Lessons Learned and Lessons Possibly Misconstrued

When you buy a big bag of Fuji apples and leave them unattended in the fridge for over a week because Honeycrisp apples go on sale at Piggy Wiggly and you just have to have some, don’t be surprised if a Fuji or two need a few rather deep incisions before they are fit for consumption. That happened to me yesterday. I saw first hand what “rotten to the core” really looks like. Handling my paring knife with skill and precision, though, still netted me just two and a half slices shy of a whole apple. I should have been a surgeon.

It’s wise not to get over-ambitious with buying apples when you already have two weeks’ worth of apples at home, especially when you’re the only one eating them.

That was a lesson learned.

Now here’s the lesson from yesterday that possibly and maybe hopefully was misconstrued.

As I pre-trip my bus in the afternoons and drive to school to pick up my kids I generally listen to June Hunt on Bott Radio Network. She was talking about a lady who had called in to her program who was obsessed with the possibility of something happening to her young son, almost to the point of being paralyzed with fear.

The verse June gave her was in Psalms 139:15-16. My frame was not hidden from You, When I was made in secret, And skillfully wrought in the depths of the earth; Your eyes have seen my unformed substance; And in Your book were all written The days that were ordained for me, When as yet there was not one of them.…

June meant this as comfort to the young mother, but the implications I saw in this were far from comforting.

The Bible tells us that worrying is a sin. The Bible assures us indeed that worrying is vanity. We are asked rhetorically in Matthew 6:27 and Luke 12:25 which of us can add even one cubit to his stature by worrying about it.

Neither can we add even one day to our lives. I understand why worrying is a sin. Worrying is a lack of faith in God. I get that.

What I don’t get is praying. Does this verse lend more meaning than what we want it to have?

I think back to 9-11. How many people on those planes had been covered with prayers for “travel mercies”? And yet they didn’t receive any travel mercies.

How many people are covered by prayers of healing every single day? And yet many of those people are not healed. Many of those people die.

If God already knows the plane is going to crash, then prayers for travel mercies are in vain. If God already knows, before we are born, that cancer will consume us at the age of thirty, then prayers for healing are in vain.

Who of us, by taking thought, can change what, in God’s mind and God’s will, is a done deal?

Then I was prompted to look at the Lord’s prayer. The disciples had asked Jesus to teach them to pray. What are the things He said we should pray for? “Hallowed be thy name.” We are to pray in reverence to God, to respect who He is. In this, I would also include thanksgiving for things God has given us just because of His loving kindness and who He is, a good God.

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done.” I once had a family member tell me my church was dead because we prayed for God’s will. She said, “I don’t want you to pray for God’s will: I want you to pray that my son will be healed!”

She’s the one who told me when Chelsea was born that God would heal her of her spina bifida, but we had to all have faith that He would do it, before it would work–as if our faith is some kind of a magic formula that gets God going. God’s hands are tied to heal us, apparently, if our faith is not great enough.

Name it and claim it.

Let me just interject here that the only perfect healing is death. Even if a person is completely healed of tuberculosis or lymphoma or leukemia, that person still has an appointment with death. The body will continue to decline by some other means. The heart or liver or kidneys will wear out, maybe, but that person will die–if the Lord doesn’t come back first. Only then will that person receive a glorified body and perfect healing, never again to be tainted by illness, disease, decay or pain.

The Lord’s prayer mentions deliverance from evil. Is sickness evil or is it a natural occurrence because of the fall? Sin, obviously, is evil. Worry is evil. Gluttony is evil. Homosexuality, lying, stealing, lust, adultery, hatred, anger, killing: all these things are evil. I take from the Lord’s prayer, then, that it is appropriate to ask for release from sin’s powerful grip.

Depression. Is it evil or is it a sickness that just happens because of the fall? This is one that I don’t understand, yet, but I hope to come to terms with it because it is something with which I am plagued from time to time.

I often think, “Wow, Lord, how can I be depressed when everything in my life is going so well? I still have my husband and kids. I have my job, my health, my home. What would ever happen to me if I lost any of those things? What kind of despair would envelope me then if I struggle with feelings of despair now when everything is fine?”

If depression is born of worry or self-absorption or discontentment or lack of faith in God or–I don’t know: what else can cause depression?–then I can understand how it’s evil. If depression is evil then it’s okay to ask to be delivered from it.

But what if depression is just a sickness or a disease, something that can be medicated, as some believe, like diabetes? See, with Psalm 139 and the Lord’s Prayer, now I’m teetering on whether it’s vanity to pray for healing. I can’t see myself stopping praying for healing or even travel mercies, but it may very possibly be in vain.

It’s just like me to over-think everything, and I’m not going to draw this blog out into an endless barrage of what-ifs. The bottom line is, I know it’s okay to pray for God’s grace, His deliverance, His forgiveness and His will.

What is that old saying? “Prayer doesn’t change things. Prayer changes people, and people change things.” Maybe it is through prayer that God makes us think about the unthinkable and changes our hearts and prepares us for what is to come. Maybe prayer is a way that God bestows His grace upon us.

June Hunt went on to say that none of our pain and suffering is in vain because we can use whatever we go through to help someone else who is going through the same thing. Yes, I understand that. We can then comfort others by the same comfort wherewith we have been comforted by God (2 Corinthians 1:6).

The gray areas concern me. Let me just tell you who I am right now or, rather, who I am not. I am not a Calvinist. I believe that God knows everything that will happen, but I don’t believe He forces those things which He foreknows to come to pass. My brain is feeble and tiny in the scope of a mighty and powerful God, and in no way do I pretend to understand all the weighty matters of the universe or the ways of God; but I do know my God is good. I know that my God would not predestine anyone to hell and not give him a choice in the matter. My God is fair and my God is just, and it makes me angry when anyone tries to malign the character and goodness of God.

My God would not call some to repentance and belief and not call others and then punish the others for not coming to repentance and for not believing–if it was His decision and choice that they would not, indeed if He forbade them to come. (Good books on the subject: The Other Side of Calvinism by Lawrence M. Vance, What Love Is This by Dave Hunt, The Dark Side of Calvinism by George Bryson. My favorites of the three are What Love Is This and The Dark Side of Calvinism; the other one is a little dry and hard to get through.)

Now for the piddly stuff. My dentist appointment went pretty well. I have to go in the day before Thanksgiving for buildups and temporary crowns. Dr. Hinton told me to baby my teeth. I guess that means plenty of oatmeal for me and to cut up my apples, as I usually do anyway, and crunch them on the other side of my mouth.

My knee is still not back to normal, so my walking has been less than I would like. I did another five minutes last night at 3.0 m.p.h. on the treadmill. I contemplated doing ten, but the last minute I caught myself starting to favor my left leg so I decided not to.

