tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55166337094909492282024-03-13T09:04:42.093-04:00On the Way to ONEderlandCall me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.comBlogger270125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-22225484050094866792012-06-01T15:28:00.000-04:002012-06-01T15:28:30.491-04:00I'm Here!Hey all, I'm still kicking! Sorry for the prolonged absence, but I'm still alive, and doing my exercise thing as much as I can.
Thanks to everyone who checked in to find a pulse -- it means a lot to me that you missed me!
Cutting to the chase, I haven't been able to blog much because I am working on a big side project -- on top of my regular job -- that has me writing non-stop. At the end of the day, after tons of writing, I just don't have the energy to write anymore. But I read all your blogs, religiously.
I'm still doing the New Rules of Weight-Lifting for Women -- hurt my knees tho doing squats -- and that's generally going well. Cycling and hitting the gym for cardio as much as poss.
Down almost 15lbs, which was my French Open goal. Maybe by the time it's over in two weeks, I can make it to the magic 15!!Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-50100794219891236612012-04-26T11:50:00.000-04:002012-04-26T11:50:34.811-04:00Seeing ThyselfUncomfortably familiar with exactly how this photographer describes/sees herself. I've sometimes seen myself in pictures and wondered, "Who is that person?" I look so different from how I feel about myself.
<a href="http://lens.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/04/26/seeing-yourself-as-others-do/">See what I'm talking about here</a>.Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-71395745287712320092012-04-20T15:59:00.004-04:002012-04-20T16:14:17.583-04:00Hooping It UpIt's official: I cannot hoola hoop. Or hula hoop, for that matter.<br /><br />The activity that appears so easy and effortless on "how to" videos and what I remember as simple fun from childhood is completely beyond me. Whales could do it better, I swear.<br /><br />First I thought it was my hoop - too heavy. I got a bigger, extra light one. Even worse. It's not meant to be. I can't get beyond three rotations and the damn thing falls to the ground. Sometimes it's not even one rotation!<br /><br />First big hike of the season on Sunday. It hurt. We got slightly lost and so traveled in a circle for a good extra mile, leaving us totally wiped out when we finally did get to the summit. The last 300 feet were quite steep and we were both pathetically unable to go more than 10 steps before having to stop and gasp for air. We are waaaay out of shape.<br /><br />We limped home (literally) from the train station and I had to immediately get in the shower, obviously. This strange blob below is my ankle and sock. The pink strip in between is what my skin normally looks like. Everything else is either sock or grime.<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5DHNou8V5OY/T5HCzBuIFHI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/3EC7t1eettY/s1600/IMG00477-20120415-1737.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5DHNou8V5OY/T5HCzBuIFHI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/3EC7t1eettY/s320/IMG00477-20120415-1737.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5733577982510371954" border="0" /></a><br />Hey, it's not a real hike if you don't come home dirty, right? <br /><br />So, I'm still fighting the good fight, and not giving up on trying to lose, or at least maintain. (the very least) <br /><br />Thanks for the supportive words on my last blog. Back soon.Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-31323734893385800942012-04-06T10:23:00.002-04:002012-04-06T10:40:56.699-04:00Circle of PanicFor quite some time now I've been telling myself to go back to my nutritionist, who performed the (usually) bi-weekly task of weighing me and going over my food charts.<br /><br />The last time we met I had started to regain some weight -- that was two years ago. She sternly cautioned me to pay attention to those 10lbs. "It starts with 10," she said, "And if you aren't careful, it can go from there."<br /><br />Well, a few things happened in the interim beyond my control (the long period of 2011 illness in which I lost probably about 15 to 20lbs (but from an extreme gastro situation, not a healthy diet)), but I've yet to make an appointment to go back to her, and get back into a regular schedule of accountability.<br /><br />What's that word there? Ah yes, accountability. That's what I'm avoiding. <br /><br />My only experience of extended weight loss came when I was a) very motivated, to the exclusion of practically all else and b) seeing this woman on a regular basis, and facing the scale. (Erm, actually I never really faced the scale because I let her weigh me and record the number but I asked her to never tell me -- it was just too dauntingly high.)<br /><br />You'd think, then, that I would go back. But I'm ashamed. I'm ashamed to go back without at least having returned to the lower weight that I was before I gained back about 10lbs. I want to go back and show her that at least in the two years since we saw each other I've been able to maintain my lower weight (which is seriously not all that low, in the bigger picture of "normal" size).<br /><br />Now I'm afraid that I'm even bigger than I was then. I saw a picture of myself the other day and was shocked, shocked, shocked at how big my stomach looked. I am sitting here telling myself that it was just a bad picture, but squeezing my stomach, I can feel that roll. It's just hanging there, being fat.<br /><br />The adult in me knows that I should not be an idiot and start going back to this woman. At this point, I've probably got to lose a good 25lbs before I could even get close to where I was. If I don't go see her, will that ever happen?<br /><br />Barring that, if I really can't face her, then I need to man up and weigh myself at the gym, so at least I have a record and can get some sense of reality here. Yet I am so, so, so, so terribly afraid that I am going to see a sky-high number -- and I mean really really really sky-high, like 30 or 40lbs bigger than I'm thinking -- that I just can't do it.<br /><br />I think of that and, no exaggeration, the panic just shoots through my body. My fight-or-flight response goes through the roof and I get antsy and jumpy and want to run somewhere and hide. It scares me to death.<br /><br />My coping mechanism is to tell myself to just keep doing all the things that worked for me before and eventually the inches will come off and I can go back to my nutritionist when I'm ready. This is what I tell myself, yet... I fear it's not happening. I feel like nothing is coming off, and the panic comes back. Then I tell myself that this is why I need to get on the scale, because there could be losses and I don't know it, and the panic gets even worse. Meanwhile I obsessively take my clothes on and off in the morning, asking my long-suffering M repeatedly if certain jackets, pants, shirts look tighter on me. (The answer is often no, but in a less than convincing tone).<br /><br />So, that's me right now. Ish, your friendly rat in a cage.Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-85434441787438816922012-03-29T15:42:00.005-04:002012-03-29T16:00:56.596-04:00We Have Lift-OffBrace yourself for a rapid-fire update (repetitive strain in the wrist this week -- hurts to type).<br /><br />Gym: yes, every day so far, alternating bouts of treadmill, elliptical, rower. Neuroma present, but pain bearable. That's good.<br /><br />Intake: on plan, including a dinner out Monday night. A little problem with wine last night. But overall, better than it's been in quite a while. Party tonight, have budgeted in some wine, but not treats.<br /><br />Results: sunnier moods generally all week, overall improvement in optimism, attitude, outlook on life. Suspicion that several pairs of pants are just ever so slightly (and really I mean slightly) looser.<br /><br />Desk Chair: works a treat. I fiddle, wiggle and bounce all day. Damned uncomfortable for long stretches of time, which is exactly what I need: gets me on my feet every 45 to 60 mins. When I got it the chair was too short -- a midget chair. But I flexed the ol' biceps and really pumped the ball up and now it's perfect. Check it out.<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XkXS1EYwlDU/T3S9i1Ad8FI/AAAAAAAAAj4/SzATfL6iiGM/s1600/IMG00454-20120327-0954.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XkXS1EYwlDU/T3S9i1Ad8FI/AAAAAAAAAj4/SzATfL6iiGM/s320/IMG00454-20120327-0954.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5725409432336986194" border="0" /></a>View not much different from this angle, but just to be thorough:<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dWxzFTFqgLY/T3S9tSL6V8I/AAAAAAAAAkE/rIh2M1oJm00/s1600/IMG00455-20120327-0954.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dWxzFTFqgLY/T3S9tSL6V8I/AAAAAAAAAkE/rIh2M1oJm00/s320/IMG00455-20120327-0954.