After my husband went to work today, I took a shower, put on some makeup and met up with his good friend, Dr. Jimmy, who grinned and said to me, “Lynn, we’re gonna have some fun this morning.” Then he offered me drugs, messed up my hair, and took away my pain.
Yup, this morning I had an emergency root canal.
It was supposed to be a simple crown. I’m in, I’m out, I go to the gym. But no. Xrays revealed an infection in one of the roots and decay under the tooth. No wonder my lymph nodes are swollen and I’ve felt yucky the last few days. I thought it was just me in a bad mood.
Anyway, after three hours of Mozart and Bach on the headphones while Dr. J and his staff tugged, pulled, drilled and plugged their way around my molar, I’m home with several prescriptions and a Band-Aid on my upper arm from the steroid injection.
I’m skipping the gym today.
Reason #2,671 why I’m glad I lost weight: my chest makes a more reliable dental tray.
You know how dentists lay their instruments across your chest during a procedure? The instruments no longer roll off and land on the floor like they used to. I also fit in the seat and can move my arms from the arm rests to my sides at any given time and without thought, although three hours in the chair allows you the time to think about such things.
Since coming home, I’ve managed to eat a leftover homemade veggie burger (just the burger, no bread. They’re the first veggie burgers I’ve ever made that actually hold together – yay!), a banana dipped in PB2, and now I’m slowly chewing cooked bok choy. It’s soft, but the slivered almonds are a bit of a problem. It’s not easy opening my mouth, and chewing on just one side of my mouth is challenging, but man, I was hungry. Drinking’s a problem right now, too, but I’m determined to open a bottle of wine this evening. Tonight it’s me in my PJs on the couch with a glass or three of chardonnay, doggonit, and I’ll drink it through a straw if I have to.
Remember how I said a few posts ago that I hate cardio? Yeah, well, there are some things I hate even more. Root canals would be one of them. But hey, it’s all part of taking care of the old body, right?
Ooooohhh, the side of my face is tingling. Good drugs wearing off. At least I didn’t have the same drugs this kid did!
Selasa, 10 Februari 2009
Minggu, 08 Februari 2009
What's Your Deepest Intention?
I read the following story recently as part of an online course I’m taking through Insight Meditation Center.
A Cherokee Legend
A grandfather is talking to his young grandson about life. He tells the boy, “I have two wolves inside of me, struggling with each other. The first is the wolf of peace, love and kindness. The other wolf is fear, greed and hatred.”
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win, grandfather?”
The grandfather replied, “Whichever one I feed.”
If I look at these wolves through the lens of weight loss and weight maintenance, I see how I feed them both.
The first wolf is at peace with my body, and loves and is kind to my body. The second wolf fears weight gain and doesn’t trust that I know how to stay thin; it is jealous and compares my body with other people’s bodies, and hates its shortcomings – its skin and stretch marks and other vestiges of morbid obesity’s abuse.
In a recent talk on the Buddhist view of sense of self, IMC teacher Gil Fronsdal encouraged participants to spend some quiet time alone reflecting on what their deepest intention is. When I examined this question in terms of weight, I thought about those wolves living inside me, and I realized I’ve been guided through my weight journey by one deep intention. I just hadn’t appreciated it in those terms before.
Often we’re motivated to lose weight on the spur of the moment. We see a get-thin-quick diet in a magazine or just get fed up one morning when our jeans are zipping tight. Maybe the thought of losing weight buzzes in the back of your mind and you dabble for a day or two in reducing calories or you go for a few walks, but you haven’t given real thought as to why. In a week or even a few days, you’re back to the buzzing.
Been there, done that, and have the receipts for the dozens of sacks of fat and thin clothes donated to Goodwill.
I’ve lost weight hundreds of times in the past, always with the “intention” of being good enough for other people. Four years ago, when I started losing weight the final time, I’d spent the good part of the year before wondering whether to lose weight or accept myself the way I was. It was a series of sh*t or get off the pot conversations I had with myself. I’d reached a point where I couldn’t vacillate between the two sides anymore.
Ultimately I decided to lose weight, mostly because my health was sinking fast. I had near diabetic sugar levels and my blood work indicated I was a walking heart attack. I had to decide if I wanted to eat my way to an early death or live the healthiest life I could for as long as I could. That decision became my deepest intention.
Did I falter once in awhile? Yes. But ultimately, I always went back to the intention.
That intention continues to guide me in maintenance. Without it, I’d behave the same way I always did when I got to some weight goal: by not paying attention to my food intake and slacking off on exercise. After all, my “intention” was merely to be good enough in someone else’s eyes. Once that was accomplished, I could go back to “normal.”
With my deepest intention being to be the healthiest person I can be physically and emotionally, I’m better able to pay attention to what my body and mind need and to work with them as a unit and not separately.
When I forget my deepest intention, I feed the second wolf – the wolf of fear, greed and hate. When I am focused on my intention, I feed the first wolf – the wolf of peace, love and kindness.
Which wolf do you feed? Which wolf do you want to win? What’s your deepest intention? I’m not asking so that you’ll tell me. You owe me or anyone else none of your thoughts. But they are good questions to ponder before or during a weight-loss or maintenance journey. As Gil said in his talk, it can help clarify how you find your way.
A Cherokee Legend
A grandfather is talking to his young grandson about life. He tells the boy, “I have two wolves inside of me, struggling with each other. The first is the wolf of peace, love and kindness. The other wolf is fear, greed and hatred.”
The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win, grandfather?”
The grandfather replied, “Whichever one I feed.”
If I look at these wolves through the lens of weight loss and weight maintenance, I see how I feed them both.
The first wolf is at peace with my body, and loves and is kind to my body. The second wolf fears weight gain and doesn’t trust that I know how to stay thin; it is jealous and compares my body with other people’s bodies, and hates its shortcomings – its skin and stretch marks and other vestiges of morbid obesity’s abuse.
In a recent talk on the Buddhist view of sense of self, IMC teacher Gil Fronsdal encouraged participants to spend some quiet time alone reflecting on what their deepest intention is. When I examined this question in terms of weight, I thought about those wolves living inside me, and I realized I’ve been guided through my weight journey by one deep intention. I just hadn’t appreciated it in those terms before.
Often we’re motivated to lose weight on the spur of the moment. We see a get-thin-quick diet in a magazine or just get fed up one morning when our jeans are zipping tight. Maybe the thought of losing weight buzzes in the back of your mind and you dabble for a day or two in reducing calories or you go for a few walks, but you haven’t given real thought as to why. In a week or even a few days, you’re back to the buzzing.
Been there, done that, and have the receipts for the dozens of sacks of fat and thin clothes donated to Goodwill.
I’ve lost weight hundreds of times in the past, always with the “intention” of being good enough for other people. Four years ago, when I started losing weight the final time, I’d spent the good part of the year before wondering whether to lose weight or accept myself the way I was. It was a series of sh*t or get off the pot conversations I had with myself. I’d reached a point where I couldn’t vacillate between the two sides anymore.
Ultimately I decided to lose weight, mostly because my health was sinking fast. I had near diabetic sugar levels and my blood work indicated I was a walking heart attack. I had to decide if I wanted to eat my way to an early death or live the healthiest life I could for as long as I could. That decision became my deepest intention.
Did I falter once in awhile? Yes. But ultimately, I always went back to the intention.
That intention continues to guide me in maintenance. Without it, I’d behave the same way I always did when I got to some weight goal: by not paying attention to my food intake and slacking off on exercise. After all, my “intention” was merely to be good enough in someone else’s eyes. Once that was accomplished, I could go back to “normal.”
With my deepest intention being to be the healthiest person I can be physically and emotionally, I’m better able to pay attention to what my body and mind need and to work with them as a unit and not separately.
When I forget my deepest intention, I feed the second wolf – the wolf of fear, greed and hate. When I am focused on my intention, I feed the first wolf – the wolf of peace, love and kindness.
Which wolf do you feed? Which wolf do you want to win? What’s your deepest intention? I’m not asking so that you’ll tell me. You owe me or anyone else none of your thoughts. But they are good questions to ponder before or during a weight-loss or maintenance journey. As Gil said in his talk, it can help clarify how you find your way.
Why did I do that?
As a treat today I had a 180 calorie 1/2 c. scoop of vanilla ice cream. (I measured it and everything!)I then planned to sprinkle it with some Godiva hot chocolate powder... (about a tablespoon) but the sprinkle turned into about 1/2 c. as it fell out in a lump from the canister into my bowl!A serving of the cocoa is 130 calories per 3 tablespoons. So one tablespoon would have been about 45
Jumat, 06 Februari 2009
Developing An Instinct for Recipes and Exercise
I remember well the days when I had no faith in my instincts, particularly as it pertained to recipes and exercise (imagine I’m saying that in my best Peter Brady impression).
In terms of food, I never strayed from a recipe except to omit onions if my kids were eating it or to reduce the amount of salt. The recipe was the expert, not me. As the years and pounds have fallen away (and I’ve become more picky about what I eat), I’ve been listening to my inner foodie and have become more adventurous in ad libbing.
I’m not out to reinvent food or write a cookbook. I’ve just made some small changes to existing recipes that I like and reading new ones with curiosity. I could use this for that… goes through my mind now when I read cookbooks or search recipes online. I don’t discard a recipe idea just because it has meat or eggplant or exorbitant amounts of oil. If the foundation of the recipe sounds good, I think around it and find substitutes.
I especially love putting together; things from scratch with a little of this and a little of that. You know, the few leftover carrots that don’t quite constitute a serving, the quarter-cup of mixed veggies on the bottom of the bag in the freezer, the two ounces of tofu that if you don’t use soon will go bad (and no wise cracks from the peanut gallery about how can you tell, OK?)
Here’s an example of what I mean. I made soup yesterday because I had a few leeks and rutabagas in the fridge, some lentils in the cupboard, bits of frozen corn and green beans, an opened container of veggie broth, and a lonely stalk of celery. I hate seeing things go to waste, especially in this economy, so here’s what I came up with. It’s pretty basic, but very tasty.
Lynn’s Smorgasbord Soup
1 cup thinly sliced leeks, rinsed well
1 clove garlic (or more)
1 tsp. olive oil
4 cups boxed vegetable broth
2 cups water with 2 tsp. vegetable broth granules (substitute 6 cups of boxed or homemade broth, or 6 cups of water and the equivalent granules)
1 can (15 ounces or so) diced tomatoes
1 cup diced carrots
1 cup diced celery
8 oz. cubed rutabaga (or use sweet potatoes or butternut squash)
½ cup frozen corn
½ cup frozen green beans
1 cup dried green lentils, rinsed and sorted
½ tsp. marjoram
½ tsp. dried thyme
¼ tsp. salt
¼ tsp. pepper
In a Dutch oven sprayed with non-stick spray, sauté the leeks and garlic in oil on low to medium heat for about 5 minutes. Stir frequently. Dump everything else in and simmer for about an hour.
Makes 6 hearty 2-cup servings, and if you make it like I did, it’s 3 Points per serving.
Last night, I made stuffed peppers from a cookbook recipe. I reduced the bulgur from 2/3 cup to ½ cup because it seemed like too much starch, and I added a ½ cup tomato sauce because my eyes told my mouth that the peppers might not be all I wanted them to be without some tomato. It turned out I was right and the peppers were just how I imagined.
There are times when my instincts fail me, too. Let’s just say there are some things that shouldn’t be mixed with lime juice and leave it at that.
The other area I lacked confidence was exercise. I was a by-the-book kinda gal. If some expert said I had to do cardio an hour a day to maintain my weight loss, by god I was going to do an hour of cardio a day. When another expert told me I could get by with just two days of strength training, that was good enough for me. The problem was that my body said no to both these scenarios, and so over the last several months, I’ve allowed my body to be the expert.
Let me say right now: I hate cardio. Well, at least I hate an hour of cardio. Thirty to 50 minutes, no problem, but an hour? I dreaded it, and you know and I know that if you dread something, you’re less likely to do it. Now I do about 120-150 minutes a week of cardio and this makes me a much happier exerciser. I’ve lost the guilt. (Yes, I felt guilty for not doing cardio like a maniac. Kinda sick, huh?)
What I lost in cardio, I upped in strength training. Using books and other guides, I developed my own routine for upper and lower body that works with my body and its abilities, not against them. I’m not a personal trainer and I haven’t had any classes in physiology (ergo, would never advise anyone on what they should do), but I know my body best and it’s responding to the three to four hours a week of ST nicely. Best of all, I love it. It’s my favorite exercise ever. Well, besides biking, but there’s 12 inches of snow still on the ground. I won’t be out on the trails for quite some time, I’m afraid.
So are you listening to your instincts, too? What are they telling you? I’d love to hear how you’re learning to (or have learned to) trust yourself in weight loss/weight maintenance.
In terms of food, I never strayed from a recipe except to omit onions if my kids were eating it or to reduce the amount of salt. The recipe was the expert, not me. As the years and pounds have fallen away (and I’ve become more picky about what I eat), I’ve been listening to my inner foodie and have become more adventurous in ad libbing.
I’m not out to reinvent food or write a cookbook. I’ve just made some small changes to existing recipes that I like and reading new ones with curiosity. I could use this for that… goes through my mind now when I read cookbooks or search recipes online. I don’t discard a recipe idea just because it has meat or eggplant or exorbitant amounts of oil. If the foundation of the recipe sounds good, I think around it and find substitutes.
I especially love putting together; things from scratch with a little of this and a little of that. You know, the few leftover carrots that don’t quite constitute a serving, the quarter-cup of mixed veggies on the bottom of the bag in the freezer, the two ounces of tofu that if you don’t use soon will go bad (and no wise cracks from the peanut gallery about how can you tell, OK?)
Here’s an example of what I mean. I made soup yesterday because I had a few leeks and rutabagas in the fridge, some lentils in the cupboard, bits of frozen corn and green beans, an opened container of veggie broth, and a lonely stalk of celery. I hate seeing things go to waste, especially in this economy, so here’s what I came up with. It’s pretty basic, but very tasty.
