It's Not The Chocolate

It’s NOT chocolate, not HoHo, not fried chicken, and not Häagen-Dazs. And it’s not lack of exercise either. Yay! Party time. What am I talking about? Weight gain of course.

Buzzing through the internet is research linking our civilizing the night time with electric light and weight gain in mice.  

“…article published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences they found that mice exposed to dim light during their sleeping hours for a period of eight weeks had a 50% higher weight gain compared to mice that slept in the dark.” http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/204236.php

Think about it. When was the last time you slept in a dark house? My night stand is cluttered with plugged in and glowing iType products. The bath has a night light. My bedroom curtains do not block the street lights or a full moon.  Lights come off of the wireless gadgets, the cable box, digital clocks, and automatic coffee maker. Let’s count the four solar powered security lights the cover the four corners of the house. Other than the closets, my house is lit. 

I remember driving with my husband from the Twin Cities airport to Fargo on vacation to visit my aunt. The highway is a straight shot through open farm land dotted with lakes. We had left the car rental at dusk and drove for three hours in the dark with few street lights or traffic. Dark. Suddenly, to my squinting eyes I saw metal barns lit as bright as spotlights.

“What the heck?”

“Oh,” stated my husband, a man full of facts, “Turkey farms. They keep the lights on until midnight until Thanksgiving. The turkeys eat more in the long days.”

I just thought of this trip. Why wouldn’t the same logic apply to people? My grandparents would not have had a midnight snack or a 9:00 P.M. snack either. Why not? Because they were in bed.  Early to bed early to rise…something…something.

So keep eating chocolate or whatever is your passion, click off the breaker, and sleep.

Today’s Menu:

Breakfast: ½ c Raisin Bran w/almond milk.  Coffee with agave syrup and almond milk.

Snack: None.

Lunch: Veggie Burger, Fries, and Ginger Ale from Burger King (770 calories).

Snack:  Pear, Mango, and a small Fuji Apple picked from my tree.

Dinner: Small Salad.

Snack: Peanut butter.

My weight is...

I have been careful not to really discuss my diet these last few weeks. Partly I didn’t want to sabotage myself also I still hate to use the word Cancer. When I started this blog, I weighed over 265 pounds. That is the weight of 6’4” San Francisco 49er Tight End, Vance McDonald—to put things in perspective.  I fasted, raw-vegan-ed, juiced, and walked. In one year I dropped below 210.

Perhaps I would have hit my goal of 185 which happens to be 5’10” SF Giant Pitcher, Sergio Romo if not for the complete immersion into my mortality.  The best diet in the world will not stop destruction of prolonged years of stress.

My first indicator was a stress related heart attack a month before my husband’s death. Test showed no heart disease thanks to my healthy diet. But the stress took its toll.

After the passing of Paul, I ran off to Taiwan to mend. The month overseas helped me find my smile and reduce my fits of crying. Once I returned the world of work and bills, life piled up on a fairly battered ego. I found a lump in my left breast eleven months after my heart attack. My job ended. I returned to my home to deal with the cancer treatments that are brutally administered to kill the mutant cells.  The doctors pulled me off of the raw vegan to prevent bacteria entering my body and placed me on cooked comfort foods. 

My weight jumped from 208 to 247 in less than four months. Between surgery, chemo, and radiation, I could not stay awake longer than four hours, my left arm could not move higher than my shoulder, and I had less hair than Bruce Willis.  Chocolate, my best friend.

I found a new job. New responsibilities within my church and interests. In May, I started to reclaim my diet and my body. 

My biggest challenge was not my diet but my belief. After Paul’s untimely death, my heart attack, and subsequent cancer, I no longer thought about the future. The future held nasty possibilities—strokes, more cancer, if not cancer more tests for cancer, more discussions about cancers, death, dying, mortality, the end.  Wow. Heavy.

I did what I needed to do. I went to Neptune Society, paid for my funeral, and moved on with my life. ONE DAY AT A TIME.

Today’s Menu:

Breakfast: ½ c Raisin Bran w/almond milk.  Coffee with agave syrup and almond milk.

Snack: Blueberry Bagel at regional meeting. No cream cheese or butter.

Lunch: Veggie Sushi, Seaweed Salad, and wait for it…apple strudel… bad, delicious but bad.

Snack:  Cantaloupe.

Dinner: 2 Fig Newton cookies at church bible study.

Snack: Carrots.

Hawkeye

I am eating spoonfuls of It’s Soy Delicious non-dairy frozen dessert. It looks like ice cream and tastes like chocolate and nuts.  I am celebrating finding my earring or rather my dog Poindexter finding my earring.

A few days ago, I wore a pair of gold and onyx medallion-shaped earrings. My mother purchased them a few years back. I love the look but the onyx is too heavy and due to the price of gold these days the hooks are too light. They forever fell out of my lobes. Aware of the problem, I took extra care to remove the earrings as soon as I came into the house. Or so I thought.

That evening, I came into the bedroom to start my bedtime ritual only to find one earring missing. I retraced my steps. (Sure you have done this yourself.) First the car, perhaps it popped off when I unhooked the seatbelt.  The bathroom where I pulled off my I-know-you-cannot-tell-I-had-cancer-treatments wig. The hallway, the area rug, the bed, the shower, toilet, everywhere. The earring disappeared into Monday night.  It had value especially as it had been a gift from Mom but I just went through this last month with my diamond studs. I have one but lost the other.  

The expert finder of lost things was Paul, my husband. When we first dated, he earned the nickname—among others—of Hawkeye. I swear he could find a silver earring back in shag pile carpeting at eight paces. A true talent.  Without his help, my recovery rate for things is sadly low. I gave up on finding a quarter-sized gold disk anywhere in the house.

Today, I dug through more boxes of Paul’s things for the storeroom, setting aside photos for uncle John, toys for nephew Kodie, and worthless correspondence to the recycle bin. For a long time I held his high school yearbook. Opened one page and then another later in the day. What does one do with a yearbook? We have no children or grandchildren to pass things along. His parents are dead. His friends own the same album. This question bugged me all day.

Netflix provided me with a diversion for a couple hours. I discovered a Kevin Spacey and Robin Wright series, House of Cards. Well acted and produced, I lost myself and my memories in a political drama which was not too intellectually challenging. 

My dog put up with the drama for as long as he could. The sun set and the temperature dropped below ninety degrees. Dex wanted to play. After some whimpering and herding on his part, I tossed his Frisbee in the dusky eve. He leaped and spun for joy.

I thought. It is not so terrible to keep a yearbook mixed in with the photo albums. It is as unlikely it would be opened in the next ten years as it had been in the last. I do not need to give away or toss everything to move on with my life…it’s just a book.

Dex flipped the ignored Frisbee on my foot which caused drool to spill off the edges onto my naked foot. I bent down to retrieve the toy and saw the glisten of gold next to my heel. Without seeing the object itself, I knew I found the earring—the onyx one not the diamond—in the grass. Perhaps Monday, we had played Frisbee before I changed from my work clothes. Unlikely, but possible.

I had my earring. I properly thanked Poindexter with a “good boy” and a pat on the back.

Today’s Menu:

Breakfast: Watermelon.  Coffee with agave syrup and almond milk.

Snack: Watermelon.

Lunch: One soy corn dog and salad.

Snack: Watermelon.

Dinner: Vegetarian pot stickers, mung bean sprouts.

Snack: It’s Soy Delicious non-dairy frozen dessert Chocolate and Almonds.

New Passport

My passport arrived. I paid $60 extra bucks to have it expedited because I procrastinated thirteen months before renewing. After I opened the delivered passport, I was shocked to see a picture of an old lady on the photo page.  My last two IDs carried a sweet image of my wild thirty-something years. The guy at the post office agreed it was time to update that woman to a more representational rendering of my current self. He took a picture on the spot.

I think there is too much reality. However in twenty years or so, it will look good to me.

Once again, I am papered to fly away to corners of the globe not yet explored by me. Holding a passport gives me the same feeling of freedom as renewing my driver’s license and vehicle registration. Infinite possibilities occur when one is legal to leave the city, state, country, and continent. Oh how I love to travel. 

Up first is Ireland. The pretty green island is home to one-quarter of my ancestry and one-half of my late husband’s. There is a reason why chose Ireland as my maiden trip. I will save that for when I get closer to the trip date of October 6^th.  Instead, let me tell you the story Uncle John brought back from Ireland a decade ago.

The O’Neils (Neil-my ancestors) and the O’Dwyers (Dwyer-Paul’s ancestors) lived in the same county. A dispute had grown over a spit of land between the two clans. Rather than fight a bloody war the chiefs decided to have a foot race to determine who truly owned the hill. 

On the top of the knoll grew an ancient tree. The two men agreed to run to the top of the hill and the first one to touch the tree would be the winner.

Both clans came out for the event. Music, food and spirits were shared by all. With a drop of a scarf, the race started and the two chiefs ran hard up the hill. First O’Dwyer led then O’Neil then O’Dwyer. It was clear that O’Dwyer would win as he had taken a commanding lead. O’Neil pulled his sword and lopped off his own left hand. He threw it past O’Dwyer and smacked it against the tree thus winning the contest.

This is why the tartan for the O’Neils is a bloody fist on a field of green and the O’Dwyers is a field of black.

This is true because Uncle John heard it told in an Irish pub in Cork.

Today’s Menu:

Breakfast: ½ c Raisin Bran w/almond milk & strawberries.  Coffee with agave syrup and almond milk.

Snack: Strawberry & Rhubarb cake with decaf Earl Grey Tea at Panera Bread El Camino.

Lunch: Subway 6 inch wheat bun veggie sandwich with no dressings, oils or cheese. Jamica tea from Beto’s Tacos. I love Jamica tea. It’s made from Hibiscus flowers. So yummy.

Snack: 4 Marshmallow Cookies.  I was weak.

Dinner: One soy corn dog and salad 

Snack: Water. I ate the cookies and the cake earlier. Bad day for calories and sugar.

Master Bedroom Suite

I’m picking up a headboard and two end tables which will be utilized as night stands. I did some shopping on eBay to find the perfect mid-century furniture that matches the teak & cane high-boy inherited from my father-in-law, Connie. This will change our master bedroom into my bedroom, two years after Paul died in that room.

I never thought I would be one of those women. The lady that sits in the same pew every Sunday. Pale blue suit purchased in the previous century.  Life dances in her eyes and every song sung without a hymnal as each is memorized from a lifetime of worship. Her wedding band still on her left ring finger.

A woman like Grandma Dwyer that attended church, kept her house, praised God and the good man who died decades ago. Did not drink, fool around, date, swear, or be anything other than a lady.  Grandma passed away in her nineties with her husband still in her heart and on her lips.

No. I never thought I would be one of those—a widow that remained true to a memory.   

Today’s Menu:

Breakfast: ½ c Rasin Bran w/ blackberries and almond milk.  Coffee with agave syrup and almond milk.

Snack: Homemade trail mix with tons of raw nuts, dried cranberries, and candied ginger.

Lunch: Wonderful Portabella mushroom sandwich at Cornerstone Restaurant, J Street Sacramento.

Snack: Fresh blackberries and peanut butter.

Dinner: Pho noodles with left over Tofu skin, sprouted mung beans & flax seeds 

Twinkies

I caught ten minutes of Dr. Oz today, looking for the weather.  He had some dude named Chris Powell on the show. Mr. Powell said one should take his or her current weight and multiply that number by twelve. The product or total is the number of calories that you can eat per day and maintain your weight. More calories you eat above that number the more you gain. The less you lose. By my calculations, I can eat a Twinkie before each meal and still lose weight. Yeah, I’m that fat and skeptical.

I flipped to the news before that particular fairytale took hold of my diet-racked brain. I do have empirical evidence that Mr. Powell is off the mark by +/- 800 calories.

Does anyone watch Dr. Oz? I am not a good judge of what is popular on television. I am limited in my genre—Antiques Roadshow, any movies rated G, old Brit films, Sunday CNN (madly in love with Fareed Zakaria’s brain), The Daily Show, and Jewelry TV.

Dr. Oz seems (to me) to be a snake oil salesman. The kind of person that sells a product based on the revenue generated rather than the actual merits of the product. I could be mistaken about Dr. Oz. I doubt if I have ever seen more than fifteen minutes of his show. For those who like him, my apologies.

My husband watched the show when he was heavily medicated along with Ghost Hunters and Shark Week. Every time I walked into the living room, Dr. Oz’s show touted the best diet along with the author of that program. If every day the show presents a great diet program and its been on air since 2009, how many great diets would that be? Seventy? One Hundred? More? Then shouldn’t any old diet do?

I find that kind of help not helpful.

Today’s Menu:

Breakfast: ½ c Rasin Bran w/ Banana and almond milk.  I made my coffee but forgot to pour it into a cup.
Mid-morning Meltdown: Emergency stop at Starbucks for a Grande Soy Vanilla (2 pump) Latte. Whew! They say anything that is addicting will allow the sellers to put long product labels on it. Then people will ask for it by name and wait in long lines to get it. Like Camel Non-filters Box, Godiva Pineapple Hummingbird Truffle, and In & Out Lemontini.  It’s a human thing.
Lunch: Picked up Chinese food at Ranch 99 Market, Franklin Boulevard. Shared it with Mom, her dog, and mine.  Chow Mein, Chicken Legs (Mom), Pork Ribs (dogs), Mixed Veg, and Tofu skin.

BTW all that was $17. That place is cheap and good.

Snack: Fresh strawberries blended with Almond milk.

Dinner: Stir fry mix of leftover tofu skin & mix veg, with garlic, ginger, mini corn, fresh mushrooms, sprouted mung beans, and oyster sauce.

Blog snack: figs, pecans, and candied ginger.

I skipped the Twinkies.

Curls

I have naturally curly hair.  Yesterday I didn’t and today I do.

Rewind a year ago, I sat in a conference room with eight other women in various stages of cancer. All of us meeting for the first and last time to listen to a nurse explain what we will face as a cancer patient.  The patter stayed lively and bright as each PowerPoint slide depicted the possible treatments with inevitable side affects we would face. Skin lesions, vomiting, death, surgery, diarrhea, fractures, and so on, covered in some detail. We looked at the floor or the walls to avoid eye contact with anyone. This was personal…until she mentioned hair.

A collective gasp echoed through the group. One lady asked over and over and over whether her hair would fall out. The not-so-patient nurse explained that it depended on which of the chemo combinations you were given. A woman that wore the tell-tale knit cap said that this would be her third fight with cancer.  Each time her hair fell out. The nurse quickly stated that not all would have the same results. The oldest woman in the room leaned in and said, “Why wouldn’t you just shave your head?” More gasps. I thought her solution brilliant.

I waited till after my first chemo. The next morning, I showered and a clump of hair came off in my hand. Sicken by the sight—I quickly threw up, dressed, and drove down to Super Cuts. There I spent ten minutes arguing with the young Asian hair dresser that I really wanted my head shaved. Finally a man in the next chair, told her to just do it. She listened to the man.

That was a year ago.  Throughout the process, the medical professionals said my hair would probably come back darker, thicker and curly.  The opposite had been true until this morning.

I dried my hair after a shower and soft curls appeared all over my head.  Yesterday no curls. Today curls. Does that make sense to anyone? Like everything else in the cancer process, accept and move forward. Amen.

Today’s Menu:

Breakfast: Coffee with Agave nectar and almond milk. ½ c Rasin Bran w/ Blueberries and almond milk.

Lunch: All you can eat buffet at Tokyo on Greenback. Fish egg sushi, Seaweed salad, marinated mushrooms, banana, watermelon, sponge cake, apple slice, and an upset tummy.

Snack: 8 red vines. More upset tummy. Save me from buffets. I was full with the plate of Seaweed.

Dinner: Homemade sprouted mung beans, sprouted golden flax seed, ½ c noodles, red marinara sauce, warmed and combined.

Blog snack: raw carrots

Today's Menu

Of course I’m on a diet. I’m an American woman. After a long spell of comfort food to offset the trauma of chemotherapy and to humor my collection of cancer specific medical providers, I am trying to get back to my raw vegan diet. This diet is also recommended by the post-cancer nutritionist. My cancer, though stress created, finds its roots in our SAD Standard America Diet—full of animal proteins—the link to breast cancer in the USA. 

I’m not having much luck sticking with the diet as I no longer have my husband as my reason, inspiration, or life coach. The chance of not getting cancer again by sticking with the diet, does not seem to motive me. It should but doesn't.  I am sporadic at best, trending toward fits of chocolate and French fries. Not really off the diet but not getting the weight off.

So here is today’s transgressions:

Breakfast: Coffee with Agave nectar and almond milk.

Church Social: Prunes, 3 Ritz crackers, Decaf with milk

Lunch: Jack-in-the-Box Southwest Chicken Salad—NO Croutons and the chicken went to Dex my dog.

Snack: Figs I picked up off the ground at Church, a tomato, a plum

Dinner: Homemade sprouted bean soup, soy bean crackers, an apple

            Actually that doesn't look so bad. I did eat 3 cups of bean soup when one would have done.  Notice the milk and coffee are still sneaking into the diet. Both have got to go. 

Oh I just remembered the French fries with ketchup.  Here I was feeling pretty proud of myself.

Heart Attack

I had a heart attack Wednesday morning, March 30th, hospitalized the same day, had CT Scan, Echo-cardiogram, and angiogram the next, and then released. I am alive.

With a blog about health, fitness, good eating, and “The Cure,” one would probably think discussion of this writer’s heart attack is counter intuitive. I had a stress related incident brought on by years of worry over the health of my husband and not enough cardio exercise. It is my diet that allowed me to leave the hospital in less than forty-eight hours after admission.

 

No burgers = No plaque

 

The doctor, a good physician, believed that my arteries would be clogged with plaque as heart attacks occur as a result of coronary heart disease (CHD). The odds were good that bad stuff filled my veins and after a confirmation from the scheduled angiogram a stint could be placed inside the artery to squish the gooey stuff to the walls allowing blood to flow again.

 

He assumed that I ate a Standard American Diet (SAD).

 

Having been a vegetarian off and on most of my adult life, I thought the stats would be on the side of stress event verses the CHD. The doctor listened to us—my husband and I—and did additional tests to look for any other possibilities.

 

The admitting nurse asked a series of personal questions—religion preference, diet, next of kin, and Do Not Resuscitate (DNR) agreements. When I told her I ate a Raw Vegan diet, she needed more information. She had not heard the term. I explained. She assigned a dietitian to speak to me.

 

It was like checking the box for vegetarian on my airline ticket. The standard rubber-chicken meal got tossed and someone was forced to wash an apple, and throw it into a box just for me. Same here.

 

The hospital dietitian understood vegan, vegetarian, and raw terms. It was the execution of such a diet challenged the capabilities of the hospital’s food system. She knew that my meals needed to be made fresh each day. We compromised on several fronts and came up with the final menu.

 

• Breakfast: Hot Oatmeal, soy milk, grapes, melon, Hot herb tea.
• Lunch: Salad with lettuce, cucumber, mushroom, tomato, canned kidney & garbanzo bean, and Balsamic dressing, Mixed fresh fruit bowl, Apple Juice.
• Dinner: Salad with lettuce, cucumber, mushroom, tomato, canned kidney & garbanzo bean, and Raspberry dressing, Mixed fresh fruit bowl, Orange Juice.
• Late Night Snack: Apple sauce, graham crackers

 

Understand this is the menu for every day—a true motivation for healing and going home. If I had stayed any longer than two days, I would have been forced to have food smuggled in to my room.

Inns

My husband and I traveled to the Bay Area this weekend to attend the memorial service of our good friend, Spyros Stamos. As Paul has been on four weeks of bed rest, this adventure purported to be outside of his comfort zone and mine. We decided to stay at the same place that I took him when he recovered from fractured hips. Handicap accessible—the room included a shower that a wheelchair comfortably fit, giving my husband freedom to use the bathroom on his own. A luxury by our standards.

The last time we stayed there, Paul was heavily drugged for pain and unconscious most of the time. I had little time to eat or sleep—let alone use the amenities. In anticipation of a different experience, I packed my swimsuit—the red one in all my blog photos—and workout clothes. The first morning there, I managed to get a half hour workout in the gym and twenty lovely minutes in the hot tub.

The same chain of Inns had a location closer to our friends and the memorial service but they wanted $99 for the first night and $75 for each night following. This location close to Oakland Airport offered the exact same facilities for only $57 per night. For thirty bucks, we could afford the time and gas over the seventeen mile difference between the two locations. A bargain—so we thought.

Friday morning, I leapt out of bed and took full advantage of the complementary guava juice, coffee, eggs, blueberry waffles, and yogurt—pulling together a like breakfast for the still-sleeping moose. Okay the blueberries were fresh and the self-made Belgian waffles I made fit in the palm of my hand. I didn’t cheat that badly. After all, exercise and swimming followed the breakfast.

We did the memorial service and visits with friends. Paul held together fairly well considering. We collapsed in the room, watched Denzel be gorgeous in “Unstoppable,” and fell into a restful sleep.

The next morning I brought the coffees in the room. Paul watched the local news channel.

“A young man was shot last night in a hotel close to Oakland Airport,” said the newscaster.

Cameras followed a reporter through the lobby and past our room. The pretty female reporter started interviewing a middle-aged black woman.

“Hey,” I said, “I just talked with her over the coffee machine.”

“Shh.” Paul leaned towards the TV screen.

Seems there was a party on the third floor during the night. Things got ugly. A young man was killed somewhere above our heads.

“Guess we are staying at the Fremont Marriott next time.” I smiled a weak smile at my husband, knowing full well who picked the hotel location.

“Ya think?”

Fruit Bars

Yesterday I made my first fruit bars. This whole-fresh-raw thing is scary to me. I have shied away from making anything that looked like baked goods for fear of difficulty and disastrous results.

After spending my usual two hours surfing the internet, I found enough information to make me dangerous—an informed neophyte. This was what I learned.

Raw fruit Bars are a combination of dry ingredients and wet/damp ones in equal proportions.

Dry—Choose a mix of two items up to a total of 1 to 2 cups
Sprouted Almonds finely chopped, sprouted flax seed ground, sesame seed ground, chocolate nibs lightly ground, or pecans chopped.

Wet— Choose two items place in food processor till thoroughly mixed for a total of 1 to 2 cups
Medjool Dates pitted, dried cherries, dried cranberries, fresh cranberries, raisins, dried figs reconstituted, fresh figs.

Mix—1 cup dry and 1 cup wet together. I have a small one cup food processor plus a coffee grinder I use exclusively for nuts and nibs. So I made these batches in small groups. You can do the same with a larger food processor.

Add—Spices. I like allspice and cinnamon. You pick your favorites about a teaspoon of each.
1 tablespoon of Meyer lemon juice or orange juice
1 teaspoon of citrus zest.

Taste.

Add—2 to 3 tablespoons of honey or Agave syrup to taste.

Taste.

If the texture is very wet add more dry ingredients. If dry add more wet.
I found using reconstituted figs and fresh cherries caused my mixture to be wet.
Press the mixture into a greased or lined pan to be cut into bars. Or roll into balls. Top with finely chopped nuts or coconut. Refrigerate for an hour then eat. Delicious.

If you want very dry more portable bars, you can dehydrate them in a warm oven for about two hours. Calories per bar depends on the combination of ingredients. Each bar is packed with vitamins and minerals. Fruit bars are great snacks in the winter.

Taco Night

My husband came home from a week’s stay in the hospital. He is recovering from a partial foot amputation and infection. During his incarceration, I was free to munch on carrots for breakfast, make fruit smoothies for dinner, and order a veggie omelet at the hospital cafeteria. Now he is back home, I face the daily grind of making two different meals three times per day. At times it is overwhelming. Yet I have found that my friends that make one major meal at dinner time for their families face the same dilemma—what do we fix today?

Moose is on a BRAC diet mostly. That is a diet consisting of bananas, rice, apples/applesauce, and chicken. This mix helps his digestive track which is totally messed up by the twenty-eight different medications he takes three times per day. We deviate a little but keeping in mind that too much of anything makes him very ill. His system cannot tolerate salt, sugar, or animal fats. I cook with none of the three and only have extra virgin olive oil in the cupboard.

A typical day for us.
Mine

• Breakfast: Water, 1 Slice--Organic sprouted wheat toast, soy butter, honey with 1 cup ½ caff coffee with rice milk
• Snack: Water, Fruit or nuts or combination
• Lunch: Water, Salad with raw blue cheese or tofu or raw Ahi tuna
• Snack: Water, Spoonful peanut or almond butter
• Dinner: Water, Steamed seasonal veggies sometimes with chicken slices sometimes not
• Dessert: Water, Fruit or Fruit Smoothie

His

• Breakfast: 1 container Lite fruit yogurt, glass of juice, ¼ cup caff coffee with milk
• Lunch: ½ sandwich with turkey luncheon meat, cheese, and deli mustard, Ice tea
• Snack: ½ banana or apple or pear
• Dinner: BBQ chicken, 1 cup steam rice, applesauce, Ice tea
• Dessert: Glass of Port, biscuit or International Decaf Coffee and sugar free cookies

You can see that we do not eat much of the same things. Once in a while I try to combine foods that will accommodate both of our diets. Moose’s favorite is taco night which happens once a month.

Taco Night Recipe
The taco meat:

• 1 pound ground turkey meat
• Chile powder
• Cayenne pepper
• ¼ cup diced onions (yellow, white, or green)
• 2 cloves of garlic smashed and chopped
• Olive oil wiped on a nonstick pan

The taco makings:

• Taco shells
• 3 or 4 washed dried lettuce leaves the size of your hand
• Black olive slices
• Homemade no-salt guacamole or sliced avocados
• Non-fat plain yogurt
• Salsa Verde or Rojas (I make my salsa fresh)
• Grated cheese (I use Trader Joes Raw Cheddar Cheese)

First add oil, onion, and ground turkey into the frying pan. Cook on medium high heat until the meat is browning. Add garlic and spices to taste. Add a little at a time until you get a flavor that you like. Remember Cayenne pepper is hot and Chile powder is not. Mix while cooking until the meat is browned and coated with flavor. If the mixture looks a little dry add some water and stir.

Serve with the taco makings. My husband fills the taco shells for his meal while I fill the lettuce leaves for mine. The leaves are crunchy like the taco shells with almost no calories. The meat makes it warm and satisfying. If you are not eating meat substitute the turkey with a soy based taco filling in the produce section of your market. Or you can eat the veggies without any meat at all. The salsa will give the south-of-the-border flavor.

You should have enough leftovers for a tasty lunch or taco salad.

Sugar Sugar

I heard on FISH radio a DJ say, “Christmas cookies—proof that the Keebler elves do not work for Santa Claus.” Yes that is correct. Nothing says the holidays like fresh baked goodies oozing in butter and sugar that remind you of your childhood or a Martha Stewart segment that you wished had been your childhood.

Like a Pavlovian experiment gone awry, every time it rained I turned on the oven and baked something. Four dozen Mexican wedding cakes, two dozen bell-shaped short bread cookies, five dozen gingerbread people, and tins of rum-balls—the spicy air filled our house and made me feel happy. I managed to make a couple dozen raw truffles for my vegan friends but that was the only sane choice I created. I did not eat any of the treats. I waited for Christmas Eve. As I did Thanksgiving, I promised myself no diet restrictions on the holiday.

Meanwhile, neighbors brought by homemade goodies of their own—cranberry bread, sugar cookies, fudge, almond bark, almond brittle. My cousin brought her famous walnut caramels. Boxes of See’s candies arrived from nowhere. Mom brought pies and I made German chocolate cake. One friend delivered a basket of fresh mushrooms—a touch of reason in a season gone mad with sugar.

So Christmas Eve came with out-of-state-relatives as well as local ones and a hot soup supper before Mass. Christmas Day sparkled with baked brie, roasted pig, olive bread, black beans, tables full of snacks and treats. The following days we shopped, ate in restaurants, ate pie before bed, and drank wine.

The sugar hit my system like a linebacker in the playoffs. By Tuesday, my hands shook, pimples popped-up everywhere, and headaches became a cascade of pulses throughout my waking hours. Oh sweet heavens, what did I do to myself?

I found the detox tea next to the green tea made myself a pot and drank. For the next two days, I sipped water then detox tea then water. Today, Thursday, I feel I can walk into the kitchen without sucking honey from the plastic bear’s head. Better but not well. From July 1st to December 24th, I removed sugar, flour, and most processed carbs from my diet. In four days, it seems I destroyed the progress that I made.

To top this all off, I gained three pounds in one week which makes a net loss/gain of zero for the month of December. All for sugar, sugar.

I have learned my lesson. Next year I will only make raw truffles if I make anything at all. Homemade will include something not baked but crafted or sewn. Better yet, I will give oranges, apples or a fresh pineapple. I will not eat myself ill.

Not a Great Week

My husband is in surgery having a Vitrectomy eye surgery. I wait.

When we got the date, the memories of past hospitalization that I kept suppressed, started surfacing in bits—his hip repair, the cataract on the left eye, the cataract on the right, the peritoneal implant, and multiple amputations of the right foot and leg. With each memory came the need to eat.

Not surprising, as I had plumped-up ninety pounds in the past three years, the solution to all my stress rotated around eating. Candy bars, cookies, French fries, and burgers equaled comfort. With days turning into weeks and months of hospital bed vigils, food became a reliable friend to meet the anguish and frustration wrapped around an ailing husband.

As you know, I had to battle that pattern to lose forty-two pounds these past four months.

But this week, I slipped back into old patterns. No French Fries. However, the raw chocolates sitting in the refrigerator started to call to me on a daily basis. I had a half of chocolate after dinner then one lunch and finally I threw them in the trash—with no regrets. The next day, the Medjool Dates container somehow sat on the counter. I had two, three, four, and more before they were put away. I drank less water. I ate more peanut butter. By Sunday, I wanted to eat every half hour.

This morning on the scales, my backsliding showed in a one pound weight gain. Skipping breakfast, because Paul had to fast for the surgery, I pledged to not shove my emotions onto a spoon and push them down to my waistline. So after sending him to surgery, I wandered down to the hospital cafeteria.

At a quarter to one, the food line was crowded with staff, doctors, nurses, and waiting loved ones like me. I found the salad bar, made a spinach salad with egg, grabbed a fruit bowl, water, and headed to the register.

The gentleman in scrubs in front of me had grill cheese sandwich with the specialty of the day tomato bisque soup. The couple behind me had Diet sodas, cheeseburgers with fries, and cookies. I found a table to share with a hospital administrator. She finished a plate of fried fish and fries. She left but came back with a coffee, scone, and pudding. In the entire room of predominately hospital personnel, not one person opted for a lunch of fresh vegetables and fruit as I did. The majority had a sugary-based treat to go with the popular greasy dishes.

Okay, I know that these places are set up with the desserts first, ice cream and candy bars close to the register, and fried foods being the order of the day. But this is a hospital. Shouldn’t the cafeteria be a little more proactive in the food offering?

The salad bar really sums up the intent. Start with spinach leaves and lettuce in the big bins. Next fried tofu mixed with veggies in an oil dressing, potato salad, macaroni salad, and a mix of spaghetti and veggies in a large bowls. The smaller bowls offered cucumbers, beets, olives, egg, beans, tomatoes, chickpeas, green beans, peppers, and corn. The end of the display housed five dressings—one low calorie—and toppings of sunflower seeds, raisins, and croutons. The salad bar included fried food and pasta. How easy would it be for anyone to add the calorie laden offering when dishing up a salad?

I recently read an article in Raw Food magazine. The traveling writer started with this theme, don’t leave home without food. The thought is that in the real world—outside of your home—sugar, fat, and carbs lurk around every corner. She traveled with carrots, apples, and almonds.

For me, it’s water. I need water to cut hunger and make me say no to the bad stuff. So here I am waiting for Paul to sail through his surgery, armed with a bottle of Calistoga.

She’s shrinking...

Sandwiched between Halloween-sugar-extravaganza and the traditional Thanksgiving-stuff-the-guests, November remained a good month for my diet with a net loss of 2.2 pounds—not exactly earth-shaking but fine for the circumstances.

The excitement for me is the change in my apparel. Remember a few months ago, I gave away all the 20W and 2X clothes? I settled into 18W/1X as my new image. That only lasted a few weeks, when I discovered that my 16W pants fit very well. A cold snap in Sacramento caused me to dig out the pajamas size XL and toss the oversized 1X nightgowns. My husband and I went through our closets looking for warm clothes that fit. I unboxed his blue jeans. He tried on pair after pair with none fitting.

Just for giggles, I tried the blue jeans I borrowed from him back in the eighties when we were dating and both wore the same size jeans 36/29. Oh dear heaven, they fit and are now located in my jean drawer. Borrowing clothes—it’s like having a big sister but only it’s a husband. I told that to Paul’s nurse and she said she did not want Paul to show up in one of my dresses. We laughed because Paul has boney white knees and just last year he wore a kilt to our God-daughter’s wedding. Does that count as a dress?

This morning I tried to button a pair of size 16 corduroy pants—very cute and chocolate brown. I am a half-inch around the waist from victory with these. I know I can do it. Stick with the raw food program. Ignore cooked food especially breads, pasta, and fast food. Exercise. Okay. I have been lax on actually exercising. I prefer to mend fences, walk the dog, put up Christmas lights, and sand tables. But a few tummy crunches would get me into those brown cords a lot sooner. Sigh.

New goal: Size 16 by New Years. I will need a new dress. Oh and bra. Shoes, can’t have a new dress without shoes…

God Bless American Express

I lost two pounds this week. The previous week I lost nothing. The difference? Beca and I went spa-ing.

We've been talking about going with a group of women to Napa or Calistoga. The money didn’t seem to be available for such an extravagance. I'm one of those women. I have a bottle of make-up in the cupboard, touch up my own hair at the temples, and never really spend money on the luxury of massage. Matter of fact, it’s been about fifteen years since my last massage.

So I saved up my American Express points—enough to get Beca and me fifty minute body massages, forty-five minute facials and half hour exfoliating foot-softening treatments in a facility close to home. Oh Baby! The foot rub far exceeded anything that went before. By the end of our sessions, we did not have a stressed muscle between us. We had plenty when we had walked in the door.

In our happy bodies, we wandered around Old Town, had lunch, and of course shopped. A perfect day in my book. Life is so much more bearable when the neck doesn’t ache and the back isn’t hurting. I didn’t know how unhappy my feet were until they received all that attention to make them better.

We vowed to spa every three months. Well, maybe we can do it at least every fifteen years.

Glory, Glory, Hallelujah!

  Can you hear the choir of angels? I broke the barrier. Yes. I have lost forty-one pounds. I am now at my lowest weight since I turned thirty-nine. I am thrilled.
  My blog started June 29th and planned to end on November 6th—at the time, the date seemed far off. Now, not so much. So I am revising my schedule. I will stick to my modified raw diet until Thanksgiving. My cousin is serving me her homemade pumpkin soup. I wouldn’t miss that for the world. After Thanksgiving, I’ll see if I want to start the raw again.
  Absolutely, the American diet of meat three times a day, carbs with every meal, candy, and snacks that have no nutritional value, is out of my system forever. With the inexpensive home delivery of farm organic produce, I am learning to eat seasonally which is better for me and greens the planet by buying local not imported food. On my current diet, I feel less depressed, more energetic, and free of headaches—sinus or otherwise.
  I miss having a hot meal once and a while. Now that we are creeping up on soup season, I can’t imagine going through a winter without beef stew or chicken with dumpling soup. But now that I am within nineteen twenty-nine pounds of my ideal weight goal, this is a good time to keep the regimen going. Don’t you think? So I will stick it out a little longer and plan on having beef stew on Christmas Eve.
  Oh, and P.S. to my darling husband, Paul…Thanks for your support.

Slowing Down

Usually I don’t think about weighing-in. I do it once a week as a benchmark of the positive things I am doing for my body. This week was different. The scale called to me daily. Ignoring the beast, I tried to concentrate on life at hand. Why I am all-of-sudden obsessed with finding out my weight? It is because I am close to breaking the two hundred twenty pound barrier—the first time in a decade.

When you focus on something bad nothing good can happen. I lost only a half of a pound and did not hit the mark.

Spending all day waiting for special VW spark plugs to be delivered for my tune-up did not help. I sat all morning working on my book at Carl’s Jr. However, CJ’s idea of a health menu is offering orange juice with a fried egg, cheese and sausage sandwich—doomed before I started. I would have done better walking two miles to Mom’s house and eating a salad—a good thought in retrospect. Of course, I would not have written all morning.

Life is a trade off.

This week will be about prayer, exercise and raw foods. Only good can come focusing on good things.

And the winner is…

Last week, I met a woman named Marie. She lost one hundred and ten pounds during the period January through July 2010 – that’s about four pounds a week. Modifying Weight Watchers diet, she cut carbs and fats then ate sensibly a diet full of raw vegetables, limited fruits, and barbecue lean meats. Marie is doing tons more exercise than I am.

My friend Cindy B. is raw-canning cauliflower, beans, and cucumber with jalapeño peppers and garlic. Hot but oh so good. A new acquaintance discussed the value of sprouting seeds. Another friend, Jacki, sent me a link to a raw restaurant here in Sacramento http://www.thegreenboheme.com/ and one to a raw support group. The cover of the gardening section in Friday’s newspaper presented the trend toward more home organic gardens. It seems I am far from alone in this diet revolution.

Today, I met my transplant weight goal of two hundred and twenty five pounds. I could not have completed this goal without going raw. Over and over I have failed attaining more modest goals on the most popular diets ranging from Atkins to Grapefruit to South Beach to Weight Watchers and so many more. All diets talk about life style changes but until you stop baking, microwaving, boiling, fast-fooding, and frying that change cannot happen. Now a dietary cheat for me is a pasteurized all fruit smoothie instead of a homemade fresh one. French fries, candies, cookies, and baked goods are not tempting – an extra fig before bedtime is. That is a real change in my tastes.

Yesterday, I plowed through my closets and drawers trying on every piece of clothing I own. There is massive satisfaction in throwing garment after garment in to a pile intended for the Goodwill. The stack of over-sized rejects grew to my height approximately five-foot ten-inches high – a lovely sight that promptly fell over and covered the floor. It made me giggle.

Shopping at Eco-Thrift, a local used clothing outlet, I am purchasing smaller and smaller pants for ninety-nine cents apiece. This will do until I settle on a permanent size sometime after the holidays and the kidney transplant. My new goal for November 6th is to lose thirty-five more pounds and hit my healthy weight of one hundred and ninety pounds.

So, now I call University of California, San Francisco’s transplant nurse to let her know I have achieved the required weight. We will try to set our double surgeries for sometime in January 2011. Soon, Paul and I will have a healthy new life together. The winners are us!

Amazed

June 29th I held a weight of 260 pounds, obese, and wearing a size 20W. Today, September 6, I am 226 pounds – one pound short of my transplant weight goal – feeling healthy and wearing size 16 pants. Thirty-four pounds in ten weeks. 3.4 pounds per week average. Has anyone else ever experienced a diet like this?