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5725409611968305090" border="0" /></a>Hula Hoop -- apparently it's not good to buy the standard-issue ones in sports shops, which I did. Mistake. It's not big enough to properly swing, and it's weighted slightly, so the minute I try to twirl it the thing crashes to the floor, banging my knees, shines and ankles on the way down! Crazy hoop! From what the Internet tells me, I need an adult size hoop that is not weighted -- the key is to make sure it's a big, big hoop, according to the ..er ... experts. So I've ordered another. Will give it a whirl and report back. I can work my way up to handling the weighted one, it seems, but I'm not skilled enough yet. However, my early flailing indicates this has real potential: could be a neat little workout (done, for example, during commercials while watching telly) and will be virtually silent once I can keep it from crashing to the floor.<br /><br />Dog hike: Still waitlisted!! Grrrr! So many dogs in NYC, so many dog-lovers. I am still waiting for my Fido hike.<br /><br />Onward, comrades!Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-7493979315765715842012-03-21T10:43:00.006-04:002012-03-21T11:07:14.251-04:00It's All in the MindDear reader, allow me to (re)state the obvious: this is one hell of an uphill slog.<br /><br />This morning I saw a picture from almost one year ago, when I was in the hospital with that terrible gall-bladder removal gone wrong. Reader, I was much, much skinner. My face and neck and shoulders were practically gaunt (not my hips - never my hips).<br /><br />I didn't look very good, mind you. I was sick, dehydrated, and you could see it in my face. But wow... don't think I've ever seen my neck that sharply delineated in my life. Who knew my eyes were so big and round? Startled lemur is the effect I called to mind.<br /><br />There is no hiding the fact that I have regained all that weight. And a little bit more. Now I'm in the long and somewhat painful process of taking it all off again.<br /><br />You know the drill: get up, stretch, eat the same thing every morning, eat the same snacks during the day, same lunch, evening workout, dinner, and then bed. Then up again the next day to do it all over again.<br /><br />I'm trying to inject some fun into this and make it a more positive, upbeat experience. Yes, I need to keep losing weight and that requires discipline and denial, and getting my butt in gear when I'd rather laze around. No getting around it.<br /><br />As I am so frequently reminding myself these days, when the hand stretches out for a second helping or an unscheduled snack: YOU CAN NOT HAVE IT BOTH WAYS. <br /><br />That is, I can eat what I want when I want it, or I can stick to a regimented food plan and slowly, over time, see my weight drop. One, or the other, but never both (for me, at least, others appear to have more luck. But we won't dwell on them).<br /><br />But, my friends, this not a misery (or it shouldn't be). This is life. This is exactly what millions of people do every day (while millions of millions of others worry about not having any food to eat -- sad, and weird, but true).<br /><br />In the interest of fun I have done the following:<br /><br />1) Exchanged my desk chair (which is practically glued to my behind in this new, sedentary job) with an exercise ball. Bouncy work time is more fun, right?<br /><br />2) Purchased a hula hoop (or hoola hoop, I guess). I look a fool, but I can do it in my apartment at night while watching TV and my downstairs neighbor is none the wiser.<br /><br />3) Signed up for a weekend hiking program that allows you to go for a hike with a rescue dog "borrowed" for the day from the local shelter. So you get to go for a hike with an adorable dog who desperately needs a day of fresh air and fun outside of his/her cramped little rescue cage. A win-win! And everyone knows a doggie hike is not a chore. How could it be?<br /><br />I am determined to move more all day long -- not just during workouts. This job is NOT helping my uphill slog. So, on that note, it's time for me to step away from my desk again.<br /><br />Until I'm back, enjoy the beautiful singing of Iz. Is it me projecting my own feelings on to him, or do you also feel like you know what he's wishing for when he sings, oh-so-poignantly, about dreams coming true?<br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/w_DKWlrA24k" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="560"></iframe>Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-87432840677711066172012-02-14T13:50:00.006-05:002012-03-10T11:52:51.839-05:00A Dark and Terrible DiscoveryIn the dank, foul laboratory where I labor to produce elfin elixirs that will make me skinny, (ie..the kitchen), a most heinous realization occurred: if I dip my organically-sourced fair trade dark chocolate into my all-natural almond butter, a stunning treat emerges that tastes EXACTLY like a Reese's peanut butter cup, the one type of candy that I have never been able to resist.<br /><br />Friends, this is why I stay out of the kitchen. Nothing good can happen there for a fatty like me (and I do use that term fairly lovingly, since I have learned to accept and even chuckle at my inner fatty, a harmless and happy-go-lucky creature that just adores to eat good and creamy things.<br /><br />I don't want to *be* fat. But I don't hate my inner fatty).<br /><br />It's been quiet of late in Ishland, and that's because I've been .. well, sort of figuring some things out. I did mention briefly that I'd switched jobs of late. Perhaps I didn't mention that this has set off an explosion of identity crisis and existentialist hand-wringing. (Yes, I am prone to that, aren't I?)<br /><br />It's just that I'm one of "those" people who strongly identifies herself through work. It has been a surprise (not a pleasant one) to see just how much I have defined myself by my work label all these years. Now that it's been taken away, by my own choice, what am I? What are my new boundaries? What terms do I use to describe myself? None of the ones commonly used appeal to me. I liked the label I had, but not the lifestyle I was forced to follow with it.<br /><br />This has produced much second-guessing, as you can image. Have I made the wrong choice? Is my career effectively over? Will I spend my days obsessing over the mythical "What might have been?" question and drive myself into a bitter, lonely and likely deranged dotage? (All of these have been answered with a resounding YES by my inner control freak, who throws a few cookies at my inner fatty to distract her and then takes command of my head space.)<br /><br />To survive all this insanity, I've adopted an alcoholic's approach to work. I just get through one moment at a time, one day at a time. I remind myself this choice wasn't about a short-term gain but a long-term gain. I swapped a demanding, unsatisfying, fairly underpaid position -- that had bursts of adrenaline and fun and great colleagues -- for a slow, easy-going, overpaid position that doesn't challenge me, never will challenge me, and makes me feel like I'm working with dullards.<br /><br />You see the problem there, don't you? It's in the "no challenge" perception I have of this job. So, ok, it's not a job that will last a lifetime (please God no).<br /><br />I need to hang tough, and remember that I did this for my long-term choices (ie, being debt-free in the next three years).<br /><br />What does this have to do with my weight-loss? Well, I am able to tell you that I have not drowned my fears and worries in the grease of potato chip bags, or the comfort of a good creamy custard.<br /><br />Despite my inner tensions and worries, I still make my low-cal breakfast every day, pack my lunch of mini-kale salad with 5 oz of lean protein and lots of veggies, my snack of fruit and sometimes a small cottage cheese/yogurt, and I eat sensibly at night.<br /><br />There has been a bit of an uptick in the Pinor Noir consumption, but really, is it my fault that there is a darned fine wine store right next to my office specializing in French wines? It's been my guilty pleasure, but now I need to acknowledge it may also be a bit of a coping mechanism as well.<br /><br />The only thing lacking has been a commitment to exercise. I have walked the 3+ miles home several nights these past weeks, but my dedication to working out ebbs and flows. Some days I can, others I just can't muster up the will to make the right choice for myself.<br /><br />Friends, all I can say to you is that I am aware of this, and I'm struggling to address it. I am no longer willing to try and shame myself into working out, nor am I going to try and falsely hype myself into it with forced cheer and bravado. It is what it is. At this moment, at least.<br /><br />I'm ever-so-slightly depressed these days, but I'm coping. I'm coping.<br /><br />Apropos of nothing, a friend <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X4Qm9cGRub0">sent me this video</a> the other day. If you've got 20 mins to spare, take a look and then tell me what you think. I'd really like to know.Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-36693713081917373372012-02-10T16:22:00.002-05:002012-02-10T16:38:38.529-05:00Volleying with MyselfYou'll forgive me, I hope, if I indulge just momentarily in a whinge.<br /><br />Why, dear readers (as Peridot would say), are some people able to lose weight merely by changing what and how they eat? And not starvation changes, but just simple and basic alterations to their regular habits. Why don't they have to slog away on torture machines for hours every week and go to bed hungry every night to see results?<br /><br />This whine has a back story, of course: It's really really hard for me to lose weight without working out. A lot. AND watching what I eat very carefully. I am not alone in this, but sometimes it does feel very lonely.<br /><br />So it's Friday night, I made it to the gym ONE TIME this week, which is not sufficient, of course, and I'm tired. Oh so tired. There is no reason that I should be so exhausted -- if I had to guess why I'm so pooped at the end of the day, it's probably my weight!<br /><br />Today I made three good decisions not to talk myself into buying things that I did not need to eat: chocolate covered almonds, a double-serving of ricotta and tomato quiche (it's supposed to be a single serving but really...who am I kidding? It was easily enough for two) and a "healthy-style" organic burrito.<br /><br />Despite avoiding those temptations, I still overate at lunch. I got healthy food, but still....I ate too much.<br /><br />Classic example, in tennis terms, of a player who wins lots of points, but can't producer the big winners. I'm doing some things right, but without getting in the workouts, I'm not going to see the results I so desperately want.<br /><br />When I was doing really well with weight loss, I had a firm equation in my head: effort = reward (ie, a good scale #). Now I'm back in fantasyland, where I think I can make a few piddling food sacrifices, and still take home the trophy.<br /><br />Slogging ahead, we are skedded for beginner Ashtanga yoga on Saturday, and when I say we I mean that M has agreed to come under duress. This class is closer to home than my usual one and the teacher promises it won't stress the knees. <br /><br />I will report back!Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-82205412938667617812012-02-01T13:59:00.003-05:002012-02-01T14:23:42.574-05:00Resetting the PointAs any observant reader of this blog will have noted, I have several obsessions/hobbies: wine, cats, my bike, hiking, reading and tennis.<br /><br />The tennis craze was what led me to weight-loss -- well, it helped, anyway. I decided to learn to play after Serena came back from knee surgery and won the Australian Open in 2007, I think it was. She was about 15lbs overweight, at least, and the commentators could not refrain from talking about it, even right up until the day she finally won the tournament.<br /><br />I was so jazzed by her determination that I ran out and signed up for private lessons -- and promptly ruined my left knee about six weeks later while playing with a friend on a hard court. Sadly, I was really too big at that point to be doing that kind of activity -- it was just so much strain on my joints. But being stubborn -- and, quite frankly, hugely in denial over just how huge I was -- I ignored the warning signs and kept pounding away when I should have found a less competitive friend to bat the ball around with until I dropped more weight.<br /><br />This past weekend I watched the Australian Open again -- this time rooting for Andy Murray, who struggles mightily to crack into the Top 3 in men's tennis, but he just can't get by Rafa Nadal, Roger Federer or Novak Djokovic.<br /><br />This year, Djokovic -- who is basically unbeatable after adopting a gluten-free diet about 18 months ago -- took him out, but Murry fought back harder and more effectively than ever before. Martina Navritalova, the sports commentator, kept talking about how Andy was able to "reset the point," on Djokovic, just when the Serb thought he was going to win. Djokovic would have Murray on the run, and he'd somehow come up with the just the right shot to buy himself that extra second to get back on court, find his position and be ready for whatever Djokovic threw back -- and often, Murray wound up winning those points.<br /><br />It's time for me to reset the point in my own Grand Slam against the Fat. Like Djokovic, my opponent appears to be unbeatable. It makes my strengths work against me, it covers all the angles, it knows my shots too well. And I, like Murray, find that no matter how many times I produce a winner, Fat always takes the damn game! <br /><br />But I welcome the official start of the Grand Slam tennis season, and my goals are linked to the upcoming tournaments: For the French Open, I will have lost 10lbs. And by Wimbledon, I'll be working on 15. <br /><br />These are modest and achievable goals, and I need to impose some markers in my life or time slips by all too fast. As Murray prepares for his next chance at glory, so will I.<br /><br />You can all tune in for the Grand Slam weigh in on May 27th, start of the French Open. Until then, I'll keep you updated on my training regimen. May the best tennis player win!!Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-49627855790090006152012-01-23T17:22:00.016-05:002012-01-23T18:02:37.243-05:00Chickens Roosting, etc.. etc...We are finally home from the wintry trek to upstate NY -- a blissful week without TV, cellphone service or a DVD player on which to dutifully play all the pilates workout videos I had hauled along. But who am I kidding, right? I wouldn't have done them anyway.<br /><br />Consider this a show-and-tell recap of my vacay and attempts to not gain 20lbs while hibernating in the north country, where it's all too tempting to wrap up in a shawl and cuddle on the couch all day.<br /><br />Here's what it looked like when we arrived. Definitely wintery -- that's a bit of a flurry going on.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-454Yo8udjDs/Tx3gkk3vt0I/AAAAAAAAAjs/_m8c_8d-1xM/s1600/IMG00336-20120105-0827.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-454Yo8udjDs/Tx3gkk3vt0I/AAAAAAAAAjs/_m8c_8d-1xM/s320/IMG00336-20120105-0827.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700959622298318658" border="0" /></a>Naturally, my source of entertainment immediately became food. I decided to bake a blueberry pie -- the one I mentioned in my prior post. Of course, I had to make the crust too. It's not a good idea to do that if you prefer to remain ignorant of how much butter is in a crust. Holy crikey, it is A LOT.<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wDcFUaW1AmU/Tx3ghVCaRmI/AAAAAAAAAjg/N4Z8imfSRIQ/s1600/IMG00339-20120105-1214.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wDcFUaW1AmU/Tx3ghVCaRmI/AAAAAAAAAjg/N4Z8imfSRIQ/s320/IMG00339-20120105-1214.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700959566508476002" border="0" /></a>What is a pie without a glass of wine with dinner and some cheese? So we had to make the drive to Woodstock to hit up the local shops. You'd think having all grocery-type stores a solid 30-minute drive away would make me eat less. Sadly, that did not prove true.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CGrWJWGEQ70/Tx3gdz-acmI/AAAAAAAAAjU/7xkLPOmEbS8/s1600/IMG00340-20120105-1502.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CGrWJWGEQ70/Tx3gdz-acmI/AAAAAAAAAjU/7xkLPOmEbS8/s320/IMG00340-20120105-1502.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700959506093732450" border="0" /></a>With all that fat bubbling away in my veins and arteries, it was no hardship to brave the cold the next day for some skiing. Except it was more like mudding, because there wasn't much snow! Everything you see here is man-made, from the snow machines at night. Still, we did some runs.<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CYKpS0cB2M8/Tx3gYlbxcMI/AAAAAAAAAjI/iQZu1_v9DqE/s1600/IMG00342-20120106-1514.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-CYKpS0cB2M8/Tx3gYlbxcMI/AAAAAAAAAjI/iQZu1_v9DqE/s320/IMG00342-20120106-1514.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700959416290996418" border="0" /></a>From this angle you can really see how sad this resort looks -- the mud was ankle-deep in the parking lot and huge brown patches showed up all over the slopes.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KpMynn0kerY/Tx3gWOTRPwI/AAAAAAAAAi8/IsV2y8rLrqA/s1600/IMG00345-20120106-1542.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KpMynn0kerY/Tx3gWOTRPwI/AAAAAAAAAi8/IsV2y8rLrqA/s320/IMG00345-20120106-1542.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700959375721578242" border="0" /></a>On the way home I had to take a peek at this cosy place -- who can resist a smoking chimney and a sign that says "Antiques"? Sorry for the fuzzy image; our windshield was dirtier than I thought.<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4lo6S9asuKY/Tx3gTGb8-MI/AAAAAAAAAiw/0V5C_a6PISg/s1600/IMG00349-20120106-1604.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4lo6S9asuKY/Tx3gTGb8-MI/AAAAAAAAAiw/0V5C_a6PISg/s320/IMG00349-20120106-1604.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700959322070907074" border="0" /></a>Had some aches in the knees after my hard day on the slopes (that would be about two hours of afternoon skiing in an <span style="font-style: italic;">extremely </span>laid-back fashion), so I decided on a medicinal soak in the hot tub while the sun went down. The wine might have been flowing a bit freely at that point, too.<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cd0liyYvl_g/Tx3gNx4EjSI/AAAAAAAAAik/yJ4WuddjQNE/s1600/IMG00352-20120106-1632.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cd0liyYvl_g/Tx3gNx4EjSI/AAAAAAAAAik/yJ4WuddjQNE/s320/IMG00352-20120106-1632.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700959230652353826" border="0" /></a>Knees were so stiff the next day it was all I could do to hobble around this lake on a flat, 2-mile walk. Cold, windy and unpleasant, but the Catskills light was fascinating; it changes constantly.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f4OnBeIs6DQ/Tx3gK32GqCI/AAAAAAAAAiY/t9YO89PdgtY/s1600/IMG00360-20120107-1450.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-f4OnBeIs6DQ/Tx3gK32GqCI/AAAAAAAAAiY/t9YO89PdgtY/s320/IMG00360-20120107-1450.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700959180715108386" border="0" /></a>To warm up, a drive to the nearest town, one I had never seen before. It was a welcome and cheery sight, with it's brightly-colored shops on a quaint little Main Street.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jR53FYefV_M/Tx3gGC51ihI/AAAAAAAAAiM/yzB7uVmkND4/s1600/IMG00361-20120107-1558.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jR53FYefV_M/Tx3gGC51ihI/AAAAAAAAAiM/yzB7uVmkND4/s320/IMG00361-20120107-1558.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700959097784207890" border="0" /></a>Found an old-fashioned general store -- built like a log cabin of sorts -- that sold an old memory. We used to get these as treats in the general store in my tiny town when I was a kid. Of course, we'd plunge our hands right in to grab what we wanted, no matter how often the adults told us to wait. Hygiene was not a factor at that age.<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3oWwmXcDfGU/Tx3gDH9XsSI/AAAAAAAAAiA/KLLeFgX4RJA/s1600/IMG00365-20120108-1459.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3oWwmXcDfGU/Tx3gDH9XsSI/AAAAAAAAAiA/KLLeFgX4RJA/s320/IMG00365-20120108-1459.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700959047601598754" border="0" /></a>It's probably also not hygienic to have a cat sleeping in a box in your general store in the front window, about six inches from where customers self-serve their coffee (and pour the milk, likely spilling drops here and there) but what kind of cat-lover would I be to complain?<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dHG24Jg6s7k/Tx3f_U5Ze5I/AAAAAAAAAh0/Bwv1g4q3dU8/s1600/IMG00366-20120108-1500.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dHG24Jg6s7k/Tx3f_U5Ze5I/AAAAAAAAAh0/Bwv1g4q3dU8/s320/IMG00366-20120108-1500.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700958982355123090" border="0" /></a>Not sure these poor guys get the same loving treatment; saw them on the way home and it almost put me off the idea of our spaghetti-and-meatball dinner. Must rethink trying vegetarianism again.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b_qPU9ylOpY/Tx3f8vxMVAI/AAAAAAAAAho/ASOAFgh5DPI/s1600/IMG00370-20120108-1540.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-b_qPU9ylOpY/Tx3f8vxMVAI/AAAAAAAAAho/ASOAFgh5DPI/s320/IMG00370-20120108-1540.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700958938028856322" border="0" /></a>Couple of Bambi-like creatures showed themselves as the late-afternoon sun warmed up the grassy slope near a busy bridge. Hope none of them tried to cross it later.<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x_i8_2gpeSo/Tx3f5G1T13I/AAAAAAAAAhc/pWHR2DSZPaE/s1600/IMG00373-20120109-1409.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x_i8_2gpeSo/Tx3f5G1T13I/AAAAAAAAAhc/pWHR2DSZPaE/s320/IMG00373-20120109-1409.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700958875500664690" border="0" /></a>The next day we took a loooong walk around the local reservoir -- freezing cold, and blindingly bright. Still could not really use my knees well. The left one in particular was too stiff to bend.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uz0zJXr74Vo/Tx3f2SSdSoI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/9_zTCCzq6O0/s1600/IMG00375-20120109-1444.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uz0zJXr74Vo/Tx3f2SSdSoI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/9_zTCCzq6O0/s320/IMG00375-20120109-1444.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700958827036101250" border="0" /></a>Whatever little bit of walking we did that day wasn't enough to burn off this baby. Can you believe this is just ONE pancake at Sweet Sue's diner in Phoenicia? We have to ask them to just bring one (it's for M, not me), because the real serving is THREE. Can you imagine that? THREE!<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4bI-VlsDQeE/Tx3fzbJTUdI/AAAAAAAAAhE/G6GDLs9YTWI/s1600/IMG00379-20120111-1134.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4bI-VlsDQeE/Tx3fzbJTUdI/AAAAAAAAAhE/G6GDLs9YTWI/s320/IMG00379-20120111-1134.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700958777874010578" border="0" /></a>The knees are slowing getting better but have been dicey for almost two weeks now. Tonight for the first time I will go back to the gym and have a bit of a row on the machine and see how they handle it. I haven't done yoga since the trip either and am feeling like crap. I'm at that stage in the post-vacation when you can no longer ignore that your pants are feeling tighter and buttons are straining. Time to roll myself back into a regular routine, as much as the injuries will allow, anyway.<br /><br />Since returning my eating has been pretty good, except I'm too prone to nibbling at night on cheese. A habit from our time at the cabin that needs to go back to the country.Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-81214115153484949502012-01-05T11:23:00.002-05:002012-01-05T11:42:45.072-05:00And a Happy New Year!Did anyone else happen to read Tara Parker-Pope's long and mostly depressing opus on the dreaded Fat and how hard it is to get rid of it once you've gotten it?<br /><br />It's lengthy, and <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/01/magazine/tara-parker-pope-fat-trap.html?scp=3&sq=tara%20parker%20pope&st=cse">goes into detail about the big F</a>, and -- surprise, surprise -- reaches no real conclusion except that losing weight and keeping it off requires constant vigilance, and will always be harder for some people than others (thank you, genetics).<br /><br />Even as I type this I am in the kitchen making a blueberry pie. Why? Because there's no way I can go through life denying myself the joys and pleasures of cooking, and baking special treats for my family. Yes, I may be overweight, but dammit, that's no reason for me to be perpetually punished!<br /><br />We are up in the Catskills cabin for a week (yes, a week!) of vacation. We are going skiing, hiking and walking amid the snow and single-digit temperatures. And it is so fun, and so amazing to feel that I can do all these things (neuroma aside) that I could not do 70 lbs ago.<br /><br />I will always need to eat small portions and count my calories. I will likely always struggle to make working out a DAILY part of my life (I need to work on this most of all). I will always have to remind myself that a blueberry pie, once made, has to last a week and can't be eaten in one or two massive binges.<br /><br />I can live with that. That, to me, is doable. These are things I can strive to achieve at every meal, every day. Worrying about why my body doesn't want to drop weight isn't going to help me. <br /><br />I have to believe -- have to! -- that working out regularly, leading an active lifestyle ON TOP of working out, and eating small portions and healthy foods will help me regulate my weight. Probably not where I want it, but better than where it is now. Otherwise, my choices are too much to contemplate: a life of complete restriction and penury (and I can never live long with strict self-denial anyway), or a constant cycle of binge/punish, binge/punish, flavored all the while with self-loathing and shame. It's not going to be that way for me.<br /><br />So, for those of us lamenting some Christmas gain (<a href="http://time2getmoving.blogspot.com/">hang tough Jenn!</a>), it's time to get back into the regular routines. Forget the naysayers and ignore the articles that tell you it's impossible -- just impossible! -- to control your weight. There are hundreds of people online right now with blogs who are proof that it's otherwise. <br /><br />Will have pictures soon of our wintry wonderland up here -- it's so beautiful.Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-90050168518119286322011-12-20T17:41:00.006-05:002011-12-20T17:52:06.282-05:00Christmas Is NutsWe're supposed to be grateful for gifts on Christmas, but I must be honest and say that I'd like to give the two people who sent over HUGE plates of cookies last week a punch in the nose.<br /><br />It's been really hard to not lose my sense of perspective completely around here recently, because it is one party after another, and the free treats keep rollin' in. We had one huge lunch last week, and I managed to (just barely) hold myself back from demolishing the dessert. I ate a third.<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Htv6PvGp760/TvEPPD_HiVI/AAAAAAAAAgs/H9tRTAUrsIU/s1600/IMG00240-20111209-1352.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Htv6PvGp760/TvEPPD_HiVI/AAAAAAAAAgs/H9tRTAUrsIU/s320/IMG00240-20111209-1352.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688344555788142930" border="0" /></a>As God is my witness, I will never gift anybody food for Christmas again. I know people just want to be caring and generous, but really...do they really think most officer workers <span style="font-style: italic;">need </span>this sort of a treat? It. Does. Not. Help. Anyone!<br /><br />Until recently, thank goodness, it's been warm enough to bike. See the rack below at Union Sq.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4Ty9fnKoxkY/TvEPSMFAVgI/AAAAAAAAAg4/zWe0TwmyPPo/s1600/IMG00256-20111211-1446.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4Ty9fnKoxkY/TvEPSMFAVgI/AAAAAAAAAg4/zWe0TwmyPPo/s320/IMG00256-20111211-1446.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688344609499928066" border="0" /></a>While on my bike I had to stop for a shot of Lincoln Center, all done up in Christmas lights.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4HYH-gwXAdo/TvEPLvFYleI/AAAAAAAAAgg/V-VXFWGbDaU/s1600/IMG00260-20111213-1941.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4HYH-gwXAdo/TvEPLvFYleI/AAAAAAAAAgg/V-VXFWGbDaU/s320/IMG00260-20111213-1941.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688344498637673954" border="0" /></a>And one of Columbus Circle, which is gorgeous! The good news is, these lights make me feel like walking around, so even when I don't bike or hit the gym, I've still be strolling as much as the neuroma will allow. Not that it's been enough to offset the crazy Christmas food damage!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vY_Dn4FL-sw/TvEPIKlqg2I/AAAAAAAAAgU/qsm_UnnilrM/s1600/IMG00233-20111208-1816.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vY_Dn4FL-sw/TvEPIKlqg2I/AAAAAAAAAgU/qsm_UnnilrM/s320/IMG00233-20111208-1816.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688344437301347170" border="0" /></a>Now that Christmas is in the air, weird Santa Claus types pop up everywhere. Behold this one on the subway last weekend.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NyxhgnkyDzg/TvEPElFUb3I/AAAAAAAAAgI/qFaiO_3pEyQ/s1600/IMG00255-20111210-1612.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NyxhgnkyDzg/TvEPElFUb3I/AAAAAAAAAgI/qFaiO_3pEyQ/s320/IMG00255-20111210-1612.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5688344375693963122" border="0" /></a>Before I sign off for the holidays (rushing to visit the rellies later this week, gone for several days), I share with you this video of a steel drummer in the subway. You can't really tell from this grainy video, but he got the most amazing sounds out of his drum. He's playing Christmas songs and they sounded fantastic in person! I got a quick snippet and then stopped, but the video picks back up again. It's long, for those who really really love carols!<br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dySxlwiim8R1LKGEYTInt1SVi9CPl3wKbY6t3rGVznGF2_mqPHWOfuOBtO664o_lFvG_Q0_6YeBRCzgfc1ltw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br />Happy Hannukah, and Merry Christmas!!!!Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-36429305345524605132011-12-12T12:34:00.002-05:002011-12-12T12:56:08.747-05:00I'll Take ItWell, that's two pre-Christmas weekends down. One more to go.<br /><br />Weekends are a bit looser for me, generally speaking, as it's often just running around to do errands and trying to convince myself that we do not need to stop at every corner shop for something to eat. The possibilities for damage are endless.<br /><br />Made it to yoga Saturday, but whatever minimal calorie burn was achieved (have been gutted recently by two articles stating that yoga doesn't count as a significant workout) was immediately offset by lunch in a Chinese-food diner. It was the choice of my friend's 12-year-0ld daughter, who I was babysitting. She is as long and lanky as a bobcat, and eats whatever she wants.<br /><br />Later that night, we had Indian with a group of friends. While I was able to keep from overeating at lunch, I had about 15 bites too many of the Indian food. My choice was a good one -- simple grilled chicken. But with the accompanying rice and the naan, drizzled with tamarind sauce...well, I got a little piggy.<br /><br />Made the gym yesterday for a rowing workout, which was good, but allowed myself to pick up a container of dark chocolate covered almonds while shopping, which was bad. I ate several handfuls last night, and had some again this morning for breakfast (made my heart pound something fierce after I ate them with coffee).<br /><br />Will I never learn that some items aren't worth touching? The minute they are in your hand, they're in the cart, and then inevitably they're in your mouth. Those almonds fit that description for me, without a doubt.<br /><br />I'm now virtuously eating a lunch salad of mixed baby kale and arugula, with sliced squash, mushrooms, red peppers and broccoli with tuna packed in olive oil (but not the oil itself) and a smattering of sweet curry sunflower seeds for extra crunch. <br /><br />No yoga or workout tonight, more's the pity, but I have time to trek up the 18 flights of stairs to the office this afternoon. Gasp.<br /><br />I sound like a steam engine, I huff and puff so much. And yet, I still managed to startle a couple having an early morning make-out session in the stairwell last week. Ahh, love and fitness -- the movies make attaining both seem so damn easy!Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-57333958192531039132011-12-08T10:32:00.004-05:002011-12-08T12:15:34.194-05:00Making Some ListsIt's so easy to forget that one good choice can often lead to another...<br />Small victories and triumphs, strung together, are often more important than one big win....<br /><br />So far this week, I have:<br /><ul><li>worked out every day.</li><li>discovered I can walk the 18 flights up to my office anytime I want.</li><li>eaten to plan 95% of the time.</li><li>fed myself healthy meals and snacks when hungry.</li><li>resisted the pull of frustration and negativity the one night I ate off plan.</li><li>focused on being positive and loving myself, ie coaxing myself into the gym because it will make me feel better and banishing the voice that says, nastily, "You have to go to the gym because you're a big fat lardo."</li><li>reminded myself that above all else, I want to be strong and fit, no matter what I weigh.</li></ul>Things I need to be aware of:<br /><ul><li>Just because I've pulled myself back on track, I am not magically going to drop a size.</li><li>When I start working out and eating right, I feel really good. I somehow expect that to immediately transform into my looking really good too. </li><li>If I catch a glimpse of my ample posterior in a mirror/window reflection, I should concentrate on how much firmer and muscular it looks than three years ago, NOT on how big it is, overall.</li><li>I don't have to go to every Christmas party that I'm invited to. It's ok to be choosy.<br /></li></ul><p>That's it from Ish-land today. Hope you are all having a good week!<br /></p>Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-41982860380358930192011-12-06T10:47:00.004-05:002011-12-06T11:05:56.710-05:00Ask Me No Questions...and I'll tell you no lies. Isn't that how the old saying goes?<br /><br />In this case, however, I can happily tell the truth!<br /><br />Fellow blogger <a href="http://journeytosanctification.wordpress.com/">Beej </a>asked if I made good on my promise to myself yesterday to hit the gym and give myself a challenging workout on the rower.<br /><br />I did!<br /><br />However, it was not quite as challenging as it could have been, but it wasn't me wimping out, I promise.<br /><br />On the way into work yesterday morning, a lady in a taxi cab (I will call her a lady but really in my head I think of her as an unconscionably oblivious dingbat) decided nobody in the world existed but her, and threw open her cab door without bothering to look out the window first.<br /><br />You can guess who was passing by on her bicycle -- ME! The lady hit me hard with the door, right as I biked past the stationary cab, smashing my left thigh and knee (of course it would be the knee) and knocking me into the side of the city bus on my right (knocking my right knee hard against that).<br /><br />I was more furious than hurt, and she was very apologetic, but really...I can't forgive such stupidity on a busy city street. Had that bus been on the move, things would have been very ugly. You would have to call me Squishmael instead of Ishmael!<br /><br />Anyway, I biked into work, dutifully went to the gym as planned, and gave myself a decent workout. But being mindful of the knees, I didn't go all out. Still, worked up a nice sweat. That rower is effective -- getting the abs, legs and arms engaged all at once is a nice trifecta.<br /><br />Later that night I went to yoga, and that hurt. It hurt bad. New note to self: don't bike, do 25 minutes on the rower AND go to yoga all in the same day. I could barely hold downward dog and I kept getting charley horse cramps, which make me squeal in pain and that does not go over well in a quiet yoga class.<br /><br />My legs were so heavy I had a hard time getting up the stairs to my apartment last night. Today my knees are both sore, and I've got bruises on my left side where dingbat, er...the lady, smashed me with the door.<br /><br />Aside from that , all went as planned. Thanks for asking, <a href="http://journeytosanctification.wordpress.com/">Beej</a>!<br /><br />Oh, guess who was on my train to work this morning? Mercury, the winged messenger of the Roman Gods (Hermes, if you're Greek). I guess this is what all the kids are wearing these days.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-prrmuXx75ww/Tt47zUnlKOI/AAAAAAAAAf8/Bvr42vxGY98/s1600/IMG00218-20111203-1106.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-prrmuXx75ww/Tt47zUnlKOI/AAAAAAAAAf8/Bvr42vxGY98/s320/IMG00218-20111203-1106.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683045532682234082" border="0" /></a>Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-30563844442869458952011-12-05T11:13:00.008-05:002011-12-05T11:35:31.058-05:00Experiments in LivingThis is the day I take my lunch hour and go to the gym. I've been telling myself I'm going to do it for two weeks now and have yet to make that thought a reality.<br /><br />Today's the day. At 1:45, I'll leave for my lunch hour, cross two blocks and go into my gym for a quick rowing session. I'm aiming for anywhere from 20 to 30 minutes. But I'm going to have to push myself -- it can't be a leisurely affair.<br /><br />Finally got a picture of my breakfast of champions. It's not a great shot (bad lighting) but dang...that lox in the morning with tomato is goooooood!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZZYaqhHXO7o/TtzuQw4BI5I/AAAAAAAAAfw/SJV5QtoEMhM/s1600/IMG00216-20111202-0727.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZZYaqhHXO7o/TtzuQw4BI5I/AAAAAAAAAfw/SJV5QtoEMhM/s320/IMG00216-20111202-0727.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682678801599898514" border="0" /></a><br />Convinced M to come to beginner yoga with me on Saturday and he actually liked it! To celebrate he made one of his favorite (decadent) dinners that night. That's a plate of catfish, sweet potato, green peas and corn. I had to push it all together to get it into the shot (ignore the messy apartment in the background please). Looking at it the next morning made me realize that I still tend to over do the portions on "special" (ie moments when I feel like I'm cheating) occasions.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2JxG6U_b4zY/TtzuN1IPNPI/AAAAAAAAAfk/h_zYYHnBFXQ/s1600/IMG00221-20111203-2050.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2JxG6U_b4zY/TtzuN1IPNPI/AAAAAAAAAfk/h_zYYHnBFXQ/s320/IMG00221-20111203-2050.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682678751202063602" border="0" /></a><br />The next day we had to take a long walk to try and mitigate the damage.I call this picture, "How many cranes to hang the moon?"<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GACU1uo4twU/TtzuKoPPCjI/AAAAAAAAAfY/3Axxf5FRSeo/s1600/IMG00223-20111204-1554.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GACU1uo4twU/TtzuKoPPCjI/AAAAAAAAAfY/3Axxf5FRSeo/s320/IMG00223-20111204-1554.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682678696202144306" border="0" /></a><br />Sunset on the Hudson River is gorgeous. These are the piers that are built up all along the west side, and people stroll, fish, jog, whatever.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Krxf1LmbrN0/TtzuGBdCzMI/AAAAAAAAAfM/4Qugu3g5SPo/s1600/IMG00225-20111204-1609.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Krxf1LmbrN0/TtzuGBdCzMI/AAAAAAAAAfM/4Qugu3g5SPo/s320/IMG00225-20111204-1609.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682678617071602882" border="0" /></a><br />This little guy caught my eye on the shoreline. How he got over there I don't know -- there are two lanes of major traffic to cross. But he looked pretty plump and happy.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nVUIovXU0ng/Ttzt96DlqII/AAAAAAAAAe0/5sTf8fr2v0Q/s1600/IMG00228-20111204-1618.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nVUIovXU0ng/Ttzt96DlqII/AAAAAAAAAe0/5sTf8fr2v0Q/s320/IMG00228-20111204-1618.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682678477646833794" border="0" /></a><br />He was hunting, too! He didn't pay any attention to us, but took off after some poor creature he saw in the rocks.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PDeN0awXe3o/TtzuBZ2AugI/AAAAAAAAAfA/LWe6I9X_WMo/s1600/IMG00226-20111204-1618.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PDeN0awXe3o/TtzuBZ2AugI/AAAAAAAAAfA/LWe6I9X_WMo/s320/IMG00226-20111204-1618.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682678537719429634" border="0" /></a><br />I'm not sure, but I think this is where Harry Potter stays when he comes to town.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hTtOthiTivI/Ttzt6-R39NI/AAAAAAAAAeo/lclQZXyXJyo/s1600/IMG00229-20111204-1622.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hTtOthiTivI/Ttzt6-R39NI/AAAAAAAAAeo/lclQZXyXJyo/s320/IMG00229-20111204-1622.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682678427240887506" border="0" /></a><br />I tried to catch the way the path looks as the sun goes down and the traffic streams along on the left, but my cell doesn't handle low light well enough to do it justice. Believe me, when the sun goes down this path is DARK, and if you don't have a bike light, coming home on it late at night is perilous! I speak from experience on that front.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hHObfcjsbio/Ttzt3TRTZfI/AAAAAAAAAec/SI_vo6l2NwE/s1600/IMG00230-20111204-1622.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hHObfcjsbio/Ttzt3TRTZfI/AAAAAAAAAec/SI_vo6l2NwE/s320/IMG00230-20111204-1622.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682678364156159474" border="0" /></a><br />By the time we got done, my feet were sore, my knee hurt and I was more than ready to call it a night. I really wish there were a way to magically just be 50 lbs lighter -- I don't want to whine, but damn! It takes so much effort just to not *gain* weight that sometimes losing weight seems like an impossible dream!<br /><br />Bought a new yoga shirt yesterday to encourage myself (and, er, make the process a little easier on the teacher, who happens to be male and has to deal with the rather astounding amount of cleavage that pops out of my baggy t-shirts when I downward dog).<br /><br />All the meals are planned for the week, salads are made in advance, snacks are planned. Fitness has been incorporated into the planned schedule, and the battle lines have been drawn. Let's see if I can be a good little soldier for five days in a row!Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-16082385666952170852011-11-28T16:20:00.011-05:002011-11-28T17:21:53.200-05:00Must. Not. Succumb.<div><div>Am going to eke out a win today if it kills me, but afternoon sleepy-time/munchie-time is getting me down.<br /><br />My eating was supposed to be a thing of beauty all day, given that I carefully planned my week's meals on Sunday, and then even stepped into the kitchen to pre-prep my lunch salad last night so I would have *no excuse* for eating off plan.<br /><br />My delicious breakfast was scarfed before I remembered to snap a pic for posterity. But it was a slice of Swedish dark bread, a schmear of (full-fat, gasp!) cream cheese, a sliced tomato and a piece of smoked salmon (aka lox). I forgot to eat my nectarine.<br /><br />I find the fattiness of the lox and cream cheese with the chewy bread gets me through the morning feeling just fine, thank you very much.<br /><br />All was according to plan, including biking to work (hey, it's freakin' 60 degrees today!), and eating my pre-made lunch:<br /><br /><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BhgVmOeUYMw/TtP7-H5u2VI/AAAAAAAAAeE/UM1lIggddcQ/s1600/IMG00204-20111128-1309.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680160599735982418" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BhgVmOeUYMw/TtP7-H5u2VI/AAAAAAAAAeE/UM1lIggddcQ/s320/IMG00204-20111128-1309.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Xj7WjS17OWY/TtP758i7zjI/AAAAAAAAAd4/2Ri7H34BSS4/s1600/IMG00203-20111127-1641.jpg"></a>It doesn't look like much but I'd already decimated a good chunk before I snapped the pic. It has greens, carrots, mushrooms, guacamole and some turkey. </p><p>I was even able to get a bonus bike ride in (not much tho, just about 5 blocks for an errand), and am now anxiously waiting until 6pm when <a href="http://www.yoganesh.com/Yo_Ganesh%21/Home.html">Yoga </a>starts.</p><p>This is where things have veered just a little off plan.</p><p>My late afternoon snack was an apple and peanut butter. And I ate the apple, and then didn't stop eating the peanut butter. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rm6U8lqUPFI/TtP8r8vE56I/AAAAAAAAAeQ/EdqwUi2s5mI/s1600/IMG00212-20111128-1613.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680161387012482978" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rm6U8lqUPFI/TtP8r8vE56I/AAAAAAAAAeQ/EdqwUi2s5mI/s320/IMG00212-20111128-1613.jpg" border="0" /></a>This bad boy just donated an additional 500 calories to the Ishmael Wide Hips Fund, I reckon. About 3 extra spoonfuls got into the gob before I came to my senses and shoved it away. </p><p>The good news is I am no longer hungry, and that snack has to get me through an hour of yoga and a solid 40-minute bike ride home.<br /><br />This is one of those things that you have to balance out, a bit. On the one hand, a few extra spoonfuls is not the end of the world. On the other hand, it was peanut butter -- full-fat, high-caloried peanut butter! Couldn't I have overindulged with more fruit, for a change?!<br /><br />I will not let that get me down. Soon I will be biking home, and I will feel totally different than I do right now. In the meantime, until I can get to Yoga, I'm going to go get myself a cup of tea, drink some more water, and annoy my colleague.<br /><br />Last night we had a dusky walk around the reservoir -- this picture doesn't do the scene justice, but it was gorgeous.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H0FfbV9fKLk/TtP7zQ8rISI/AAAAAAAAAds/MS_6JrqSxWU/s1600/IMG00203-20111127-1641.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680160413185679650" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-H0FfbV9fKLk/TtP7zQ8rISI/AAAAAAAAAds/MS_6JrqSxWU/s320/IMG00203-20111127-1641.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /></p><div></div></div></div>Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-91044962187655576012011-11-26T18:45:00.006-05:002011-11-26T19:09:41.131-05:00Stress: What do we do without it?Isn't it kind of nice to be stressed sometimes? It's like a thousand possible decisions have been taken out of our hands.<br /><br />You can't commit to going to spin class on Thursday, because you're just so stressed out! You can't plan your meals for the next week because you are busy, busy, busy! How in the world can you know if you'll be free to run a 5k in March -- and train for it -- when you don't even know where your boss is going to send you on assignment next week? Right?<br /><br />That used to be my life. Now I have a new job. What do I miss? My stress.<br /><br />Stress is what kept me from feeling sad. Stress is what kept me from asking myself why I was eating too much. Stress kept a lot of feelings at bay.<br /><br />This Thanksgiving, I experienced a real lack of stress. To tell you the truth, there was so little stress, it kind of stressed me out! What was I supposed to worry about...when there was nothing to worry about?<br /><br />I can find a lot of things, of course. There's always cause for concern in this world, sadly.<br /><br />But right now, my job is to focus on me. What have I been hiding under all my stress?<br /><br />So I made one of these:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mehoR17qr28/TtF7qDffWlI/AAAAAAAAAdg/kQUKLy5mXWE/s1600/IMG00199-20111123-1957.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mehoR17qr28/TtF7qDffWlI/AAAAAAAAAdg/kQUKLy5mXWE/s320/IMG00199-20111123-1957.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679456567513012818" border="0" /> </a><br />It's got apples, and brown sugar, and lemon, and a lot more brown sugar. I make it once a year, at M's special request. And we've been eating it, slowly, piece by piece, for the past three days.<br /><br />And we are taking a lot of walks in Central Park, mainly because we can see this:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tSflcVRTQII/TtF7f8DpRXI/AAAAAAAAAdU/AqoWLAF3QBY/s1600/IMG00194-20111112-1507.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tSflcVRTQII/TtF7f8DpRXI/AAAAAAAAAdU/AqoWLAF3QBY/s320/IMG00194-20111112-1507.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679456393718482290" border="0" /></a><br /><br />But I think my favorite might be this. It was taken with a crappy cell phone, but it was a beautiful Thanksgiving weekend day, and I don't think our walk could have been more perfect.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mWfo-XvQURs/TtF6wMm983I/AAAAAAAAAdI/wDjx8JiKbJ8/s1600/IMG00192-20111112-1504.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mWfo-XvQURs/TtF6wMm983I/AAAAAAAAAdI/wDjx8JiKbJ8/s320/IMG00192-20111112-1504.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679455573527884658" border="0" /></a>My goals are simple: walk as much as I can, eat small bites and even smaller portions, and find at least one reason to laugh each day.<br /><br />Tomorrow is another chance for a good day. Probably won't be perfect, but I can make it a good day.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OWXtScInsC0/TtF6j5Q23RI/AAAAAAAAAc8/NXc8Jvm7IxM/s1600/IMG00155-20111023-1628.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OWXtScInsC0/TtF6j5Q23RI/AAAAAAAAAc8/NXc8Jvm7IxM/s320/IMG00155-20111023-1628.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679455362176441618" border="0" /></a>Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-73124541606365115992011-11-07T23:06:00.002-05:002011-11-07T23:20:10.703-05:00Still KickingNot literally, because of those darned neuromas, but... metaphorically, don't you know.<br /><br />So, my bloggie friends, I have changed jobs. It's been brutal. Because change..well. You know. It's change. Not slow, bloody-takes-forever weight-loss change, but one-week-you-are-here-and-now-you-are-not change.<br /><br />It's been hard. My job has dominated my life for the past five years and I will admit that without it I am somewhat...er, at loose ends. I wish I could say I'd filled that void with constant exercise, but that would not be the truth.<br /><br />However, I have been forging ahead, in spite of myself. There is a great yoga studio just one block from my office. Now, I'll tell you a secret: I don't really like yoga. I like to say that I do, and I get great pleasure from thinking about yoga, and going online to look at yoga classes, and generally pretending to myself that I am a yoga lover.<br /><br />But when I get to the classes, I'm always the biggest, sweatiest person present, and the poses f***ing hurt sometimes, and my arms and legs shake in the most embarrassing way.<br /><br />But I'll be darned if I haven't developed an appreciation for the classes at <a href="http://www.yoganesh.com/Yo_Ganesh%21/Home.html">Yoganesh</a>, my sore knees aside. It's pretty darn awesome.<br /><br />I'll try to come back soon. But if I'm MIA for awhile again, it's just because I'm trying desperately to forge a new path for myself outside my chosen profession. I'll adjust, but it will take a some time. Meanwhile, the damn neuromas are still making my life a misery. Can't stand 'em.Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-15263844826838979692011-09-21T15:42:00.002-04:002011-09-21T15:53:02.114-04:00The Long and Winding Road..leads to the cupboard, apparently. I'm back after a crazy few weeks in which M and I did what was meant to be a brief vacation in Virginia with his family, then a brief vacation with my family near Miami, and then returned home in time for 9/11. <br /><br />Due to factors beyond my control -- an older relative suffering a fall and breaking a hip -- things went topsy turvy and we've been running hither and yon for what feels like forever! <br /><br />In the middle of this was 9/11 to negotiate -- always a bit tricky -- and the usual life choices and challenges. <br /><br />I'm struggling to pick up the exercise where I left off, but am fairly deflated and depressed by ongoing irritation in both feet. Apparently my Morton's neuroma is not gone and likely will never be gone. It stopped bothering me for a long while -- but of course, I'd stopped walking/running almost entirely. Not my usual dashing around during the day, but my prolonged walks for, you know, weight loss and everything. But the minute I tried to do longer than a mile, BOOM, the pain and irritation came right back. Ditto when I tried a short run, and ditto on the elliptical, which despite being low-impact seems to bother my feets. Dammit all to Hades! <br /><br />Am clinging to a mantra of "reframe, reframe, reframe" because otherwise I will slide down into a deep pit of despair. When really I shouldn't, because I've gotten through some really tough moments without throwing caution and good habit to the wind and chowing down. <br /><br />I'll get more into details later, but let me just say I got invited to a down home BBQ in Virginia and it was everything you'd think it would be and I left marveling at the fact that there are ANY people down South who aren't 500 lbs.Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-12746387988565112782011-08-18T08:47:00.004-04:002011-08-18T14:07:17.479-04:00Blink. That Was My Summer.It's mid-August. How did that happen?
<br />
<br />A quick recap of the last few weeks:
<br />-a bashed thumbnail that is now black and disgusting
<br />-a banged knee from tumbling in surf
<br />-a wrenched back from a budget bus trip to Boston
<br />-a cold from said trip to Boston
<br />-one truly wicked bout of gallbladder distress caused by an epic night of red wine, boursin cheese, fruit tarts and ...you know it's coming... more cheese (manchego). I was sick for two days. Lesson learned.
<br />
<br />But let's count many glorious NSV (non-scale victories) as well:
<br />
<br />Nephew was dying to go to the beach, so we hit Ogunquit Maine (scenes from my childhood) and dang it all if I didn't put on my old bathing suit and enjoy myself in the water in all my flabulous wonder. Doesn't hurt that in Maine many people are generously built - there's no way you can swim in 60 degree water otherwise! But it was a wonderful day, and I determined that I wasn't going to waste one single second worrying how I looked. Nephew and I just laughed and swam and had a ball.
<br />
<br />At Fenway Park, my fave ballpark of all, and I managed to tame the demons and not drink a huge beer or scarf hot dogs all night, or french fries. Held myself to one hot dog -- that was dinner, a planned treat, and (nails digging into my palms sometimes when vendors passed by) I made it through the night.
<br />
<br />Can't explain it, but pants still loose. With nephew here, there was minimal gym time, no biking because he had a sprained ankle, and lots of treats not normally in the house. But... something was going right.
<br />
<br />And one last thing, not really related to weight loss but relevant nonetheless, a job possibility is on the horizon. More money, better hours, but taking me into a different track of journalism. Scary choice, but maybe one I should pursue? Thinking deep on it.
<br />
<br />I'll be back with a more complete post soon, just wanted to say I hope everyone is well and enjoying summer. Except for my epic binge, which was part of a French dinner party, I've been striving hard hard hard to hold on to my "small portions are everything" mantra. So far I think it is helping/working.
<br />
<br />Two more quick notes -- I have a new follower. Hello and welcome <a href="http://a-new-poison.blogspot.com/">A New Poison</a>! And I won an award! Thank you <a href="http://justweighinginandmovingon.blogspot.com/">Kirstin at Just Weighing in and Moving On</a>. She gave me the versatile blogger award, which I've never gotten before. That means I should share 7 things about me you don't already know. Here goes:
<br />1) I still have the guitar my parents bought me when I was 10, even though I only got 2 lessons and then my teacher developed meningitis. Ack! I can't play, but can't bring myself to throw it away.
<br />
<br />2) Probably the happiest moment of my day is when I climb into bed and get ready to fall asleep -- I love that feeling of stretching out and drifting into slumber.
<br />
<br />3) I don't "collect" cats like some crazy cat ladies do, but I can't stand to see hungry or hurt felines (or any animals) on the street. (I think you all knew that tho already;-)
<br />
<br />4) I can still bend over and keep my legs straight and put my palms on the floor. But I can no longer touch my big toe to my nose liked I once could. I regret that.
<br />
<br />5) The Dalai Lama and I both contributed stories to the same book in 2002, so he and I are co-authors in a short story anthology.
<br />
<br />6) I am famously short-tempered when tired or hungry.
<br />
<br />7) I will let M get up and do the dishes on nights when he has cooked even though I feel very guilty about it, but on nights when I cook, I always remind him that it's his turn to do the dishes. Gosh, that makes me kinda awful when I write it out! Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-87390243596644014702011-07-26T21:41:00.002-04:002011-07-26T21:45:47.491-04:00Weighing InQuick update: the wedding was a blast, my outfit was a hit. I was unable to avoid all cameras and saw some photos of myself. I could have zeroed in on a million flaws, but in the end I just kind of shut off the negative part of my mind and focused on how cool the bright tangerine color looked on the beach at sunset. <br /><br />The drive up and back was wearing, the food was good but I ate too much. The tornado nephew is back (he sprained his ankle badly - requiring a cast -- on his SECOND night at camp. Sigh). <br /><br />Am I on track with any weight loss? No. Am I holding on tight to as many good habits as I can? Yes. I have not -- so far -- gained back too much of the weight I lost while sick, but I do think I've gained back some. But that's to be expected, I suppose. When you don't really eat for six weeks, then start eating again... I guess there's a change no matter what. <br /><br />More soon, once I get a minute to update.Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-56128072356648219062011-07-11T19:04:00.003-04:002011-07-11T19:24:39.817-04:00Summer-Summer-Summer Time....We're really feeling it today in NYC -- so sticky my super waterproof sunscreen wouldn't stay on. <br /><br />The tornado nephew has gone to camp, so peace is restored for two weeks, and then he's here again for two weeks. <br /><br />While he was here I ate, in no particular order, too much calamari, waaaaaaay too many cashews (seriously, about a week's worth of small servings, but over 24 hours), one burger with fries (I took the bread off, but ...er, the damage was done, and why can I never learn to leave some fries on my plate? Both the nephew and M did, but not me -- I shoveled every last one down my throat), and a small serving of ice cream with a wee bit of Sara Lee pound cake. <br /><br />I did have the fortitude to have M toss the remaining ice cream this morning. We got back from the nephew's camp late last night and it's a miracle I didn't dive into the remaining dregs right then, but I held off. This morning M said, do we want this? And I had the strength of mind to say no, take it away!<br /><br />Cashews are now officially off the menu for the rest of the summer. When the tornado nephew comes back, I'll have to limit the ice cream treats -- he loves to walk down to the corner at night for a snack. <br /><br />Wedding this weekend, and I broke with my usual habit of buying a big floppy dress to hide my many, many sins. I have chosen a bright coral top that has one shoulder exposed (whoo hoo!) and is on trend with the "color blocking" style in fashion now (so I hear on the tee vee). The bottom half is a light skirt. <br /><br />I hope that this will be slimming and exciting all at once, and that I won't look like a heifer rolling around on the beach. I'll report back and let you know how it goes!Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-66944693342926761222011-07-07T10:33:00.004-04:002011-07-07T11:30:29.155-04:00Jersey SnoreI feel like I'm living a bizarre mash-up of crappy reality TV shows -- I'm equal parts Desperate Housewives and Jersey Shore. <br /><br />It's gym, tan, laundry all the way, except I can never tan and actually spend more time avoiding the sun than bronzing in it... but yeah, aside from that I might as well be Mike "the Situation" Sorrentino, because my life is naught but a thoughtless series of bland, repetitive acts. It might be worth it if I had his abs, but I don't!<br /><br />Gym, laundry, more gym. More laundry. Add in plentiful heaping doses of ennui, plus the fact that I recently got my hair done, and you have the Desperate Housewives angle. <br /><br />Yawn. My summer so far has been boring. I am boring. At least I am getting some gym time, but it's in 20 minute spurts. I just can't work up the enthusiasm for long bouts anymore. I force myself to do 20 -- as hard as I can on the machine of my choice -- then I cut and run. <br /><br />Things will change soon, whether I will it or no -- the tornado nephew arrives tonight!Call me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5516633709490949228.post-91686173172215182362011-07-03T12:08:00.005-04:002011-07-03T12:34:11.585-04:00Tour de Food, ...er, FranceRead an interesting article this week in the WSJ -- an American cyclist is doing the grueling Tour de France bike race on a vegan diet. <br /><br />Two factoids leaped out at me as I read: these bikers burn through an amazing 8,000 calories a day, and boy, do they protein load!<br /><br />What I wouldn't give to burn 8,000 calories in a day... could my body even do that? I'd probably collapse. <br /><br />The story caught my eye just because I'm still trying to find the right protein/veggie balance post-surgery. Morally speaking, I'd love to be a vegan -- I just can't stand how most animals are treated on industrial farms. But physically, my body seems determined to make me a meat-eater!<br /><br />Whatever I eat, I'm trying to live by the golden rule -- it's not what you consume, it's how much you consume that really matters. <br /><br />When I saw what the vegan bicycler eats as part of his Tour de France diet, I once again realized my sense of food portions is way, way, way off. <br /><br />Yes, he eats a lot, but nowhere near as much as I would have thought. Of course, the portions aren't given in the article, but still..... doesn't seem like 8,000 calories to me! <br /><br />Those who want to can <a href=" http://weightywino.blogspot.com/2011/07/vegan-tour-de-france_03.html">read the whole article her</a>e, but below is a list of what he eats on his bike -- what do you guys think? Is it a lot of food? (I know it is a lot of food, but for an 8,000 calorie burn, I mean).<br /><br />Breakfast:<br /><br />Oatmeal with black strap molasses; whole food optimizer; cacao nibs; nuts; cinnamon; two tablespoons of coconut butter; an apple; hemp seeds and flax seeds<br /><br />On-the-Bike Snacks:<br /><br />Six Clif Bar Z bars (vegan); two Clif Bar shot blocks (vegan); two Clif Bar gels (vegan); dates; six to eight bottles of special team race drink<br /><br />On the Bus, Post-Race:<br /><br />White rice with maple syrup and cinnamon; vegan protein shake;<br /><br />two bottles of special team recovery protein drink; goji berries<br /><br />Before Dinner:<br /><br />Vegan protein shake<br /><br />Dinner:<br /><br />White rice or pasta; salad with leafy greens; vegetables —including broccoli, spinach, carrots and beets.<br /><br />Dessert:<br /><br />Fresh fruit and a vegan protein shake before bedCall me Ishmaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14135619200570288287noreply@blogger.com3