There is a difference between “difficult” and “painful.” If walking were merely difficult, as it was when I was 313 pounds, I would force myself to keep going, but I don’t think it’s wise to continue when I’m experiencing actual pain in my knee. Still, I am hopeful that this will be short-lived and that I’ll be walking with ease again very soon.

I’ve been pretty consistent with staying on-plan and am sorry that I’ve been slacking with the blog. Mainly it’s been because of the aforementioned depression. While it hasn’t been crippling or immobilizing, I have battled a little this past week or so. Yesterday, for instance, I felt just plain worn-out. I went to bed right after breakfast and had hoped to catch an hour’s nap, but instead I caught about an hour’s worth of prayer.

There’s nothing more aggravating than being tired and not being able to sleep, unless I guess it would be needing to pray and not being able to do that, either.

Today is a plasma day. Cam and I have appointments at 4:00. That’s normally the time I have my afternoon snack, so I got up early to A). work on my blog and B). start my meals early so I can move up my afternoon snack to 3:00.

My prayers for each of you include God’s mercy, grace, deliverance from evil and, of course, His will to be done in your life and on earth as it is in heaven. He’s a good God. Whatever horrific things we may be facing in our future, we can be sure that His grace will be there to comfort us and help us endure.

Stats for 10/31/15:
Weight: N/A
Exercise: I’m trying
Blood sugar: I haven’t been checking lately, but when I do check it’s within normal range
Breakfast (7:30) E: two pieces of Ezekiel toast with Happy Farms cheese and Smucker’s Simply Fruit
Lunch (11:00) crossover: bowl of chili with a sprinkle of cheddar cheese
Afternoon snack (2:30) E: Fuji apple and either Triple Zero or a smoothie
Dinner (6:30 or so) crossover: more chili

My affiliate links are taking off! Thank you for ordering Trim Healthy Mama products through my –>affiliate link<– and also for ordering Piping Rock products through my –->affiliate link<– (how about that whey protein isolate?!  Good stuff, huh?–and cheap!!!) . I am so grateful for your kindness to me and my family.

Double Whammy

I went to the dentist Friday morning, and he told me I had a “double whammy.” No wonder I couldn’t pinpoint which tooth was hurting! Here’s the damage (or shall I say the upcoming repair to the damage?): two root canals, some type of posts, and two crowns; only the crowns will come next year as my dental deductible starts over. Even with insurance it will be an expensive venture. We’re talking somewhere in the vicinity of $1,400. My double whammy will also be a double whammy to our bank account!

I’m thankful for my affiliate links (Trim Healthy Mama affiliate link and Piping Rock affiliate link) that help defer the costs of this horribly expensive dental treatment! Not only that, I’m continuing to donate plasma once or twice a week.

Thursday night I dreamed about going to the dentist all night long, only the dentist was Dr. Phil. That may have had something to do with watching his program up until bedtime.

There was a segment on there where his wife, Robin, was testing his “Phylisms” to see if they would be audience approved. She had her little test kitchen set up and tried out each of his sayings. We found out that you really can’t nail jello to a wall. We found out that you can put feathers on a dog, but it’ll still be a dog. We found out that you can’t bag up fog. We found out that you can make a pancake as flat as you want to make it, but it will still have two sides. We found out that you can put lipstick on a pig, but it will still be a pig. Now, Robin did this by kissing the pig over and over again on top of his head, etc. If I had been doing the segment I would have applied the tube of lipstick directly to the pig’s lips. (Chuck said that may have encountered protests from the PETA people.) Even so, it still would have been a pig. It would have been a prettier pig, but still a pig.

I took a couple of Ativans before Chuck drove me to see Dr. Hinton Friday morning, and was still feeling the after effects into the afternoon.  Dr. Hinton said I could take one when I came in to get my teeth cleaned, too, since just the mere mention of dental work sends me through the ceiling. I don’t like the sound of the equipment, and I don’t like the idea of people touching my teeth with metal instruments.

Let me just say, when it comes to dentists, I’m pretty much of a scaredy cat. A baby. A wimp.

Since Chuck has to work, I asked a friend to drive me. That way I can take Ativan and not have to worry about the effects of it while I’m driving. I don’t know how many to take or how long it will take for them to start working. Well, thank heaven for Google. I just googled it, and it takes effect within forty-five minutes, but two hours is when you feel the most benefit from it. I’m calculating that if I take it at 8:00, right before I leave, it should hit the peak of its performance at 10:00, which is half an hour into my appointment. That may be when I need it most. I won’t mind the shots or the waiting to get numb. It’s the digging into the roots that I’m not looking forward to. I only hope that I don’t have to hit him as I did Dr. Hamilton long, long ago. In my defense, it was a reflex action. That’s what happens to dentists when they start digging out the root before it’s fully numb.

I did five minutes on the treadmill this afternoon. Just five. I may do another five or ten minutes later. It has taken a full week to get my right knee almost back to normal.

Chuck and I went to see Woodlawn yesterday. Then we went to Stroud’s for lunch. With movie popcorn and cottage fries, gravy and cinnamon rolls at Stroud’s, it was an off-plan day for me, but I enjoyed every minute of it.

After lunch, we went to Costco and Sam’s Club (for blueberries) and Hy-Vee (for World Series Royals shirts, but we didn’t find any).  While I didn’t need to get out of the car at Costco and was tempted to stay behind, I wouldn’t allow myself to do that because that is what the old me would have done.

I need to walk, I want to walk, and I am going to walk, at least a little, even if it hurts. I miss walking. Never in a million years would I have imagined this ever being true for myself.

As much as I enjoyed my bowling outing with Chelsea and Cameron last Sunday, I can’t help but believe it was the bowling that hurt my knee. I must have jammed it somehow, re-learning my bowling approach. The weird thing is that I wasn’t even aware that I had injured it. I walked all the way home from the bowling alley and seemed just fine. It may not have been until the next day that I realized something was wrong.

My tender knee has made my heart tender toward those who are not able to exercise. I know now not to take the ability to exercise for granted. My prayers are with those who have arthritis or bone spurs or any other condition that would prevent them from moving easily.

Although I struggled early on in my Trim Healthy Mama journey with exercise, mostly it was my fat that made it hard for me. Yes, I have (or had) arthritis, too, but losing weight has helped with that more than I could have ever dreamed.

A generous friend sent me the new Trim Healthy Mama cookbook last month, and I was overjoyed. I got it out today and have reveled in flipping through the colorful pages. Even with this wonderful tool at my disposal, I still feel at a loss when it comes to what to fix for dinner. My poor husband! Oh, why can’t he just be content with oatmeal, like me?  LOL

The answer, I think, will come by just hanging out on the THM Beginners page and seeing the recipes with which other mamas are finding success. One that I have seen mentioned at least a few times already is the Cowboy Grub on page 59.

