Graze Anatomy

2019-04-11T16:13:00.001-04:00

Once more, it's been a long time. Why bore you with minutia? I've continued to lose weight, despite some interesting crap that came down the pike. I'm not going to burden you with that which can be categorized as "TMI." Let's just say there were some fairly stressful moments wherein I was pushed to a thin, very crossable line. I fell back on Philippians 4:13. I fell back on the Serenity Prayer. I maintained 'conscious contact with the God of my understanding,' I kept in contact with my sponsor. Throughout it all, I alternately internalized, became quiet and reticent, and tore my heart and guts up like a Robot Coupe. Finally, I asked Pastor Ed and Pastor Larry for prayer for one particular facet of my life which has been particularly troubling. That item hasn't completely resolved, as of this writing, but knowing I was surrounded in prayer certainly didn't hurt.

But it's not my fault, it's not of my making, I can do nothing but stand and support from the sidelines. And while I can't say "Yeah, I'm good with that," I CAN say "Thank you, Heavenly Creator, for granting me the serenity to accept this thing I cannot change; the courage to change what I CAN change about it (how I react/respond/deal with it) and the wisdom to know that it ain't my circus, ain't my monkeys. And thank You for helping yours truly neither drug, drink nor stuff my feelings to a new depth."

You may or may not have noticed that I thank God for a lot. I was having this conversation at the Noontime Step Meeting, yesterday. I was inspired to say that "When it comes to the point where I quit being grateful for the blessings I've received, I'll stop noticing and enjoying them." Oh, God won't get ticked off and quit sending them. He's not that kind of God. But I'll become inured, blind to them. NEVER the good things. So I remain thankful. I shared the same with my sponsee. Every day, make note of something for which you're grateful.

And, now, some notable details: I've been monitoring my blood pressure and heart rate for a while now, and sent the data to my VA physician. Based upon that information, she's cut my metoprolol by 33%, and ordered lab work for 3 weeks from now. My feet (specifically my surgically-modified one) aren't in so much pain. We walked another 5k, the Dayton Gastro "No Buts About It" colon cancer awareness event. We both finished well. Dawn kicked butt! I dragged mine, but that's to be expected. Seriously, my joints (while I AM respomding quite well to the methotrexate injections) are stable, but I'm not 19 years anymore, kids.

Oh, yeah, and I've noticed black spots on my abdomen. OMG, acne? A skin reaction from the meds? Something NEW to show the doctor?

No. NO! Hairs. NEW HAIRS. I've got new hair popping up on my ventral surface, from where my clothes aren't all so tight anymore, wearing down the hairs before they can even sprout. And, another thing: whenever I go for hand/wrist xrays, the tech nicely asks for me to remove my wedding ring. Well, I've tried cold water, soap, Windex, Vaseline, WD-40...nothing works. Until now. Gravity is doing a fine job of it. My wedding ring isn't so uncomfortably tight on my hand anymore. Even my hands were fat. Dig that!

And, here's the "Now/then" photo of 206.5 vs 254.4lbs.As a matter of fact, taken exactly a year apart.

I've lost almost 48 pounds. 47.9, to be exact. All my bib overalls are too loose, now. None of my jeans fit. All my shirts are so loose I need to safety-pin them at the seams to 'tailor' them.

And, by the grace of God, we're not done yet. Smarter food choices (yeah, Oreos and potato chips are vegan, and so's pasta and bread, but they're not a food group!) coupled with smarter eating habits, bound together by the blessings of a living God, from whom all blessings flow. Amen, and hallelujah!

Thanks for stopping by; thank you for reading. Be well, practice peace, and we'll see you next time!

2019-03-18T07:31:00.001-04:00

Well, LOOK who's back! The slacker, himself.

It's been somewhat of a dumpster fire, here in the Heartland. "Life on life's terms," and all. Nothing bad. No, not at all. Just my crazy, happy life, and not staying up to all hours, playing on the computer. Now...let's see what's happened since last we spoke:

In February came Mom's birthday in Connecticut. Then, a few days later, I renewed MY belly button (Not such a big deal, in my eyes, because my AA birthday is more important.) So, we pulled a road-trip out of our magic hat, coinciding with Mom turning 90, me being of official retirement age, and Aiden having a President's Day weekend. We planned: I made good travel food, we set up reasonable stops for rest, and planned on some controlled dietary mayhem. I even baked, and ran our famous, long-standing family-favorite Wacky Devil's Food Cake with Wilton Icing through the calorie counter (Oh. Em. GEE!!!!! FOUR HUNDRED TWENTY calories per serving!) A momentous birthday requires a cake! A vegan cake, at that.

Well, we're Sicilian; we gather, we love one another, we eat. Took Mom to her favorite pizza place. Pasta ajo y olio, with about a pound of broccoli on it. Something about good pasta, drowning in decent olive oil, broccoli and chopped garlic is like letter from home, as Dawn's Momma likes to say. (Only thing missing were the chickpeas. Oh, well.) And, the fine folks at Mykonos in Danbury aren't shy about portions. But...we'd planned on the caloric firestorm. And we tracked it. All of it, to the best of our ability.

Saturday night, we went to Mark and Melissa's. Oh, boy, did we go to Mark and Melissa's. Pita; hummus; baba ganoush; olives; more pita; more treats; crudite; falafel...and all tracked, again. And, a lovely time was had by all and sundry.

Sunday morning, coffee with Rick, Jen and Danielle. We went back to Mom's, Aiden shared her lunch with her, and then we went back to the Wyndham, snacked on our provisions (seitan patties, tofu slices, etc) and swam in the motel pool for a minute until we went to Rick and Jen's for dinner. More middle eastern treats, spaghetti squash; traditional spaghetti; Rick's amazing sauce (sauce is RED, gravy is BROWN) and salad. I was not going to weigh/measure portions. In someone else's house, one simply does not behave that way. I'm a good enough judge to be able to 'eyeball it.' Another lovely time was had by all and sundry. Again.

May I add, here, that our family had been specifically attentive to our vegan choice: reading labels, asking suppliers, and making sure our lifestyle was respected. WITHOUT there being any of the joke-making and snarkiness that people expect of vegan/non-vegan gatherings. That's love.

Monday morning, we awoke to snow, sleet, barfy roads. But, we needed to get back to the bosom of our hearth, so off we went; again, relying on our stores of pre-prepared goodies. No junk-food for us! Used to be I shopped at the dollar stores for as much junk as I could cram into a large box, plus pop and stuff to go with, when we went on road trips. Potato chips, tortilla chips, pretzels, peanut butter, Rock Star...all processed, all fat, sodium, sugar and chemical-laden. No more. Nuh-uh.

Then we woke up Tuesday, and stepped on the scales. Dawn had missed her traditional Sunday weigh-in, but...she'd lost 0.8 pounds. I went to the local VA CBOC on Wednesday and discovered I'd lost 0.7. Major? In the broad scheme, no. But, considering it was a lot of dining out, and that cake, I'd say we fared well against the madness.

And...another week passed. not much to say except that there was no rebound from all that bread, pasta and olive oil. In fact, we've shown consistent losses since. To the tune of 44.1 pounds lost, myself, since this started. Last weigh-in said I'm down to 210.3. (That's from a starting weight of 254.4.) Oi; what a weight off my shoulders. Literally.

Almost fifty pounds. That's about as much as Little Buddy Sunshine weighs. An elephant's heart weighs 44 pounds. A five-gallon bottle of water weighs 40 pounds. Think about that. I've been walking about, with around five gallons of water wrapped around me. Next time you're at the grocery store, lift a five-gallon jug o' water. Tell me how it feels. Because, in 5.9 pounds, I'll have lost that: 50 pounds.

So, here's the last pic, one taken who-knows-where, one taken at the VA CBOC, where I wear the same clothes, and step on the same scale, every week.

My pal Will says, "Wow, those eyeglasses are getting bigger and bigger!" I'd never thought of that. I've been looking at how far up my overalls buckles are going, how loose my trousers are getting, how many holes I've gone back, in my belt. I'm getting a little poochy under my chin, because the fat in my face is taking off and running away. I never thought to measure "inches" when I began, and I was absolutely ashamed of how I looked in the mirror, so I never took "beginning" swim trunk pics to illustrate the loss. Kinda sorry I didn't.

And, through this whole journey, I continue to praise my heavenly Father. I continue to thank my wife for inspiring me. I'm continually grateful to the 12 Steps and 12 Traditions of Alcoholics Anonymous, because this powerlessness is the same as my other powerlessness. It's merely a symptom. What we do to feed our addictions doesn't really matter. The fact is that we feed it. We need to hit the disease where it lives, and the 12&12 is, *in MY case,* the perfect weapon. That, faith in a loving Creator, and the love of a supportive family.

And, that's the last few weeks, condensed. Thanks for dropping in; thanks for reading. Be well; practice peace; see you at the next one!

2019-01-28T17:00:00.002-05:00

So, merrily bouncing along, doing the same thing I'd done two weeks ago, I GAINED three-tenths of a pound. Perdition catch my soul! Ah, heck, I knew i wasn't going to drop much, if anything, this week, because it's been a nutty week: dinner late every evening, and way too many calories left at the end of the day..all adds up to "weight gain." Oops. A whole .3 pounds. 4.8oz.

Am I looking at the noose? Am I self-shaming? Am I ready to throw it all away on a visit to Golden Corral?

No.

And, NO!

"Progress, not perfection;" and the practice of all the Principles in all my endeavors (Thanks, Allison!) As I once saw on an inspirational calendar, "It's not a stumbling block, it's a stepping stone." Or...a foundation stone!

Because, look: since the tail-end of September, yours truly has been engaged in the Battle of the Belt-notch, and I've gained FOUR notches! Yes, indeed, I used to have to PULLLLL to get my belt to hitch at the end hole. Now, I'm on the fifth hole back. Y'know those highly fashionable, railroad-pinstripe bib overalls of which I'm so fond? At the end of rollercoaster season, they were snug. And I'm not saying "merely binding;" I'm talking sausage-tight. (More on that, and rollercoasters, in a second.) Now feast your peepers:

Yeah; there's almost enough spare fabric to make a pair of bibs for Aiden. The tie-dyed shirt I'm wearing? It's stretched out to the shape of my old gut. My old gut and me...longtime acquaintances. "Friends?" Not so much. Oh, he came along with me on vacations and trips, to the pool, to the park, to Kings Island...but he was sort of a fifth wheel, you might say. My Mom would talk to HIM while addressing ME, up north when we went to visit. "You know, Steven, when your grandmother was alive, she'd say how your grandfather's physician would tell him that belly fat would be the death of him." From what I understand, it was. Massive heart attack at 56. Short trip to the Veterans Cemetery out on Long Island. Sadness. I never got to meet the guy. I'd say, "Yeah, Ma, I know, I know, I'm working on it..." My foot. The way I was working on it, if I'd been in charge of the Empire State Building, they'd STILL be working on it.

Then, summer rolls around to the Heartlands. Pool time, water park time. Arthritis water classes at the YMCA time. Putting on my trunks, I see my barrel-like gut hanging. And, I'm embarrassed, so I put on a tee shirt to cover it. Out of sight, out of mind, no? The one go-to shirt gets tighter and tighter, until I have another one. A larger one. Soon, any shirt I chose was snug. Screw it, I don't know any of these people at the Y; and oh, yeah, I wore my tee shirt to the water park, too. My 'embarrassment shirt.' They've all seen fat guys before. I'm just one more well-fed chunker. A chunker that wears slip-on shoes because he can't bend over and tie real shoes, and uses the excuse that his replaced toe-joint swells and becomes uncomfortable in real shoes (NOT so much of an excuse, but, hey, it's not all as bad as that.) He can't run and play with his grandson (arthritis notwithstanding) because taking a few running steps would have my heart pounding, my lungs burning, and diaphoresis in full "Holy Crap" mode."Chunker." Humorous, sick attempt at admitting I was one or two shades under "morbidly obese."

I'd mentioned roller coasters. Early on we'd gone to Kings Island. Darn near a graveyard, that day, we had our choice of 'coasters to thrill us. The Beast; Mystic Timbers; Backlot Stunt Coaster...then, the Flight of Fear. All dizzy and grinning from the previous three rides, we settle into those snug little cars, and watch as one rider ahead of us is approached by one...then two...then three ride attendants, attempting to a) get her lap belt on and b) get the securing bar down into position. One attendant, a girl, leans over and whispers to the patron, gives her the most sincere and apologetic look I've ever seen, and...in a huff, the girl climbs angrily out of the ride, and storms off in tears. She can't fit safely into the gondola to ride. There were snickers from some riders. And mortification from others. My heart was as still as a mortuary at midnight. I leaned over to Dawn: "Oh my hell, I don't know WHAT I'd do..."

Fast forward to the end of the season. Heading into Haunt Fest and Winter Fest, we want to burn the last of the ''shiny' off our gold passes, when...I can't get the safety bar down over my lap in Flight of Fear. One attendant tries; no go. Another attendant comes over. I'm starting to sweat. She pushes. She shoves. "On three, together," she says. "CLICK!"

I have never been so uncomfortable in my life. Not only was it mortifying to have to get two able-bodied teens to SHOVE me into my little coffin of an amusement ride, but I could barely breathe throughout the few seconds it takes to navigate the track. Dawn doesn't know it. Not yet. I was crying inside, and passed off the visible tears as "wind in my eyes." The rest of the season was similar. It had come to the point at which I'd have to suck in my gut to fit on everything we rode, except the Carousel. Where I'm sure the wooden horses shied sideways when they saw me coming.

But did I stop eating like a gavone? Nope. Like the addict I am, I ate to hide the pain, the self-loathing, the anger, the discomfort. "Hey, if *I* can eat this well, it means that I'm providing for the family I love." Right? No, really, right?

