done, take them out and let them relax in the pan for a few minutes. They’ll keep cooking until you take them out of the pan or until they get cold (whichever comes first – that’s my disclaimer), but that’s okay.

Once you serve them, they will be sweet and just a little mildly ‘sprouty’ – not overwhelming. They make a great side with pork or lamb or beef. The best part is the next day. Once they’ve chilled they will sweeten up – all the natural sugar will come to the fore and it’s like eating candy.

So that’s going to be the secret to my ultimate success: lots of vegetable dishes that are quick, easy and delicious, along with protein – mostly chicken and pork. I’ll have some bread but not a lot, and won’t deny myself much of anything so I don’t get frustrated.

Now, I’m off to get cooking and I hope you have a lovely Fourth of July!

Best~

Philippa

Follow me on Twitter:https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories

I Hate That Saying...

I don't know if it was original to the 1960's and '70s, or if it predates that, but the saying 'This is the first day of the rest of your life' makes me want to commit an act of violence. It's so... Argh!

However, it is because this is the day I start remaking myself. Not in the superficial hair dye and highlights manner, or the polish and puff manner, I'm just not like that. Instead, it's in the rebuilding and realignment manner.

When I was a kid, I was skinny. Rail thin with ribs from here to there, then I hit puberty and wham the fat found me. When I was fourteen I was wearing size fourteen clothing, and it wasn't age-adjusted. It was what fit. My friends were all wearing, or all seemed to be wearing, size six or seven or something that wouldn't fit one of my thighs.

In my late teens I finally got it under control. I went from 160 pounds to 135 pounds. I felt good, I looked good and I could finally shop for 'cute' clothes in size 10/11.

Then I got married and, as marriage often does, it brought weight. It's like a wedding gift from the Fates or something.

Now, thirty-five years on and I've decided to struggle with my weight, again.

Several years ago I weighed 217 pounds. That was my all time high. Even when I was pregnant the most I ever weighed in at was 204 pounds. Then, I lost the baby-fat, got down to 160 again and then ballooned. Packing on fifty-seven pounds because I ate when I was bored. When I was tired. When I was angry or depressed or just because it was there.

Try and lift that, it's shocking to think that's what I was hauling around everywhere I went.

Over a period of a couple of years, between 2010 and 2012, I took off thirty-seven of those pounds. I got down to a relatively trim 180 and I was proud of myself. But I was also depressed. I mean, after all, there are football players - professional, adult football players - who weigh less than I do! It's depressing and it's irritating.

Last night I finally worked up the courage to weigh myself for the first time in months.

Damn. I knew I had gained weight because I haven't been 'careful'. But I didn't think it was that much.

After all, I still fit into most of the 'skinny' clothes - those garments that are numbers that don't include an 'X' in the size - that I bought after my last weight-loss round.

It was that much, so now I'm determined. I want to get rid of this... stuff because I want to be active for a lot longer than I will be if I'm packing a giant sack of kitty litter with me everywhere I go.

Forty pounds, that's my goal. Eighteen months, that's my timeline. So, let's see here.

40 pounds x 3500 calories = 140,000 calories.
30 days x 18 months = 540 days.
140,000/540 = 259.26 calories per day.
2,000 calories is the standard for a normal adult human being's daily caloric needs.
1,700 calories should be my daily goal.

That's do-able. 1,700 calories per day, or less, if I can manage it. And I should be able to, because I have before.

It was boring. It was dull. It was a gigantic pain in the butt, but for months I tracked and estimated the cost of everything that went between my lips. I got pretty good at it, too. It will be a nuisance again, but it won't be hard. And even though I'm starting from a place higher than my recent low, it's still substantially less than where I began last time.

So, despite the fact that I want to strangle the person who started that sing-song happy crap of 'This is the first day of the rest of your life', it is. It will be, and I'm going to keep track and do my best to do my best to get down to something like a reasonable weight. Forty pounds. It sounds like a lot, and it is, but I can do it.

Now, I'm off to get breakfast - packaged oatmeal = 160 calories. 1 tbsp of flax seed = 30 calories. 1 banana, medium = 105 calories. Breakfast = 295 calories. Balance remaining = 1,405.

Have a lovely day!

Best~
Philippa

Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories

Ahhh... Monday. A sweeping plain of a week through which we'll wander. It's always interesting to me to look ahead. What do I have to do? What do I need to do? What should I do? What surprises are in store?

I count down the days by my mother-in-law's pill boxes.  She has three, seven-day holders that I fill up every Sunday.  Supplements and prescriptions; one here, two there, three over there, all to keep her going for another week. Saturday comes and the week is done.  Sunday arrives and I start again.

Sad as it is to see her in the state she's in, I realize that at least some of it comes down to choices.  Much of it is the crap shoot of genetics, granted, but some is directly tied to what we do.

My parents were both active for as long as they could manage.

My mom drove until her late 80's.  The idea of that scared the crap out of me, but she did it. Then, when she was ready, she turned the keys over, herself.

My dad was busy and active his entire life.  When he developed the lung cancer that ultimately killed him, he hauled his oxygen tank around until he couldn't any more.  Somewhere I have a picture of him, up on Skinner Butte in Eugene, Oregon.  They wanted to show me the views and despite it being hard to breathe, he walked the loop trail around the summit.  The picture shows him with his oxygen line and a big smile.  That was in June.  He didn't run marathons or climb mountains, but he walked and he drove and he did as much as he could of living before the end came in late August 2002 - two months after the picture was taken.

They lived in the house in which I grew up until dad couldn't negotiate the front steps any longer.  Then they moved into an over-55 community where they lived on their own terms in a small house with fewer steps.

They were happy and, after dad died, mom stayed there, living on her own and being checked on daily by my older brother and his wife, until she was ninety-two.

At ninety she decided to move a one-hundred pound glass-topped patio table from the back of the house into the garage.  Did she raise her hand and ask for help?  Heck no!  She got that baby turned onto its metal rim and rolled it to where she wanted it.  Once there, she wrestled it back upright and (probably, knowing her, dusted off her hands with a grin of satisfaction). When we heard about it, my bothers, sister and I just shook our heads but, hey, that's Mom.

Then, in 2012, she decided it was time and moved into an assisted living facility, where she died six months later, at ninety-three.

Three words that best describe my parents are:  Stoic, Determined, Self-Reliant.

I want to be like them. To get out and live life and do the things I like to do.


Comparing the two women isn't fair, really.

My mom never gave up, never, ever complained. She exercised, smoked until she was in her fifties, liked her Martinis and Manhattans - one, maybe two per night, but no more - and always watched her diet. Into her eighties she took vitamins and two medications - insulin and warfarin - that was it.

My mother-in-law...  Well, we could open a pharmacy and much of it is right down to the choices made.  Over-eating, never exercising, sitting and watching instead of out and doing.

I think I'm going to go out for a long walk at lunch today.

Best~
Philippa

Follow me at:  https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories