The Secret to Anti-Aging

Even with a boat load of anti SPAM controls somehow my computer still puts “Anti-aging Secrets” into my You-Better-Read-This mailbox. Erectile dysfunction, balding, You Won the Irish Sweepstakes, Our Time Dating and extended warrantees for cars that we got rid of long ago all thankfully get trapped in my junk box, but not anti-aging. I guess my computer knows I am a woman, am happily married, sold the Dodge Durango and will not fall for the sweepstakes scam. But my computer knows I am aging. Not a big leap of some coder’s intuition. We are all aging.

Here is the real secret, we are all aging and at exactly the same speed. The answer to anti-aging is no secret it is death. Since I have been inundated with these pitches I looked more closely at them to see if they were for some kind of assisted suicide and thankfully they are not. The e-mails are for some strange fruit or all natural injections that claim to stop the clock, or make you look as if it has been turned back many years.

Since my computer is not getting any smarter I would like to register in the spam hall of records that I do not mind aging. I am not looking for Dr. Oz to tell me how to look as young as someone who could be my child. Aging is a privilege that is given to the living. I am not interested in being one of the dead right now.

Using sunscreen to prevent cancer, eating right to be healthy, working out to have a body that functions well, wearing lipstick so my lips don’t sting from being chapped, all about function not form. So hawkers of crazy ass products stop calling them anti-aging solutions and tell me how they will make me feel better as I do the inevitable and that is get older, wiser and hopefully more loved. And no, I don’t need Our Time Dating or Meet Senior People to do that.

Speaking of being loved, I would like to thank all you nice readers who sent me kind messages and a bunch of WooHoo’s yesterday. So much for my quiet moment, as well as so much for reaching my goal — I got on the scale this morning and was up two tenths of a pound. I promise not to proclaim when I lose that weight!

Big Fun Father’s Day

I am the one who made my Dad a father. I am the first-born. My Dad was young when I got here. Despite being what I would consider now too young to properly raise a baby he seemed to figure it out well as he went along.

The advantage of having my young father was fun was always close at hand. I was lucky that I was an only child for the first three and a half years of my life and then there were just two of us until I was over eight so my father treated us like playmates in those early years.

One of my earliest memories is of being at the Dayton Country Club when I was about three and my father would be standing in the water encouraging me to jump off the side of the pool and swim to him. I know we have a picture of me with some kind of Styrofoam bubble belted to my middle so I was not going to drown, but my Dad knew I should learn to swim as early as possible. I bet I only wore that bubble a very short time.

The other theme that surrounds my father is that he is big and everything he ever does is big. Couple big with fun and my Dad was a kid’s dream. When we used to go to Pawleys Island for the summer other kids would get an inflatable raft or regular ‘ole car tire sized inner tube to play in the waves while their parents sat in chairs on the beach. Not my dad. He would take us into Georgetown Tire and Rubber Company and buy the biggest tractor tire inner tube they made and get it inflated, tie rope around it so we had a way to pull it around in the water and drag ourselves up onto it.

The multiple rope handles came in handy when we tied it to the car roof of our navy blue Ford Country Squire with the brown fake wood paneling and drove the giant inflatable back to the beach. My cousins and sisters and I could all ride that inner tube on the waves at the same time making us a danger to anyone in our path.

Pulling that big inner tube back out over the waves was never a problem because my Dad was always willing to be out in the water with us. He taught us all how to body surf and jump headfirst ducking into the waves so that the powerful water did not throw us around. Of course thanks to my Dad we all were good swimmers.

Somehow we never seemed tired on those vacations at Pawleys. My Dad and my Uncle Wilson would make us stay up until is was really dark and then they would put on the biggest fireworks show even though it was not the fourth of July. After what seemed liked hundreds of rockets with big balls of red, green and white sparkling balls exploding from them were set off we would eat popsicles and fall into to big sleep in our beds. We would wake up early to my Dad cooking a big breakfast with a new fun plan to go crabbing and ride our inner tubes down the backwater to the inlet as the tide was going out.

And although he taught me all the important stuff about working hard and being good to people today on this Father’s day I am most happy for all the fun I’ve had with my Dad. I’m also thankful that he had me so young so that I’ve had him for so long. So happy Father’s Day to my Big Fun Dad.

Shop In My Garden

This spring I planted my vegetable garden with the mind that I was not always going to be around during peak harvest time. I put in Arugula and lettuce. The lettuce has been wiped out by some tend leaf loving varmint, but apparently said rotten animal has an unsophisticated pallet and does not like the spicy greens. The good thing about the arugula is that it is a fast growing crop even though I started it from seed so I have been able to enjoy it.

I was planning on having a salad for dinner since tomorrow I am splurging and going out for afternoon tea as my main meal for the day. I have written extensively about my love of afternoon tea as the best meal ever. The only problem with tea is that it is probably the most fattening fare I ever encounter. Tea sandwiches, scones, pastries and cakes — nothing healthy on the menu, with the exception of the actual tea.

Tonight as I pulled in the driveway from picking Carter up at work we barely had enough time to run into the garage before the heavens opened up and dumped baby swimming pool amounts of water from the sky. So now I stand hungrily looking out the window at the garden waiting for the deluge to stop so I can go out and gather my dinner. I could have planned ahead and cut my greens earlier in the day, but somehow they wilt in my house, even refrigerated. I am not sure how grocery store greens keep their crispness, when my fresh picked can’t.

As happy as I am to get rain for my garden I hope this very heavy rain does not knock all the blossoms off my squash, cucumbers and eggplant. Those blossoms are needed to get pollinated and turn to fruit. If I lose this first round I probably won’t be around for the second round to come to fruition and turn to vegetables. Sometimes gardening is heart breaking and I feel for farmers who are at the mercy of the weather.

For the past week and a half I have been watching my cherry tomato plants grow more and more green globes, but am wondering when one will decide to turn even the slightest shade of red. The green bean plants have some thin tender beans. I have to keep an eye on them because they can go from too thin to though and old very quickly. The pepper plants are always the last to give any hint of producing a crop. I can go away for a month and come back and they still will not show any signs of deciding to birth a baby.

If this rain does not stop soon I might just run out with an umbrella and cut off a few basil leaves to eat with a farmer’s market tomato I have sitting here. Thank goodness for the success of real farmers because if I had to depend only on my own crops I would be very hungry, hey maybe I would be very skinny too.

Rule Followers

I stopped by the needlepoint store today to turn in two ornaments and pick up fibers for four more projects as I plan out what I am taking to Africa. The stitchers table was full of all the regulars, including my friend Elizabeth from Greensboro who I am in an ornament contest with this year.

Elizabeth is a far superior stitcher to me as well as a very prolific worker. At the end of last season she asked me how many ornaments I had done and since it was a good, no, great many she decided I was a worthy opponent and she challenged me to see who could finish the most ornaments this year. So far I am winning because I only make ornaments and she does belts, pillows, larger framed pieces as well as a giant kneeler for her daughters’ school chapel. That being said, she still has all most three months and could easily bypass me in the end.

Needle pointers tend to be rule followers. If you are doing a certain stitch you need to do it one way or it is a different stitch and that is a different rule. I like to work on one project at a time because my rule is to finish. Elizabeth has a rule of five, which means she can have only five different projects she is working at the same time. Today Elizabeth announced that she was going to work on her counted piece until three o’clock and then switch to the kneeler because she has a deadline for that piece to be turned in.

In our stitching group Kate is the rule enforcer so when three o’clock rolled around she altered Elizabeth it was time to switch projects. That was when Elizabeth evoked her codicil, which is her way of changing her mind and breaking her own rule. She said she would change projects when she finished the section she was currently working on.

I jumped right on that codicil idea. As a creator and follower of rules I love having a way out of my own self imposed restrictions, but then I really got to thinking about it. I have lost weight this go-round, by myself without the aid of a professional weight loss program by creating some sound rules and following them. I realized that when I have gained weight in the past it was because I had codicils to what I knew were the eating rules I needed to follow.

One failed rule I created was the “one bite rule.” I allowed myself one bite of anything. Big mistake! It is amazing how many calories there are in one bite of many different things. That rule started as a codicil and ended with seventy gained pounds.

The rule of rules for me is create a rule, measure it’s success and improve the rule. Then every once in a while cut myself a tiny amount of slack and just break the rule just to keep from becoming an uptight pain who no one wants to hang with. We all have our own ways.

Summer Mothering

After a two-day break from school Carter started today with her full-time volunteer job that she has to do everyday she is home and not at camp or on vacation with me. She is working towards getting the Mayor’s award, which is given to kids who volunteer at least 100 hours during their summer break.

Working 100 hours for free is harder than you think. First of all most non-profits don’t want the liability of teenagers so they don’t take young volunteers without adult supervision. I don’t blame them because I am sure there are some parents who might want to drop younger kids off at a non-profit and use it as a babysitting service.

Carter has years of work experience from working at her barn so she was able to get a job at an animal rescue organization. She is the kitten room specialist and front office helper. Turns out it is still work for this mother because I have to get up and drive her to work and pick her up at the end of the day. Her driver’s license can’t come too soon. I am hoping some days her father can take her.

I was proud of Carter when I dropped her off, not exactly certain what her day was going to be, but going in willing to do what it took. I expected a text early in the day, but did not get one until she took her lunch break to let me know what time to pick her up. Turns out her love of organization and order are a real bonus in her job.

Apparently the care of kittens is very strict and Carter learned how to dissemble the three cage tower, clean it and reassemble it ensuring that the exact color coded towels go back in the right spots along with the heating pads and bowls. She also got to play, feed and clean the kittens before going up front to do the jobs she says she was born to do, alphabetize and file.

Carter says she liked the mother cats the best because they love to snuggle. I guess that it is Carter’s summer mothering job. She already is recognizing the perils of having offspring too young. I think this is the best lesson any teenager could learn.

 To the Rescue

I had a big bag of fresh spinach that I needed to cook today so I decided to make a spinach soufflé that could serve two purposes, dinner and a blog entry. As I was just squeezing the water out of the spinach I had cooked and chopped my cell phone rang. “Hi Andrea,” I said recognizing my friend’s name on the phone.

“I’m up at the pool and I’m calling you because Pokey has a needlepoint question and did not want to bother you.” After talking for a few moments I told my friends that I would just run up to the pool to help them. For years when Carter was younger I sat under the awning at the pool watching swim team and I have missed the daily reason to get a chance to just sit and talk and now needlepoint. True to afternoon swim practice form it started to rain as soon as I arrived.

I arrived to find a few of my new needlepoint students working away on their projects. Kim proudly showed me her belt and was happy that I declared it a big success. Pokey had a very minor problem, which I was able to fix and show her how to prevent from happening again.

As soon as the stitching problem had been remedied the kids the started gathering around their mothers wondering what they should do having been shoed out of the pool. Then the rain stopped. One young one looking out over the golf course announced there was a huge rainbow and sure enough there was. A mother declared I was a needlepoint super hero and brought the rainbow. Another added I needed a cape and a theme song. All I need is a good pair of scissors and some strong reading glasses to help solve most problems.

Needlepoint is an art and some people like everything to exact and consistent and others are happy with progress. There is no one way it has to be. It just has to make you happy. Learning how to do it the way you like takes a little time and a little help from your friends. Like all things in life it takes a little practice, patience and not being afraid to ask for help. If I was a superhero and could have one special power it would not be to be invisible or be able to fly, but to make sure everyone is having a great time doing what ever he or she are working on, that way nothing ever feels like work.

The Official Rubber Stamp

I’m sure you don’t know this but it is incredibly hard to type while trying to flap my upper arms and walk on the treadmill at the same time. No, this is not a new variation on my regular exercise. I’m way behind on steps today because I just spent the last three hours going to get four vaccinations I need for Africa and the nurse told me to keep moving my arms to help disperse the liquid she shot in me.

Apparently Russ and I both need a very official yellow card showing we are up to date on vaccines and most specifically Yellow Fever to get into Zambia. As the nurse was filling out our cards I asked her if there was some special seal she would have to adhere to the yellow card. She said, “absolutely.” I about fell out of my chair laughing as she pulled out of her desk drawer the regular ‘ole rubber stamp that read “OFFICIAL VACCINATION NORTH CAROLINA.”

Based on my years of world travel to places big and small I can guarantee that the government worker we encounter in Zambia, no matter how long he has been on a boarder enforcement job, will have no idea where North Carolina is. I guess for most of the world a black rubber stamp is as high tech as is required. Not that I think anyone wants to lie about having gotten a yellow fever vaccine. Really the only person you might be hurting is yourself if you come down with the deadly fever.

Between malaria, and typhoid and any other number of insect borne illnesses it is a wonder that I want to travel at all considering how much mosquitoes like me here. Our travel nurse sold me a can a spray to make our clothes bug repellent. I can hardly wait to smell this stuff that I am going to douse all our garments in.

After the medical prevention the nurse gave me the talk about not eating fresh fruits and vegetables unless I can peel them. The thought of going two weeks without a salad is going to be tough. I am so conditioned to only eat fresh fruits and vegetables that it will be interesting to see how I deal with the restrictions to keep me safari able and not tied to a bathroom. You know what I mean.

If I had not already been to South Africa and know it is my favorite place on earth I might think twice about all this painful preparation. I am concerned about the amount of exercise I am going to be able to get, or not get. First there are the many days of flying, which means sitting in my seat and not walking the aisle of the airplane like a crazy woman. Then there are the camps we will be staying at where we are not allowed to walk outside without an armed guard since we will be right in the middle of the park where the big 5 live. I guess I am going to have to download a hotel room exercise program that I can do in our tent. At least my arms will be healed by then from all these shots.

Not Enough Studying Time For Me

As Carter is busy studying for exams I am dreaming of school ending and a life of carefree days.   Then I went and did something that has suddenly added hundreds of things to my plate. I booked a trip to Africa for me and Russ to go on while Carter is at camp. So much for free time, I hardly have enough time to get ready.

I have a new camera that Russ gave me for Christmas and I scarcely understand half of it. Russ even got me a “compact field guide” to learn how to use this powerful machine and I don’t understand almost every third word in the book. Now I need a crash course in my camera and I need to rent a bigger lens and learn to use that. So add to the list of things to do, research lens rental companies as well as figure out which is the right lens for wildlife shooting that is not too heavy for me to carry. Sounds like a first world problem that I should not be whining about.

The next problem is figuring out clothes to take to Africa and finding pants for Russ to take. We only get to take one small roll-a-board suitcase each since we will be flying on tiny bush flights. There is no need for anything fancy, but we do need good hiking shoes and warm clothes since it is winter there. Being winter the bush will be down so we need to wear “blend-in-brown” clothing, not something I own much of. This is no “Out of Africa” –trunks full of flowing gowns type trip.

I am so thankful that I am a smaller size because searching for “safari wear” is difficult at best for me and almost impossible for Russ. Apparently no one over 5’ 10” buys safari type pants because most of the inseams available for men are in the 30”-32” range and he needs 36”. Safaris are not the time you want to wear floods because you are trying to protect yourself from bug bites.

Speaking of bugs we have to go Monday to the travel clinic and get all the yellow fever and malaria type shots and pills. I like to be prepared for all possible illnesses when visiting other worlds, but given my very limited luggage situation I am going to have to be judicious in my anti-getting sick, or pro-getting well medicinal supplies. It’s not like I am going to have a CVS nearby.

I am most thankful for I-pads to “carry” all reading material. Please send me recommendations of your favorite reads so I can load up before I take off. We have 27 hours of flying there and back and there is only so much needlepoint I can do. That reminds me, I need batteries for my headlamp. It looks ridiculous, but makes stitching on dark flights so much easier. Now I wonder were my Africa plug adaptors are? So much to do and so little time.

Vegetable Mountain

There are people in my house who would turn their noses up at certain vegetables and gobble down bowls full of others. Sometimes I can get them to try something they swear they hate if I hide it with other things. Only then does a vegetable hater discover they don’t dislike something as much as they thought.

Vegetable Mountain is the perfect way to use up small bits of vegetables and get some eaten by all. The best base of the mountain is potatoes since it is universally the favorite and if it is at the bottom they have take some real veggies in order to get to the starchy base.

This mountain started with thinly sliced new potatoes cooked in a fry pan with a bit of water until soft and then allowed to crisp up a bit as the water cooks away. The next layer is oven roasted cauliflower, followed by pan sautéed zucchini, blanched sugar snap peas, green peas and topped with a bit of oyster mushrooms.

The secret is to salt and pepper each vegetables well when cooking them individually and then assemble it all at once. Vegetable Mountain can be eaten hot or at room temperature. Any veggies can be used and the more color the better. I wish I had some roasted red pepper to add to this one.

Note:  Despite the best laid plans Carter still picked out the cauliflower and mushrooms.

Do 100 Laughs and 50 Smiles and Call Me in the Morning

A friend stopped me today and asked if I had work done because the skin on face was not so saggy. She quickly corrected herself by saying, “Of course you didn’t because if you had it would have been on the blog.” You got that right, sister. If I had under gone any kind of improvement treatment it would be fodder for this space. I don’t have enough time in the day to get a facelift and come up with something else to write about.

I have to thank this friend for thinking that I might have had work, but she is right, my face is not very saggy considering how much fat has been melted out of it. To make her feel better I said that the sag in my upper arms and my thighs is dramatic. I am wondering what I am doing to my face that I need to do to the rest of me? I don’t use any special and outrageously expensive creams. I can’t even try them since I am highly allergic to most potions.

I guess that smiling has been the exercise that has tightened up my skin– smiling and laughing. It might cause some small lines around the eyes and maybe those parenthesis lines around the mouth, but laughing loud and often has been my constant in life. It is the only thing I can think of that has made my face seem perky. If I were frowning and dour I bet the skin on my face would look saggy. Perhaps I have just created an illusion of tight skin because I was smiling at my friend.

So laughing is the answer for the face, but all that laughing makes the really saggy parts of me giggle and draws attention to how loose I really am. That giggle is only attractive on a jolly ‘ole elf with a bowl full of jelly for a stomach. For me I am going to just have to keep the giggly bits covered or compressed or disguised. I guess I won’t have to revert to wearing a burqa as long as I keep laughing and smiling.

If I appear to be some simpleton know I am just doing my face exercises.

Memorial Day

As a child growing up in the 60’s I thought the news was the report of how many people died that day. The reason I thought this was Walter Cronkite always started the news by saying, “Nine died today in Vietnam,” or 12 or 34. It wasn’t until I got a little older did I comprehend what Vietnam was and that the news was not a report of everyone who died in the world.

I eventually came to hate the war, not just for the dying, but also for the tedium and the arguing that seemed to go on about it. Being a Beatles fan I adopted the “All we need is love,” mantra. I had a poster in my room that was a rusted scarecrow like figure made out of an army rifle, helmet and one of those bullet belts set up in a field of tall grown flowers. The caption under the figure read, “What if they gave a war and nobody came?”

It seemed like a logical question to me as a child in single digits. What was all the fighting about? The adults around me could not really explain it in a way that justified the numbers of dead that opened the news every night.

Today is Memorial Day; the time to honor those who lost their lives in all our wars, not just the popular ones, if you can ever say any war is popular. So thanks to those who made the ultimate sacrifice, but lets try and remember those people everyday before we get into some conflict that causes us to send young people into battle.

Let’s not get into a conflict that goes on for so many years that we can’t remember why we started fighting in the first place. As John Lennon put it, “Give peace a chance.” Let’s not add to the numbers of young men and women we need to remember on this day in the future.

Necessary Creativity

Today Carter had to study for her impending exams so for her sanity as well as mine Russ and I left her home alone while we took Shay Shay to the farm for some off leash running and some family visits. It was the perfect day for the farm with low humidity and temperate warmth. Even though it was an ideal walking day I did not get all my steps in at the farm because there were so many stories to listen to.

My father had a lot of opinions about my blog and most recently the Graduation Advice about daydreaming. He recounted a story about a speech a boss of his at Avon, Jim Clitter, gave when my Dad was a young executive. Clitter told the audience that creativity came out of necessity.

My dad took his advice to heart. So when he created a new fragrance line called “Charisma” my Dad sent, and back in the old non-internet days that meant messengering, all the Vice President’s wives a mock-up of the kind of racy campaign materials for “Charisma” that were clearly targeted at women, along with a sample of the product. He asked the women to look over the campaign and if they liked it to tell their husbands to vote for it at their upcoming meeting.

What my father knew was that women were his target audience and if his fate was left up to a room full of men he might not get their approval. He came up with the creative way to show the all-male group that he knew what women wanted in a fragrance. Thank goodness he was right and the wives told their husbands to vote “yes.” When my Dad went to the meeting to present the campaign he got a standing ovation thanks to his “wives campaign.”

Today, my Dad told me all his creative ideas happened between five and eight in the morning. All my life he has been a morning person. He used to get up at 4:30 to catch the earliest possible train into New York City to get to work first. I now understand it was a necessity because if his best thinking was going to end by eight am that did not leave much time.

I’m sure that “wives campaign” was a risky thing for my Dad to do. He was still a young guy in a new company, but I’m sure that the success gave him courage to continue to try other brilliant but risky moves. One famous one was when my Dad was working at Sprint and they had just finished building the first all digital long distance network. To help drive the point home that Sprint was way ahead of the rest of the phone world my father made a commercial of blowing up an old telephone tower without getting permission from the network guys. The ad was exciting and made lots of news, which in turn got lots of customers.

My Dad was called on the carpet and told that the network guys were mad because they could have sold the antiquated equipment to a third world nation for $25,000. The network guys had no idea how much more valuable that tower was as a symbol of “out with the old and in with the new.” They did not have the same necessity for gaining new customers that my father did, and creativity was never the strong suit of guys in “network.”

Consider these two stories a counterpoint to the daydreaming advice I wrote about last week. I know my father may say his creativity came out of necessity, but I think that being creative is just a lot more fun and he was always one who liked to have fun. My charge is for you to consider a problem you might want to tackle at five in the morning and see what crazy solution you can come up with to solve it. You might not know that you are really an early morning person because you never had to get up and catch a train that early.

Graduation Advice

Carter asked me if I would take her to the Durham Academy graduation today. I was happy to do it so I could get the lay of the land for when her graduation will happen in just a few short years.   I also really like graduation speeches since I feel like there is a lot of pressure to tell graduates something important and profound on this momentous occasion. I say this and I can’t actually remember anything I was told at any of my graduations, but I’m sure lack of sleep has everything to do with that and perhaps other celebratory reasons.

The Reverend Willimon from Duke Divinity gave the commencement address and he encouraged the graduates who have just finished 13 years being focused on learning at DA to daydream. He sighted great thinkers and inventors who had ADD and made stupendous creative achievements because they were not always focused.

I agree with him whole-heartedly. If ever I have had a creative idea it came about during a period of rest, relaxation or when I was actually sleeping. Rarely have I come up with anything close to brilliant when I was trying to. How can I encourage this in my child yet still keep her on task in school? This is the true balancing act.

The two valedictorians also spoke and I assume they did not know what Dr. Willimon was going to say, but their advice followed along the same lines. The first young man who clearly is so much smarter than I am had lots of important things to say, some of which were way over my head. One thing I did get from him was that it may seem like all the good ideas are taken, but there is more to be done. He charged his classmates with this, “Even if you can’t come up with the next good idea you can support one.”

The second valedictorian summed up his speech with these three points, “Take risks, foster face-to-face connections and giveback and say thanks.” All good advice. It is so much easier for me to recognize sage counsel this far from my own graduation. I hope that some of these smart words soaked into the young people in the audience and on the stage.

It is easy to get caught up in the minutia of day to day that we miss the big picture and that picture is so much smaller in the rear view mirror. But it is never too late to live your life bigger than you are living it now. So consider this your graduation day and go forth and day dream, support good ideas, giveback and say thanks and your life will have been worthy.

Happy Birthday Shay Shay

For years Carter would beg us to get her a dog. Being an only child and knowing that we could not get her an older brother she thought her best bet for a sibling was a dog. Since Russ has terrible allergies to both dogs and cats I used to tell Carter that is was more important to keep Daddy alive than have a dog.

I too wanted a dog. I had a beloved dog I got between my sophomore and junior years in college when I moved off campus. My dog Beau went everywhere with me and was my best companion.

Sometime a few years ago our family spent time with a labradoodle and Russ discovered that he was not allergic to that breed. So the search began for a dog that Carter could love and would not kill Russ.

We ended up getting our baby Shay Shay (Carter named her the Americanized version of the Chinese word for thank you.) We were not completely sure that Russ would be OK with her, but we took a chance and it worked out.

Today is Shay’s third birthday and she is clearly the most important member of our family. Everybody fights over having her sleep with them. Of course if she gets to choose she will stay with Russ who is her favorite. IT is not always a good thing for him since she tends to snuggle him right off the side of the bed.

So happy birthday to our best baby. None of us could imagine life without her now. I’m glad that Carter never gave up her campaign to get a dog. She was right; our family was not complete without her.

What’s Your Plan?

Recently I was at a luncheon and a planned giving professional introduced herself to me and the group I was sitting with. It was a social event so my group was not prepared to talk about planned giving. The professional knew this was not a place for her to work the room and thought she was just meeting people, but that was before she met me. As someone who is happy to help people part with their money for a good cause I see people in development as always working so I asked this person some questions about her job thinking she might teach me a thing or two.

In case you don’t know what planned giving is, it is about what you plan to do with your money when you are dead.   Not everyone is lucky enough to have any money leftover when they die, but no matter how little or how much it is a much better idea to make a plan than leave it up to the government who decides they get it if you don’t have a will or a family member with a good lawyer.

Back to the story, so as this professional was explaining what she does she asks me if her organization was in my will. No, I tell her to which she quickly responded that it should be.   Whoa, whoa, whoa. Poor women made a grave error in her phrasing and I was quick to jump on that.

“I think it would be better to ask me, ‘What can we do to be one of the beneficiaries of your estate?’” I told this Pro. She realized that she had backed herself into a no win conversation with me and started back peddling.

I am sure she knew better than to tell a potential donor that “I SHOULD” give to her, but I am not sure she had ever had anyone tell her she should have more finesse when doing her job. See, I just can’t help myself when I see a training opportunity when it comes to a sales person, and development people are the ultimate sales people, they just sell a good feeling.

As I continued to probe this pro for information about how successful she was I found out that her organization often got money because a donor outlives all the other people listed as beneficiaries and her organization might have been the only non-human in the will. It got me thinking about our own wills and how short the list is of people we want our money to go to. Now don’t get excited, I’m not looking to add any of you readers to our will, so don’t call me, but I had not thought about what would happen if we outlived our list.

Despite my own call to action to so many people about giving to worthy causes I think I have been neglecting my own plan for when I am no longer here. So despite her clumsy words I am thankful to that planned giving professional for opening my eyes to some better planning. I’m not saying she will get any money, but you never know. I hope her organization will have to wait a long time to find out.

No Nuns were Harmed in the Writing of This Blog

After a wonderful breakfast outdoors in the cool Connecticut morning with my friends Karen and Stori eventually they had to get on the road to head home.  After our heartfelt goodbyes from a great reunion weekend I headed off to Bradley International Airport.  I arrived with lots of time to wait so I thought I would circle the terminals to get my steps.  It had been a low step weekend even though last night I did my best to dance up a lot of steps at the Ba Na Na Na – the traditional EWS dance party.

It turns out Bradley is a crap airport to walk in.  There is only one terminal with two little short legs and not much room to walk.  After making three passes of the route I decided I was drawing too much attention to myself from the many TSA agents so I settled into a rocking chair.

After pulling out my needlepoint I was suddenly I was surrounded by many middle aged and older elegant women who all seemed to resemble Barbara Billingsly, the Beaver’s mom from Leave it to Beaver.  Turns out that Smith College had a reunion this weekend too.  After a few rows of stitching, another group of women came along and joined the Smith women and me at the rocking chairs.  This group was not quite as elegant, but they were all as well behaved as the elegant alumnae around me since they were Nuns.

I learned by doing my favorite airport activity, eavesdropping, that many of the Smith women and all of the Nuns were going to be on my first flight to Baltimore.  Hooray, a flight of quite, well behaved, thin passengers with a good connection with the guy who might ensure we would arrive in one piece.

As the Southwest gate agent called us to line up I took my number 4 position in line.  Being early on the flight where we get to pick our own seats I chose an emergency exit row seat for the extra legroom.  Then the game began of other passengers coming down the aisle assessing which seat they would take.  I silently prayed to get one of the Smith ladies or at least a tiny Nun.  No luck.  The largest man in a red spider t-shirt that barley covered his nine-mouth pregnant like stomach sat right next to me.

When I was much fatter the fat people would not sit with me.  See, fat people want to sit next to thin people so they can co-opt some of their space.  If they sit next to an already seated fat person they don’t have the same opportunity.  Now that I am normal size I guess I have become a target for the space grabbers.  It was a good thing I had a little extra legroom because the pregnant man instantly fell asleep and spread out all his limbs in his sleep as well as his mouth with breath that could have made one of the Nuns swear out loud.  I think I need to wear all my clothes at the same time next time I get on a plane so that I appear larger and scare off the space steeling fat people. So much for the end of my great reunion weekend.

My Fourth Dimension

I was going to post a cantaloupe soup recipe today, but then I was over whelmed with kind messages about yesterday’s blog and I feel a response is required. I love getting comments on my blog and I don’t usually reply to the wordpress, facebook, words with friends, texted or e-mailed comments. I feel like everyone hears enough from me and just because I don’t write back a personal message to each one of you does not mean that I am not touched, moved or appreciative of the kind words you send me. I’m really grateful that most of the time you readers get my jokes and don’t hold me accountable for health, interpersonal or other advice that requires a doctor or professional. This blog is my therapy and should just be entertainment, inspiration or a “what’s for dinner” guide.

I don’t post before and after pictures of myself often because I am not fishing for compliments and this journey is not as simple as how I look. If I really wanted to shock you I would post pictures from eleven years ago when I weighed 135 pounds more than I do now.

For more of my life than not I have been fat, but I never felt like I was fat. I was a regular sized person carrying around a fat body. Today at Mah Jongg my friend Christy, who has known me for thirteen years and seen me regularly that whole time said, “I looked at the picture on your blog yesterday and I don’t remember you ever looking like that.” Now she is a true friend because I either looked like that or fatter than that more of the time she has known me than not.

The thing about just looking at a picture is you are only seeing a two dimensional vision of the person and we are all four-dimensional, the 3-d physical being and the 4^th being the soul. Since Christy is a friend I think she remembers the fourth dimension of me and not just the physical. I think there is a kind of friend blindness where we see the good in people we love and tend to block out the bad. For that I am thankful.

My message today is don’t worry about getting older, having a few extra pounds, wrinkles, gray hair or no hair. Chances are the people who love you still love you no matter what and they may not notice, certainly not the way you notice yourself. People love you for your kindness, warmth, generosity and I hope in my case, sense of humor. So thanks for the kind words yesterday and today. Keep the messages coming. If you want to make me really happy just tell me I made you laugh, not that I look good. Looks will come and go, but laughter is forever.

Shockingly Less Dana, More Good Celebrates Second Anniversary

2, 95, 103, 734… The number of years I have had this blog, the number of pounds I have lost in the last two years, the number of countries that have visited this blog (With the exception of the top five countries the rest have to be by accident) and the number of blog posts I have made ( I apparently posted four more posts than actually days because I had so much to say).

Two years ago today I sent out an e-mail inviting friends to log into this new blog. On the site was a video asking for pledges to the Food Bank of Central and Eastern NC for every pound I could lose by November 1, 2012. I had 744 views on the blog that day. I certainly did not send the e-mail out to seven hundred people, but I’m sure based on the numbers, people could not believe I was doing this weight loss challenge and had to watch the video multiple times.

A weight loss challenge for myself has been the most successful way for me to stick to a diet. I had done this before and lost 137 pounds and raised $48,000. The problem was that I gained over ninety pounds back over six years. The math on that is that I basically gained a little more than half an ounce a day. It certainly was easier to gain half an ounce than it was to lose.

During this last challenge I lost 53 pounds and raised $53,000 — more money per pound than the first one. That was great for the Food Bank and great for me, but I was still a long way from the weight I wanted to be. So without any money on the line I kept the blog portion of my challenge and worked on losing the weight just for myself.

Except for two days when I was too sick to lift a finger to the keyboard and write I posted a blog on this site everyday. My sweet husband and daughter posted things on those sick days so that I never missed posting in 730 days. I have to say that this very public accountability has been the difference. I think I have changed my eating habits to something I can live with. I certainly have changed my exercise routines.

I spend about twenty minutes everyday writing this blog, I think it is time well spent to be mindful. I am thankful for the people who follow me, encourage me, laugh with me, make fun of me, celebrate with me, cry with me, share their stories with me and inspire me. I am not at my resting place yet. So it’s the start of year three of Less Dana.

I know so well how a half an ounce a day on the plus side can get out of control. I am not looking for a half an ounce a day on the minus side for much longer, but what I do know is that very few days are even, most are plus or minus. It takes keen awareness and honesty with one’s self to stay on an even keel. I want to thank all you readers because you are my balance. Without you reading this blog I never would have gotten to where I am today and I am counting on you to keep me heading in the right direction. Thanks for the two years, I will try and keep you entertained in the next year.

Mother’s Day Amends

All the occasions that center around me happen in a eight-day period. First is our wedding anniversary followed the next day by my birthday and a few days later mother’s day. It can make for a really good week or a disappointment that I have to wait another year for my time to come around.

Last weekend for my birthday Carter wrote me a heartfelt letter. Yes, that is about all I ever really want. Flowers can die and fade away, and never should I ever be given candy or treats, but a letter I can read and reread especially when I need a pick me up, so it’s a good thing.

Since I got a letter for my birthday and Russ got my breakfast in bed this morning I was sure that Mother’s day would go unnoticed by the person in my house to whom I am an actual mother. I don’t come from a big tradition of honoring mothers. Heck, I just sent my mother a card and called and left her a message on the phone.

That is why I was caught off guard when Carter gave me an envelope. On the outside was written, “Mommy, Happy Mother’s Day! Thanks for the womb and board! And everything else you do for me! I love you! Baby Bug.” It was a lot of exclamation points, but the best part was that it was funny. A good pun goes a long way with me.

I was expecting another heartfelt letter, one that her father had reminded her to write. Then I opened the envelope to find the only real gift I ever want, a gift certificate to Chapel Hill Needlepoint. “I bought it with my own money, “ Carter told me. Her father confirmed that part.

What a surprise, a good joke and a real gift. I started to feel guilty about the just funny card I had sent my mother, with a couple of sentences, not even a whole heart felt letter. My fifteen year old had shown me up. So here is my open letter to my mother.

Dear Mom,

I hope you had a good day and that your two other children did more for you on Mother’s day than your first born. I know that I have not always been the perfect off spring and for everything I ever did that made you mad, embarrassed or sad I am sorry.

I know I don’t say it enough, but thanks for being my Mom. Despite the jokes I make you had to do some things right because I have never gone to jail, killed anyone that I know about or been banned from entering a foreign country. I know that leaves a lot of leeway, but I think I turned out OK, even if it took some 53 years to get here.

Mom, I think that the next 20 years you will see continued improvement in me so I hope that you can consider me a long-term project that eventually turned out the way you wanted.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Your Doodle Bug

To all you mother’s out there I hope you had a great day and that someone acknowledged all the hard work you do for your kids. If you have a mother and have not done anything it’s not too late, a heartfelt e-mail and a good pun go a long way. Go on and steal from Carter and thank her for the “Womb and board,” I’m sure your Mom does not read this blog.

Baby Food

I like having friends of all different ages. It is always helpful to have someone who has been through a stage of life I am in to help give me perspective or advice and then turn around and do the same for someone else.

Today my great friend Jan who moved to Texas four years ago was up visiting and taking care of her 15 month old granddaughter, Elliott. Since Jan is doing the Grandmother thing I asked her to come over for a walk to lunch play date with E. Although I am a long way off from the Grandmother stage it was so fun to play with a baby.

I feel like Jan and I have come full circle because I have known her since before Carter was born. It seems like yesterday that I used to roll Carter in her stroller into the darkened locker room of Hope Valley where she would sleep while Jan, Roz, Judy and I would play Mah Jongg in the ladies card room.   Jan’s kids were in elementary school then and now one is married and the other is getting married next month.

Elliott is a happy baby. She has two dogs of her own so she was totally cool meeting Shay Shay who was most intrigued with this little person. I was happy Shay did not think to look where the squeaker was on Elliott. After some play time with the dog Jan and E and I set out on a meandering walk to lunch.

Things have changed in the baby eating world since I had Carter. First Jan had a disposable stick down placemat that covered the public table that had who knows what germs. Then she began the breaking up of the crunchy section of the meal. E really likes teddy grahams, but they must have their tiny little ears and legs broken off and then their bodies and head quartered so they are baby bite sized, smaller than half a kernel of corn. I helped with the breaking, but found that I was better at making graham dust than bite sized pieces.

Elliot was an expert at picking up each tiny crumb and popping it in her mouth. Me, with my aging eyesight could hardly see the actual the tiny teddies. Jan told me that Elliot was very particular about what she liked to eat and to demonstrate she pinched off two tiny bits of bread from her sandwich and added them to the pile of teddy chunks we had made when E was not watching. Not one second later did Elliot pick up one of the bits of bread and without any fanfare drop it on the floor since it certainly was not a teddy graham. She quickly found the second piece of bread and did the same.

Then came the wet portion of the meal, a squeeze tube of amaranth, zucchini and banana.   Jan and I both decided that baby food had changed a lot since we had our babies because we did not even know what amaranth was. I guessed it was a grain and Jan confirmed I was right as she read the description on the package, “An ancient grain that pairs well with the zing of zucchini and the sweetness of banana.” Obviously the copywriter at the baby food company was counting on the fact that baby’s don’t read descriptions since I have never encountered a zingy zucchini in its natural state in my life.

E. loved the stuff in the tube, but when Jan offered her a bit of bacon she spit, wiped, waved and demanded that the offending pork product be removed from her being. An avocado was not met with any greater love.

I guess they have made baby food too good because it is dwarfing the appeal of bacon. I can remember that Carter’s first solid food was some horrible rice cereal. Then one day we gave her some bacon and she looked at me like, “Why the hell have you been giving me that damn cereal when this stuff exists in the world?”

I’m sure that by the time I am a grandmother things will change again. Who knows what format babies will want food in then, but I can pretty much guarantee that zucchini will still not be zingy all on it’s own, no matter what the package says.

Do I Need Three Daily Constitutionals?

Today my friend Sara wanted to do something to celebrate my birthday so we took a walk to a local spot for lunch. We were lucky that the humidity was low even though it was warm so we did not get too sweaty to eat lunch at a place with people who were not exercising right before dining.

It was the perfect guilt free way to commemorate my birthday; nice walk, good friend, healthy lunch, great conversation and post merriment walk back. It got me thinking that I should have to walk to all my meals. Not that it would increase the amount I walk in a day, but that I think it makes me more mindful of my eating.

Mindless eating is an issue I think I have overcome after two years of writing this blog. I started by vowing not to eat in the car. I feel like the advent of the drive thru restaurant, and I use the term restaurant very loosely here, is the downfall of the American civilization. We should not have such easy access to unhealthy and fattening food. Drive thru raw vegetable stands are fine, but for French fries we should have to climb a mountain or jump over thirty hurdles before being served a small bag.

Also eating while driving does not give your stomach a chance to register that you are eating at all. Our mind really is on the driving, or at least I hope it is. I think it is best if we enjoy our food with another human being. This is not always possible for me, but I do notice I eat much more slowly when I have someone to talk with during a meal. I do have the terrible habit of eating my breakfast in front of TV while a small dog sits at the ready to drink the milk from my bowl. I don’t think eating with Shay counts as a dining companion.

Sara has been a great friend and avid follower of my blog and weight loss progress. She asked me what my plan was when I reached my goal for keeping the weight off. Since I have lost and gained weight so many times the maintenance part is the most important and difficult task. The one thing I know is that accountability is my best friend. I don’t anticipate changing much of anything.

I certainly can’t add sugar back to my life. I still will need to exercise the same amount. White flour is still a foe. Mostly, I will still need to write my blog everyday. Knowing that there are people all around me with their eyes on me has been the biggest helper to my keeping on track. This is all very easy to say while I still have a few more pounds I want to drop, or a couple of items in my closet that still don’t quite fit.

It seems that if I hover right above my goal and never quite reach it I will stay the course, but then there is the part of me that wants to reach my goal and see if I am able to maintain. Perhaps I should add walking to or before and after every meal. When I get really sick of eating at the places that are close by I might reach my goal because I make myself walk downtown for lunch. Of course I might end up only having time for one meal a day by the time I reach lunch, eat it and walk home.

What’s That Flapping Sound?

People who know I walk 20,000 steps a say have asked me if I ever considered running. I laugh. When I was 28 I had a bad moped accident in Greece and the stateside Ortho Doc told me the good news was I would recover from my hip dislocation, broken leg and broken arm, but that I would never run again. I told him I could not run before so I was even. Running is not in my cards, but the good news is I have not worn out any knees or hips.

I have to admit that all this walking and weight loss has made it easier to run on the odd occasion when I am trying to catch a run-away dog or chasing the recycling truck down the street because I was late in rolling my cart to the curb. The other day I took Shay Shay out for a walk and it was much colder than I had anticipated. In my underdressed state Shay decided she needed a long walk before she would submit to her business.

When she finally decided she was done it started to drizzle, as we were three streets away from home. The cold rain was not helping my situation since I was only wearing a t-shirt and it was about 50 degrees out. Shay also is a bit of a princess and does not like to get wet. I am sure the lab part of her was bred way out and this is a poodle trait. If only Shay realized that a little spritzing of her curly coat improves her look a lot.

With my small dog pulling on her leash we both started to run to get home. Now Shay can out run me any day, but having her tug at me certainly helped get me up to speed and stay there for a good three minutes. Since I was able to run that distance without panting I noticed a different sound, something like flapping. I looked to the sky to see if a large hawk was flying overhead, but saw nothing. That is when I realized the flapping was my own flabby body parts slapping against myself.

Before you blame my large breasts I will tell you I had on my most supportive sports bra, so I ruled out the most likely flapping culprit. That left three potential perpetrators, my stomach, my thighs or the underside of my upper arms. I stopped running very abruptly and practically choked my dog to death as the leashed pulled against her collar. The flapping sound stopped.

Since I have no way to isolate one flapping flabby area from the other I am not sure I will ever identify exactly who caused the terrible sound, but what I do know is the Doctor’s prediction that I will never run again was not exactly true. Instead I should only run with deaf people because the hearing runner will be thrown off stride if they run with me because they will keep ducking and looking to the sky to avoid the large bird of prey that most certainly is flying along with us.

Birthday Guilt

Boy, am I going to have birthday guilt come tomorrow. I just had afternoon tea at the Fearington House and let loose of all healthy ways to celebrate my big day, and this is just the beginning. We still have dinner tonight and brunch. If I were Catholic I would be headed to confession.

One of the best things about Russ is one of the worst things. He is so busy with work that he does not plan celebrations far in advance. That leads him to go so much bigger because it is last minute. So a night at the Fearington House with a massage and flowers and the decadent eating. He wanted to do more but the front desk told him yesterday this was all they could fit in since most everyone else who comes for the weekend plans their trips far in advance. They don’t know Russ. The other thing about him is that once he has given me a gift I love he somehow thinks he needs to give me that gift again, year after year, but then he wants to do something new so the number of gifts keeps growing. I am totally spoiled.

It has been a great birthday this year, especially since it is not a big number. It started last week with my friend Donnabeth taking me to lunch. Then Hannah had a lunch at her house to celebrate my and Michelle’s birthdays. Yesterday my Mom came and took me to lunch and last night Renee organized drinks at the club for the May birthday gang. De showed up with a darling orchid for me. Sadly Beth Sholtz who shares my birthday was not there because of a last minute issue. Suzanne sent a gorgeous hydrangea yesterday and Carter thought it dwarfed the beautiful orchid Russ sent. I am continuing the parties next week with lunch with Shelayne and Susan Monday.

Facebook has totally changed birthdays because so many friends are reminded it’s your day and send kind messages. As far as I am concerned it is the best use of Facebook.
I used to hate birthdays because I selfishly thought the day did not live up to the hype. Not now. It could not have been a better day and it is not over yet.

Besides my friend Beth it is also my friends Gussy, Tricia and Cousin Sarah’s birthday. Happy birthday to all of you. Some years are better than others and I hope that you all have your best year yet.

I am not as good as Russ at celebrating other people’s birthday. I want to keep hold of how great this day has been and make sure that I honor my friends and family on their big days in a way that makes them this happy. I just can’t break my diet this way on any other day but my own birthday or I will cut short the number of birthdays I have.

Happy May Third to all of you. Go out and celebrate, it’s my birthday.

 Fat Shopping Was Easier

Yesterday I had to stop by the Mall to drop off our Nespresso recycling at the Sur La Table store. In the inefficient European way that is my only option to recycle the coffee pods we use. Since I rarely go to the Mall because I hate shopping while lots of people are also shopping I took advantage of the Tuesday morning lack of crowds to try and find some new smaller clothes.

To most women I know they see loosing weight as an opportunity to buy new clothes. To me I see it as a pain. I used to have to buy clothes in the “women’s Department” which is code for fat people’s clothes. It was not so bad because I knew exactly who sold those clothes and the “Big” departments were not that big. I also knew what size I wore and how the clothes would fit. The other bonus in the larger sizes is they tended to be age appropriate for me.

Now I wear regular size people’s clothes. I find this definition interesting since according to fashion retail experts more people are a size 14 or greater yet most of the clothes in stores are under size 14. There are so many things that made this shopping trip bad.

I don’t really know what size I am so I had to gather multiple sizes of the same item to try on. And it is not so simple as just 10, 12, or 14. In the pants department of one store there were seven different kinds of fit, all with names that mean nothing to me, like “Heritage” or “Signature”. Are “heritage” for people who have ancestors who have been wearing pants for many generations? Come on, I was looking for the name that meant, “Smaller waist than hips and a sagging middle aged belly to hide.” You might think “Curvy was the right name, but no, my butt is not big enough for curvy.

One problem about shopping when the crowds are low is that the stores don’t bother having anyone work then or they have the clerks who are only capable of folding sweaters and not actually helping customers.

I went into Banana Republic and picked up one dress, one blazer and one blouse and headed back to the dressing rooms without ever encountering an employee. The only problem is that I needed someone with a key to let me into the locked dressing room.

Eventually Jason came along and he insisted on knowing my first name and let me into a dressing room. I tried the dress on -too small in one part too big in another. Blazer – not a flattering fabric. Blouse – like the dress, too big in the shoulders, small in the bust. I decided this was not a store worth exploring further. As I walked the length of the store to get out Jason screamed across the room, “Dana, what was wrong with those clothes?”

“Too Young for me,” I said as I breezed out to Anne Taylor next door. As I walked in the door a light pink shirtwaist dress caught my eye. Not that I want a light pink dress that looked so much like one of my boarding school uniforms, but I wanted to see what size I might be in that dress and then explore the possibility of it coming in another color. I took two dresses to a room and tried them on –too big and too much material at the skirt. I repeated this exercise in five more stores. Not once did I ever have a clerk who offered to find me the right size or something that was a cut that fit my body.

All that shopping and I did not buy one thing when there are basic things I need. One problem with loosing weight is that I have become much more picky about the way things fit and you would think it would be easier to find things that fit, but it isn’t. I know the answer is the tailor, but I would love to find one pair of pants right off the rack without having to find a “pant’s translator.”

Always a Food Lover

Recently a new reader to this blog sent me a message saying that she wanted to lose weight, but since she loved food so much she did not see a way that she could. This is more or less my response to her.

Hey friend! I hear your pain. I am a life long food lover. I started cooking as soon as I could reach the stove, which was about age five while my parents slept late on Saturday mornings. At that point in 1966 I was not cooking because I had any culinary interest,  I was just hungry.  Eventually food became a bigger part of my life, and I let it have more power over me than I had over it.

More people I know are food lovers than “Food, what’s that? I forgot to eat today” people. In fact I can count on one hand, a hand that lost three fingers in a horrible Cuisineart accident the number of friends I have that really don’t care or think about food.   They are the food outliers and they as you can imagine are naturally thin.

Then I know plenty of people whose lives are not ruled by food, although they like to eat, some are heavy and some are thin and a few are just right. That leaves the group I am in. The people who think, plan, talk, read, smell, everything about food – some are heavy and some are thin, some are just right.

Here is what I have come to learn in my most recent two-year journey to control my own life and food:

I love food

I think about it everyday

I cook, grocery shop, read about it

I write about it, photograph it

I make food for others

I eat it.

I try and eat smaller portions

I treat some foods as treats and so I limit sugars and white flour foods to special occasions

I recognize that I will always be a food person. I also understand that being a person who loves all things about food does not have to mean that I am fat. So the excuse that you are a “Food Person” is just that, an excuse. You can love food and not give all the power to the food. It actually holds no power. The power is in your own brain. Once you decide to take control of food then you will lose weight.

Good Luck. It’s not easy.

For the Love of Socks

It’s been the longest and the coldest winter. For months I have been wearing warm socks because I have no circulation in my extremities. You would think that now that we have a beautiful 80-degree sunny day I would be thrilled to run barefoot or at least just have sandals on.

I started the day in my Dansko Mary Jane sneakers and no socks. As the day went on I kept taking my shoes off to shake out any little speck of dirt that was annoying my barefoot as if I was the Princess and the Pea. Barely an eyelash of dust would fall out, yet when I put my shoe back on it felt so much better.

When I was a kid we went barefoot all summer. The bottom of my feet would be black by nighttime from running in the driveway. I remember this because my mother used to use the cleanliness of the bottom of our feet as proof we had taken a bath. When we did not want to take a whole bath my sisters and I would run a few inches of water in the tub and run around until our feet were clean and the tub was black. Once in our nightgowns when we went to say goodnight to my mother and had the feet check we appeared clean. Of course we were only cheating our selves, as is always the case.

Now that I am older not only do I prefer to be clean I apparently am totally annoyed by dirt. I wear disposable rubber gloves when I dig in the garden because I hate to have to scrape my beautiful black earth out from under my nails. And I guess that six months of socks has spoiled my feet.

As I walked on my treadmill today without socks on I kept shifting my toes and then my heels because the smallest thing was annoying my walking. I realized that all the cold months my socks had been keeping my feet cocooned, clean and safe and able to walk farther and faster. I guess with the spring here it is time to toughen up my feet and learn to ignore small irritants.

But the small things that annoy us can turn into the biggest things. A splinter, a paper cut or a thoughtless comment in passing. Today I realize what a big role socks have played in my walking life. It reminds me to pay attention to all the little things, like thanking my family or acknowledging a kindness, because I know too well that what is little to one might be big to someone else.

If You Tell The Truth You Will Lose Weight

“Honesty is the best policy,” is a saying that can be improved. I would rewrite it as “Honesty is your friend.” The problem with it saying it is the best policy implies that something other than honesty might be a good choice, not just the worst choice. The opposite of “Honesty is your friend,” is that being dishonest is either not your friend or your enemy, either way it is bad for you.

As a person who has gone up and down the scale multiple times there is one big lesson I have learned, forgotten, relearned, ignored and relearned again; that is that I must be honest with myself everyday. People who lose and gain weight know why it happens. It should not be a surprise.

When I went to Weight Watchers years ago and stood in line week after week to stand on the scale in front of some nice underpaid Weight Watcher worker I always knew if I was going to have a good week or a bad week. I was not alone there. I never once heard anyone say, “You’re kidding, I really gained two pounds?”

I was successful at Weight Watchers. It was easy. They gave me the rules and I learned that if I followed them, measured correctly, wrote down exactly what I was eating I would win the game. Eventually I got to the point that I knew way more than any Weight Watcher Leader, but I still went to meetings so I could be weighed in by someone else. I thought that I needed that accountability to be successful.

Then I started lying to myself, I can eat a cookie and maintain, then two cookies, then four. Then I gained weight, then I stopped going to meetings to get weighed in because I knew I was failing. So I kept failing and gaining and failing again.

Luckily I woke up one day and had an honest conversation with myself that I was the only one who could help me lose weight. If I just did the right things that I already knew, and held myself accountable then I would win. I did not need to have someone else weigh me, because that kept me one step away from my own accountability.

Not that I did not weigh myself everyday when I went to Weight Watchers, but somehow in the warped mind of a food addict I thought that if I was having a bad week and I did not get weighed in by that other person then that weight did not really count. I was giving my accountability away.

That poor person who did the weighing in had nothing to do with the food I put in my own mouth or the lack of exercise I might have done that week, but just having someone else in the equation somehow offered me a scapegoat. The bottom line is there is no fall guy in life. We are all responsible for our own SH%T, whatever it is.

Living honestly adds simplicity and life is hard enough. Dishonesty is truly your enemy.

Review of Losses

My first job out of college was as a Sales Engineer selling Mail Opening and Extracting Machines. Don’t let the title impress you. I had a five state territory and as a twenty-two year old kid I was solely responsible for rooting out every possible receiver of more than 500 envelopes a day that needed to be opened, get to know them and then sell them at least one machine to do the work. Think of all the companies you paid your bills to back in the 80’s that had millions of dollars coming by checks that needed to be opened and extracted in order to be processed.

I know it sounds incredibly glamorous, and it was especially at 4:00 in the morning when I would be staking out the major post office sorting station and following trucks that would go and pick their mail up at the post office rather than waiting for it to be delivered back to their business to find new customers.

The mail opening business only had about three or four major players and I knew everyone of my competitors in my territory. I not only had to find new customers who did not have any machines and sell them, but I had to make sure my current customers were happy and up-to-date as well as try and steal away my competitors’ clients. It was more like the TV show Scandal than I’d like to admit.

The worst part about my job and the most memorable these 30 years later is when at quarterly sales meetings we had to review our losses in front of the worldwide sales team. Think of a hospital Morbid and Mortality (M&M) conference where a Doctor who has made a mistake had to stand up in a room in front of all their colleagues and discuss in detail what they did wrong. That is what review of losses was like for me, the youngest and usually the only woman in the room, only no one had died. The only saving grace was if I had already shared the loss with my boss and asked for his help all along the way. If the loss was news to my boss as well as everyone else in the room it was hell to pay. I only made that mistake once.

It is inevitable that in life we all are going to make some mistakes, but most of the time you do not have to dissect that error and lay yourself open for critique. I can relive in my head each time I had lost a big sale to one of my inferior competitors. It was not just the commission I was sorry about losing, it was the fact that I had to admit in front of God, (and the people that owned the company thought God worked there) and these witnesses that I had made mistakes, not called on a Vice President in a timely manor, or visited the operations center in time to know that they were getting a big new account and doubling the amount of mail that needed to be opened. In the end it was my fault and I had to own it and more importantly learn from it.

In the last few days I have had a couple of hard conversations with people who needed to do an M & M on the way they were handling a situation. The details of the story are not important, but a bigger problem was created because someone ignored having a hard conversation or thought someone else was going to do the dirty work. In the end that one hard conversation turned into many harder conversations. The loss was amplified because the details were ignored.

Ignoring bad news has never been a plan that works. The bad is still there and might be growing when you have your back turned. To paraphrase a song from Carley Simon, “If you think this blog is about you” it is. We all have bad, hard difficult things we have to deal with. Dealing with them head on is by far the easiest solution. Own it, learn from it and move on, never to make the same mistake twice.