Wrong. *Food is not a reward.* We're not trained animals doing tricks. Our rewards lie elsewhere. But I'm not at the point of pain where getting better hurts less than staying sick. So, laying in bed at night, falling asleep, waking up, falling asleep, tossing, turning, sneaking downstairs for 'another little nip,' I engage in the old, self destructive behavior I've admitted to my Mom, my wife, my VA nutritionist and my VA physician. I've admitted it; I've taken the First Step: I admitted I was powerless. But, half steps, we are warned, avail us nothing. I had to admit that I was powerless AND that my life had become unmanageable. Finally, that visit to Dr Dhingra and the conversation with Dawn, back in September did it.On the 26th of September, 2018, I weighed exactly 254.4 pounds.

That's where the old Steve ends, and the new one begins. And, so what? I gained .03 pounds this past week. Ate, past 1900hrs a few times, accidentally sandbagged my calories until too late, and tried to consume them. Which, as I should remember, is a recipe for illness. DO NOT SLEEP ON YOUR CALORIES.

And, here I am; a little better for having done what I do, and moderately proud, immensely grateful. IMMENSELY grateful for a loving God, a beautiful wife, an incredible family.

Thanks for dropping in. Thanks for reading.

Be well; practice peace, and see you at the next one.

Hey, look on the bright side!

2019-01-18T14:56:00.000-05:00

Hm. This kind of "being a loser" is popping out all kinds of benefits!

I've dropped my 36.5 BMI to 31.6 BMI and gone from Class II to Class I Obesity in 114 Days. If I had weighed 25 more pounds, I'd have been "morbidly obese." In a few more pounds, I'll be merely "overweight." I mean, look at the obesity charts. Everything over 210 pounds in my height range is printed in "Screaming Orange," or shades thereof. Not good. Not good at all. I used to get pissy when people looked at my appreciable mass and say, "Gee; you don't LOOK vegan!" Now, I'm all, "Yeah, you're right; I'm a carb-slut." Or...WAS a carb-slut, that is. To my detriment.

I don't think I can reiterate it enough: find a plan that works for YOU. To paraphrase the Bible, "As for me and my house, we will follow MyFitnessPal." It works for us. We'd tried Atkins (almost killed one another over a piece of bread!) and Dawn's tried WeightWatchers (alone and with a pal) and had neither the weight-loss profile nor the longevity of success of our silly, free-for-NOTHIN' MyFitnessPal app, linked to our Garmin devices.

Now, if you're looking for plug-and-play, or "an easier, softer way," forget it. All recovery takes time, and if you're HONEST, we're in recovery, here. Our lives have become (to one extent or another) unmanageable, and we've a problem saying "No" to food. I mean, what's NOT to love about food? We can make it to our standards and it does everything we want, instantaneously. From hand to mouth, and BAM! We're happy. Or at peace. Or not pissed anymore. Or...name it. Same way addicts use drugs, same way drunks drink. It's not "how I feed my disease," it's that I, indeed, FEED it. And, while MFP is not a magic bullet, or an "Easy" button to push, the work done there is quite simple. One must needs do it, and be diligent about it, and it works.

I've been in a group for a while now that encourages mindful awareness. Conscious, conscientious decision-making. Remaining in the moment. HONEST rewards for HONEST gains. As of 26 September, 2018, I've been taking the "tools" with which I've been blessed and educated, and using them. What a surprise! They actually work!

Simple example: I'm laying in bed, wide awake, next to my sleeping, darling wife. Pre-9/23/18, I'd slink out of bed, visit the loo, mosey downstairs and look inside the old icebox. A double-doored, 33 cubic foot mother lode of calories! YAY, me! Hmmm...let's see: Last night's dinner leftovers? Nah, too new, someone may be planning on them for lunch in a few hours. The other night's leftovers? Sure, why not? Who's going to miss half a pound of cold mashed potatoes and a couple cups of vegan gravy? Wow, that stuff jiggles like pudding! I'll eat THAT with a spoon, and the potatoes with a little brown mustard...bowl of cereal for dessert. At zero-dark-thirty. That was PRE 9/26/2018. Now, I open up an app: Sacred Space, the daily prayer site run by the Irish Jesuits is a good one. Prayer, scripture, inspiration. All there, in one page, with MUSIC, too. Or "Alcoholics Anonymous," online. Or BibleGateway.com. Something. ANYTHING to get me out of a bad moment, and into a good one. God forbid I actually do the breathing exercises I've been shown. Anything that short-circuits my urge to go and eat is better than going and eating. Because I feel badly about cheating that @#$&! MyFitnessPal calorie tracker. You see, back in the beginning, I plugged in how much I weigh, how much I WANT to weigh, and some other info, and let the app tell me how many calories a day I'd need to consume, and how many steps I'd need to take to get there. And, I've grown accustomed to being brutally honest with that app. And, I'm glad. The results speak for themselves.

And, I'm still walking; no less than 2 miles a week. This week, it was after a noon AA meeting; and, because we tend to chat after a meeting, I was pushing my window a little, so going to the Mall was out. I headed to Atrium for their walking path. Which hadn't been plowed. So I went to the YMCA down the street from the Middletown VA CBOC. Which has no walking track. Dang. Now what? Here's what: walk outside! Why the hell not? We walked a 5K in 28-degree weather. It was only 38 degrees this particular day. Big difference. Look at the data on the bottom of the pic: UNDER 15 minutes/mile (by mere seconds, but...) which is better than my inside walking average.

And, my official weigh-in? 220#. For a total loss of 34.4# in 114 days. One third of a pound/day. 2.08 pounds/week. (Again, a shameful reminder of how "sleeping on your calories is quite blatantly akin to "sleeping with the enemy.")

So, I'd opened with "Look on the bright side." Let's do a fast tally.

Lower weight
Lower BMI
Higher life expectancy
Tighter bonds with my beautiful, Proverbs wife
More time spent outside with our sons and daughters
Stronger body (walking and even a small amount of jogging)
More fun (5k's are incredibly entertaining!)
Better sleep
Better quality sleep
Better lab results
Happier doctors
Inspired friends
Closer ties to my personal sobriety
Closer walk with God
Beating psoriatic, osteoarthritis and CPPD arthritis
Better overall feeling about what we eat.

There's a Step in AA which ends "...and practice these principles in all our affairs." It's true. Once I'd faced the fact that I'm an addictive-type eater, and worked the Steps against that addiction, life began to change. For the better. Is it easy? No. Progress takes work. Is it instantaneous? Again: no. Time takes time. I didn't get fat overnight, I won't get fit overnight. I have to do the work. But, I am. And it's fun, and worth it. Trust me.

Until next time, be well, practice peace and I'll see you at the next one.

A glimpse into the October Country

2019-01-14T10:59:00.000-05:00

Yeah, well. It happens to us all. I have to be honest, the last few weeks have been a roller coaster (and, we're not talking The Beast, or Mystic Timbers.) As almost any recovering addict can tell you, we all have a touch of clinical "something" running around inside our heads, whether we're making a stand against alcohol, drugs, gambling, food, or what-have-you. And, under stress, the monsters grow teeth and claws and LOUD friggin' voices. LOUD. And they hone their skills as ventriloquists. Yeah, apart from the voices inside our heads, voices from outside, voices from our past, come sneaking (like the Kool Aid Man bursting through a wall, or with all of the tact and poise of a rutting bull in a china shop) to make our days absolutely stellar and sparkly.

I'm not going to bore you with details. But I WILL say that I've seriously considered asking for a prescription of Zoloft or Paxil. And, at the very apogee of my agonies, Pastor Larry again visited the Book of Mark. Chapter 6, specifically, verses 40-52. Jesus was up on a hill, praying, and SAW his disciples straining against the wind. Now, here's a small bit of the history surrounding that particular event: Jesus had just finished feeding five thousand people with a couple of fish and some bread. Then, "constraining his disciples to get into the boat and sail ahead" to the other side of the sea," they hove to, and started the crossing. Galilee is about five miles wide, and eight miles long. "In the fourth watch," or at about 0300 hours, when they were "about halfway across," He noticed them. "Halfway across" (either way, 2.5 miles or 4 miles: YOU pick) and in the dark of night.

Let that soak in. Storm blowing mightily, rain, wind, darkness (and we have to assume that, for all His deity, Jesus was part human) exhaustion, and He SAW his guys struggling.

"He came toward them, walking on the water...saying 'Take courage, it is I, be not afraid.'"

"Be not afraid." As Pastor Larry asks, and as I may have asked, before, who's in YOUR boat? Who calms YOUR storm? After you've punched the wall, flipped a table, kicked the stuffed animal across the room, to whom do YOU turn for comfort, solace, peace? The scratch-off? The fork? The bottle?

Do you pray? Pastor John once said how praying, sometimes, is hard. When it's all in a flat spin, it's hard to muster up the words. "My Lord and my God" is a prayer. It acknowledges Jesus' position in our lives, and His deity, his supremacy. Hang your head, cross your arms over your sobbing chest, and say it: my Lord and my God. Breathe deep, let it sink in and take root. KNOW that He is God, and He's in your boat, in your corner, hanging onto your shoulder as you suffer, telling you, "Be not afraid."

By way of this prelude, I make an admission: After a certain "voice from the past" rattled my cage, I was reaching. That icebox looked like Vegas and I had a pocket full of cash. The wine rack was a temptation, and I know where the corkscrew hides.

I also have my sponsor's phone number. I have the Big Book, the 12 & 12, the Bible, a meeting app, and my beautiful, wonderful, understanding wife. Upon whose breast I've cried, often. A couple of times this week, in fact. But I don't need to pick up. Thank you, Butch, for those helpful words: "No matter what comes down around you, DON'T PICK UP."

I didn't pick up. Anything. Nothing bad, anyway. Not even food. I did what I do most often when it's touch-and-go. I internalized, slept poorly, and, after a while, remembered who's in my "boat." My Lord, and my God.

That said, not having stuffed my rage and anxiety, I ditched 2.2 pounds, after all. Not so bad. Look:

Years, it's been. Years, that I've been in group counseling with a bunch of fine gentlemen. And finally, I'm catching on. Breathe deep, relax, and bask in the serenity, courage and wisdom I've prayed for (and received) all these years.

Therein, the lesson is: settle in. It's going to happen: good stuff, not-so-good stuff, stuff that makes us happy, unhappy, confident, confused. Be not afraid; accept that a power greater than yourself is in charge. He's got this. He's got YOU, no matter how big or small your problems are. He will bring you through it, and guide you to the wash racks to hose off the mud and slime when you're done. (Reference to the old days, when the wash racks were the last stop before the motor pool. When you'd hit the wash racks, you KNEW you were finally home.)

Another week or two, another pound or two. It's all good. And, it's progress. And, a reminder that our addictions and temptations needn't be the pitfalls they used to be. Tell the voices in your head to shut up; tell the ones on the phone that you're hanging up, now, and to handle their own crap. Sadly bid adieu to the ones that have been requisitioning your time but doing nothing with the answers they've sought. Eat your calories (sandbagging does nothing for weight loss) and no more than your calories (because overeating/stuffing doesn't help, either!) and stay busy. Slow and steady. Be not afraid.

Be not afraid; He is with you.

Write that on your mirror. Make a post-it and stick it to your screen. Write it on your hand. It's good to remember. And, btw, you can always contact me and I'll remind you. It does us all well, to stick together.

So, until next time: Be well; practice peace; see you at the next one.

2019-01-04T11:15:00.000-05:00

Well, ladies, gentlemen and off-planet visitors, I survived the major portion of the holidays with a LOSS! Yippee! And, STILL, I'm not hungry or feeling deprived. Dawn and I were out, taking care of stuff and we dropped into the Middletown Veterans Administration CBOC, and I stepped on the OFFICIAL scale, and...

And, that ain't hay. I'm hitting an average of 2.3 pounds per week, lost. And walking more, I've ditched the use of my blue "H" tag, and only use it when Mother is in the car. Or, I drop her at the door, and park where I will, then bring the car back around when it's time to leave. I CAN walk, so I DO. (Plus, I'm not going to 'get my steps' if I don't walk. And, Dawn and I have been more regular visitors to the YMCA in Springboro. Village People were right: it IS fun to go to the YMCA. Aiden has basketball practice and games; his Dad gets to coach and play; we get to power-walk and use the machines. Boo-yah!

But, THIS week...despite my BEST distance measured...despite my most concerted efforts...

I gained. 0.9 pound. Only 9/10ths, but, it's a GAIN! Oh, my hell, the disappointment. PISSED! "How the he** did this HAPPEN?!?"

Dawn asked that same thing, quietly: "What did you do, what HAVE you been doing?"

And, it came to me. It hit me like a load of cold mashed potatoes in my lap.

I 'game the system.' I eat a meager breakfast. I eat a meager lunch. This way, if we have something really nice and tasty for dinner, I can live large. Oh, yeah, I still have 1500 calories, and it's 19:00!!! Uh huh. And I consume those calories and...

I sleep on them. Which is exactly how I got FAT in the first place. Remember back in August, I was eating dinner, then getting up and eating dinner SECONDS. Then, as I put up Dawn's lunch, I would snack here and there. Then I'd have another snack, watching TV. Then we'd go to bed. I'd sleep a while, get up to read the paper (because I'd set a bad precedent of 'needful eating') and eat MORE dinner. To the point of, "Oh, just one bowl of..." got to be "Heck, there's no sense in putting THAT back in the icebox." So, I'd polish off a container of pasta, or half a loaf of bread with olive oil and nootch (*nutritional yeast) and maybe half a pound of grapes, or a couple of bowls of cereal. No, seriously, look back: it's documented. I think. If not, it is, now. And, then...I'd wash the dishes and dry them, so Dawn wouldn't see how many dishes I'd dirtied in the middle of the night. (A little bit of the old addict coming out, eh?) Thereafter, I'd go back to bed, grunting and groaning silently, like an overstuffed feeder pig. Not pretty. And, true to my alcoholic nature, I'd lay there in guilt.

Which is exactly what's happened in the last few weeks. Even though I'm under my Garmin and MyFitnessPal calorie levels, and I'm moving, and walking, and DOING more...I'm not happy. I gained.

Now, my princess is a diet tech (registered.) She had warned me about 'saving calories' and it catching up to bite me in the butt. Did I listen? Noooooo. Me and my big ideas, eh? Then, she asks how much I poured on, and I tell her: just under a pound. To which my pretty baby shakes her head in disgust. See, she's battled self-image and weight all her life (bullying, derision and teasing all do that to a kid.) She's not DISGUSTED disgusted. Just a little laughably tweaked, because 9/10 of a pound isn't a whole lot of anything, in the long run. It's a stepping stone, not a stumbling block. A page, not a chapter. An eye-opener.

Consider my eyes opened. Dawn had asked if I had any resolutions for the year. I didn't.

Now, I do. "To practice these principles in all my endeavors." Follow the steps. ALL of them. It's all good. God is good, all the time. Elsewise I wouldn't be celebrating another birthday, today. Yessir-ee-Bob, I'm 29 years clean and sober by the grace of God. My AA Birthday. Until next time...

Be well; practice peace, and I'll see you at the next one.

2018-12-19T22:58:00.000-05:00

Hey; how was YOUR week? No, really, I'd like to hear.

Too often, I'm over-engaged with how *I'm* doing, what *I'm* feeling. I forget that I have two ears and only ONE mouth for a reason. It would be nice to hear from you, my readers, once in a while. Truth be told, it's been a turbulent month; some personal issues, some church issues, and, in full accordance with my addictive nature, I internalize and have the tendency to flip my $#!t, all up inside my head. And, while sticking to my allotted 2,000 calories/day (plus extra exercise-earned ones) I've noticed that I binge-eat the last calories of the day. So, a little distracting news would be nice.

I was at a Big Book meeting a while ago, and, inspired by the show of hands of those "willing and able to sponsor a fellow sufferer," I approached a gentleman in regards to my program. We hit it off well. I began, in earnest, to read both the 12 and 12, and the Big Book. I began to read and consider the Little Red Book. It was made glaringly clear that the troubles I'd been internalizing are not my fault, not my circus, not my monkeys. God has granted me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Now, it's up to me to embrace that serenity, courage and wisdom, and the only way I can do that is through constant contact with AA, my sponsor and my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

I recently suggested that someone I know check out the Tables; not make any admissions of powerlessness, just listen. Give it a week...a month...a season? If nothing else, the Steps and Traditions are a pretty good set of rules by which to live. I was told that the Program doesn't work. Maybe I misunderstood what was said. Maybe the heated quality of the conversation changed the way the words sounded. But I heard "It just doesn't work." I was saddened. Almost to tears. As if I'd been called a liar. But then I remembered what Julie P once told me: "When the time isn't right, nothing you can say is helpful. When the time IS right, anything you can say will be helpful."

I guess I have to wait until the right time. Meanwhile, I work all my programs, all my addiction recovery efforts the same way. I keep telling myself that "If I stray, I'll die." Oh, to be sure, I'm headed toward a dirt-nap someday. We all are. But I can control (to some degree) whether it's with dignity or ignominy. I can die sober, or I can clean. I can die straight, or high. I can die of any of a bazillion ineluctable causes, or I can die from morbid obesity. I'll hedge on the side of "ineluctability." Way less predictable, way more fun.

* * * * *

I don't know whether I mentioned it before or not, but if you're vegan, Kroger has a swell couple of vegan protein powders for us. They come in chocolate (EXCELLENT when blended with a banana and a pinch of cinnamon) and vanilla (also excellent with a banana, and/or some frozen berries.) They're sold in the Supplements section, with the rest of the milk-based protein powders. It's important to maintain proper nutrition while in the weight-loss process. If you exercise and don't replace protein, your body will cannibalize your muscle mass, and thereby weaken you. Also, you'll cannibalize calcium stores. Work with your family doctor (I work with my civilian MD, my VA MD and two rheumatologists to make sure my body isn't going into a flat spin.)

No official 5K's this week. I have done one unofficial one, walking the track at the Coffman Family YMCA (it IS fun to play at the YMCA!) and a couple 2-milers on the track, as well. We even went out to dinner with some super friends, Pam and Rick, and I ate like there was a feedbag on my face. Still, when I stepped on the scale this week, I'd lost. As a matter of fact, I had lunch out with my sponsor, too, and was a little surprised that I'd lost weight this week. Here: have a look.

Down another 1.2#, for a total of 29.3#.

This keeps up, I'll have lost over thirty pounds by Christmas. I called my Mom this week, back in Connecticut. She got to telling me, every time I showed up, "Please! If you love me, PLEASE, Darling, lose that belly fat! Your heart...oh, what it's doing to your heart." Well, ladies and gents, the SHOCK in her voice when I was able to tell her that I was down almost thirty pounds! Oh, the happiness. She lost one son to heart disease; she needn't lose another. How nice it was to make my Mom that happy.

So, that's it from the little tri-level in the country. If something here inspires you, run with it. If it angers you, let me know why. If I was going to gently suggest any takeaways, they would be:

1) Don't internalize. SHARE.

2) Pray (The Serenity Prayer works well)

3) Anything you do to change for the better is positivity in motion

Questions? Comments? Exhortations? Bring them on! I'd love to hear from you. And...

Be well; practice peace; I'll see you at the next one.

...and, when we were wrong, we promptly admitted it.

2018-12-17T22:06:00.000-05:00

Another weigh-in completed. 228.2#. Same clothes, same scale. No 5K's this week. No one-milers. Just working the program. Being conscientious.

I DO have to confess, however. "Tell on myself," as we say around the Tables. One night this week, I got up inside my head, and binged. I ate after I'd closed my food diary. Went back to the same watering hole: got out of bed, went downstairs and grabbed the newspaper, and ate, almost right out of the refrigerator. I DID, however, have the sense to measure my gluttony, and as soon as Dawn woke up the next day, I spilled the beans. I told her everything. And entered my food consumption into my food diary. Got my "white chip," as it were.

And went RIGHT back to counting my calories again. And walking the malls. Because one slip doesn't spell failure.

So, back into it, we go. Because, as the Tenth Step of Alcoholics Anonymous (and, pretty much every other step-based fellowship of recovery) advises, "...and when we were wrong, promptly admitted it." (More on the Steps, in a bit.)

I was kinda "NPO" for my periodontal cleaning, Friday. I was REALLY "NPO" for my colonoscopy, Monday (TMI? I think not. There's nothing to be afraid of, getting a colonoscopy. Simple, death-defying act, to detect one of the slowest-growing, most easily treated cancers. A cancer that ravaged my Dad for two decades. I did it and I'm glad: even the "suspicious areas" which HAD been evident are now cleared up, thank you, Jesus!) Hence, the following photograph:

Yes; that says "226.1." Meaning a 26.1# loss since September 28th. Clear fluids for 24 hours and purgative medications for the next 12 makes for a light weigh-in. BAM! Total loss for the last two weigh-ins? 6.3#.

Now, rest assured, there have been NO "NPO" holidays for this blogger since the last one. I like food. I like to eat. A LOT. But, again, I've come to realize that what I eat, and when I eat it, are very important factors. Oh, yeah: Performance-enhancing substances don't hurt, either.

That's right. Water. Benefits: hydration, removal of toxins from the body, and beats the hell out of energy drinks and electrolyte replacers, when consumed in conjunction with a proper diet.and other factors. Side effects? Habit-forming. Easy to sneak. Readily available. And, all in all? I'm NOT hungry at all. At all. As a matter of fact, in discussing my lab work with my VA rheumatologist, she said I've a few indicators that lean toward the "remarkable" end of the spectrum. I SHOULD be suffering from a few more symptoms of the three (yeah, THREE, count 'em) types of arthritis with which I've been diagnosed. But, a plant-based diet appears to have countered those nasties.

Pretty good two weeks, I'd say. I didn't walk as much; but the other day I pulled a 5K practice run at the gym; tonight, I did two miles. Earned enough calories to treat myself to a bowl of popcorn. Did you know that air-popped popcorn is only 31 calories a cup? That means a bowl of popcorn comes in at about 270 calories. Kinda steep for a snack, but, when I've met or exceeded all my nutritional requirements for the day, and STILL have over 700 calories left on my bindle... 270 calories isn't really that bad at all.

*sigh* Life is grand.

That does it for this sitting. It's Monday night; my unofficial weight this morning was 219 and change. Yes, I've broken (again, unofficially) the 220# barrier for the first time in almost 6 years. God is good; I'm inspired, I'm happy, getting more healthy, and feeling good about food choices for the first time in a very long time.

Be well; practice peace, and I'll see you at the next one.

Thanksgiving and more

2018-12-03T12:19:00.001-05:00

Well, then! Happy belated Thanksgiving!

We had a super day. I weighed in on November 21st to discover my weight has dropped, officially, to 232 pounds: down 2.7 pounds for the week, and a total loss of 22.4 pounds. And that was before the Big Day.

On Wednesday, a bunch of us veterans and special guests had got together for an incredible meal, presented by one of our Coast Guard brothers. A fish fry. Robin fishes far and wide, and brought in pike, walleye, bluegill... There were deep-fried mushrooms and hand-cut onion rings, and all sorts of goodies. For the Princess and me, Robin graciously pre-prepared the vegan goodies, all before the fish. Good-hearted man, he is.

Now, that was Wednesday. We'd winced at that. "If this is the "pre-game show," what's Thanksgiving going to look like?"

Thanksgiving looked like this: The alarm woke us at about 0630. We dressed warmly, sucked down a fast protein shake, broke out our hand warmers, and Dean brought us down to the Miamisburg Turkey Trot.

It was Aiden's first "on-foot" event. (He'd done the Jingle Bell Run in 2012, in a stroller. Hey, at 2 years old, he didn't want to pass up and embarrass his old Papi.) He even got the race bib, the 'brandanna,' and the official Turkey Trot hoodie. Cute kid. Takes after his Mommy, Dawn. We finished the event, a one-mile speed-walk, and then Dean brought us home, so we could face the oven and the stove. I never changed out of my sweats; too much to do: oven-roast the brussels sprouts, boil up the vegan "dirty" mashed potatoes (recipe courtesy of our boy, Steven) and warm up the vegan focaccia and and other goodies. Dawn had already baked the pumpkin-based brownies (fresh pumpkin from #kleathers) and I'd baked a stupendous veggie Wellington (OMG!!!!) Sis had made the vegan dressing and other sides: the famous Cheese Ball and Pumpkin Roll; Dean and Scarlett brought their specialties. The rest of the family had their turkey and pies. (I don't even apologize for not being excited about non-vegan food. It just doesn't blow my skirt up anymore.) And, a splendid time was had by all. Then Nichole, Dyllan and Amelia went to their other family gatherings; Lauren and Joe to theirs. By 4:00 or so, desserts eaten and last glasses almost drained, the house was cooling down and becoming quiet. I went out to vacuum the car and start packing; filled the cooler and...bang, off to Connecticut.

We drove for five hours. Stopped in Pennsy for the night and slept like the dead. An early wake-up, again, and the road beckoned. By about 2:00, we were knocking on Mom's door: "Surprise, Ma! We were in the neighborhood, and..."

We met up with Mark and Melissa, then took off for dinner at one of Mom's favorite places, Mykonos in Danbury. (Slippery slope, eating out!) We shared a lovely meal, hugged and kissed, then...off to the Danbury Fair Mall. Yes, the mall. See, Dawn had met or exceeded her MyFitnessPal steps challenge for over 90 days at that point. I wasn't one to jack that up. So, two miles in the mall, like salmon swimming against human rapids, in Black Friday crowds. LMAO! We should have got extra steps for that, I tell ya!

Next morning, coffee with my niece Jen, ALL in the dark, as it were; on the DL. See, it was the weekend of her hubby, Rick's big birthday. He could NOT know we were onsite until zero hour. Then back to Mom's for a lunch date: Augie's, another favorite place she and Dad used to frequent. (See? ANOTHER restaurant meal. Try keeping track of THOSE calories, accurately!) Then, my brother quips, "Hey, Nicholas is off at Stewie's, playing 'Santa Claus' for the kiddies..." Well, here's the thing: YEARS ago, Nicholas planted the seed of an idea in my head, that turned into my having been a clown for over 30 years. I'd only seen Nicholas ONE other time, between that fateful first meeting, and now. I can assure you, I cried on Santa's shoulder, in gratitude. AND, got a nice family pic, to boot!

Mark, my younger brother, and his wife, Melissa, are on the left. Nicholas towers over (who DOESN'T tower over Mom?) and Mom in the center. Dawn and me on the right. Then, to the mall again. Yeah, all that "road food," all that sitting in the car...not good. Time for another two mile quick-step. After that, a short nap at the motel, and off to Rick's party. It was a busy night: talking with all those people who love Rick and Jennifer so well; talking with Danielle and Natalie's friends who were SO interested in my Kennedy Valve fire hydrant photo collection. There was quite enough incredible, delicious vegan food for us to enjoy, much to the diligence and compassion of Jennifer. (LOTS of MyFitnessPal tracking, there!) I didn't get ANY pictures of our families together, much to my chagrin. But, I caught Rick telling a story:

And, then: the trip back to Ohio. We'd done the trip to the Nutmeg State in two legs; the trip back? One shot. Several long, dreary hours in the car. During which we laughed, giggled, recounted the weekend, solved the world's troubles, and enjoyed the company of our lifemates. See, the anniversary date was looming: we needed to make plans for that.

Sunday night, back in the loving bosom of our family, we relaxed. Then Dawn and I hit the Leslie Sansone video, and worked out for half an hour, to keep that steps-goal streak running. Then, we looked at that scale with fear in our eyes. Sunday is Dawn's official weigh-in day. Mine, being Wednesday, makes our scale "unofficial." She stepped carefully thereupon, and...

...had LOST WEIGHT! Holiday munching, sedentary (non-workout, except for power-walking and "Leslie time") and she'd lost. See? We're not "dieting!" We're MONITORING our intake, and MOVING. And, little by little...losing!

I'm fond of doing my "unofficial weights" in the morning. So, Monday *I* stepped on the scale. By gum, it showed a loss! 1.7 pounds down. How the...? Because I can assure you, Brothers and Sisters, Vegetable Wellington is NOT a fat-free food. Steven's "dirty" mashed potatoes are NOT carb-friendly. But...monitoring the intake, and staying within the prescribed guidelines makes a difference. Really. I'm reminded of something I see on the walls of pretty much every Meeting place I've ever had the pleasure to have visited. It's a prescription pad reproduction written by a certain Robert Holbrook Smith: "Trust God; Clean House; Help others."

So: I'm trusting God to help me through the weak places in my programs (you DO remember that I'm in recovery.) I'm cleaning house (eliminating gratuitous calories, especially in the form of added sugars and (God help me!) soda pop. And, if this blog can do anything, I hope it inspires others to do something they've been meaning to do, but felt unable.

YOU. *ARE.* ABLE!

YOU. ARE. *ENOUGH.*

Trust. You can do it. If anyone had told me in September that I'd be losing over 20 pounds before Christmas, I'd have laughed in your face. Now, I'm still laughing, make no mistake. But it's because I can see my feet without pulling my gut in. Wow; feet are unattractive. LMAO!

So; that was like, two weeks ago. And, in the meanwhile, I hopped onto the VA scale again. On November 28th, I weighed 232 pounds. Even after the 'whiplash' week, I weighed 2 pounds less. What. The HECK!!! Yeah, I hear you: "YOU did it, YOU Lost the weight!"

True: it's MY mouth, MY fork, MY choices, MY Garmin, MY MyFitnessPal.

But it's *MY God* who is rescuing me from my addiction to food. It's MY savior that's making the difficult choices a piece of (metaphoric, vegan) cake. I go to church once a week; I attend bible study once a week. Both Pastor Ed and Pastor Larry bring His word to life in such a way as it applies to my existence in a clear and colorful, appropriate way. The lessons of gratitude, sharing, mission of helpfulness, unconditional love...it's hard to hear, and NOT share. Praise God.

And, speaking of praising and thanking an AWESOME God, I did happen to mention our anniversary, no? Dawn and me. Sixteen years of crazy, happy love. And, for our anniversary celebration? The Jingle Bell 5K. We did that run for our anniversary in 2012, as well. I trained/prepared myself for it by doing a 5k at the Towne Mall earlier last week, and at the Dayton Mall, as well. Funny thing, I kept remembering back to early October, when Dawn convinced me that we should do ONE MILE around Roscoe Roof park, one Sunday. And I was GASPING. If I'd had more time, I could have pushed those 5k's to maybe 6k...7k?

Yes, another 5K. In 40 degree weather. In the rain. In (non-aerodynamic) ponchos. NOT my very best time. As a matter of fact, ten minutes behind Dawn's finish. But, I came in fifth in my division. (Out of only FIVE guys, but hey! I got my name on a board. LOL!) And we raised about $70 for the Arthritis Foundation. Neither feats being barn-burners, but...we DID it. I did it. I am off the couch, I was out from in front of the boob tube. Even these small things are praiseworthy, if you know Who to praise. And, Psalms 9:1 is a perfect place to start:

"I will give thanks to You, oh Lord, with all my heart; I will tell of all Your wondrous deeds!"

Please consider this an invitation to share in the season of joy and praise, the season of giving thanks. If I had to make a list of things for which I'm thankful, I'd break the internet. And I'm not a quarter bright, so 'remembering' isn't a strong suit in my head. I'll just start at the start, and add on as I go. The ending? None in sight. The joy is in the journey, and the journey? Guided by God. I'm thinking that if I wanna fill my mouth, it should be with thanks and praise. Zero calories; maximum benefits.

Be well; practice peace, and I'll see you at the next one.

Another week; another 3.7 pounds.

2018-11-21T08:09:00.000-05:00

Another week; another 3.7 pounds. Yes: 3.7. I don't believe it myself. Because, it's gotten colder, and I haven't pounded the pavement as diligently as I should have. And Dawn's morning soiree with Leslie Sansone KILLS my feet and knees.

But, we DID hit the DAV 5K in Cincinnati this past weekend. Hit it hard (for an old guy with crap-ola knees and feet.)

Look at those stats: 3.5 miles in 53:16. According to the Garmin GPS and internal timer, that averages out to 15:26/mile. For a guy who has lost count of the knee surgeries, platelet therapy, hyaluronic acid injections, the joint replacement
y mas, y mas, y mas...I think that's pretty good. Burning up the world? No. Heating up MY corner of it? Yeah. As I've said before, any time off my (_)_) is better than the time I'd spent ON it.

Well: recently I had an interesting interchange with my first cousin (once removed.) Google says I can call him my nephew, even though... Anyway, Dr Inesta and I agree on the protein/fiber intake considerations, the value of what I put in my body...because EVERYTHING has 'value.' Do I want top fuel, or watered-down gas? If I'm going to last a while, without the intervention of a coronary surgeon, I'd better go for the hi-test.

And this weekend, I (obsessively) hopped on the scale. And lost weight Saturday. Lost weight Sunday. Lost weight this morning. Meanwhile, I was putting my pills together for the week, and doing my weekly Methotrexate injection, listening to John Pinette, God rest his soul. John Pinnette, who made fun of overeating, being "a big boy," of "liking to EAT!" First time I'd heard his monologue, I almost wet myself.

Then, today, I'm watching him joke about "YOU EAT LIKE FREE WILLY" and I was sad. I used to have the reputation of "Human garbage can." Or "The family waste disposal." The answer to "What's your favorite meal?" was "SECONDS, dammit!" Often, I've heard, "You'd eat crap if there was sauce and cheese on it!" Only to say something stupid like, "Well, if you got good BREAD to go with it..."

Suicide. Spoonful by spoonful. Forkful by savory forkful. A bite here, a taste, there. Those aren't coffin nails sealing my fate: they're CALORIES. Tappity-tap-tap. Tap. Tap! (No Toon can resist the old "Shave and a haircut" routine...)

I was amazed this morning when I broke 225#. 225.8#, to put a finer point on it. With the proper math applied, that's an adjusted (official, CBOC weight) of 230.2#. Without Allison Sweeny in her plunge-cut dress crowing about it. Without Richard Simmons dealing me a meal. Without Dr Phil analyzing it, or Gillian McKeith waving a bedpan under my nose, scolding me about 'shapes.' (Yes, she does that. Ew.) No Weight Watchers. No "plans." You know what's working? Careful application of certain life rules. Stewardship being one. Don't spend more than you've earned; don't waste your expenditure on trinkets.

I'm "blessed with" 2000 calories per day. If I bust my hump and beat my 7,000 step goal, or do cardio, or something completely insane like move my butt more than somewhat, I may earn a couple hundred more. So, eat maybe a seitan and peppers and onions burrito for breakfast: 580 calories. A cup of Moondrop grapes as a snack: 120 calories. Maybe a tofu sandwich on an couple pieces of whole wheat bread for lunch; some protein shake: 440 calories. That leaves me at just under 1,000 calories for snacks and dinner. Boo-YAH!

This is me, on Sunday, when I found out that my "go-to-meetin'" clothes had gotten way too big. How about that? I've not been able to button this jacket in years. YEARS. I've begun. Now, to continue. And then? Keep going.

That's it for last week (Yeah, I slacked off.) Be well; practice peace, and I'll see you at the next one.

If you want to change the world, start by making your bed...

2018-11-07T11:49:00.000-05:00

It's Wednesday. And, it's been forty days. Noah was in the rain for 40 days. Jesus was in the desert for that long. In the bible, the number forty is said to represent trial. I don't know. What I DO know is that I've consumed a LOT of water. A lot. Way more than I used to. I've added less sugar to my coffee and tea. Maybe 5 half-teaspoons over the last 40 days. Used WAY less olive oil, and MEASURED it (not the famous Rachel Ray "zhuzh" where a tablespoon becomes a pint.)

I used to be 'passionate' about cooking. Now, I'm getting...meticulous. Paying close attention to the additions of ingredients, and portions. Portion control: the bane of my existence, heretofore. "One cup of pasta? ONE CUP? Why dirty the plate? One cup of pasta is what I TASTE, when I'm cooking!" That was MY credo. Now...one cup of pasta looks pretty danged good. Pret-ty danged good. And ya know what? I'm vegan! I can eat...SALADS! Man alive, you can eat a wheelbarrow full of salad, before calories start piling up.Just watch your dressings.

So, last week, after a fashion, we decided to bite the bullet and get the medical forms completed. Yes, THOSE forms: for the YMCA fitness program. Our doctors filled out their forms, we filled out our forms, and we went for the training session. Then, we signed into ActivTrax, which guides us through an increasing-intensity workout, week after week. We just went for the first one, yesterday, and granted, it was a light-weight one. Low weights. Low reps. Don't kill y'self, you have time.

And, this is me on the fly machine, near the end of the workout.

No, I wasn't all sweaty. No, there weren't any gasps, and outbursts of breathlessness. And no, I didn't strut like a bantam rooster when I was finished. It was fun. It was exciting. I'm humbled. And we're ready, Dawn and I, to hit this thing, face on. As with the DAV 5K coming up, Saturday, we're quietly giddy. We've trained, we've walked, we've gotten our heads right with it. We're not sprinting for 5 clicks. We're not doing this "hell-for-leather." I have my phone loaded with "marching beat" rock music; it's a military thing. I love walking to that beat. Dawn just does it in her head. LOL, she's got a different drum she hears. We expect to take about 45 minutes to walk this thing. That's what my last 5k was, more or less. Six years ago. Those were the "No Butts About It" colon cancer 5K and the "Jingle Bell Run" arthritis 5K.

Those events were before knee surgery. And then foot surgery/joint replacement. And then *more* knee surgery. And *another* foot surgery. And cervical spinal stenosis. And psoriatic arthritis. They were also before the 254 pound shocker which led to me taking the fat-(_)_) bull by the horns: self-injected methotrexate and doubling up my Celebrex, eating food as FUEL, not a drug. Taking better care of the body God blessed me with.

I'm going to die. It's a fact. But I needn't rush things. When I went vegan, I said it was for health: I'd married a lovely, incredible, wonderful and appreciably younger girl. I had said that I wanted to last at least as long as her, and my lab work didn't indicate that to be possible, if I kept on the way I was going. So, I went "plant-based." People look at me (and the BIG shadow I cast) and say, "Wow, you don't LOOK vegan! Vegans are supposed to be skinny....oops." Yeah, because somewhere along the way, pasta became the other food group. Fried stuff became another food group (but it's fried in OLIVE OIL!) "Excess" became the norm. Crap, Oreo's are vegan. Potato chips are vegan. I took a perverse pleasure in taking so-called "good for you" foods and turning them into carnival fare. "But it's STILL VEGAN!" Big deal. When I ran these items through MyFitnessPal, I almost croaked. I heard a whisper:

Time. To. Grow. Up.

My cousin the Doctor will tell you. "Food is FUEL." And, we're top-fuel dragsters, brothers and sisters. We require the GOOD stuff to operate. The good stuff, not junk food, not fast food. Now, is ONE fuel the best for everyone? No, and again, NO. (And I'm going to catch hell from the anarchist vegans for this, but:) Find what works for you: animal-based, plant-based, keto, paleo...you decide. All I can tell you for sure is that, even doing it incorrectly, plant-based works for me. And...my family, without our browbeating them to death over eating meat vs eating plants, have slowly come to appreciate the taste, feel and benefits of some of my recipes. Our older boy LOVES my seitan nuggets, and ASKS for them on holidays, in lieu of animal parts. My MIL has gotten real schmaltzy with the plant-based chili, stews and soups. When the newspaper comes out with recipes, or the food magazines arrive, she's all, "Help me make this vegan!" We're making inroads, good people. But again, that's just us.

I've heard it said that if you want to change the world, start by making your bed. I do that. I make my bed, every day, and help our little boy, Aiden make his (okay, sometimes we forget his, for playing and getting off to school.) One thing has been accomplished, and no matter WHAT kind of day you've had, you have a nice, made bed to flop into. Little steps. Same with your food. Look at the makeup of it. Can you pronounce the ingredients? (Okay, let's remember that vitamin names are tongue-twisters, I'll grant you that.) Do you REALLY want to waste your (hypothetical) 2000 calories on Circus Peanuts? Red vine licorice? A bag of fries from that chicken place? I've learned how not to. And soda pop! Dayummmmm! There are a whole lot of empty calories in that stuff! Food is FUEL!! Do you put sawdust and water and questionable stuff into your gas tank? I didn't think so. Treat your living body the same way, if not better.

I'm living proof that one needn't be a fitness guru, be in top form to get healthier. Trust me, if you saw my x-rays and CT scans and MRI's, and the attendant reports, you'd gasp. Hell, *I* do. But, I'm better off than a lot of folks I know. I can still get out there and walk. I can still lift and press and such. I can hang out in the therapy pool. I won't back down, and neither should you.

Take the step. Make your metaphorical bed. This week's official weigh-in was 238.4#; official weight loss is 16#. (Somewhere, I'd miscalculated. I'm thinking it's between "naked weight" and "clothed weight." I'll get it right, someday. LMAO!)

Be well; practice peace, and I'll see you at the next one.

By the way, please take a minute to consider donating to the DAV 5K; the money goes to support over one million disabled American veterans per year. And, this Saturday, I'm plant-strong for my disabled brothers and sisters.

Please support DAV

http://donate.dav.org/site/R?i=EgDR1McDUdA5jOX89BsKkw

I DON'T DO TRICKS FOR FOOD!

2018-10-31T10:13:00.001-04:00

I took my wedding band off, the other day. Waved it in Dawn's face. "So? You're leaving me?" she asked. I replied, "You don't get it. Last time I had x-rays, they said to take it off. I couldn't."

I couldn't take my wedding band off. My gut is fat. My moobs are fat. My face is fat. My HANDS are fat. But...I was able to remove the most precious piece of jewelry I've ever owned, as a function of having taken the advice of the girl whose love it represents. (You KNOW that the roundness of the gold band describes the eternity of love, right?) Uncanny.

Another thing? I sleep better. I SLEEP! With small exception (nocturnal pit-stops, LOL!) I sleep all night long. My Garmin tracks that. Used to be, I'd go to bed (after playing online word games and card games and following stream-of-consciousness nonsense threads for a good portion of the night) and sleep for oh, maybe an hour. Then I'd go downstairs, open the dishwasher so the dishes would be dry, and start reading the paper. Of course, you can't READ without EATING, right? A bunch of grapes. Or an apple. Or a banana. Or some peanuts. Or a jelly sammich. Maybe (usually) all of them; it's only little taste. Putting the jelly back into the icebox, I notice there's some spaghetti in there, behind the pickles. Crap, no sauce. Well, there's olive oil and nootch (WHAT? I haven't mentioned nootch before? Later. Gimme a sec.) And, oh, yeah, PICKLES! And, an hour or two later, I waddle my overstuffed butt back upstairs. And sleep fitfully, on and off, until daybreak.

You think I'm kidding. Don't you? I'm not. I'll make this admission more than once, before I die. I need to, because...my name is Steve, and by the Grace of God, by the Power of the Holy Spirit, and the shed blood of the Lamb of God, I am a GRATEFUL recovering addict.

And all I've done is switch substances. And, what the heck, let's face it: food is a substance. Am I unhappy? Nah, I don't think so. Am I suicidal? Jeez-o-pete, no! Is there something missing in my life? Well...proximity to our kids, maybe. I love and miss them all. The ones in NY, CT, NC, and across town. But, that's all I REALLY 'want.'

I'm medicating with food as a nasty habit. Like I did with alcohol and other less savory things. Bad day? Tilt one back. Good day? Tilt one back. Mediocre day? Tilt one back. I only drank on days that ended in 'y.' I only used at times that ended in 'o'clock.' The same way I eat. Like an addict on the prowl for his next fix. Ask me some day about the wedding reception.

'Wants?' 'Needs?' I have none. Somewhere between "coming to believe in a Power greater than myself" that would restore me to sanity and actually WORKING a faith, not just following a religion, I've realized that I have exactly that which I need. I'm blessed beyond comprehension. I'm better off than I deserve. So...why stuff? I'm not a dog; I'm not Shamu the Killer Whale. I don't do tricks for food!

I DON'T DO TRICKS FOR FOOD!

So, why am I 'rewarding' myself like I do those things? Two words: bad habit.

When Dawn asked if I was ready to get serious about this thing called stewardship, 33 days ago, I didn't say "Oh, my gosh, I have to count calories FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE???" I approached it like I approached alcoholism: One day at a time. I set a goal: 2,000 calories. As I eat, I weigh the options of "this versus that" in MyFitnessPal. Do I REALLY want five Circus Peanuts, or do I want three apples? An order of fries, or a seitan sandwich. (Hey, I make my own seitan, with no added junk, and no fat-laden calories, that's loaded with protein and vitamin B12. Recipes upon request.) I make smarter choices, and fill myself with...goodness! I've eaten more grapes and apples and oranges and bananas and veggies as SNACKS than I ever have. I drink water! Robin and I just spent a weekend on that well out back, and it flows pretty heartily. Nice, double-filtered groundwater from a tested aquifer. And, at 2,000 calories per day, I'm pretty doggone full. Never 'hungry.' And, oh, yeah: I usually have 200-300 extra calories left over at the close of my daily diary.

And, all of this leaves me (unofficially, because TOMORROW is the clothes-on, VA Clinic weigh-in) at 233.4 pounds. Now, add about 4.2# to that, and you get a rough idea of my regular weigh-in. Doing the math, I've lost 16.4#.

Now, let's put that little bit of data into perspective. Doing what my wonderful, inspiring (and let's not forget pretty darned cute) wife has suggested/begged me to do for years, I've lost .49 pounds (translate: HALF A POUND!) per DAY, for the last 33 days. I look at MyFitnessPal and see where put in where I'd like to have lost half a pound a WEEK. And, in my head, and on the scale, and in my clothes fitting better, and being able to walk almost every day, and being able to tie my shoes without becoming short of breath, I'm seeing the big flash of Morse code: "See how EASY???"

See how easy...?

Truth be told, I'm waiting. Waiting for the big, bright, pink cloud to pop like a cheap balloon. It's always that way. Pretty much everyone drops a mad ton of weight in the beginning, then plateaus off to a trickle. "That LAST ten pounds is on me like fur on a weasel." But you know what? That's tomorrow. Next week. Next month. If I work the steps, follow my program, and trust God, I can DO this. I can, because I KNOW I can do all things through He who is within me! 2 Corinthians 12:9 says so. I can slowly whittle myself down to where I'm supposed to be. I've already lost 6.4% of my body mass. My BMI HAD been 35.9. It's now 34.1. Big change? Not really. But, small bites eat the Tofurkey. The journeys of a thousand miles begin and continue with a series of single steps. I...WE...are a work in progress.

Oh; I'd mentioned "Nootch." If I haven't said it before, Red Star Vegetarian Support Nutritional Yeast (Nootch) is how we vegans get our B12, a necessary nutrient. It tastes pretty darned good, too.

That's the news from Carlisle: Persevere. Have patience. Have faith. Share love. Practice stewardship.

I am proof that pretty much anyone can beat what's holding them down, and do SOMETHING to enhance their existence. Eat a little better, do a little more...we are not helpless! Rise up, be strong, and share the joy we're destined to experience!

Be well; practice peace; see y'all at the next one.

2018-10-24T11:47:00.000-04:00

Wow, I suck at this.

I started back in of September, and I've blogged twice...one of which went AWOL somewhere. And, to be honest, I have weights all over the target. Clothed weight, un-clothed (I know: now you need eye-bleach. TRUST me, I have mirrors, and *I* need eye-bleach.)

Short recap: I went to my VA doc, and she said "254 pounds is...the heaviest I've seen you. And your triglycerides are a mess. Would you like to try the VA 'MOVE' Program? See the Nutritionist on TeleConference?"

Done them both, I have. "MOVE," TeleConference. I'm MARRIED to a Diet Tech (registered) and read her school books for fun, sometimes. I KNOW the rules. I KNOW the guidelines. I've watched Dr Phil's weight-management programs, Dr Oz's weight-management programs. "Less calories in than you burn, no eating after xx:00, more protein, more fiber, no inane snacking, no mindless, TV-watching meals, olive oil is a condiment, not a food group, no added sugar..."

Yada. Yada. Yada. All those bleedin' words meant NOTHING. Nothing. Bending over to tie my shoes and gasping for breath before I got one bunny-ear wrapped around t'other didn't do it. Looking up the few steps from the main floor to our upstairs as if it were Annapurna in a blistering snowstorm didn't do it.

I am the FATTEST I'VE EVER BEEN. EVER.

"254#" did it. Especially when the actuary charts say I'm supposed to weigh 170.

Now, in (vaguely) recent memory, I HAVE weighed as little as 185 pounds. Really; I was working at WENY Radio in Horseheads, NY. I was working nights, telemarketing. I was working nights and weekends as a clown (Yet another story, for another day.) I was living on cigarettes, coffee, happy meals and fruit. Do you see, in that list, anything that screams, shouts, states or even whimpers "I'm taking CARE of myself?" I don't. Oh...the fruit, sure, but not the fast food, not the smokes, not the gallons of coffee (or Mountain Dew)... Isaac Bashevis Singer once wrote "A man does himself more harm than ten of his enemies." In my case, make that "Twenty enemies."

So, I sat through Group that day, after Freesia (my VA physician) gave me that "LOOK" doctors have when the news isn't the best, and moped. I came home and got all weepy with Dawn, my wonderful, beautiful Princess. She asked (as a very good recovery friend once asked) "Are you ready to get serious?"

So, I downloaded MyFitnessPal. I bought a Garmin VivoSmart HR+tracker. And I tied into this thing. That afternoon I did a little walk. The next day I went farther. Then, I loaded a playlist of "Quickstep" songs. And went farther. And I tracked my food. And I modified my goals.

I stepped on the scale yesterday at the rheumatologist's office. I'd worn the same jeans, same shirt, same shoes, same suspenders (Red Green, "If the women don't find you handsome, at LEAST let them find you handy" suspenders.) Remember, I'd weighed 254. I looked at the scale, yesterday, and it read...

...240.
Which means I've lost fourteen pounds.
I've ditched almost three bags of flour.
Or three and a half bags of sugar.
Or 14 boxes of spaghetti.
Or 8 dozen large eggs.
Or 9.3 bags of Twizzler Twists.

I have to tell you, walking with both osteoarthritis and rheumatoid (psoriatic) arthritis, pain management is a bit of a job. One medication I can use (but shouldn't, because of the methotrexate injections) helps. Another I'd like to try (but can't) is illegal. WTH? Non-THC, hemp-based CBD shows promise, but is proscribed by law. So...I walk. Sometimes, almost "powerfully." Sometimes, "with vigor." But I need a serious recovery time, post-activity. Somewhere down the road, I'm looking at an inevitable surgery for the removal of an artificial joint, but we're not going to worry about that, are we? Because just the recovery/therapy time is like, six months. Bone grafts from one site to another, blah-blah-blah...I'm just a bit busy right now. And I can ignore all that. I have Gold Passes to Kings Island, and an eight year old little boy and beautiful wife to run with! PRIORITIES, man!

As a recap, let's just list the steps I've taken:

1: I track my food. I weigh the pro/con of "this" vs "that.

2: I have added, since September 28, 2018, ONE AND ONE THIRD TEASPOONS of sugar to my coffee. That's one half teaspoon to each of four cups of coffee. That, down from a HEAPING teaspoon (max angle of repose, BTW) per cup. Two to three cups per day. And they're saying "one teaspoon of sugar..." Mine? At least 2, bringing a 5-calorie cup to 32 calories. Let's do some math:

3 (assumed cups of coffee/day) x 32 x 7 days/week=672 calories. Per week.
672 calories/week x 52 weeks = 34,944 calories per year. Say 35,000.

It's hypothesized that one need burn (or omit) 3,500 calories to lose a pound of fat. Eliminating my ladle of sugar from my java is equivalent to a gradual ten-pound LOSS in fat per annum.

3: I (a) try to walk five times/week and (b) get 7,000 steps/day.

4: I assign it all to God. There's this thing called "stewardship." Not just money;
not just property; Stewardship of self is maybe the most important stewardship we can practice. I mean, if our bodies fail, we're not going to be able to take care of the stuff around us, eh? If we're healthy, we don't have illness/injury/infirmity to distract us from bill-paying, employment (unless you're retired, in which case you do what work you do around the house) home maintenance, getting the kids onto/off of the bus, etc. Every activity can be preceded with prayer. Every activity can be followed by prayer. We can pray while we're doing stuff. As an aside, as you lift your heart to God, offering your energies and sweat and pain (weakness leaving the body) to Him, you stand taller. Stronger. Straighter.

I'm just saying what works for me. And, fourteen pounds in 26 days means I was one *fat* boy; I AM one fat boy. I have a way to go. I need not only cardio...and more OF it...but weight training and flexibility training. As I'd learned back when I started my AA journey: One day at a time. My wife inspires me. Our daughter Meghan inspires me. My niece Jennifer inspires me. And then there's always Philippians 4:13: "I can do all things, through Christ, who is in me." What CAN'T I do? HOO-ah!

Be well; practice peace; see y'all at the next one.

First full week, and...

2018-10-05T15:19:00.002-04:00

Well, folks, I did it.

I dug in and actually TOOK the advice my wife proffered. No, I didn't just do the "guy thing" and nod my head half-heartedly. I downloaded MyFitnessPal. I bought a Garmin VivoSmart hr+. I STARTED.

We started, together, Dawn and me, by doing a measured mile at the park. Sunday. Sunny, humid. Thought I was gonna DIE!!! I'd pulled up my music and started out with what the Army used to call "Quick-time" pace. I was feeling pretty cocky, because I'd out-stepped my pretty Princess. Then I did extra steps while she played with Aiden. And more steps. I ended up with 8122 steps. At about 30 inches per step. We're talking almost 4 miles, with the day's total.

MEANWHILE, back at home, I'm using that MyFitnessPal tracker and LOOKING at what I'm putting in my mouth. You did know that three plain Twizzlers are 120 calories, right? And I'm a FOOL for Twizzlers. I can easily eat nine of them. Easily. Or...eat what I had for lunch today: Pasta, chick peas, mushrooms, onions, spinach, olive oil, nootch (Nootch: the OTHER food group!)

Nine pieces of candy? Or a bowl full of Italian-influenced food that even my Dad would have loved? I'm pretty sure it was worth not buying the Twizzlers, yesterday. Just as an example.

So, looking at the quantities and qualities of my calories, cramming water, walking (every day, each morning, except yesterday, when Dawn and I lapped Walmart a couple times at a very brisk pace) and not grazing at midnight and beyond, I'm officially (at least this week) a loser.

I'm a loser. Yessir-ee-Bob. I got dressed in the exact same clothes I wore LAST week to the VA (I DID get them washed, TYVM) and weighed myself. Remember last week? I weighed 254 pounds. This week? 247.

In one week of actually DOING the little things I've been hearing Dawn tell me for years, I lost seven pounds.

I'm a little sore. I ache at night, but, hey! I ache EVERY night. That's the nature of the arthritis I have. The meds make the aching tolerable. Because, to paraphrase St Paul in 2 Corinthians 8-10, "all I need is Jesus; everything is gonna be alright."

And, it is. Going to be alright, that is. Nothing pithy and insightful, this week; just a little 'share' to say that I'm less of a man than I was last week. Seven pounds less. Have you been thinking of doing something with your health? If I can, you can.

Below, my "game face." Working out won't kill me.

Here? The laziness leaking out.

God bless, encourage and protect you all.

Back, again.

2018-09-28T12:21:00.000-04:00

At roughly 0625 hours, on 5 January, 2010, I began an abortive attempt at blogging a "better way to live."

I admitted my disease, my powerlessness. I may even have broached that an "-ism" isn't necessarily defined as the addiction to the actual substance, but the mechanics of the things that happen when the drug-of-choice enters your system.

In case you've forgotten, let me remind you. I am an addict. And addicts do what they have always done: feed their addictions. Whether I'm clean or not is inconsequential. What matters is how I live my life. Yes, I'm in recovery. But I'll always have the disease.

So, I haven't 'used' since 1980. And? So what?

I haven't had a drink since 1990. Yeah? Big deal.

I've changed addictions. And, best beloved, there are several. The computer. The phone. Silly home projects into which I've poured my time and efforts...only to half-or partially-complete them. GOOD projects that I over-devote time and effort to, to the chagrin and annoyance of my family.

My current, and most consistently-present "drug" is eating. I eat like I used to drink. Happy? Eat. Sad? Eat. Pissed? Eat. Can't sleep? Eat. Just finished eating? Hell, why put those leftovers away? EAT 'em.

Mostly everyone has seen "WTF" online. Yeah, I bet I know what YOU think it stands for. For ME, it's "WHERE'S THE FOOD???"

And so, I now weigh 254 pounds. I am the most overweight I've ever been in my life. When I was 19, and just leaving Fort Dix, New Jersey (C-7-3 Basic Training Brigade, BOO-yah!) I was a lean, mean, 135-pound trainee. That means I weigh 119 pounds more than I did when I was 19. Like, TWO people walking around in one pair of bib overalls.

A lot has changed, since my last entry (and, to be honest, I'm not going to look back and see when that was.) I retired. Unwillingly. Too many surgeries, too much arthritis, and nobody wants the preexisting conditions with which I arrive. So: short-term disability turned into long-term disability, then that turned into social security disability because, for some reason, my cartilage is disappearing like the dew on this morning's grass. Pssssst! Gone. That condition doesn't keep me from doing a lot of fun things. Just work things. Traditional work things. So, I do a little work, I have a little fun, and get through the day. I get stuff done. But not enough.

Time to work the steps. Time to LIVE the steps. And the bible. And the radical acceptance and situational awareness my VA counselor has been teaching us these last years.

So, what's changed? Besides my body shape, BMI, weight? I'm diagnosed with psoriatic arthritis. I self-inject Methotrexate once a week. Our little boy is growing up, and he's more of a handful to chase and entertain. We're still vegan. "Pasta is the other white meat." "Bread is the OTHER, other white meat." HUGE portions are the norm (and the bane of my health!) Sugar...oh, gratuitously added sugar! What the hell am I DOING to myself?

And, now: baby steps. I've not added any sugar to my coffee for three or four days. I'm taking ONE cup of coffee per day, with green or herbal teas (AND NO SUGAR) for the rest of the day, with no caffeine after midday. I'm eating slowly. Conscientiously. Maintaining portion awareness. I SIT after I eat; I don't automatically leap up for seconds...and discover I don't necessarily want seconds. If I do, veggies are plentiful in this house. The cheap, Dollar General cookies are tasty, and "just LITTLE cookies," but THREE are a serving, not seventeen. I can't seem to limit them, so...I don't buy them. I make a CONSCIENTIOUS EFFORT to stay the hell out of the icebox after dinner's over, the dishes washed, and the extras all put away.

Now, It's only been a couple of days since my VA doctor looked at me with that "LOOK" on her face. That look that says "Despite everything I've told you, despite everything you SAY you know, you're heavier now than the last time we had this little pow-wow." I know, I KNOW! I get short of breath, bending over to tie my shoes. I get winded, coming up the stairs. It's hard for me to get into rides at Kings Island. Some of the safety equipment SQUISHES me to bits. I'm heading toward "Sorry, you can't safely ride this attraction if the harness doesn't fit."

Screw that crap.

This morning, after a couple days of moderation, I weigh 251.6 pounds (-2.4#!) I'm using the MyFitnessPal app by Under Armour to log my caloric intake, and as soon as I get a Garmin tracker, I'll be linking that to the account. One day at a time, I'm going to be a living example of the stewardship of body God intended for us all. It helps that I have a SUPER accountability partner. She's also my diet tech (registered) and best friend, too. As another friend put it, "It's a sack race: we're in it together."

Hi; my name is Steve, and I'm powerless over my addiction to food. Today, it's been 72 hours since I took my life back, 72 hours since I took the fork out of my carotid artery, and decided to QUIT committing "suicide by the mouthful." Again. I need to immerse myself in purpose, in work, in the service of the loving God Who relieved me of the obsession to use, to drink, and I trust will relieve me of the obsession to overeat.

2014-01-02T17:23:00.000-05:00

Second day of 2014, and I have a mission this year.

Well...I did, LAST year, too. And, in 2012. Things got in the way.

2011 was surgery and job issues and job hunting. Bitterness along the way. Anger as a side dish. Got a job, the promises made faded like last spring's clouds. But, it was work. Good work, because I got to share with and meet people of like mind. More tree-huggin' plant-eaters.

Things went well until my joints began committing mutiny again. First my knee, then my foot...yes, THAT foot, the one I had repaired in 2011. Then the same knee. And, the same foot. In fact, I was in recovery from not one, not just two, nay even three, but four separate surgical procedures this year, between May and November. And, three invasive treatments, to boot.

And, I walk no better than I had. So, I had to retire.Now, retirement sounds like it'd be fun...and, it IS. Really. I am thrilled. Just...I kinda thought I had a few more years of clock-punching to do before this. It sorta slipped up behind me, and smacked me in the ass. Not that I'm complaining. Just wish it had given me a little more warning. God, however, is good ALL the time, and He has provided, in His infinite wisdom, a measure of financial security that seems pretty bullet-proof. All of which yields an incredibly intriguing way for me to occupy some time: School!

Yessir-ee-Bob, I'm a college student! Not in the traditional manner: I'm a senior citizen level course auditor. I attend, cost-free. I don't get a grade, but what the hell, I've got a BS (and, THAT means what it sounds like: BS) in one discipline. Who needs another set of letters? It's not like I can throw out anymore resumes. No...I'm going to learn some formal manners by which to write; some actual rules to bend when I'm taking pictures. Next semester? ASL. I've been dawdling along, trying to learn at least a word or two per week, to share with my Little Buddy Sunshine, but have failed kinda miserably. He does know SOME words (signs) but I know he's the capacity for more, and I owe it to him to help him become all he can. Besides...communication is what this old bullshit-artist does best. More'n one girl has fallen in love with the way I turn a phrase. Now it's time to share that capacity with those that can't hear. To borrow a phrase from "Fifty Shades," my inner cheerleader secretly wishes to be the ASL interpreter at the next concert you attend.

Actually, my inner cheerleader is building quite the bucket list:
1) Children's book
2) Short story (non-fiction)
3) Romantic pap fiction that makes the girlies swoon
4) Cookbook (Veg*n, of course)
5) Year in pictures book
6) Short sci-fi
7)...and so forth.

You may hove noticed I mentioned Veg*nity. Yes, I quietly climbed over the fence to THAT school of thought. And, as you may also have noticed, three months into said animal-product-lessness, I'm not wasting away to naught. Nor falling away to a ton. Some weight loss has been achieved: From flirting with the 230's and above, to ringing in at under 225...sometimes close to 220 or lower (Oh, saints and hayrakes, the holidays rip EVERYBODY a new ass...or waistline...). I am proud to say that I neither consumed ANY cookies or snacks this season that contain butter, cream, cheese (THAT was a bitch...) and only VERY little of the famed and fabled Cranberry Mold my sister-in-law makes. Lemme 'splain:

For those of you who don't understand Veg*nism, there are some degrees and levels to which we all subscribe. Straight out Veg*nism means that we not only don't eat meat, nor do we eat any other animal products: Broths, bouillons, milks, cheeses, butters, fats...any food products associated with the slaughter or 'domination/enslavement' of animals. That's 'dietary Veg*nism.' 'Ethical Veg*nism' means not only eschewing the chewing, but the WEARING as well, of animal products: Leather, feathers, skin, fins, isinglass-fined beverages, gelatin-encapsulated drugs, calcium diet supplements, leather shoes, belts, etc...the list is a LONG one, and you'd be absolutely amazed at what it contains.

Some of us are all IN...some of us cut our losses at a certain limit. Take me: I eat white sugar (Yeah, yeah, yeah, Dr. Oz and his carbohydrate police have a warrant out for my arrest) and honey. "WTF," you ask, "is wrong with white sugar and honey?" White sugar is made white by passing the syrup through activated charcoal. Bone char, in about 40% of the production in the US.(http://www.vegsource.com/jo/qa/qasugar.htm)

So, yeah, if you're really against animal cruelty, factory farming, etc, there's a good case for avoiding cane sugar. Beet sugar doesn't require the bone treatment, but as a caveat, it does NOT bake the same way as cane sugar.

And, honey? Requires the captive presence of a queen bee (special hive structure KEEPS her there, so the workers and drones have something to do) and, thus is considered by some to be exploitation. Anybody that's seen "Bee Movie" (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0389790/fullcredits?ref_=tt_ov_st_sm) knows that bees are gonna make honey. Whether WE interfere or not, and whether we harvest it or not. As opposed to milk production, which requires the inhumanity of vacuum machines, rGBH, GMO god-playing and the abject cruelty (in more cases than not) of brainless handlers, apiarists care deeply for their hives, and never use pitchforks, cattle prods, tire irons or gelding rings on bees.I also take pills. In or around every pill I take (arthritis, blood pressure, cholesterol, etc) is a certain amount of gelatin. Boiled animal bones and hooves. Yup. There's no way around it. "Oh," you chide, "yes there IS! Take your healthy diet and SUPPLEMENT it with supplements." I'd love to. But YOU don't have to crawl out of bed every morning in the agony to which I've been treated, since the first time I woke up with arthritis. I do. So...I'm gonna eat honey, bake with white sugar, and take my pills. It's a journey, not a rule-book. We all take different routes.

Now, one might assume that I'm militant in my approach to Veg*nism. That every post is a PERSONAL ATTACK on YOU. Nope, nyet, nuh-uh, nein. I am as peace-loving as they come. Really. If you want to eat a sirloin burger with bacon, three kinds of cheese and pork cracklin' crudites, hunker in on it, man. It's ALL you. Don't tell me what I'm missing, because I gotta tell you, if it's to be eaten, I've probably already EATEN it. I am almost fifty-seven. I'd been raised as a meat-eatin' FOOL. Daddy would lay a half pound of rare roast beef on a NYC hard roll with a load of Hellman's on it, salt and pepper and NO lettuce, TYVM, and the nuns would look at OUR lunch and say how SINFUL it was that WE ate as much on one sandwich as a 'poor African refugee ate in a month...' Va, fon tu culo. Daddy worked so we COULD eat well. So, yeah, I ate meat. And gave it up. Don't look at this as my attack on YOU. I hate factory farming and Big Ag, Monsanto and the science project that uses US as guinea pigs. I don't hate YOU. Gawd, I hate having to explain this as people's blood pressure rises. Only other leaf-chasers can understand the ecological impact of over-intensive farming, the waste of resources, the absolute insanity of the concept of 'more-more-more.' I have to come up with a way to say that this is my non-violent objection to exploitation.

This said, please feel free to follow me, comment, share your thoughts. If you really wanna lambaste me or embrace me, but feel somewhat timid about coming outta the closet for activism, send me an email. I understand. We are ALL crewmates on Spaceship Earth.

Keep coming back; it DOES work, if you work it. So, work it, you're worth it.

2014-01-02T12:32:00.001-05:00

Wow. Nothing written in 2012. A whole year of nothing.
And, zip-ah-dee-doo-dah in 2013.
2014 is going to be different. DIFFERENT, I tell ya!

...on the mend...and dreaming in color!

2011-05-13T16:19:00.000-04:00

So, I had surgery a couple of weeks ago. Nothing BIG or SERIOUS. Just bone spurs, but whatta PAIN, huh? Wheelchair for the first ten days or so, crutches around the house. Stairs? Well...let's just say that crawling, in a bathrobe in a medication-induced fog ain't pretty. My poor mother-in-law has seen more of my hairy nether regions than she cares to admit. Poor woman. Probably had nightmares. Anyway, I've been laid pretty low since the 26th of April. And, getting porkier, all the time. Uh huh, I'm damn near back at the weight I was when I began this trek. Yeah, I know you're supposed to boost protein intake, in order to heal from ANY operation, even stupid little ones, but... I'm looking out my back window, and there's a little tiny bunny rabbit out there; you can JUST see his little ears. Reminds me of ME, looking at my feet; I can JUST see them, poking out from underneath me. Yesterday, I sat on the porch, and began taking loose nails out of the boards, in preparation to remove said porch for renovation. THIS morning, I think I'll continue, in an effort to again, get OFF my ass and OUT from in fronna this electronic addiction, and actually DO something that makes me sweaty and tired.

Meanwhile I've re-invented the frankfurter; of all the things a person could miss, going pescatarian, I miss frankfurters. Oh, yeah, and Lee's livers and gizzards. Possibly the three WORST things I could eat: not just organ meat, but DEEP FRIED, SODIUM-INFUSED organ meat. And hot dogs? If ya don't know what to have, eat a hot dog; they have EVERYTHING in 'em. Oh, yeah, reinventing them: I looked up 'home-made hotdogs' online, got a list of the spices, and then adjusted the weight of required meat and beef fat to the same amount of seitan. Dawn thought highly of them. As a matter of fact, she's eaten over half the recipe, for lunch this past week. Here, try it: http://recipes.sparkpeople.com/recipe-detail.asp?recipe=1628956

I don't know if I've shared any recipes in the past, but go there; all the ones I've published are there on Spark People. Try 'em. Read 'em. Comment on 'em. Whether you're just interested in different foods, vegetable-based diets for YOUR sake, or the sake of annie-mules, or whatever reason, give it a look-see. As with this forum, I've received a couple of nice comments, which is very cool. It helps me overcome this nervousness, this fear of rejection from which I suffer.

And, speaking of rejection/acceptance...the other night, I was maundering, thinking grand thoughts, idealizing wonderful ideas, when, dreaming out loud, I said, "I wonder if Carlisle would be accepting of the idea of a COMMUNITY GARDEN?" My lifemate, my princess, my love answers back, "Whyn't you email the mayor? He's in your Facebook buddy list..."

So, I did. Emailed; set an appointment to chat with Hizzonor. Hadda reschedule. Then, last night, we met, and tabled some SERIOUS ideas. SERIOUS thought. We even went and visited the one primary site where this could happen. Can you say "PUMPED"??? Holy Mother Earth News, dude, we're all smiling as we leave that grassy field, because a) it CAN be done! and b) the far-reaching ramifications can be ASTOUNDING.

All because my wife gave me the nudge. See what the right partner can do for you? See what having someone BELIEVE in you can do? Now, all we have to do is get it past Village Council, draft a mission statement, and get started. Maybe not THIS year; it could be too late. But NEXT year? Katie, bar the door!

When I started this blog, I had a certain direction in which I wanted it to go. Strangely enough, it's gone in the GENERAL direction, but not quite exactly where I had envisioned it. Yeah, it's still about getting better in mind, body and spirit, but it's not about ME. I don't give a fig to 'change the world.' I just ain't got the poop. But...I can make a small corner of it greener. Maybe if I pray, and ask God, and seek the help of my neighbors, I can be part of educating the next generation to feed themselves better, treat the land better, come together as a real community. And, not have such an uphill fight as I am.

I'm gonna go outside and play.

Heavenly Father, thank you for keeping me outta the skull-junk this morning. Thank you for an interesting meeting with Tim. May what I do, here, and what WE do, as a civilization, glorify YOUR name and expand YOUR kingdom...not for our sake, but Thine, and, as with all things, I ask these in the name of your victorious Son, Jesus Christ.

An update...of sorts.

2011-04-20T12:32:00.000-04:00

Hmmm...another year has birthed, right under our noses. Remember that last full post? October 2010? Where I had an interview? I got the job. Yuppers. I did. Work at Dorothy Lane Market, Oakwood, OH. Been there seven months, now, and love it. You may have seen, in FaceBook, how I cook there, and bring home inspirations to share with my family. It's again' the rules to bring home actual RECIPES, so I commit what I can to memory, and heave forth from there.

BTW...speaking of food, my darling dearest has been on a vegan kick-start for the last two weeks. That ends Sunday, which is Easter. I've been working the REST of the animal kingdom out of our menu, for the time being, and she's at the crux of a decision: vegan or simply ovo-lacto-pescatarian. Harder to say, but somewhat more enjoyable, for yours truly. S%it, I ENJOY the challenge of veganism. I just like fish. And eggs. And cheese. Yeah, I'm a dairy kinda guy. Don't get me wrong, I made a vegan pizza a couple weeks back, COMPLETELY vegan...and the cheese-alternative was, while not exACTly mozzarella, a pretty interesting substitute. People ask me if FISH don't suffer gross injustice and horrendous abuses. I'm not sure. I would guess that they do. Nah, I'm sure. Factory-farmed ANYTHING is wrong. I just cling tightly to the fact that since January of 2010, I, personally, have eaten NO footed critters. I do eat dairy and ocean fish, but in WAY lower quantities than I used to. If I could find compassionate sources for these products, I would gladly switch over to them. I may be naive, but now, I can pass by a field of cows and not feel quite so bad.

Gardening time is almost here. Time to set out seedling pots, and start watching for the emerging plants...I grabbed some seed-corn out of one of t local fields, last autumn, walking with my Babe. Can't wait to just plant it, to see what comes of it. I just wanna say that I planted and grew corn. For the hell of it. I also grabbed some jalapeno seeds from a pepper I dressed out at home, and one from work. It was a fat-boy; maybe if I can cross the two... Oh, crap, I don't really care, I just wanna say that I've GROWN jalapenos, MYSELF. And, research the technique of SMOKING them. My own chipotle...(http://bbq.about.com/od/fruitandvegetables/ss/aa100607a.htm)

Alla this in light of the fact that I face another surgical procedure next week. Bone spurs. If nothing else, I can tend the vegetables, George, and cook, sitting down a LOT when I need to. And, while I'm here, maybe I need to come out of the closet: I want to WRITE. I have tons of story lines in my head. And, I waste enough time in front of the computer to have written "War and Peace" three times over. So, how about a resolution:

Every week, from here out, I'll write for TWO HOURS a week, on one of my days off. JUST two hours, followed by something NON-COMPUTER for the resta the day.

Gardein Giveaway - Mercy For Animals

2010-11-06T08:59:00.003-04:00

Gardein Giveaway - Mercy For Animals

Click here for a chance to win this far-out, cruelty-free food item...

Ten months...

2010-10-22T09:54:00.000-04:00

So, here we are, on the twenty-second of October. I would guess that I've been meat-free for about ten months, now, and have the blood work to show for it. The icebox is still a mayhem, however, because Momma still insists that she buy and buy like we were all still carnivores, not just her, Dyllan and our new addition, Bethany. Oh, hell, I'm not knocking it. Or them. I don't expect my twisted belief system to become anything like a trend, any time soon. Dawn and I just choose not to partake in the flesh of footed animals. No soapbox, no sermon. We don't eat things with feet.

I've been out of work for a few months, now. Not such a long story; just not gonna share it. Fallout? Wow. Based upon said job loss was the loss of three of my children (temporarily? In whole or part? Who the heck knows. Certainly, yours truly has no clue.) Also in the wings were a union hearing, a court hearing, and two impending department of labor hearings.

At first, I waited to get my job back. And, applied for jobs and jobs. Then, I gave up on getting my job back, and applied for even MORE jobs. STUPID jobs, jobs relative to what I had just been doing, any job...over 80 apps have been sent out, over 80 disappeared in the wind. I've had a couple of interviews...but got 'Dear Johns' out of alla them. WTH...times are hard for everybody. ONE bright note is that we were able to refinance the primary mortgage on our residence, and save a WAD of money; which, sadly, will have to be applied to our rental in NY state, because the damned escrow shortfall boosted THAT payment to a new level. Again, WTH. The sun shines, and the rain falls, on everyone. I'm thinking about a new raincoat, because I'm over fifty, I'm disabled, and I have a frame-up against me. I do believe that I've joined the ranks of the unemployable. Call me a pessimist, but I have to say, I've applied for jobs that the only qualification appears to be that you can fog up a mirror, and been blown off. Hell, I can't even get a spot as a Walmart greeter...and you've SEEN some of those folks.

BUT!!!

Before I get too ensconced on the pity-pot, I must needs take inventory: We still HAVE two houses, with three mortgages, upon which we still CAN make payments. We still have food on the table, and haven't been forced to decide which of us can go hungry tonight, for the honor of the rest of us eating. We still HAVE medical coverage, so our health needn't go begging. We still make our weekly offering to God and His church (Tithe? Not tithe? That's between God and us; I'm not telling, and I'm sure He's not gonna spill the beans, either) because HIS glory is WAY greater than MY troubles. Screw you, satan. (No capitalization of his name; he doesn't get the respect of that convention.) Dawn and the kids still love me; our new grandson loves me (I'm pretty sure, anyway) and even our son, Dyllan's girlfriend is fond of me. And...I'm still clean and sober. Still. And, until roughly 0615 tomorrow morning, I'm firm in the belief that God has a plan for me, and, 24 hours at a time, He'll continue to keep it in place until I discover what it is. Until then, I think I'm gonna get up off my less than fat ass and DO something.

Yesterday, I mowed the lawn, mulching the leaves, collecting them and placing them in the garden to add organic matter to the soil (which, if I left it alone, would be PERFECT for bricks.) The garden is out; the ornamental plants are gone, their potting soil screened and sealed in buckets, ready for next year. The big limbs are cut into pieces for the fireplace, the little limbs for a bonfire (Dyllan and Bethany think those are romantic) and the outside is nearly done for the year. Maybe another day's work to finalize that.

Next, to put the final touches on the remodel that began LAST year at this time. Putting that to bed will be a relief. I let it get away from me, grew lazy, got overwhelmed...my own damned fault. Dawn deserves better. God expects MORE. It's called "stewardship." Time to get out from under this keyboard. Facebook, Yahoo and all the other electronic meth will still be there when my work is done. And, to be sure, no one will miss me while I'm gone. If they do, they can always text my cell phone. Besides, I've done the obligatory 'two job applications' for the department of labor this week.

Hmmmm...just got off the phone with the absolute FINEST grocery store in the area; perhaps the state. They wanna look at me for one of their cooks. I have an interview in a few hours. Gotta shave my head and face, suit up and show up. See ya later.

Hey, Daddy? Just in case this is the job You had in mind for me, please don't let me blow the interview. And, thanks in advance FOR the interview. I...WE appreciate it.

Huh? Wha...? Oh, crap, I fell asleep!

2010-03-18T23:28:00.000-04:00

Not really...I just didn't DO this, since last time. BUT...I'm now down to TWO HUNDRED EIGHTEEN POUNDS! I started at 238...down to 218. That's twenty pounds; four bags of good sugar (five bags of that cat-head stuff)...2.25 gallons of oil...10 bags of confectioner's sugar...a large bag of potatoes. Think of it THAT way, and it's brought into focus...think of carrying that extra stuff around in your arms all day. Ugotz!

Another thing: I'm outta the size 42's, and into the 38's. Uh-huh: my trousers are all falling off my non-existent (_)_). Daddy always said that I have no butt; down south here, they say 'you're built like a milkin' cow...all gut, and no butt...' I started wearing uniform shirts that are one size smaller, too...and they FIT!!!

I'm still eating no meat. Thinking along the cruelty lines, now. Difficult to forgo fish...not to make light of THEIR suffering; I guess I'm not ready to give it up. Fish was in no way as unhealthy for me as footed flesh. I am still having fun with seitan and vital wheat gluten-based meat replacement. And, dabbling in Thai-style noodles. Thank you, Jungle Jim's International Food Market http://www.junglejims.com/ for the rice-noodles and big, fat udon.I love Jungle Jim's; I buy my durum flour there, too, and some of my nice sauces. There's a KICKING chili paste out there that rocks my world...hot, zesty, lingering; wow, it's almost like a kiss from my Princess!

Twenty pounds lost...this means that not only have I reached my goal of fifteen pounds, to buy that sausage-stuffer, but have a nice five-pound buffer zone to keep between me and obesity. You remember the sausage-stuffer. To fill vegetarian casings with seitan, and eat, fresh, or smoked. Noooooooo, I am NOT going back to meat. Just for today. And, at least until I finish lunch, tomorrow. Same way with this, as with alcohol. I'm powerless. I start an abbruzzese, I FINISH it. I start a soppressata, I FINISH it. One slice at a time, one chunk at a time... I overeat like I used to over-drink, mea culpa. There was no 'enjoyment...' just engorgement. Like De Luise said, the saying "Eat, you'll feel better," didn't make it so. I medicated with food, alcohol, cake, candy...whatever I could get my hands on. Now, I realize that my life is a delicate balance of caloric input, caloric utilization and the movement of energy from its stored state to it's utilitarian state. Anything else is wasteful, sinful. Gluttonous.

So...measurements.

Weight: 218#

Body Fat: 30.5%

Water Content: 53.5%

Neck: 17"

Biceps:14"

Chest: 47.5"

Waist: 47"

Not so hot. I've lost weight, but haven't lost the inches like I would have been happy to see. Dawn, my diet guru, indicates gently that this means I'm losing MUSCLE MASS. I'm wasting. Again, not good. But, she says, that it's good for capo tosto (hard head, from the Sicilian dialect) like me to see that I'm not terminally unique. I have to WORK MY BODY to see some changes. That weight room is still MERE STEPS from my bedroom. I did, however, go in there to re-string my guitar, last week. And I took it over to play, at my church-sister's house, with my mother in law, today. So, I AM moving outside of my comfort zone. Baby steps.

Oh, yeah, another step: We had a customer appreciation day at the store, this week; my committee mates and I planned, it, got approval for it, and executed it, successfully. I even put on makeup for the deal, and played my clown character all day...AND cooked samples, and waited on customers, too. Have to tell you, I was nervous. Scared, to be honest. And, I felt the need to grab another brother of mine, and ask him to pray with me, before we started. Now, I pray pretty much every time I pick up a knife and start work, or before I step outta the car, in greasepaint and hair, to entertain the crowds. This time I needed something extra. First multiple-hour engagement in forever. Two or three hours, okay. Several parades in one day, okay. Nine hours in paint? Been a long time, since I've rock-and-rolled like that. This was multi-tasking: performing, cooking, service-counter attending and more. Whatta trip. And, God in His infinite love and caring, supported me through all of it.

I'm still standing, still achieving goals, and basking in the never-ending blessings of an incredible God. For this, Father, and for that which is to come, I am truly thankful.

Oh....by the way...

2010-02-12T23:13:00.000-05:00

I haven't been as diligent as I could be, with the measurements. That's because I haven't walked my lazy ass across the hallway to use the Faux-flex...the weight machine in my son's old bedroom. But...I DID walk last week. That makes ONCE A WEEK that I circumnavigate old 922...only LAST week instead of double-looping the store, I went ONCE around the building, and once around the parking lot. It was cold...under 28, as I remember. And EXHILARATIN', may I add. Somewhat more than 'kinda brisk.'

I hate to admit it. I had another industrial accident, much to my embarrassment...and to the chagrin of my department head, store manager, and Risk Management down in Cincy. I've been ordered to light, one-handed duty for no less than six weeks, and had a cortisone injection. I also have to wear a sant'antonio BRACE on my LEFT hand...which, coming on the heels of my RIGHT hand coming back online, is a rather appreciable PITA. And, we're not talking Middle Eastern flat-bread, either. But, in all this, I've been assigned to Miss Tiffany, as her aide-de-camp. And, her office is on the second floor. And the particular project in which we've been ensconced this week is located ACROSS the store...on the second floor, also. No elevator, thank you. WTH, it's just ONE FLOOR. But...you have to walk DOWN one flight...across the joint...and then UP one flight. Repeatedly. All day. It's about an 85,000 square foot store.

But....

My arthritic frikkin' knees...which had been ACHING excruciatingly these past months...don't HURT.

My knees...do NOT...hurt. It's 2240hrs, I've been running up and down stairs, across the store, up and down off step-stools all day, and these old knees feel GREAT! No extra celebrex. No NSAID's. No lidocaine patches, no Flector patches...not even so much as an Ibuprofen or ANYTHING! I've lost almost the whole fifteen pounds I wanted to lose, in the first step, and I feel SUPER, dammit! One more pound. Sixteen ounces. I can do that ASLEEP!

What a difference, and I haven't even really TRIED. Just...gave up meat. Which created a craving for more protein. Which I feed with plant-based protein, and augment with OTHER plant-based nutrition. How wild. Far OUT, man! Far OUT!

Keep pushin', keep pushin', keep pushin', keep pushin on...

2010-02-09T21:44:00.003-05:00

Well, best beloved, it's been another week. Down to 223#. Exactly. That makes it official. I've lost FIFTEEN POUNDS since the first of the year, and pretty much without any silly-(_)_) 'resolutions.' Now, I can go buy that sausage-stuffer on eBay...if I still want to. I still have to think about that one. Maybe I don't NEED another toy in the kitchen.

Over the last week, I've been doing research...again. Found out that there's a form of seitan that is leavened. In Chinese, it's called kao fu (烤麩); Japanese, sukiyaki fu (すき焼き麩). The traditional preparation calls for leavening with baking soda. Ever the non-traditionalist, I went ahead and used yeast and sugar. Oh. Em. GEE!!! The stuff kicks BUTT. First one was just plain gluten, with spices. Nice texture, nice feel, great taste. Next one incorporated sun-dried tomatoes and garlic. Hoo-BOY. I've eaten it fried with eggs, cold by itself, over nine-grain with sauce and mozzarella, in a panini with steak sauce and Swiss cheese... Now, I wanna incorporate honey, cocoa powder and pistachio nuts into it and make a Seitanic dessert...this stuff is really and truly versatile. Slice it thin, layer it with low-fat ricotta, cinnamon, splenda...ya think?

I also made yaki-fu stew this week. Vegetable broth, carrots, onions, peppers, red pepper flakes, mahi-mahi, kombu... then I threw in udon noodles. Put the fork in, Mother, I'm done. No...not low-carb. But, low fat, high fiber, and VERY high protein.

I'm having fun. I'm eating healthier, and having a good time with it. I'm also driving Dawn NUTS, but she loves me. Wheat gluten just isn't her thing. But that's okay. I'm not exceptionally fond of "Biggest Loser," yet, it inspires her. I respect that. We're in a race, together...making each day count, making the best of the time we have together, because, Lord knows, those days are NOT indefinite. As with the Program...it SHOULD be fun. God didn't put us here to be mopes. He put us here to celebrate Him, be useful and prayerful. But, most of all, He put us here to be joyful.

Daddy, I'm joyful. Really, and honestly. As I head into another birthday, I know there ain't a darn thing I want. And, by Your grace alone, I have all I need. Thank you for the walking I got done this week. Thanks for another set of seven days, sober. And thank you for letting us get to that concert, as well. Fun times.

God, thank you for having granted me the serenity...

2010-02-02T10:41:00.002-05:00

...to have accepted the things I could not change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Yeah, apologies to Reinhold Niebhur. I've joined the ranks of MILLIONS that have 1) plagiarised his prayer, and 2) CHANGED it to meet MY personal feelings. Might I explain:

Every day I see signs, posters, and politicians screaming "God Bless America!" What the hell, people, He HAS!!! God blessed America from the start, and I'm really concerned that after over TWO HUNDRED YEARS, the main portion of the population of this United States has NOT learned how to publicly and concertedly say, "Thanks, Dad!" What the frig are you WAITING for? THANK Him!

Bearing these things in mind, a few years after I started getting sober, I began saying the Serenity Prayer as this heading states it: "Thank you for the serenity..." because He HAS. He GRANTED it, I don't need to keep asking God for the same thing, over and over. If serenity, courage and wisdom were NOT forthcoming, begging Him wouldn't get it. God doesn't have Alzheimer's. He's not STOOPIT. God's just not a loudmouth. He's not going to throw a lightning bolt at what I'm asking, saying, "Here, jackass, it's over HERE!!!" Jack F, in Elmira used to be fond of saying "Be still, and know that HE is God." God's not a grand-stander. His still, small voice, that voice from within, is gentle and guiding, but not neon-lit, ground-effected or stroked and bored. It ROCKS the universe, but with majesty, power, illumination...not bluster. Don't accept that "No is still an answer" until you LOOK at where God may have quietly put the "Yes," so that you'd APPRECIATE it.

Hear that scraping? That'd be ME, putting away my soapbox for the day.

This is me, in my office...well, okay, it's NOT an office. I figured THAT out after my desk got flushed several times. The point is, my face is getting noticeably thinner. I've gone from 238# at the beginning of January, to 226# yesterday morning. The size 38 trousers trousers that I couldn't button in January FIT me yesterday. It's working, by the grace of God. Eating well has done me well. And, I walked the store, yesterday. OUTSIDE. Twice. It's just one mile, but it beats sitting on my (_)_) doing NOTHING. And I walked it in under eleven minutes. Not bad for an old fart. And, oh yeah: I was worried, because I walked the perimeter on my first fifteen minute, Union guaranteed break (thank you, UFCW), and I did it hell-for-leather. I thinks to myself, as I walks into the happy factory: "I'm probably gonna hafta DRAG my (_)_) outta here at 1800..." Not so. I was AMPED all DAY, Bubbeleh...and I mean AMPED. I was on a ROLL and felt great all afternoon and into the evening, when I dropped into bed, at a decent hour, and thereafter slept all night.

Next, we add weights to my ankles. At one time, I had five pounds strapped to each limb, and seven pounds in each hand. Hey...If I can carry it as FAT, I can carry it as a CHALLENGE. And...another thing? When I looked in the mirror, I saw my Dad. He's gone, now...just over three years. But his rosy cheeks, his vibrant skin, that "healthiness" he exuded are showing in me. It's working. I have a shot at getting THAT old...with Dawn, with my kids and grandkids (Dean and Dyllan, you two better WAIT for THAT announcement!) Yeah. I'm a happy boy.

That said, this has been a good week, praise God, from whom all blessings flow. Last week was kinda hairy; another work-related accident, another visit to the ER, some small anger at myself for being human...much gratitude because God is good, ALL the time, and it was nothing worse than a couple bruises. Dawn did have to give me a crowbar so that I could pry my butt off the pity pot (thank you, Princess) but the negatives were FAR outweighed by the positives. Read on:

Some time back, Dawn and her friend Heather went ISO this place out in Gratis, OH, for oddball stuff: grains, flours, etc. I've never seen the man-folk, so I'm none too sure if they're German Baptists or Amish. They have no radio, TV or internet, but the womenfolk wear those little linen and net haircaps. Be that as it may, last time Dawn and I went to the place, together, I ordered up a TEN POUND BAG of wheat gluten, with which to make seitan. Or, wheat meat, kofu, mi cang, グルテンミート(gurutenmito,or 'gluten meat') Got it for $2.15/pound. That's like, STOOPIT inexpensive, and allows me to experiment more freely. I also bought some nice nine-grain, and a big-(_)_) sack of soy flour, to make soymilk. And, from the soymilk, tofu.

Now all I have to do is get a source for inexpensive cheesecloth, because when I wrap the dough up in only one or two layers of cheesecloth, it has a tendency to burst its seams, and go wandering. Not my intention. And, I'm wondering if a sausage stuffer is or is not the answer, because what happens when you boil a faux-sage? It expands. To, like, twice the original size...will the vegetarian casings burst? Will the artificial casings allow enough simmering medium inside the casing to properly cook the stuff? See, there are different ways to season, shape and cook seitan, and I want to fully explore them so I don't get bored with it. I mean, you can grill a porterhouse, top it with onions and mushrooms and top it with some nice Maytag Blue just so many times before the THOUGHT of a steak makes ya wanna hurl. Please, be real. We tried that famous doctor's low-carb induction twice, and lemme be honest: by the end of ONE WEEK, my 'favorite foods' was ONE FOOD: BREAD. I could have committed a CRIME for a piece of stale bread.

But...I'm a patient man...willing to look, seek, find, after a fashion. Immediacy of gratification isn't what it's all cracked up to be. Another saying I learned in AA is "Time takes time." I didn't get this porky overnight, and I'm not going to look like Lance Armstrong when I wake up tomorrow morning, either. Or Dwayne Johnson, or Vin Diesel. Or, apparently, Stanley Tucci. Sorry, Linda. Right now, looking like Kirstie Alley isn't an option anymore. Oh, she has a cute face...but...

I'm still meat-free. I NEED fish...sorry, vegans...at this point, I still have to share in SOME slaughter, because of the omega-3's and the availability factors thereto attached in fish. Eggs and milk, as well. I may have to just go looking for humane sources for those items, is all.

So. This week's stats.

height weight body fat% water% neck waist chest bicep

01.01.10 5'10" 238 unk unk unk over 42 d-cup milk-muscles

02.02.10 5'10" 223.5 32 51 (Gotta wait for Li'l Sugar to measure)

I went to Doc Goeller (http://www.premierhealthnet.com/physician.aspx?id=24542) for a routine f/u on a joint problem, and to reevaluate my sleeplessness. They did my vitals; they ran blood work. BP? 110/80. That's not what it was, ten years ago...but it's WAY better than it's been running, routinely. I got a telephonic about my serum levels, and wasn't thrilled...they've gone UP...but, since LAST YEAR. I'm going to ask for a recount in six months, after I've been doing this pescetarian gig for a bit.

Dawnie says to look at it like this: You cheat on your spouse. You do it again. And, again. Pretty soon, they're not gonna trust you anymore. Oh, you may be a good boy (or, as the case may be, good girl.) But, it's going to take some time before they trust you again. On the other hand, you cheat on your diet. And you do it again. And, again. Pretty soon, when you go to picnics, people invite you over so YOU can provide the shade. You get tired of GreenPeace running up to you at the beach, prodding you toward the water with sticks, saying, "Don't dry out, Big Buddy..." and you go onna diet. Don't be shocked that, within only a month, you haven't cleaned out that cesspool of fat, stored carbs, artificial additives and whatnot. Don't be surprised that...time takes time, and that the journey of a few dozen pounds begins with the loss of ONE...and the conviction that you can do it, by the grace of God.

I mentioned my earthly father, a minute ago. Vinnie. Great guy, good father; product of the depression, the swingin' thirties and forties, product of the cold war and the fifties. His method of parenting wasn't much more different than any other Dad, at that time. He was 'tough love' embodied. But, when he got soft, he'd do things like take us to work with him, at Food Fair, or Grand Union, grocery stores in the area. Someone broke a case of pickles in the meat room yesterday, and I slid right down that briny, garlic smell to the deli departments I remember from 45 years ago...the smell of cold, hanging meat, hams and wursts, pickles...HUGE friggin' roast beef on hard-roll sangwiches, with REAL Hellman's on them. That's when I hadda break and go into the biffy, and saw my face in the mirror. Somehow, with all the smells in the meat department, and the way I looked in the mirror...it was like seeing him again, and he wasn't on his death bed. It was like seeing Daddy again, in his garden (which, in my youthful stupidity, I accused him of loving and caring for more than us kids; sorry, Boss). And, I dreamed last night of my own garden, and woke up thinking how happy he'd be, us following in his footsteps, raising things we love, just like him.

Heavenly Father, it's been a wonderful week. I am grateful. I'm above ground. I'm sober. I'm STILL MARRIED!!! I'm happy, relatively healthy, and productive. I like what I do (that lady with the chicken breast fillets, and the other with the suet for her birds? Thanks for them, too.) My family loves me. I'm appreciated where I am. My hand? It's better. I'm cutting, at work again. My foot? Getting there. Thanks, for the healing talents of Doc Scott. My problem with the VA? Congressman Turner and Governor Strickland are on it. The money tree I've been asking for, in my back yard? Ain't there, yet; not even a sprig. But, You, Father God, provide. You give me this day, and every day, my portion. And for that, I am truly, lovingly grateful.