Lynn’s Smorgasbord Soup
1 cup thinly sliced leeks, rinsed well
1 clove garlic (or more)
1 tsp. olive oil
4 cups boxed vegetable broth
2 cups water with 2 tsp. vegetable broth granules (substitute 6 cups of boxed or homemade broth, or 6 cups of water and the equivalent granules)
1 can (15 ounces or so) diced tomatoes
1 cup diced carrots
1 cup diced celery
8 oz. cubed rutabaga (or use sweet potatoes or butternut squash)
½ cup frozen corn
½ cup frozen green beans
1 cup dried green lentils, rinsed and sorted
½ tsp. marjoram
½ tsp. dried thyme
¼ tsp. salt
¼ tsp. pepper
In a Dutch oven sprayed with non-stick spray, sauté the leeks and garlic in oil on low to medium heat for about 5 minutes. Stir frequently. Dump everything else in and simmer for about an hour.
Makes 6 hearty 2-cup servings, and if you make it like I did, it’s 3 Points per serving.
Last night, I made stuffed peppers from a cookbook recipe. I reduced the bulgur from 2/3 cup to ½ cup because it seemed like too much starch, and I added a ½ cup tomato sauce because my eyes told my mouth that the peppers might not be all I wanted them to be without some tomato. It turned out I was right and the peppers were just how I imagined.
There are times when my instincts fail me, too. Let’s just say there are some things that shouldn’t be mixed with lime juice and leave it at that.
The other area I lacked confidence was exercise. I was a by-the-book kinda gal. If some expert said I had to do cardio an hour a day to maintain my weight loss, by god I was going to do an hour of cardio a day. When another expert told me I could get by with just two days of strength training, that was good enough for me. The problem was that my body said no to both these scenarios, and so over the last several months, I’ve allowed my body to be the expert.
Let me say right now: I hate cardio. Well, at least I hate an hour of cardio. Thirty to 50 minutes, no problem, but an hour? I dreaded it, and you know and I know that if you dread something, you’re less likely to do it. Now I do about 120-150 minutes a week of cardio and this makes me a much happier exerciser. I’ve lost the guilt. (Yes, I felt guilty for not doing cardio like a maniac. Kinda sick, huh?)
What I lost in cardio, I upped in strength training. Using books and other guides, I developed my own routine for upper and lower body that works with my body and its abilities, not against them. I’m not a personal trainer and I haven’t had any classes in physiology (ergo, would never advise anyone on what they should do), but I know my body best and it’s responding to the three to four hours a week of ST nicely. Best of all, I love it. It’s my favorite exercise ever. Well, besides biking, but there’s 12 inches of snow still on the ground. I won’t be out on the trails for quite some time, I’m afraid.
So are you listening to your instincts, too? What are they telling you? I’d love to hear how you’re learning to (or have learned to) trust yourself in weight loss/weight maintenance.
Rabu, 04 Februari 2009
Oh No. It's "That" Time of Year
You’ve read enough about me to know the free Grand-Slam breakfast from Denny’s didn’t tempt me in the least. You know I laugh in the face of ice cream, stay strong in the presence of breadsticks, and faithfully bring my own salad dressing to every restaurant. I can even say no to peanut butter!
Knowing that, you probably (naturally) assume that I stand my ground around food pushers, too. Normally I can and do. But I have a confession to make. There is this one, small (and I mean small) exception – perky 8-year-olds wearing green sashes lined with hobby, cooking, camping, and first aid badges.
Yes, I’m talking about...
…Girl Scouts.
Just when I feel safe and a little smug for having successfully navigated the holiday food land mines, girls all over our neighborhood will soon descend on my house like pack wolves. Nice, friendly girls whose eyes, if you look close enough, turn hypnotic yellow and before you know it, you’re writing out a check to troop 549 and wondering if you can write off your (embarrassingly large) cookie purchase on your taxes. Doesn’t happen to you? I guess it’s just me, then.
It’s a sickness. A sickness, I tell you. If eating Thin Mints was an Olympic sport, I’d be the Michael Phelps of cookie consumption and endorsed by every bakery in this country. I’ve been in Thin Mint recovery for five years now, but back in the old days of eating with abandon, you could eat my Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Shortbreads, DoSiDos and Trefoils, but you didn’t come between me and my Thin Mints.
I used to hide them deep in the freezer or under my bed like a drunk hides his vodka in the toilet tank. My mouth would salivate just thinking about their crispy texture and minty taste. (Oh who am I kidding with “would.” It still does!) Just the smell was (probably still is) intoxicating, like a fine wine. If I’d been given a choice between licking chocolate frosting off a naked George Clooney or being thrown naked into pit with only a sleeve of Thin Mints for sustenance, the mints, sadly, would win.
I read today on CNN that the economic downturn has hit the Girl Scout cookie business and that they’re putting two to four fewer cookies in each box this year. Five years ago I’d have responded like a conspiracy theorist, wondering if it meant Thin Mints would be extinct next year. I’d have panicked and worried I’d be left with just Keebler Grasshoppers, a nice try of a cookie, but no comparison to my beloved Thin Mints. I’d have ordered a few extra boxes, just in case, hoarding them like Today Sponges and wondering if anyone out there was Thin Mint worthy.
Thin Mint recovery is difficult this time of year, to be sure. There are many foods that I purposely don’t eat, but would if the time was right and I’d be comfortable knowing when to say when. Thin Mints, all kidding aside, are truly an addicting food to me, something I really have to stay away from. While I’m fairly confident that I would say no to them if offered, I know I’d play a torturous mind game of “If I don’t eat dinner tonight…” or “Oh, just one, PLEASE, Lynn?!” like I’m some kind of puppy. Having them around the house or debating eating just one isn’t worth it.
However, if George Clooney were to call…thanks to five years of Thin Mint sobriety, I’m pretty sure I’d find him Thin Mint worthy.
Knowing that, you probably (naturally) assume that I stand my ground around food pushers, too. Normally I can and do. But I have a confession to make. There is this one, small (and I mean small) exception – perky 8-year-olds wearing green sashes lined with hobby, cooking, camping, and first aid badges.
Yes, I’m talking about...
…Girl Scouts.
Just when I feel safe and a little smug for having successfully navigated the holiday food land mines, girls all over our neighborhood will soon descend on my house like pack wolves. Nice, friendly girls whose eyes, if you look close enough, turn hypnotic yellow and before you know it, you’re writing out a check to troop 549 and wondering if you can write off your (embarrassingly large) cookie purchase on your taxes. Doesn’t happen to you? I guess it’s just me, then.
It’s a sickness. A sickness, I tell you. If eating Thin Mints was an Olympic sport, I’d be the Michael Phelps of cookie consumption and endorsed by every bakery in this country. I’ve been in Thin Mint recovery for five years now, but back in the old days of eating with abandon, you could eat my Peanut Butter Sandwiches, Shortbreads, DoSiDos and Trefoils, but you didn’t come between me and my Thin Mints.
I used to hide them deep in the freezer or under my bed like a drunk hides his vodka in the toilet tank. My mouth would salivate just thinking about their crispy texture and minty taste. (Oh who am I kidding with “would.” It still does!) Just the smell was (probably still is) intoxicating, like a fine wine. If I’d been given a choice between licking chocolate frosting off a naked George Clooney or being thrown naked into pit with only a sleeve of Thin Mints for sustenance, the mints, sadly, would win.
I read today on CNN that the economic downturn has hit the Girl Scout cookie business and that they’re putting two to four fewer cookies in each box this year. Five years ago I’d have responded like a conspiracy theorist, wondering if it meant Thin Mints would be extinct next year. I’d have panicked and worried I’d be left with just Keebler Grasshoppers, a nice try of a cookie, but no comparison to my beloved Thin Mints. I’d have ordered a few extra boxes, just in case, hoarding them like Today Sponges and wondering if anyone out there was Thin Mint worthy.
Thin Mint recovery is difficult this time of year, to be sure. There are many foods that I purposely don’t eat, but would if the time was right and I’d be comfortable knowing when to say when. Thin Mints, all kidding aside, are truly an addicting food to me, something I really have to stay away from. While I’m fairly confident that I would say no to them if offered, I know I’d play a torturous mind game of “If I don’t eat dinner tonight…” or “Oh, just one, PLEASE, Lynn?!” like I’m some kind of puppy. Having them around the house or debating eating just one isn’t worth it.
However, if George Clooney were to call…thanks to five years of Thin Mint sobriety, I’m pretty sure I’d find him Thin Mint worthy.
Selasa, 03 Februari 2009
Part of the Plan
Yesterday I spent 11 hours trekking through western Pennsylvania. First stop: Pittsburgh. I spent three hours with daughter Cassie and grandbaby Claire. The new cupcake shoes I’d ordered for Claire had arrived, so Claire and I opened the package together. They came packed 
in a little clear plastic purse, and when Claire saw this, her eyes got big and she said, “Wow. Wow.” (Wow is one of her favorite things to say. That and “weeee….”) Claire found much fun in taking her new shoes out of the purse and putting them back in the purse.
.JPG)
I brought along my favorite pumpkin/pudding concoction, like I always do because Claire loves it, too. We sat on the couch together and ate it. I swear I put every spoonful in her mouth, but drooly girl is cutting more teeth and she made a big chocolate ring around her mouth. Just look at the joy on that kid’s face! She radiates happiness. She was eating chocolate with her grammy while her mom sat on the other couch, she had new shoes and a new little purse…what more
could a 15-month-old want? Claire knows contentment, and in that moment, so did I.
After Pittsburgh, I drove to a little blink-and-you’ll-miss-it town 40 miles away to meet Cassie’s mother-in-law Julia to help her go through some of her late Aunt Jule’s possessions. Jules was 93 when she died a few weeks ago and had lived in her house as long as Julia could remember. Her 1952 stove still worked, as did the wringer washer in the basement. The house is filled with keepsakes, photos and mementos of a long, well-lived life.
A few hours later, I said goodbye to Julia and started the final leg of my journey. Daughter Carlene and I were going to catch an early dinner at our favorite restaurant in Slippery Rock. It’s a rustic old brewery that serves awesome hummus and uses real field greens in the salads, not that fake iceberg stuff.
We ordered some wine and started to talk. We ordered our food and talked some more. Carlene’s pasta came with a little loaf of sweet whole wheat bread. It looked so good, so inviting. It seemed the perfect accompaniment to the wine, the warm and cozy atmosphere, the good company and good conversation. Stern Diet Lynn said to leave it alone. I’d already eaten two triangles of pita (white flour, no less…shame!), a few apple slices, and my allotted amount of hummus. A salad of greens, tomatoes, cucumbers and red onions with fat-free dressing was my dinner.
“No more food for you!” my diet mind said.
But You Only Live Once Lynn popped out (she doesn’t emerge often so I was a little surprised) and said, “Lynn, it’s bread. It’s not poison, a hand grenade, or anything that will hurt you if you have a reasonable amount. It’s OK to allow food to enhance emotions sometimes.
Eat the freaking bread.”
So I did. I also ate an extra pita with hummus and some more apples while Carlene and I talked and sipped our wine and just enjoyed our time together.
Driving home, I thought about Claire and the pudding, Jules and her long life, Carlene and the pita and the bread and the wine and I started humming a song by Dan Fogelberg called “Part of the Plan.” Here are some of the lyrics:
I have these moments
in a little clear plastic purse, and when Claire saw this, her eyes got big and she said, “Wow. Wow.” (Wow is one of her favorite things to say. That and “weeee….”) Claire found much fun in taking her new shoes out of the purse and putting them back in the purse..JPG)
I brought along my favorite pumpkin/pudding concoction, like I always do because Claire loves it, too. We sat on the couch together and ate it. I swear I put every spoonful in her mouth, but drooly girl is cutting more teeth and she made a big chocolate ring around her mouth. Just look at the joy on that kid’s face! She radiates happiness. She was eating chocolate with her grammy while her mom sat on the other couch, she had new shoes and a new little purse…what more
could a 15-month-old want? Claire knows contentment, and in that moment, so did I.After Pittsburgh, I drove to a little blink-and-you’ll-miss-it town 40 miles away to meet Cassie’s mother-in-law Julia to help her go through some of her late Aunt Jule’s possessions. Jules was 93 when she died a few weeks ago and had lived in her house as long as Julia could remember. Her 1952 stove still worked, as did the wringer washer in the basement. The house is filled with keepsakes, photos and mementos of a long, well-lived life.
A few hours later, I said goodbye to Julia and started the final leg of my journey. Daughter Carlene and I were going to catch an early dinner at our favorite restaurant in Slippery Rock. It’s a rustic old brewery that serves awesome hummus and uses real field greens in the salads, not that fake iceberg stuff.
We ordered some wine and started to talk. We ordered our food and talked some more. Carlene’s pasta came with a little loaf of sweet whole wheat bread. It looked so good, so inviting. It seemed the perfect accompaniment to the wine, the warm and cozy atmosphere, the good company and good conversation. Stern Diet Lynn said to leave it alone. I’d already eaten two triangles of pita (white flour, no less…shame!), a few apple slices, and my allotted amount of hummus. A salad of greens, tomatoes, cucumbers and red onions with fat-free dressing was my dinner.
“No more food for you!” my diet mind said.
But You Only Live Once Lynn popped out (she doesn’t emerge often so I was a little surprised) and said, “Lynn, it’s bread. It’s not poison, a hand grenade, or anything that will hurt you if you have a reasonable amount. It’s OK to allow food to enhance emotions sometimes.
Eat the freaking bread.”
So I did. I also ate an extra pita with hummus and some more apples while Carlene and I talked and sipped our wine and just enjoyed our time together.
Driving home, I thought about Claire and the pudding, Jules and her long life, Carlene and the pita and the bread and the wine and I started humming a song by Dan Fogelberg called “Part of the Plan.” Here are some of the lyrics:
I have these moments
All steady and strong
I’m feeling so holy and humble
The next thing I know
I’m all worried and weak
And I feel myself
Starting to crumble.
The meanings get lost
And the teachings get tossed
And you don’t know what you’re
Going to do next
You wait for the sun
But it never quite comes
Some kind of message comes
Through to you
Some kind of message comes through
And it says to you...
Love when you can
Cry when you have to
Be who you must
That’s a part of the plan
Await your arrival
With simple survival
And one day we’ll all understand...
Ah, the plan. My plan was to go to Pittsburgh, help Julia, and to meet Carlene for dinner. I didn’t plan Claire’s pudding face or shoes in a purse. I didn’t plan to feel so humbled amongst Jules’ possessions. I didn’t plan to eat bread. But aren’t these the things that make our lives so rich? Aren’t these the moments we hope and live for?
“Be who you must, that’s a part of the plan.” For me, being who I must means being disciplined and yet open, rigid yet bendable, all in the right time. I’m not always real good at determining when those times are, but I’m getting better at recognizing them. I just have to remember to ask myself these questions: When am I rigid and unyielding when I could be a little softer? When do I feel holy when I should be humble, or lost when I’m really found?
Here’s a YouTube link to Dan singing “Part of the Plan.” I chose this 1982 concert performance because Dan was young and bearded and this song was fresh and new. For all the lyrics to “Part of the Plan,” click here.
Ah, the plan. My plan was to go to Pittsburgh, help Julia, and to meet Carlene for dinner. I didn’t plan Claire’s pudding face or shoes in a purse. I didn’t plan to feel so humbled amongst Jules’ possessions. I didn’t plan to eat bread. But aren’t these the things that make our lives so rich? Aren’t these the moments we hope and live for?
“Be who you must, that’s a part of the plan.” For me, being who I must means being disciplined and yet open, rigid yet bendable, all in the right time. I’m not always real good at determining when those times are, but I’m getting better at recognizing them. I just have to remember to ask myself these questions: When am I rigid and unyielding when I could be a little softer? When do I feel holy when I should be humble, or lost when I’m really found?
Here’s a YouTube link to Dan singing “Part of the Plan.” I chose this 1982 concert performance because Dan was young and bearded and this song was fresh and new. For all the lyrics to “Part of the Plan,” click here.
Minggu, 01 Februari 2009
A Little Chat About Yogurt, Soup and PB2
Our local WalMart is such a tease. I got all excited when they started selling Oikos Greek yogurt a few months ago. I expected it to be there every week, in stock, just like all the other stuff our WalMart sells like frozen egg rolls and shelves of everything Jimmy Dean. But alas, when I went there Friday, it was gone. Nothing but pro-biotic somethingorother yogurts in its place. Damn you, foul temptress! It’s why when I spied Arnold’s Sandwich Thins the other day, I refused to get all hot and bothered because I know they’ll just be gone in a few weeks. I can’t stand the disappointment.
Anyway, when I purchased the second-string yogurt (Dannon fat-free plain, which isn’t as thick as Greek and has half the protein), I found what might turn out to be a yummy soup recipe. Who thinks to look for soup ideas on a yogurt lid? How serendipitous.
Since I had to type out the recipe (a foil yogurt lid isn’t the most sturdy recipe card), I thought I’d share it and see what you think. It might be the new recipe I try this week.
Creamy Sweet Potato Soup
12 servings
2 T canola oil (I’ll use 2 t of olive oil)
1 large sweet onion, sliced
2 t ground cumin
3 sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed
6 cups chicken broth (I’ll use vegetable)
1 ¾ C Dannon plain yogurt (I’ll use the fat-free and Greek, when I get my hands on some)
2 T chopped parsley or cilantro
¼ C toasted pumpkin seeds
Heat oil in Dutch oven. Add onions and cumin; sauté for 3-4 minutes. Add potatoes and broth and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 20-25 minutes. Puree soup with 1½ C yogurt and parsley or cilantro. Serve each portion with a dollop of remaining yogurt and a sprinkle of pumpkin seeds.
Nutrition facts (using fat-free yogurt): 120 calories; 4.5 grams fat (that’s with 2 T of oil); 6 grams protein; 15 grams carbs.
It might need some additions in the spice and garlic department, but I think this will be my new recipe for the week.
--------------------
Reader Nicole posted a comment in my last entry regarding the slaw recipe and PB2. She wants to know what PB2 tastes like and how it compares to regular peanut butter. I’ll try to describe it as best I can, but please feel free to add a comment regarding your own experience with PB2.
PB2 is powdered peanut butter made by Bell Plantation. It’s available in a few stores around the country, but mostly people order it through Bell’s website. The minimum order is four jars, so many people are hesitant to buy it in case they don’t like it. Fair enough. However, for people like me who adore (and I mean “can’t-have-it-in-the-house-or-I’ll-eat-it-all” kind of adore) peanut butter, PB2 is a godsend. Two tablespoons have around 50 calories and 3 grams of fat (1 WW Point).
You can make PB2 as thick or as creamy as you want since you add water (or jelly) to the powder yourself. You can also put PB2 in smoothies and other recipes that call for peanut butter.
If you’re looking for something that tastes exactly like Jif or Skippy, PB2 isn’t for you. You’ll have to be willing to alter your peanut butter tastes. Because PB2 is much lower in fat than regular peanut butter it has a much more raw peanut taste. Most people I’ve talked to say it only took them a few servings to train their peanut butter taste buds to the taste of PB2. I was in love from the first bite.
While I understand concerns about the cost (and would LOVE if my friends at PB2 would consider offering little sample packets to potential customers?? Just a thought.), if you’re a serious peanut butter addict like me, it’s worth the twenty-something dollars for a four-pack. I get the variety pack of three regular and one chocolate PB2 when I order.
Another way to get PB2 without the shipping might be to ask your local store to consider stocking it. Give the manager Bell’s website information and see what happens. The worst they could say is no, right?
So what are your thoughts on PB2?
----------------------------------------
Note to January: Don’t let the door hit you on the way out! Sayonara, adios! I’m glad you’re gone. The days are a little longer, my mood is lifting…While I don’t like to wish time away, January, I’m very happy to flip your page up on my calendar.
Anyway, when I purchased the second-string yogurt (Dannon fat-free plain, which isn’t as thick as Greek and has half the protein), I found what might turn out to be a yummy soup recipe. Who thinks to look for soup ideas on a yogurt lid? How serendipitous.
Since I had to type out the recipe (a foil yogurt lid isn’t the most sturdy recipe card), I thought I’d share it and see what you think. It might be the new recipe I try this week.
Creamy Sweet Potato Soup
12 servings
2 T canola oil (I’ll use 2 t of olive oil)
1 large sweet onion, sliced
2 t ground cumin
3 sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed
6 cups chicken broth (I’ll use vegetable)
1 ¾ C Dannon plain yogurt (I’ll use the fat-free and Greek, when I get my hands on some)
2 T chopped parsley or cilantro
¼ C toasted pumpkin seeds
Heat oil in Dutch oven. Add onions and cumin; sauté for 3-4 minutes. Add potatoes and broth and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer 20-25 minutes. Puree soup with 1½ C yogurt and parsley or cilantro. Serve each portion with a dollop of remaining yogurt and a sprinkle of pumpkin seeds.
Nutrition facts (using fat-free yogurt): 120 calories; 4.5 grams fat (that’s with 2 T of oil); 6 grams protein; 15 grams carbs.
It might need some additions in the spice and garlic department, but I think this will be my new recipe for the week.
--------------------
Reader Nicole posted a comment in my last entry regarding the slaw recipe and PB2. She wants to know what PB2 tastes like and how it compares to regular peanut butter. I’ll try to describe it as best I can, but please feel free to add a comment regarding your own experience with PB2.
PB2 is powdered peanut butter made by Bell Plantation. It’s available in a few stores around the country, but mostly people order it through Bell’s website. The minimum order is four jars, so many people are hesitant to buy it in case they don’t like it. Fair enough. However, for people like me who adore (and I mean “can’t-have-it-in-the-house-or-I’ll-eat-it-all” kind of adore) peanut butter, PB2 is a godsend. Two tablespoons have around 50 calories and 3 grams of fat (1 WW Point).
You can make PB2 as thick or as creamy as you want since you add water (or jelly) to the powder yourself. You can also put PB2 in smoothies and other recipes that call for peanut butter.
If you’re looking for something that tastes exactly like Jif or Skippy, PB2 isn’t for you. You’ll have to be willing to alter your peanut butter tastes. Because PB2 is much lower in fat than regular peanut butter it has a much more raw peanut taste. Most people I’ve talked to say it only took them a few servings to train their peanut butter taste buds to the taste of PB2. I was in love from the first bite.
While I understand concerns about the cost (and would LOVE if my friends at PB2 would consider offering little sample packets to potential customers?? Just a thought.), if you’re a serious peanut butter addict like me, it’s worth the twenty-something dollars for a four-pack. I get the variety pack of three regular and one chocolate PB2 when I order.
Another way to get PB2 without the shipping might be to ask your local store to consider stocking it. Give the manager Bell’s website information and see what happens. The worst they could say is no, right?
So what are your thoughts on PB2?
----------------------------------------
Note to January: Don’t let the door hit you on the way out! Sayonara, adios! I’m glad you’re gone. The days are a little longer, my mood is lifting…While I don’t like to wish time away, January, I’m very happy to flip your page up on my calendar.
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