Old habits die hard. I feel like a meal isn’t a meal without some kind of potato! I can get by just fine without potatoes (I never would have guessed I would be able to!), but I feel like if I don’t provide my family with potatoes (in some form: hash browns, french fries, scalloped, baked, mashed, au gratin, etc.) to go with their meal I am somehow cheating them and not being a good wife or mother. How can I get this out of my head?

I’ve been a little stressed and depressed lately with my tooth troubles and knee problems, and I have neglected my blog. Hopefully as I glide past tomorrow, with the help of my Ativan and the prayers of God’s saints, I’ll be able to pick it up again.

In cheerier news, the Royals are headed to the World Series! I couldn’t resist buying this with some of my plasma money. Is it not a thing of beauty!? I wore it to church today and plan to wear it every day until the World Series is over.

Royals Origami Owl

 

When Your “Can Do” Falls Short of Your “Want to”

THM braceletsI find myself in an unusual situation. For the past twenty or thirty years I’ve not wanted to exercise. No walking, no tennis, no anything. This morning as I drove the kiddies to school I longingly looked toward the walking track, and I wanted to be out on it. Maybe I will try it at some point today, but the treadmill is out–for now. I went to Walmart to pick up a shipping envelope for a couple of Chelsea’s Trim Healthy Mama bracelets and my knee is still extremely tender. I don’t know what the deal is, but I can’t straighten my leg all the way out without experiencing pain.

Here’s my fear: if I don’t walk for a few days it will get harder when I start again. Still, I don’t want to hurt my knee further if all it needs is a little rest.

I feel good. I don’t feel sluggish at all: I feel energetic and ready to go. I feel like I could pick right back up and walk to the Mexican restaurant today–or Walmart or anywhere else my little self decided to go. The upside to walking on the walking track or uptown is that I can go as slowly as I want. I can limp along at whatever pace I need. My nagging thought is, though, that I don’t want to make my knee worse, either. It’s quite a precarious situation in which I find myself.

As I was pondering the title of this post, it occurred to me that we don’t always know which our “can do” and which our “want to” really are. We say we want to give up sugar, but we just can’t, when, actually, it’s the reverse that is true. We definitely can give up sugar; we just don’t want to.

It’s those pesky endorphins, again. Those “feel-good” endorphins that kick in when we satisfy our sugar cravings get us into more trouble than the short amount of time that the “feel good” is worth.

Do we want to feel good for five or ten or twenty minutes or however long it takes us to eat whatever we cave to, only to feel completely guilt-ridden and rotten afterward, or do we want to feel great by being in control, by being overcomers, by being the responsible adult that says no to the impulsive, bratty child?

It’s an easy question to answer, but a hard principle to employ.

God, help us all. Sugar is a beast that kills. It feeds cancer cells and triggers diabetes. Deliver us, Lord, from its power and evil.  Help us to find joy and satisfaction in other things besides food. Let us seek to honor You by making choices for healthy bodies and minds.

I was happy yesterday when Cameron came over and found an old picture of us from last October.

“Wow, Mom,” he said. “You’re a lot smaller now than you were last October.”

I am! I’m buying shirts smaller than my husband’s now. I can’t begin to tell you how good that feels.

Wanting to walk everywhere feels good, too! I can’t wait until my “can do” catches back up to my “want to”!

THM October to October

 

 

Like Riding a Bike

Apparently riding a bike and bowling are not quite the same thing. Of course, I can’t really test this theory because it has been many, many years since I’ve been on a bicycle. I’m assuming that I would be able to take right off down the road with it if I did try it; hence the phrase “just like riding a bike.” Once you know how, you always know how.

That is not the case with bowling. I used to be a prolific bowler. It was in my blood. My brothers and I practically grew up in a bowling alley, and not just one bowling alley, but three or four of them: Gladstone Bowl, McBowl in Liberty, Richmond Bowl, and I think there was an Antioch Bowl. I’m not completely certain, but I think I spent one of my birthday nights there with a new doll I had gotten named Chrissy or Christie that had platinum blonde hair.

Chelsea told me after church on Sunday that she and Cameron had plans to eat lunch at La Carreta’s uptown. My ears perked up and I invited myself to tag along.

Chelsea said, “Well, since he had to work last night, he’s still asleep. It may be 1:30 or 2:00 before he comes over. You may need to eat before then.”

“Yes, I do, but I’ll just have something small.” I went to the fridge and found a string cheese and got a handful of mixed nuts from the cupboard. That would hold me.

When Cameron arrived, we all walked down to the Mexican Restaurant together. It was a wonderful autumn day, not too hot, not too cold. I still had on the sweater I had worn to church, but I didn’t even break into a sweat.

I still can’t believe the ease with which I can walk just anywhere! This is my life now!

After lunch, we walked further down Main Street to the bowling alley. I got my shoes at the service desk and picked out a ball, but when it was my turn on the approach I froze. I was scared to move. I had forgotten my approach. Which foot did I start with, how much room should I allow myself, what if my shoe stuck at the foul line, instead of sliding, and I fell flat on my face?

My movements were slow and almost mechanical for the first few frames, but, then, as I got more comfortable, I was able to bowl more like I did way back when. My games weren’t wonderful, but I broke 130 each time and I don’t consider that too bad for not bowling in so long.

I had forgotten how hard bowling was on fingernails, though, and ended up getting my clippers out of my purse before all was said and done to control the damage the bowling ball was doing to my pretty manicure.

Then we walked all the way back home from UPTOWN. (Did you hear me the first time?) I was walking quickly, and, of course, there’s a pretty big hill on the way to town and on the way back (although the one to town is bigger in my estimation), so I got a little winded, but not horribly so. I remember my doctor said that if you can sing while you’re on the treadmill you’re not doing it right.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Cameron asked.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” I said. “I’m just walking fast–and uphill.”

“Two years ago you wouldn’t have been fine,” he observed.

Boy, was he right! Two years ago, my mouth would have been dry and pasty, my face would be red and dripping sweat, my lungs hurting and my side aching. I would have been pleading with Cameron to go home and get the car and come back to get me. What a difference two years with Trim Healthy Mama has made.

After walking to Walmart on Saturday and walking to town on Sunday, Monday and Tuesday I did no walking at all. I don’t know if it was the bowling or what, but my legs, particularly my right knee, felt weird: stiff and swollen almost, with not nearly the range of motion I normally have.

I did step onto the treadmill last night, but, after limping along at just 2.7 miles an hour for a couple of minutes and coming down kind of hard on my knee, just out of reflex, when Cameron reached over from his chair to playfully tickle the top of my left foot as I was getting ready to step onto the belt, I decided I wasn’t quite ready to get back on.

I doubt that it was the walking, since I’ve been doing more and more of that lately. If I had to guess, I would say it was the bowling.

The knee feels better this morning, but I noticed, walking from my bus to the office, that it’s still not quite right.

I stepped onto the treadmill, anyway, thinking I was just trying to give myself an excuse not to exercise and did a few seconds at 3.0 and then kicked it down to 2.8. After two minutes of limping and intermittently saying, “Ow, ow,” I decided that I really did do something (probably minor) to my right knee and need to rest it another day. This is despite the fact that I’m taking plenty of aspirin and ibuprofen for my tooth that will most likely receive a much-needed root canal on Friday at 7:15 a.m.

I’m falling apart at the seams!  Haha!

Even though my exercise will have to wait for at least another day or half a day, there’s no reason I can’t jump back on the Trim Healthy Mama train. I know what to do, right? I mean, it’s like riding a bike. Well, basically.

I have loaned out the first section of my book and I think I really need to read it, again. Maybe. I keep saying that, and, yet, I haven’t done it, yet.

I noticed that a couple of ladies have said that they read the first book and did pretty well, but everything really “clicked” when they also bought The Plan and read it, too. I had even wondered if that was necessary since it was probably just like the first book only more concise and with a little more explanation or updating.

After reading a review or two on Trim Healthy Mama and The Plan, now I wonder if Trim Healthy Mama is like Suzanne Somer’s “Somercize” books. One of the reviews said that Trim Healthy Mama’s principles aren’t so novel, after all, that they just say what Suzanne Somers has been saying for the last however many years. I intend to do some investigation of my own. I will say that whatever she has been doing seems to work for her, too. I also plan to look into Dr. Phil’s The 20/20 Diet.

Ah, so many books, so many crochet project ideas, so many naps needed, but only so many hours in a day!

Saturday is another plasma donation day. When I pick up another SD card for my camera I will show you what I bought with some of my plasma money! My last SD card cracked and eventually fell apart.

I should be drinking lots of water every day, but the day or two before my plasma donation I go above and beyond my regular intake.

Today is Driver Appreciation Day, and there will be snacks served at the bus lot at 1:00. That is a dilemma. My lunch is at 12:15. Do I not eat lunch and try to find something on plan there? Do I eat lunch at home and then only go to the event to socialize and pray I don’t succumb to temptation or do I not go at all? What to do, what to do.

Would a recovering alcoholic go to a Driver Appreciation Day held at a bar? Maybe that is the question of the day.

Stats for 10/21/15:
Weight: 257.2 (yes, I’ve gained back about seven pounds. My husband is surprised because I have not been eating with complete abandon, but, if I read one more time that Trim Healthy Mama is not a diet, I think I may scream, “YES, IT IS!!!” Anything you put in your mouth is a diet, whether it’s healthful food or unhealthful food. A koala’s “diet” is mostly eucalyptus leaves. When there is a whole host of foods I can’t have, including bread and potatoes and rice and pasta and bananas, etc., you better bet that that is a diet!)
Exercise: I plan to get back on the treadmill today (I may be building muscle by walking more, but, come on, I don’t think I’ve built up seven pounds of muscle. That explanation may fly with someone who doesn’t have so much to lose, but I don’t think it will wash with me.)
Exercise: I don’t foresee that happening today, except just the normal walking that I have to do.
Blood sugar:
Pre-breakfast snack (5:30) FP: Mocha cheesecake FSF
Breakfast (8:45) E: Blueberry yogurt baked oatmeal
Lunch (12:15) E: Chocolate peanut butter shake and Ezekiel toast
Afternoon snack (4:00) E: Honeycrisp apple and Triple Zero Greek yogurt
Dinner (7:45) : Don’t know, don’t care

 

Runaway Train

Last night I had so much I wanted to do . . . tomorrow. Well, tomorrow is here and I haven’t wanted to do a doggone thing except throw the brakes on the runaway train that is my appetite–and keep my tooth from hurting.

Nothing is safe. I want to eat everything in sight, and I am in a Catch 22 situation with my tooth. When it doesn’t hurt I want to eat because it hurts when I do eat, and I find myself thinking, “I need to eat now while my tooth isn’t hurting,” not thinking about the fact that my tooth may start hurting if I eat something.

I remember when I went into labor with my daughter. My water broke right as I was about to sit down to Fourth of July supper. My doctor had already told me, since the baby had a breach presentation, it was likely that I would have to have a Cesarean–so I was a good girl and didn’t eat dinner.

I went to the hospital shortly after and was sent home with what the doctor called Braxton Hicks contractions. When I arrived back home and went to bed, the contractions started coming every two minutes. There was no way I could lie in bed with contractions coming every two minutes.

When we had Lamaze classes, they had told us ladies to walk when we were in the early stages of labor. I had wondered then how we were expected to walk when in that kind of pain. When the time came and I was actually experiencing said pain, I went from wondering how I could walk to wondering how I could sit still! I was on the phone with my mom and pacing all around the house.

To distract myself from the pain, I ate. In between contractions I would munch on a hamburger I had brought home from dinner at my parents’ house. Gone out the window was all logic. Gone out the window was any thought of what would happen to me if I had to have a C-section and had just indulged in a Fourth-of-July hamburger.

Well, I’ll tell you what happened. I had to have a NG tube inserted so that I wouldn’t asphyxiate during surgery. It felt like they were breaking out the back of my face. I didn’t mean to, but I hit the nurse. That tube going up my nose and down my throat was no fun.

Eating to get my mind off the pain is not a new concept to me. I think that is the reason that most of us eat. It may not be physical pain, either. It could be an actual physical pain like menstrual cramps (my mom always told me to eat something and I would feel better [that’s a fable]) or a toothache (eating may very well make a toothache even worse), but there’s something about eating that makes you feel better. It’s all psychological, I’m sure.

I read somewhere that there are “feel-good” endorphins in ice cream. If you’re lonely or depressed or tired or a whole host of other not-so-great things, ice cream can trick you into thinking that you’ll be okay–for about five minutes–and then you’ll be fatter . . . and lonely or depressed or tired or a whole host of other not-so-great things. You only think that ice cream is your friend. Ice cream is a liar. Either that or your brain is a liar. The bottom line is, you’re being lied to. Whatever the situation, overeating is not the answer.

I ordered some Origami Owl stuff, and a couple of days ago I got one of my chains and my “Love is always kind” plate (that I’m fairly sure is too small for my locket) and a couple of charms my daughter wanted. I still haven’t received my first order, though, that has the majority of the stuff I ordered, like the locket itself, my other chain, all my charms and my “Find Joy in the Journey” tag (to remind me of my Trim Healthy Mama journey).

I had just come in from the mailbox with a handful of bills or other such nonsense when Chuck called from work, saying to have Cameron call him later with an update on Salvy’s hand (he may have broken it in last night’s game).

I said, “Okay.” I must have sighed or something.

“What’s wrong? Does your tooth hurt?”

“No, not right now.”

“Are you tired?”

“No.”

“Well, what are you doing?”

“Oh, nothing really. I just went out to the mailbox to see if I got my Origami Owl stuff, and I’ve been sitting here working on bracelets with Chelsea.”

Chuck is so sweet to me. He’s always concerned when he knows I have a toothache. He has had his share of toothaches over the years and knows what that is like. He is always on me to keep taking aspirin to stay ahead of the pain.

I’m nervous about my tooth. I’m nervous that I’ll have to take off work to get it fixed. I’m nervous that I’ll have to get a root canal or, worse, have it pulled, and I think the tooth that hurts is my front tooth! If I have to get a crown, how will I be seen in public in between the root canal and the crown? I would be mortified!

The dentist called in an antibiotic for me yesterday. I’ve taken four so far. If I’m correct, the antibiotics will help considerably. Other than that I’ve been taking aspirin, ibuprofen, and I just took one of Chelsea’s hydrocodines.

As soon as I eat my blueberry baked oatmeal, I may have to have a nap. At least while I’m sleeping I won’t be eating!

I don’t know how people with terminal illnesses deal with the stress of not feeling good and having to communicate politely with other people. My tooth pain sometimes threatens to send me through the ceiling to the point that I can barely hold a single thought in my head and I don’t think I could fake a smile if I wanted to. How does a person in severe pain manage to be patient, loving and kind? How can a person smile when he can’t even keep his toes from curling up from the pain?

I have discovered that the heat from my baked oatmeal and the coldness of my shakes and smoothies do not go over too well with my aching tooth. What to do, what to do, what to do. I hope I can get this fixed soon.

Stats for 10/17/15:
Weight: N/A
Exercise:
Blood sugar:
Breakfast (9:30) E: Ezekiel toast and a chocolate peanut butter shake
Mid morning cheat: seven Tate’s whole wheat dark chocolate cookies, a brownie from Pizza Hut and a handful of Goldfish (didn’t I say, “everything in sight”?)
Lunch (2:15) E: blueberry yogurt baked oatmeal
Dinner (7:45) S: Sirloin burgers, steamed broccoli
Bedtime snack (10:00) E: Honey crisp apple and Triple Zero Greek yogurt

 

No More Wound Vac

I just went for a brisk walk (a mile and a quarter) with Chuckers around the Missouri Veterans Cemetery. I feel so much better. I think that walking outside has spoiled me somewhat. I’m not as eager to get on the treadmill every morning, anymore. In fact, I only did six minutes yesterday. I had planned to do more, but I was called off for some reason.

Chuck,  Cameron and I went walking around Confederate Park yesterday afternoon, however. The embarrassing thing was, though, that I forgot that it was early-out Wednesday, and I was late picking up my afternoon route! That was the first–and hopefully the last–time that has ever happened to me.

I knew on Tuesday afternoon that the next day was the early out day. In fact, I told Patrick, as he got off my bus on Tuesday, because, in the past, his mom has forgotten. I don’t know exactly when it left my brain, but it was gone sometime Wednesday morning because, since Chuck was off work, I had asked him to go walking with me after I got home from work.

“We can’t go after work because the Rangers and Blue Jays play at 3:00, and I want to watch them.”

“We don’t have to walk after work,” I said. “Why don’t we go after lunch?”  See, the early out had escaped my mind by that point or I never would have suggested walking after lunch.

I had lots on my mind yesterday. The USPS had attempted to deliver my Go Walks the day before, but no one was home and they didn’t leave them. I got an email to that effect.

“Be alert,” I told Chuck yesterday morning. “I just tracked my shoes, and they’re supposed to be delivered today before 8 p.m.”

Cameron, Chuck and I decided to go walking, kind of spur of the moment.

They told Cameron on Monday that Thursday would be his last day at Enersys. The layoff would go back to 2013, and he has only been there a year. Thankfully, God had already gotten Cameron another job. His first day was Saturday. It was his old security job at John Knox Village East. Cameron had enjoyed it when he worked there before, but left when he had an opportunity to make more money at Enersys.

Cameron was going to try to work both jobs for as long as he could. Then, if the rumor of a layoff was true, he would at least still have his security guard job.

He worked Saturday and Sunday as security guard, from midnight to eight, and then came over here to sleep until 12:45 so he could get up and go to Enersys. It was going to be rough, but it would only be rough for a couple of days because his days off were different for each job.  On Tuesday and Wednesday, he wouldn’t have to work as security guard, and on Friday, Saturday and Sunday he wouldn’t have to work at Enersys.

It concerned me that he was going to have to drive 13 Highway an hour each day (half an hour to work and half an hour back) with only four hours of sleep. A boy a year ahead of me in school had gotten killed in a car wreck his senior year because he fell asleep on his way back from his night job at Hallmark Cards in Liberty.

I’m sure the young man thought that was a good job opportunity, and, when he was given the chance, he took it, knowing that when he graduated he’d be ahead of the game by already having a job. It wasn’t worth his life, though. No amount of money is ever worth your life.

On Monday morning, Cameron came over to sleep in our bedroom so that I could make sure he was up in time to eat and get ready for work at 12:45. The problem was that since he knew he only had a few hours to sleep he couldn’t fall asleep. It’s hard to fall asleep when the pressure is on to fall asleep immediately.

He got less than three hours of sleep that day. Then he got up and went to work at Enersys. Then he got off work at Enersys and had to turn right around and work his shift at John Knox. When he got here Tuesday morning, he was dog tired. By then he had already been informed that he was being laid off at the end of the day on Thursday from Enersys, and, as much as he appreciates the money, he is happy for the lay-off. He has told us that his lead lady does not like him and treats him horribly. He said, “Everybody sees it.” Of course, there was the awkward situation of having to work alongside the guy who had threatened him a couple of months ago, too.

He decided to text his boss (not the lead lady) and tell him he wasn’t coming in Tuesday or Wednesday. Tuesday he spent most of the day and evening in bed, catching up on his sleep, and Wednesday he wanted to watch the playoff game between the Royals and Astros.

He told me if he hadn’t known he was going to be laid off on Thursday he never would have called in. He would have gone to work. I’m glad it didn’t come to that, though, because a person just can’t get by with that little sleep and be safe on the highway or at work.

He’ll have to move back in with us for a while, at least until he gets his car paid off, and then he can try to get a one-bedroom apartment somewhere. If and when he gets called back to Enersys, he’ll have to decide what he wants to do, whether he wants to go back or not. He says, “Money isn’t everything. You have to like your job, too.” That’s not always the case, but he doesn’t have a family for which to provide, yet, so I guess the bonus of liking his job is a luxury allotted to him that other people may not get.

The home health nurse was here on Tuesday, and she is excited about the status of Chelsea’s wound. “I am so thankful to God,” she said, “that Chelsea’s wound looks so good! This is the third straight week I have seen her and have seen improvement in the wound. It has healed more in these few weeks than the whole first two years that I have followed her after her surgeries. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up! It’s working!” I’m not doing anything. It’s all God. I change the dressing every night before she goes to bed, and that’s it. She’s not even on bed rest. She goes to work at the salon early in the morning most days and doesn’t come home until around seven sometimes at night. She tells me that she does get to tilt back in her power chair at the salon, so she’s not constantly on her wound.

Today Chelsea saw Dr. James at the wound clinic. He put some kind of new treatment on the wound and said not to change it until Sunday night. He’s very pleased with her progress and doesn’t want to see her for another month. And we’re sending the wound vac back. Good! I am so happy to be rid of that thing! If she can heal without it, hallelujah!

Thanks again for the many prayers on Chelsea’s behalf. I can’t tell you what they have meant to us and how much they have helped!

Tomorrow is plasma donation day for Cameron and me, so I need to drink lots of water tonight and tomorrow.

Hey, don’t forget about my Piping Rock affiliate link. If you are a new customer to Piping Rock products (they have awesome whey protein isolate!) you can get $10 off your first order of $40 or more or $5 off an order of under $40!  It’s a win for me and a win for you!  If you want to scope out their products, click my affiliate link –>HERE<–.  Piping Rock has lots of other products, too, not just the whey protein isolate. My husband has ordered the kelp, but, other than that, I can’t offer any feedback about any of their other vitamins or supplements, other than they appear to be reasonably priced. If you like what you find, remember $10 off an order of $40 or more if you’re a first-time customer!

Stats for 10/15/15:
Weight: N/A
Exercise: 3.32 miles
Blood sugar: 123 (7:15, after we went walking)
Pre-breakfast snack (5:30) FP: chocolate peanut butter shake
Breakfast (8:45) E: blueberry yogurt baked oatmeal
Lunch (12:15) E: chocolate peanut butter shake and two pieces of Ezekiel toast with Happy Farms cheese and Smuckers Simply Fruit
Afternoon snack (4:00) E: Fuji apple and Triple Zero Greek yogurt
Dinner (6:30) off-plan: two pieces of Casey’s pizza

 

Royal Mania

October 15, 2015:  Tonight is game five of the American League Division Series. For the third straight day this week I have worn one of my Royals shirts. Strange to say, but I have five of them. If Chuck hadn’t stolen one of mine, I would have six. (The reason I would have six, though, is because I stole one of his that is too small for him.) The fact that I have five Royals shirts speaks volumes about the two consecutive winning seasons the Royals have had. (Post edit: Chuck says we have had three consecutive winning seasons. See how much I keep up?) I say this because the last Royals shirt I had, prior to last year, was back in 1985, the year we beat the St. Louis Cardinals in the World Series.

It’s not like me to “follow” baseball. Generally, anything I know about the Royals (or any baseball team) is what I get through osmosis, just by being married to Chuck. The Royals game is always ON, but I’m not “locked in.” I’m doing other stuff, not really listening, not really caring.

I am what so many of Kansas City’s (or any other city’s) people are: a bandwagon fan. It’s not until the playoffs that I become acquainted with who exactly is on our team. Some of them I already know because I learned them last year.

When I walked into the family room this morning, dressed in my Hosmer shirt, Chuck looked at me and said, “Take that shirt off! You don’t deserve to wear that shirt!”

He and Cameron always give me a hard time about being a bandwagon fan.

This afternoon when Chuck, Cameron, and I walked around Confederate Park, the Royals, Johnny Cueto, and tonight’s game were the topics of the hour.

Cameron said, “Look, there’s Mom, dressed all in blue, wearing her Royals shirt. Must be October.”

It is October, and I’m having fun! I hope we don’t have quite as much “fun” as we had in Monday’s game. I hope we take the lead early in the game and stay comfortably ahead the whole game. I can’t take the intensity when we’re behind in the score.

Dawn, one of the aides on my bus, was telling me today that she’s a “true fan.” She listens to the Royals games all the time. She says she’ll be doing other stuff while she listens, but she keeps up with them. I told her I just don’t know how she does it. I’m too competitive. I can’t afford to get that tied up in being a fan. The emotional roller coaster is too much. I can’t stand losing.

When I relayed our conversation to Chuck this afternoon he said, “What emotional roller coaster? There’s 162 games in the season! We’re not going to win every game.”

Well, that’s how it is with us bandwagon fans. We thrive on mania, I guess. The whole year goes by, and we don’t share Royals photos or sports stories about the Royals on Facebook. When October gets here, if our dog is still in the fight, we come alive. Before October, we didn’t have a dog.

From Yesterday

I took my preschoolers on a field trip to the pumpkin patch today. It was a great time with hayrides, farm animals, fall mums, an apple cider press, warm sunshine, a refreshing breeze and a playground.

On a single field trip I saw my before-THM and after-THM sharply contrasted, and I was surprised at the incident that took me back.

First off, as I followed along behind the hayride (since there were only enough seats for the preschoolers and a couple of the teachers), I was struck by how easily I strode along in the warm autumn sunshine without being embarrassed because I couldn’t keep up with the group, but mostly what stood out in my mind was my eagerness to walk along behind the wagon for the whole hayride route. I didn’t because no one else did, but I did try to persuade a couple of moms to go the whole way–even after our host told us it was a pretty good walk and it wouldn’t be as tough if we just headed back toward the playground.

“How far can it be?” I asked a lady standing next to me. “It’s probably just around that loop there and then back to the beginning, right?” But I had no takers, so I walked back with everyone else. As I suspected, we hadn’t been there for five or seven minutes when here came the wagon, and they weren’t driving fast, either. I’m thinking I could have almost kept up with the wagon without breaking a sweat.

I stood up and walked around the whole afternoon. My back didn’t hurt, my legs didn’t hurt, and my feet didn’t hurt. It was wonderful.

Then I noticed the pigs. They were lying in the back of their structure out of the sun when the farmer chucked a couple of big hunks of pumpkin into their pen. I don’t know if it was an overripe one that he had found when the kids were picking out their pumpkins from the patch or what, but, with only a moment’s hesitance–because, after all, the pigs were comfy and heavy and lazy–the temptation of the pumpkin chunks got the better of them and with great effort and a noisy grunt, they hefted their fat bodies off the ground and scurried–as fast as their fat bodies would allow them to scurry–over to the pieces of pumpkin.

I watched in horror almost as I saw my former self in these sad animals. Many, many, many were the night when any notion of getting out of my chair was met with slothful reluctance. Yes, I was lazy, but I was also out-of-shape and rotund. It’s hard to lean forward to get out of a chair when a big belly is in the way. Then there was the whole issue of my knee. Before Trim Healthy Mama, my knee gave me all kinds of fits, enough, in fact, that once, on my birthday, I even bought myself a walking stick at the Country Fair.

What would get me out of my chair, with, yes, great effort and possibly a snort as the wind left my large body, was the thought of a bowl of ice cream or a piece of coconut cream pie or a plethora of other poisonous treats.

As I stood there, pitying those swine, getting all excited about a chunk of overripe pumpkin, I also pitied the old me, getting all excited about a hot fudge sundae. It was quite ironic: the things that got me excited enough to fight the battle to leave my chair were the very things that made getting out of my chair a battle to begin with.

Now I’m excited about other things. I’m excited about going for a walk with my husband or my daughter or a friend.

I’m excited about my new wardrobe (or my OLD one that now fits like new!).

I’m excited that my lab numbers are just short of phenomenal.

I’m excited that my knee doesn’t hurt like it used to.

I’m excited about apples! Before Trim Healthy Mama, I bet I didn’t even eat two apples a year. I’ll go one better than that: I bet I didn’t even eat one apple a year. Apple pie? Yes. Apple fritters? Yes. But apples! Who knew they were so good? They’re now my go-to afternoon snack, along with a Triple Zero Greek yogurt. Fuji and Gala are my favorites, but I tried a Honeycrisp the other day because they were on sale. (It was good, too, but I think I’m still partial to the others.)

I’m excited about Trim Healthy Mama, and I am excited about life!!!

The Bible tells us to go to the ant and consider her ways. That is wise if we want to learn favorable behavior.

Today I went to the pig and considered her ways, and I learned quite a bit. I don’t want that life, anymore. I don’t want to have to struggle to get to my feet ever again. I don’t want to make a spectacle of myself when someone puts a piece of coconut cream pie into my pen.

I want what Trim Healthy Mama has to offer me: health and food sanity and a new zeal for life.

 

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Stats for 10/14/15:
Weight: N/A
Exercise: I hope I don’t forget to fill it in later. My Fitbit is keeping track for me!
Blood sugar:
Pre-breakfast snack (5:30) FP: chocolate peanut butter shake
Breakfast (8:45) E: blueberry yogurt baked oatmeal
Lunch (12:15) E: two pieces of Ezekiel toast with Happy Farms cheese and Smuckers Simply Fruit and chocolate peanut butter shake
Afternoon snack (4:00) E: Fuji apple and Triple Zero Greek yogurt
Dinner (7:30) crossover: brisket, baked beans, cole slaw and steamed broccoli

A Scraper and a Dripper

Those poor ladies on the cooking shows should hire me as their helper. I mean, do any of the rest of you ever scream at your television “Do not put that bowl in the sink! There’s still half of a cup of key lime in there!” Have none of those women ever learned how to use a spatula, for crying out loud? And I know the Pioneer Woman has a spatula because I saw some with her name on them in Walmart the other day!

There’s an old saying “waste not, want not.” Perhaps they’ve not heard of that. Or perhaps they just don’t have the food addiction that I have.

I’ve been known to eat other people’s icing off their plates. Okay, before you start judging me, let me clarify that these are my own family members (husband and kids). I don’t grab strangers’ plates off their tables at restaurants, so you may breathe a little easier now (and wipe the look of horror off your faces–to whomever that may apply). 😉 I’ve not quite reached that stage of desperation. Yet.

My theory is, if you didn’t want me to eat that, you would have eaten it yourself.

Anything worth making is worth eating. All of it. We don’t scrape food into the trash can around here–unless, of course, it’s something that didn’t turn out quite right, and, in that case, scrape away, my friend. But if it’s worth eating, it’s worth eating all gone.

The following true confession will either gross you out or show you the true nature of my food addiction: When I eat my Triple Zero Greek yogurt for my afternoon snack, I scrape out the container as well as I can with my spoon, and then I run my finger around the inside of it to get every last bit of yogurt residue out of the cup. My husband always grimaces and says, “Don’t do that!” Yeah, he’s the one who leaves a tablespoon of cream cheese frosting on his dish from the carrot cake he has for dessert at restaurants.

It occurred to me this morning that, not only am I a scraper, I’m also a dripper. Somehow I don’t think that’s the right term, but let me explain what I mean. When I make a shake every morning for breakfast, after I bang the blade attachment against the top of the cup to shake as much as I can out of it, I tilt the Nutribullet blade up to my mouth and try to catch every last drip that has settled into the base of the blade attachment. Sometimes I use my straw to try to slurp it all out. I do this, of course, because a 32-ounce cup of ice cream is not nearly enough! Gotta get those last few drips, too!

If, by chance, you ever happen to meet me in real life and we happen to share a meal together, whatever you do, do not leave a tablespoon of creamy frosting clinging to your plate after your meal–not if you don’t want to torture me! Call it OCD or food addiction or just plain, weird quirkiness, but that bothers me–just like it bothers me to see Giada or Ina or Ree put a measuring cup in the sink that still has a good 1/4 cup of mixture clinging to the sides and bottom.

Here’s my thought, if you’re not going to use it all, why make it all?  Why not just decrease the measurements of all your ingredients and make only the amount you plan to put into your dish?  I don’t understand the point of wasting something. Am I alone in this?  Anyone else feel this way?

Stats for 10/8/15:
Weight: N/A
Exercise:  3.86 miles
Blood sugar:
Pre-breakfast snack (5:30) FP: chocolate peanut butter shake
Breakfast (8:15) E: chocolate peanut butter baked oatmeal
Lunch (12:00) E: two pieces of Ezekiel toast with Happy Farms cheese black raspberry Smucker’s Simply Fruit and a chocolate peanut butter shake (are you beginning to see a theme here? What’s with all the chocolate peanut butter today?)
Afternoon snack (4:00) E: Fuji apple and Triple Zero Greek yogurt (every last drop)
Dinner (7:45) S: Either pork chops and broccoli or grilled chicken salad from the Mexican restaurant.

If you’re running low on Trim Healthy Mama suppies, please consider ordering through my affiliate link –>HERE<–.  Thank you for stopping by to read my blog!

Taking My Life into My Own Hands

“Taking my life into my own hands” is usually a phrase we associate with risk. I kind of feel like I’m doing that whenever I go for a walk downtown or drive on I-70.

I was getting something out of my car in my driveway a day or two ago when a car sped past our house. I looked up and saw a young lady with her eyes in her lap. If someone’s toddler had gotten away from them, there’s no way she would have seen him in time to even hit her brakes.

Our safety trainer had us do an exercise at a safety meeting several years ago. She had us stand a few feet away from a wall and pointed to a spot chest level or lower on the wall and had us look at it. Then she held a book up above our heads against the wall and asked if we could see it. Of course, we couldn’t.

Then she did the reverse. She picked out a spot high on the wall for us to look at and then held a book lower on the wall and asked us if we could see it.  We could.

All this was to demonstrate the first key to the Smith System: Aim high in steering.  If you look ahead you see everything between your car (or bus) and that point, but if you focus your gaze closer to your vehicle you miss everything going on above that reference point. That is dangerous because your vehicle can cover a lot of ground in just three seconds’ time.

I saw a little snippet on “Medical TV” in the waiting room the last time I was at the doctors’ office (I don’t know exactly what the programming was, so that’s what I’ll call it). They always have lots of information about various medical topics, like fiber or heart disease, etc. Anyway, the little blurb I watched was about multitasking. The “expert” said only 2% of the population is good at multitasking, and the people who think they are the best at it are usually the worst.

This is a pet peeve of mine: people on cell phones while they are driving, but I’ll be a little more specific: people texting while they’re driving. Glass, metal and concrete are not survivor-friendly materials, and, paired with speed and inattentiveness, even small mishaps can be fatal.

An acquaintance of mine’s son was in a fatal accident on a blacktop. Somehow he missed the curve. He was in his twenties and my very first thought was “I wonder if he was texting.” It could have been anything: maybe he was trying to tune his radio; maybe he dropped a donut in the floor or a cigarette; maybe he spilled his coffee in his lap. But my first thought was about texting. That’s because I see young people text all the time, and I’ve watched people who text. My sister, my daughter, my son, everyone who texts seems to be drawn to that texting sound like a moth to a flame. It seems impossible for their eyes not to be drawn to the screen of their phone. “Who is it? What did they say?”

My daughter doesn’t drive, but I lamented the day when my son got texting on his phone. When he was a teenager, we got him a cell phone and put it on our family plan. Ever since he has had a job he has paid his own phone bill. “As long as I’m paying my own bills, why can’t I have texting on my phone? Everyone has texting.” So he got texting.

I can’t say it enough. Whenever he comes by to visit, I won’t let him leave without hugging me goodbye, and I say, “Cameron, how much do I love you? Tell me. How much do I love you? I love you too much to lose you in a car accident because you can’t leave your phone alone, and I love you too much for you to kill someone else because you’re messing with your phone and have that haunt you for the rest of your life–because it will.”

So when I hear that front door open as he’s about to leave, I call out, “Don’t look at your phone while you’re driving!” And I hope I’m not just talking into the wind.

Here’s what I think should happen: If someone is caught texting by a police officer while they are driving, I think they should be fined heavily–say, maybe $300-$500. If they are caught a second time, I think their cell phone service should be revoked for a year. Some people may think that is pretty stiff. The lives of my loved ones are worth at least $300 and a year of no cell phone service. The lives of other people’s loved ones are worth that much, too. You can’t put a price on human life.

And if someone sees my son messing with his phone while he is driving, I hope they report him to the police. They’re not doing me or him any favors if they don’t.

Some people should not be allowed to drive. Period. I’ve seen all kinds of strange things while driving.

Once, when I was getting ready to turn right on the street in front of JoAnn’s, a lady was sitting on my side of the yellow line. Apparently she thought she was in the left-hand turn lane. In truth, the car to the right of her was in the left-hand-turn lane. She was in the oncoming traffic lane! There was no lane available for me to turn, so I had to drive down the street, turn around and come back, hoping she was gone by the time I got back.

I was telling Cameron about it the other day when we were coming back from donating plasma. I said, “Well, she was an elderly lady, so maybe that’s why.”

Cameron said, “Mom, you can’t just assume. She may have been in the middle of a very important text.”

Haha. Very funny, Cameron.

Last week when Chuck and I were at Sam’s Club two cars were in a deadlock in the parking lot. Each aisle had arrows, like some parking lots do, and a lady was leaving the parking row against the arrow. A man was attempting to pull into that row, but couldn’t because she was in the wrong lane. The problem was, she refused to back up and get into the correct lane, and he refused to back up and let her leave. So they both just sat there. He had his window down and was saying things like, “You could just back up and get into the right lane like all those other people.” Then he would look around at the pedestrians and say, “She refuses to back up.”

When Chuck and I left Sam’s Club they were still parked nose-to-nose, both refusing to back up. Of course, the man shouldn’t have had to, since he was right, but I hope he brought a sack lunch because she was not about to budge.

As I was leaving McDonald’s the other night, a semi was in the left-hand turn lane on Highway 13 and a car was coming up along his right side. Suddenly I heard tires squealing. I looked up to see the semi turning right in front of the car. The car screeched his brakes, but was able to stop before plowing into the semi.

When the semi had completed his right-hand turn from the left-hand-turn lane, he pulled on his air horn. Now, perhaps that was his apologetic “My bad; I’m so sorry” send-off, but it’s hard to translate what a horn means. To me it sounded just as much like “Why don’t you pay more attention, you bozo?! What is the matter with you?”

Every walk or bike ride through Confederate Park could be a death sentence. Wearing earphones and listening to music while you’re walking could be catastrophic. All eyes need to be focused on oncoming cars, so that a last-minute dive to safety is an option should an inattentive, texting driver swerve in your direction.

Enough about my pet peeve. Do you realize that every time you get out of bed in the morning you “take your life into your own hands”? Every choice you make, every meal you bake, every step you take. Oh, boy, this is very quickly turning into a name-those-lyrics game. But you get my point. Life should be lived intentionally. One bad choice after another, one bad meal after another, one day spent on the couch after another . . . Well, you see where this is going. You can either be adding health to your life or cutting years off, just by the choices you make as you meander through your day. Something to think about.

Cameron just left for work about twenty minutes ago. My parting words to him were “I love you. If you text and drive, I hope you get a ticket for five hundred dollars.”

“Mom!”

“I’d rather you get a ticket than get killed on the highway.”

“As long as you’re paying for it,” he replied.

“Nope, if I pay for it you won’t learn.”

I hope you’re having a good week, my sweet readers. I love you, and if you text and drive I hope you get a ticket for five hundred dollars. See, I want you to come back to visit me. You can’t do that if you’re dead or if you’re sitting in jail for vehicular homicide. Be safe. Remember, someone loves you. <3

Stats for 10/7/15:
Weight: N/A
Exercise: to be filled in later if I remember. So far, I walked downtown with Chelsea when she went to work, and I walked around the school while I was waiting for my preschool aid to come out after lunch. Right now my Fitbit is at 3.32 miles.
Blood sugar:
Pre-breakfast snack (5:30) FP: chocolate peanut butter shake
Breakfast (8:30) E: chocolate peanut butter shake and two pieces of Ezekiel toast with Happy Farms cheese and Polaner All-fruit
Lunch (12:15) S: leftover pork chops and steamed broccoli
Afternoon snack (4:00) E: Fuji apple and Triple Zero Greek yogurt
Dinner (7:45) S: Pork chops and steamed broccoli. Chuck was cleaning out the freezer last night and found about three packages of pork chops, so I’m using them up. Last night’s were so delicious, I’m fixing them again! On one side I salted and peppered them, and on the other side I seasoned them with Cookies Seasoning. Then I coated them with crushed pork rinds and fried them in unflavored coconut oil.

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