A Vital Hit of Kitten

I suppose it's bad internetiquette (I thought I just made that up, but it's already in the urban dictionary) to skim photos from other sites, but this is the photo I need right now, from cuteoverload.com. This photo makes me feel the same way as I do when I see the grandpa and the toddler on my way to work.

The original caption and credit: Lady Buffington looks after her week old kittens at the Humane Society of Harrisburg Area in Swatara Township.
PAUL CHAPLIN, The Patriot-News

So, Where Were We?

To blog or not to blog. That has been the question. At first, I was afraid of boring you with my lunch, stirring your envy with more vacation photos, revealing my current state of work anxiety, or even reviewing sunscreens. None of it seemed very compelling. Fear (and/or ambivalence) leads to either no writing, or not entirely true writing. And not entirely true writing, if it isn't entertaining in its exaggeration, is pretty tedious.

And now, all of those things do seem pretty darn insignificant. Without going into too much personal detail, my dear, fiesty Grandma has been in the hospital, and today I can let out my breath a little, because she is coming home. Grandpa has been the superstar that he is, fielding phone calls, shuttling back and forth between the hospital and home, taking care of business. There is a long road ahead, but Grandma is determined, and improving every day. Her fiery nature is driving her recovery forward...that and her obvious and intense dislike of hospital food.

So it's back to hair and handbags, as the Brits say. Good to be back. I promise to post more pictures later today when I'm on a break.

What to Pack for A Week in the Tropics

Ok, before I forget, I searched all over the net for a "recommended packing list for a one week trip to a tropical place" before we left. (As you may know. Did you notice that all of the google ads were coming up with solutions for "panic disorders"!) I found one in the back of a book in the Trailblazer series that reassured me that I could get by with a minimum of stuff to pack, but still didn't give me exactly what I was looking for. You know, that secret list that would give me everything I needed to do what I wanted to do and look good doing it. So for what it's worth, here's what worked for me:

My packing list:
flip flops (black- worn to airport, too)
tevas (for rugged terrain- black)
running shoes (not necessary if you don't run, or substitute a waterproof running shoe for both teva and running and save more space. If you plan to horseback ride or lava hike, be sure to take at least one covered shoe.)
hat- soft, packable (neutral tan color)
at least 2 swimsuits (mix and match is best- dark colors)
(I took 1 one piece suit for surfing- light blue print)
rashguard
board shorts
cotton shorts, knee length (dark brown)
2-3 cotton tissue t-shirts, short-sleeved (sea-blue, white, green)
1 loose fitting cotton t-shirt with surf logo (light blue)
1 light tissue cotton or performance t-shirt, long-sleeved (white)
cotton capri/pants (white)
knee-length comfy yoga shorts (black)
thigh-length comfy yoga shorts (black)
long-sleeved Indian-type cotton blouse (light blue)
long-sleeved sheer pretty print blouse/cover-up (green, brown, blue, tan)
sleeveless cotton yoga/athletic top (brown)
3 cotton camisoles (white, black, sea-blue)
(underwear, at least one pair for each day of the trip before wash day mid-way)
1 dark bra, 1 beige, 1 running bra
packable rain jacket (grass-green, super-light, packs to 2x4x5")
light wrap/sweater for the evening and the airplane (mine is bright blue)
1-2 pairs running socks
1 pair short black sockettes

My top five items:
-thin-strap black flip-flops with arch support (here's one source, mine are Reefs)
A little bit of arch support is crucial for day-to-day comfort. If the shoes are too spongy or thick, I also find that the rebound affects my knee injury. In Hawai'i, flip flops are appropriate for all but the most dressed-up affairs. I find thinner straps more versatile.
-knee-length, non-shiny yoga-type shorts (black)
-light-colored, long-sleeved Indian cotton blouse (light blue)
-reef-safe and UVA/UVB sunscreen
-at least two swimsuits (two-piece, mix and match)

What I wish I had:
Halter-style, good coverage beach/casual dress (maybe this one, maybe not, I wanted something soft and drapey)
Environmentally friendly mosquito repellant
Short skirt, wrinkle-proof (Prana makes this cool brown one.) It isn't really necessary with all of the other bottoms I brought, but I find I lean more towards pants and shorts, and sometimes I like to look a little more girly.
reef booties- easy to walk to rocky snorkel spots and comfy on the feet-- super dorky, though

What I brought that I didn't use:
2 pairs cotton shorts (light stone)
1 band-collar long-sleeved cotton shirt (white)
tan leather flip flops- these just weren't as comfortable as the black ones
printed cotton dress- wasn't very flattering on
nightgown

I wore a comfortable black cotton top with a light sweater (also black- travel can be dirty) and jeans for the drive to and from the airport, and I always bring a wrap of some kind because the plane gets cold. I take a structured purse/tote with a zippered middle pocket for the plane, and carry a small zippered wallet instead of a purse throughout the trip. When I don't wear shoes with socks to the airport, I bring little black sockies to slip on through security. These little sockies have also come in handy as indoor slippers and even reef booties to save my feet from fin rub blisters.

In general, the clothes I took were neutrals, with accents of light and dark blue and some green. My light long-sleeved tops were hip to fingertip length for rear coverage. Camisoles and undies or short yoga shorts double as jammies. Short yoga shorts went over suit bottoms to and from the beach.

I try to bridge temperatures by bringing light-colored, long-sleeved items and a few dark-colored, short-sleeved items, so that if it's a little chilly, the sun will warm me up, and if it's a little warm, I'll reflect the sun's rays and stay covered and cool. The temperature when we were in Hawai'i was very moderate, 70s to mid-80s, so I used the long-sleeved pieces more than I might have in hotter weather. The t-shirts I took were inexpensive tissue-tees, in colors that I think are flattering on me.

The only jewelry I took was my every day wear: silver hoops and a weighty silver choker with a white mother of pearl pendant.

On many days, I wore my swimsuit top throughout the day, so make sure yours is supportive and flattering, and take at least two so you'll always have a dry one. Big prints are more obvious than solids or narrow stripes if they show through a shirt or cover-up. I like a halter style that ties. If you're driving around the islands, you may change elevation and temperature, so I always threw the rain jacket, an extra layer, and the tevas or tennies in the car just in case.

Don't forget: sunglasses, sunscreen, music (airplane headphones if you have them from another trip), a good book for downtime. Waterproof bandaids and antibiotic ointment. Hand-sani.

Remember, when you are curious, compassionate and joyful, you look your best. (Thanks, Susan Sarandon for that quote.) Have a great trip, wherever you go!

Note 3/26/11: This trip was to the Big Island of Hawai'i, where the climate is much more diverse. For trips to other islands, research the climate tendencies of the side of the island you'll be visiting. For example, the Lahaina-side of Maui is much warmer, and you'll end up wearing more light colors, strappy dresses and thin cover-ups. You probably won't need your raincoat.

Happy Birthday Grandpa and Remembering Those Who Have Served

Today is my Grandfather's birthday! Happy Birthday, Grandpa!

Unexpected rain and snow, and a long, long day yesterday are keeping them at home today, but there will be cake for sure. Grandpa has always had a sweet tooth. A day without cake, or something sweet, is not a day at all! Even better with butter!

I wrote about my grandpa around this time last year, as he has always been involved in preparations for the annual Memorial Day service at his local cemetary. I think that post deserves a re-read today.

******

Yesterday, I heard this story from Susan about a plane trip she was on last week:

Just before departing from Chicago for Detroit, the plane's captain came out from the cabin and tucked his hat underneath his arm.

"Ladies and gentlemen, today we have the honor of transporting Staff Seargeant ____ to his final resting place in his home town of Detroit. Please join me in extending our deepest gratitude and condolences to his family, who are also with us on the plane in First Class. When we land, I would ask for your patience in remaining seated and allowing them to exit the plane first so that they may accompany their son."

When the plane landed in Detroit, there was not a sound as the family quietly deplaned. A military battalion came forward on the tarmac to receive the casket. The lines of soldiers in their pressed, gold-trimmed uniforms saluted in turn as it passed.

Every single passenger on the plane waited and watched, silently, many crying softly, as the family walked slowly, quietly along with the soldiers, their arms draped over one another's shoulders.

This took about a half an hour. Not one person complained, tried to make a cell phone call, or shuffled their luggage. Each and every passenger on the crowded flight waited quietly and reverently. All the whirling details of their lives stopped for just a short while, as they contemplated the sacrifice that this soldier and his family had made.

The captain returned to face the passengers, hat once again tucked under his arm. He thanked everyone for their patience and cooperation. Susan couldn't tell this story without once again being moved to tears by the sadness and tenderness of the scene: the quiet dignity of the family, the respect of the captain, and the hushed reverence of the people on the flight. We couldn't help crying with her. I still can't tell it without choking up.

On Memorial Day, for just a few minutes, put aside the little things that make up the day and consider our national "holiday" on the most personal level. Each life lost is a son, a father, a brother, a sister, a wife: a family grieving. Whatever the "reason" for a war, if there is one, whether it is just or unjust, whether it is for oil, or land, or power, brave people go to fight for their countries, their families and their homes. Some never see home again.

This day is for them.

The Post You've All Been Waiting For

Ok, vicarious vacationers, here it comes. I'll try to keep the descriptions brief. We had a very nice time, no one got a sunburn, and we ate lots of fresh, locally caught fish.

The volcano on the island of Hawai'i was going off, so we had lots of mellow, overcast days. They call it "vog" there- volcanic fog.

Sorry, no pictures of us surfing-- who would hold the camera? We had so much fun doing it that I am devising a plan to take surf lessons before the year is out. Somewhere warm...

My friend Kristin's husband Ken nailed it when they caught me buying mangos at Trader Joe's the day we got back: I am still in tropical denial. I bought a pineapple and some mangos that day, and I have only put on shoes other than flip-flops to go to the gym. I think by tomorrow I should be back to normal.

One of the many cool flowers and plants seen from the lanai of the house in Kealakekua, on the Big Island. Avocados practically dripped from the trees, pineapples ripened on their...um, pineapple bushes (?) and one day Mike found a just-fallen coconut in the yard, husked it, cracked it, and we shared the flesh and juice. Brightly-colored geckos hid in the cracks in the deck, coming out to sun in the afternoon. Breakfast and a couple of dinners were eaten on the lanai, surrounded by the rainforest.


Sign and tiki from Miloli'i, "the last Hawai'ian fishing village" which was the subject of an Israel Kamakawiwo'ole song. The tin-roofed town sits on the blackened rock of a lava flow. Mike and I drove down to see the beach on a Sunday, and families were having barbecues at home. We felt like stupid tourists, intruding on their privacy ("Excuse me, but can you tell me where the nearest Starrrrbucks is?) so we drove quietly out.

How teeny is this gecko? Soooo teeny! Just thinking about him makes me talk in a tiny voice.


Mmmm. Mmmm. Poke! This is my absolute favorite thing to eat when I am in Hawai'i. Raw ahi, green onion, soy and seaweed. I like the cucumber and white onion variety best, but the fish above was particularly fresh and beautiful.

My, that's a smoking caldera you have there...


The radically diverse microclimates of Volcanoes National Park above.

This is a piko puka. ("Pee-koh poo-kah," try to get yer Hawai'ian on.) Piko= "umbilical cord" and puka= "hole". (People who remember the 80s: puka shells are little shells that have holes in them. Worn by that curly-haired guy from Eight is Enough, and Leif Garrett.) The Hawai'ians believe(d) that the root, or the soul of the person, otherwise known as the umbilical cord, should rest in a special place in order for their offspring to have a fortunate, or long, or good life, so they would trek way, way up on this mountain to a field of flat lava rocks called Pu'uloa, which is now inside Volcanoes National Park, to carve out a special little spot for each one. I didn't get whether this was for the whole umbilical cord, or just the little black bellybutton thing (ew!) that falls off after the baby has fully set and dried.

Each and every hole was carved with another little rock. Some of them are circles within circles, others are in the shapes of animals with circles or dots inside them, and others are just patterns of lines and circles, made by a family, or even generations of a family. There are 23,000 petroglyphs at Pu'uloa, and 16, 000 of them are piko pukas. Sixteen-thousand babies. Sixteen-thousand bellybuttons is a lot of bellybuttons. It's sort of a nice thought though, that the parents would go to all that trouble to make sure their kid got off to a good start.

Big beach, big toes. This is at Big Beach, on Maui, just around the corner from Little Beach, where most people wear no clothes. After a tiger shark bit someone last year at Makena beach, right up the road, I'm less willing to let my freak flag fly in the water over there.

Ahhh, our favorite beach. The view from our lanai at Napili Bay. (When you go to Hawai'i, not only do you have to spell Hawai'i with an okina in it, but you are also required to say lanai a lot. If you fail to say lanai enough, you are sacrificed at a luau.) This is a great little beach, though it can get crowded. I can still feel my feet in the sand and hear the ocean's rhythmic hiss. Aloha!

Some Pictures to Tide You Over While I'm Gone

Tide? What the hell does that mean, anyway? Remind me to post recipes for tzatziki and white bean dip when I get back.

One Week, One Bag

Ah, the joy of packing. Here's what I know: 1) I will attempt to create a multitude of outfit possibilities a la Glamour magazine, and 2) I will end up wearing less than a third of what I take, not including bathing suits.

I think about the features I've seen in magazines over the years about how to look fabulous on a week's vacation wearing only what you can stuff in a carry-on-- and can't remember a word. I pack demure, light-colored, long-sleeved skin-savers, crisp capris and carefree scarves (ok, maybe not "carefree" scarves), and within three days in the heat and humidity, I am strapless, sleeveless, and pants-legless, going to the grocery store in a swimsuit, cotton dress and flip-flops. And that's how I spend the remainder of my vacation. Calmer, tanner (sorry to Iga, and to my face) and less worried about how far from the mark of beach beauty I may be. As long as I stay far away from mirrors and any plate glass windows lurking near the scorching sidewalks, I'm good.

So I start out with oh, a pair of shorts, three light overshirts, a couple of t-shirts, five pairs of underwear, two bras and three swimsuits. Two pairs of socks. Running shoes and two pairs of flip-flops. Tevas. (Almost forgot those!) That covers strolling, hiking, and running, as well as walking on rocks to get to a snorkel (snorkle? snorgle? blbbblpp?) spot. Rash guards for swimming and surfing. Paddling/surf shorts for kayaking and surfing. A sweater or wrap for chilly evenings. (All 30 minutes of it.) Oh, then what if my pedicure chips? Nail polish. What if I get a sunburn? Aloe. Lotion. And on and on.

And then I ran out of time and had to go to bed because I had to get up at four in the morning. Don't hate me because I am going on vacation.

Here are some people who are better packers than I am: One Bag One World,
Pack light and happy

In honor of Mothers' Day: If famous people had had Jewish mothers.

Happy Mothers Day MOM, GRANDMA, Kristin, Karen, Tani, Tyla, Angela, Seena, Ann, Enza, Jen, Heather, Ali and anyone who in my bleary-eyed haste I have forgotten (forgive me!). You are all an inspiration to me. Keep fighting the good fight.

Aloha!

Holy moly, I can't believe it's May already. May 4, in fact. I am SO sorry for being a lax poster. Have I been busy? Yes, I suppose. The last week just went by so FAST.

We are leaving on Friday for Hawai'i to celebrate our 10th wedding anniversary. We try to go on a trip every year, so it's the same thing we did last year on our 9th anniversary, with a few changes. This time we are checking out the Big Island, which we've never been to, and trying out an inter-island flight. We had a bit of a scare a couple weeks ago when Aloha Airlines went bankrupt and we lost all of our reservations, but we managed to put the trip back together and stay on schedule on Hawai'ian. Snagged the last two seats on at least one flight.

The shopping is done, lodging arrangements are made, cars are rented. Swimsuits, check. Sandals, check. Hat, check. Sunscreen has been purchased. We've been trying to locate "reef safe" sunscreen for sale here, but it looks like we'll have to buy it there. We've used Skin Deep, the Environmental Working Group's cosmetics database, to try to find the least toxic options for lotions and bug repellants, too. Looking good.

I swear this time I'm going to pack light, calculating how many things I need to bring for half the trip, with a trip to the washing machine in the middle. Usually, I pack my bag a couple of days before and then spend the next 48 hours stuffing miscellaneous items into all of the crevices as I encounter them, so that in the end my suitcase requires the sit-on treatment to be zipped shut and would explode like a joke can of snakes if one of the fragile zippers failed. I really am going to try to do better this time. I mean, how many t-shirts and pairs of shorts do I actually wear when I'm there? I pick my favorites and the rest of the stuff hangs in the closet. If only I could know in advance what I was going to feel like wearing the most. I suppose I could narrow the choices of what I feel like wearing by eliminating half of it.

The hardest part is always what to wear on the plane, and how to make that work. We arrive at the San Francisco airport at some ungodly hour, in the cold and fog, and walk to a bus with our luggage, requiring pants, shoes and jackets. We then get into a freezing airplane and arrive five hours later in Honolulu, sit an hour and land in Kona 30 minutes after re-loading, where it will be a humid 80 degrees. I always want to be comfortable and also look respectable enough that I stand a chance of being bumped to first class should the need arise. But I don't think I ever quite manage. Maybe I should buy a pink velour tracksuit and some giant sunglasses?

You know, I'm a bit insecure about writing right now, because I came across a book titled, No One Cares What You Had for Lunch: 100 Ideas for Your Blog and it made me nervous. (I guess this guy at rickyslunch.com hasn't read it. And he's pretty damn funny.) I do write about what I have for lunch, and also sometimes breakfast. Are you bored? In case you were curious, the second hemp protein powder smoothie was pretty good. (Apparently it's the "gold standard of plant protein"!) So good I bought a whole container, and I'm telling you, if I have that for breakfast, it lasts right up to lunch and I feel energetic and not hungry. My smoothie is usually yogurt, soy or non-fat milk, frozen strawberries, and this new stuff. I feel like I'm putting good, healthy fuel in me. Am I boring you?

I've been lagging on This Week in The Garden posts and Vegetable of the Week this year. The garden has exploded with flowers. The trumpet vines are going, the pink dogwood is done and the white ones are budding up and getting ready. There are lilies and irises and azaleas like crazy. You are not getting any pictures because I set the camera to take really giant pictures so that I can blow them up, and I needed to consolidate. Until that was done, I was reluctant to add to the load dragging down my processing speed. I have a boatload of pictures on my computer. A Titanic-load.

Oh look! Abbie has updated the appearance of her blog! They grow up so fast-- pretty soon she'll have flash animations and her own google ads. This is the kind of stuff I'm talking about. If you get busy, if you don't blog, if you don't sit down at the computer and read gofugyourself and neatorama and dooce and icanhascheezeburger every day you will get behind and have to catch up. Which leaves you staring out the window over the screen at the waning light, wondering where all your garden photographing hours have gone. Then in three days you will have to go on vacation and there will be no hope for you. Am I boring you?

Go here: Make Magazine

Maybe the Next One Will Be Just Right

Ok, this morning's protein powder experiment was much better than yesterday's. Still a greenish-gray color, even without the blueberries. Still slightly medicinal, despite the fact that it's organic. This one was even a little bit sand-y. (Tons of fiber!) But the flavor was much, much better than that nasty stuff yesterday. Wish me luck tomorrow. Last one. After that, I think I'm going to go back to my 1/2 cup of non-fat yogurt. I contemplated blending up chunks of tofu, but that doesn't sound remotely tasty.

Why am I doing this? I suppose I'm sort of flailing for a miracle diet. I know I'm not going to go to sleep a frogette and wake up a princess-- unless someone kidnaps me for surprise anniversary liposuction (do they have that??!). But I still feel like I've got to give it one last try.

And then, when I get back, I'm going to take a good hard look at why my recipe journal for the last three years is full of little squares that say "yogurt, nf milk, flax berries, 250 calories," "1 egg, 1 toast, 1 coffee, 225 calories," and yet I weigh exactly the same. Instead of complaining about it, I'm going to do something, and if I'm going to lean back and just enjoy life, I'm going to quit complaining about it. I don't want to be one of those people who is always on one diet or another and always seems to stay the same weight anyway. I don't think anyone currently in my life thinks of me as a chronic dieter. That said, I'm on my way to the gym.

Rain, Rain...

It's raining today. This is pretty typical for us, a long stretch of almost-summer temperatures that reminds us just how hot it's going to get soon, and then a weeks-long dip right down to the frost level just as the tender new leaves and baby grape flowers are reaching out from the vines. Just cold enough to require the use of vineyard fans and heaters. And then we get the obligatory sprinkling of spring rain.

Thank goodness for a well-insulated house, both from the cold, and from the pre-dawn helicopter sounds of the fans. Mike is especially grateful, as he was the one who had to crawl from his warm bed in the frozen darkness to start up those fans at the other property.

I mind the rain just a little bit because I don't like to swim as much in the rain as the sun, but there are plenty of other things to do at home and at the gym. I've got some strawberry-almond-coconut granola baking in the oven right now. Smells fantastic.

I picked up a few different types of protein powder packets at Whole Foods yesterday to try to get a little more protein in the morning. This morning I tried this whey-based protein powder to add to my regular morning smoothie. The color, combined with the blueberries and strawberries that I usually add, was an unappealing greenish-gray. And oh my gosh, the flavor was VILE. The sweetener (stevia?) that they used was sweet at first taste, but the aftertaste made me grimace for minutes afterwards. Medicinal. Gross. Surprisingly, the selection of organic protein powders was very limited there. I'll try one of the two hemp-based packets (reluctantly) tomorrow. I used to pick up an organic pure soybean powder at Trader Joe's that I felt ok about since it was organic and soybeans were the only ingredient. I'll try that when I'm done with these.

In spite of the rain, and the bad taste in my mouth, today is a great day. Because today I am getting my computer back. I have been working on the "craptop"-- an old Dell Latitude (isn't that French for "the attitude"?) still running Windows 2000, while the G5 was in for upgrades and a superdrive replacement. I've remained platform bilingual throughout my career, so it's no trouble for me to pick up a pc or a Mac and just start working. But this screen is so tiny. And it doesn't really offer the portability of a laptop at this point, because the battery won't charge fully, so it just sits here on the desk. I do like the snap of the keyboard keys. The craptop is good for one thing, and that is testing PowerPoint presentations that I create on the Mac. I use it to troubleshoot so that I can deliver problem-free presentations.

On Sunday, I went with my mom and 11-year-old nephew to Berkeley, to celebrate his birthday and visit the Lawrence Hall of Science, a childhood favorite of mine. I've been wanting to go back forever. LHS has hardly changed in 30 years. This is not necessarily a good thing. It is frozen in time, and apparently in budget. A popular destination for local schoolchildren, who are led through demonstrations and math games, it was fairly deserted and spare on a Sunday afternoon. I don't want to dissuade people from going, because they clearly need the funds, but I wouldn't say that it's the most exciting place to be on a Sunday. It is a place to go with little people, where they can touch things and climb on things. If you live nearby, and need something to do, it is something to do.

I remembered being dazzled by all of the animals in the Biology Lab at nine, as our class peered into tank after tank, led by the perky lab staff, learning about and petting each and every creature. I loved reptiles and amphibians. And crustaceans. And mammals- especially the rats. They used to have a three-level ratquarium with at least a dozen rats in it that you were allowed to take out and hold. The ratquarium is still there, but the extended rat family has moved to the suburbs. Mama and Papa rat watch TV by themselves in the evening and have hobbies to keep them busy when they're not napping. The dwelling sits in a quiet corner downstairs across from the math puzzles and around the corner from the cockroach tank, inexplicably cordoned off like a precious museum bust. The crayfish tank was another highlight. I remember it as a sparkling man-made creek with glass sides, running the entire length of one wall. The crayfish lived in a naturalistic environment, pumped water creating a burbling current across shiny multicolored river rocks from one end of the tank to the other. This time, it took us a while to locate the tiny crawdads, hiding under (intentionally) broken flowerpots in a plexiglass tank full of large goldfish.

I think everything seemed so big and so cool because I was so small. Maybe everything seemed so big and so cool because there was more of it then. Or because the volunteers were a little less... bland back then than they were on Sunday. We did see a cool Bearded Dragon (I'll post a picture later when my computer is back online), an Axotl named Goldilocks, and we petted a chinchilla that was so soft you almost couldn't tell you were touching him. My nephew and I worked on a wooden puzzle together that we thought was really fun, and played a game of tossing colored sticks. He made a paper helicopter. I think we enjoyed spending the time together as much as anything else. He's a nice boy, very easy going. Next time maybe I'll take him to the comic book shop.

The Second Rule of Self-Effacement Spanish

Dialogue from a dream

I'm driving in a car with my niece Kayleigh, after visiting a young friend of ours, Laura, whom I babysat when I was a teenager. Kayleigh is pretty (which she is) and wearing pink lip-gloss.

So how is Laura doing?

Kayleigh laughs.

I know, I'm pouncing on you in the car, where you can't get away, sorry.

It's ok.

It's just, I didn't know things were that bad. If I had known that she wasn't doing well, I would have wanted to be there for her.

Well, it's like The Second Rule of Self-Effacement Spanish.

The what? (I've always meant to learn more Spanish, I think.)

Whatever, it doesn't matter, The Second Rule of Self-Effacement Spanish: "The void creates the chaos."

That makes me feel very sad, I say, and raise my cupped hand to hide the ugly shape of my mouth as I start to cry.

It doesn't matter, she says in a matter-of-fact, slightly joking way, to try to make me feel better. We're all going to die in fifty years anyway, right?

I just wanted... I can't say it through the tears, but I'm thinking, I just wanted to lead a good life, to do the best I could. It didn't occur to me that my conscious absence was part of why things went so badly.

The Last Swimsuit You'll Ever Own

Ok, it's time to fess up. I haven't been writing much lately because a) I've been working a lot, and b) I've been obsessing about my weight. I didn't want to admit it, because it's such an, oh, I don't know, ordinary thing to write about. It's boring. It's banal. It's so... common. There isn't a magazine on the stands this time of year that doesn't have a bright headline hawking the latest fad diet or product or exercise. And although I feel that the latest fad is as good as dead the minute it hits the stands, I can't help but skim the articles to see if there is some useful and heretofore unknown diet secret that will free me from my angst.

For me, the feeling that I should be just a little bit thinner has followed on my heels, lurking as lightly and as closely as a shadow, my entire life. No matter how thin I have been, I've always felt I could do better. My very thinnest college weight is a number that is seared onto my brain forever. That weight was achieved by swimming 2 hours a day, 5 days a week, and eating very little besides plain popcorn and diet coke. Maybe a little tuna. I have always dreamed of, and from time to fleeting time I have experienced, the feeling of to eating and being joyous at the same time, instead of mentally calculating the calories and where they might land, pushing the guilt back to a dark little corner of my mind, to be exhumed and worried over later in private.

Every year, about this time, like everyone else in America, I contemplate my big white self in a bathing suit and I'm overcome with guilt and dread. Sure, my clothes from last summer still fit, and I have lost ten pounds from the all-time high I hit for the second time. But I'm still not there. I have never considered myself a yo-yo dieter. I feel like I'm almost there most of the time. And I never do fad diets (ok, I tried the Atkins diet once) or starve myself (anymore). But I'm still not thin. And I still don't know if I should be.

At the beginning of the year, I sought to avoid this state. I checked my BMI online and at the doctor's. The BMI indicated that my college weight would be a better weight for me, basically. But dude, that is a lot of weight to lose! That is half a Back Street Boy, as Mike would say. It didn't seem right, and it didn't seem healthy. Or even remotely possible. So, when I got a new strength training routine from Susan, the trainer at the gym, I also had my body fat measured. That indicated a less drastic recommended weight loss of 15-20 lbs. I counted off the weeks until our upcoming Hawai'ian anniversary trip and decided it was completely do-able. It really was.

Then I panicked. Which is what I do. Every time this happens, it makes me think of Seventeen magazine, a staple for me during high school. Sometime in the spring, they'd always publish a "Countdown to Prom" issue, complete with a detailed diet plan and suggestions for what to do each week and month to look my absolute prettiest (and thinnest) by the time that special day came around. I'd read the diet, maybe start that, or if it seemed too daunting (who whips up custom diet fruit smoothies every morning at eighteen?), I'd embark on my own starvation diet of Diet Coke and fill in the blank. Diet Coke and raisins, Diet Coke and popcorn. Diet Coke and tuna. Diet Coke and Diet Coke. And of course, cafeteria food at lunch, or nothing. My crash diet would quickly crash and burn, and I'd watch the remaining days count down on the calendar, feeling like a failure.

The phrase that always comes to mind is a line from the "Wear Sunscreen" piece that was mistakenly attributed to Kurt Vonnegut years ago (but was actually written by Mary Schmich):

"In 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked….You’re not as fat as you imagine."

I'd contemplate losing a limb to be the weight now that I once agonized over in high school. To have my size in the single digits again. I watch the Discovery Channel-- there are all sorts of remarkable prosthetic limbs now. Knock on wood. Or carbon fiber. Of course, I'd lose the weight, but then I'd be a one-legged fat person, not a thin person who happened also to be missing a leg.

Thin equals pretty, pretty equals happy, therefore fail at thin equals fail at happy. Right? So here I am, less than 30 days from take-off, with a theoretical 10-15 more lbs to go. And worse, I'm struggling with how I can be happy and have fun on my vacation if I'm fat. Because I failed at reaching a goal that I thought about once in January, that got closer and more impossible as each day went by. It's embarrassing to admit.

I find myself in a battle. Wanting to lose weight and not being successful at it means that I believe fat is bad and thin is good, and that I am not good until I am thin. I don't believe that. I fight against it. It seems to me that wanting so desperately to be something different, whatever it is, means that I don't think what I am is good enough. In general, that is not true, but when it comes to weight, how can it not be true?

I have said before that I don't want to be at war with food. I want to be healthy. And I am. Recently, I had an EKG, tests for diabetes and a cardiac "stress test". Because of my family's history of heart disease and diabetes, I wanted to establish a healthy baseline so that I know what's going on with my heart over time. Secretly, I suppose I wanted to be told that I could be healthy without having to go on the dreaded diet. That for once, I could relax.

It was so very gratifying to hear the doctor tell the nurse that my heart slowed down so fast after the exercise because "She's fit. That's why." In the follow up, she said my heart looked great, that I was very healthy. I asked about weight, and told her about my BMI and my body fat percentage. We talked about statistics concerning fit, slightly overweight people and thin people who don't exercise. I'll live longer. I said I have always felt fat and I wanted to know if I really needed to lose weight. What she finally said was that I would probably "feel better" if I lost 10 to 15 lbs.

The same night, I went to a belly-dancing class with my friend Lisa. There were two very thin women, and two very not-so-thin women, and me in the middle. The instructor was telling us at the end that we'd feel the workout if we weren't used to exercise. She looked at the two thin women and said, "I'm sure you exercise, and I'm sure you exercise, and...," she looked at me, "do you exercise regularly?" Of course, I just said, "yes." But what I wanted to say was, "I probably exercise more than anyone in this room. I do six hours of cardio a week, including my daily dog walks, and I lift weights twice a week. How fast can you run a mile? Because I bet I can beat you. I'm fit, dammit." And then I would prove it by kicking her belly-dancing ass.

That made me examine the fact that I don't just want to be fit, I want to look fit. I want people to look at me and think that I'm strong. That I must work out. That I'm... I hardly dare to say it... attractive. Pretty. And the desire to be pretty, combined with the fear that I may never get there, is a scary thing. If anyone knows me, you'll probably want to reassure me at this point, telling me that I AM pretty, and I AM desirable. If you're my husband, you'll tell me that I'm sexy, because that's the kind of great person that you are. (Thanks for the "For Doing the Taxes" flowers, too, by the way.) But I'll never see it in any way but that you are trying to be nice to me. Until I'm thin. Or at least, thinner.

Don't worry, I'm going to be ok. I feel better already. In a week or so, things will look rosier. I'll get over this hump, and maybe even shave off 5 more lbs before I go to the islands. Writing has helped me get to the (wide, lumpy) bottom of this, and I know that it's more important to be happy and healthy than thin. I really do seek a healthy state of mind and body on a daily basis. I'm not afraid of, or at war with, food. (As evidenced by the 102 posts on my blog about it!) I am going to continue to slog toward weight loss, and I'll get there eventually, but if I don't get there with my sanity and health intact, weight ain't nothing but a number.

Haiku High Five

Yet another reason to get over there and check out the Cleaner Plate Club again: Agribusiness Haiku. I hope she doesn't mind me posting it here, it was just so damn good. There are more.

For Monsanto
Your stock grows…in Hell.
GMOs: they’re a sin now!
Sez who? The pope, dude.

By Popular Demand

I took this White Bean Dip to work this week, and it seemed to be pretty popular. It's easy, healthy, and really flavorful. It is reported to be Turkish in origin, and meant to be served in a trio of dips for vegetable kebabs, but it's also great with chips. (I like Trader Joe's Flax Tortilla Chips, but then, I would.) You could also toast some pitas or flatbreads. If you can, make it a day ahead to allow the flavors to meld.

Turkish White Bean Dip

2 cans cooked white beans
1/2 medium onion, chopped
1/4 c olive oil
1/2 bunch parsley, leaves only
1/4 cup lemon juice (I used mostly lemon plus a little lime)
1/2 tsp salt, or to taste

Drain beans, discard liquid. Put beans and other ingredients in a
blender or food processor. Puree until not quite smooth.

New Minimalist Look?

O Header, where art thou? If you saw it, you know that there was something, um, fuzzy about the former header. I will fix and put it back up asap. Just not yet. For now, here's the quote that was on it:

"We should all do what, in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting the laundry." E.B. White

Or writing Charlotte's Web. And speaking of fantastic children's books, take a look at the FABULOUS link on the right sidebar. The Dewey Drive is a book drive for libraries in need. You can donate books for children who need them via Amazon. It brought tears to my eyes to read that some little person wanted the book "Summer Pony," which was one of my favorites as a fourth-grader, but no one had donated it yet. Books were such an important part of my young life. Check out the drive and read the response from one of the recipient librarians here.

Ok, gotta go work on that header...