Monthly Archives: April 2013

It works.

I’m not one to proselytize, or say live like I live! But I’m here to tell you, fiends, life has changed around here, and for the better, all because of one major detour.

On the 5th of this month, the Thriller had his blood pressure taken, and it was high. Most of you already know that. That evening, we went through the refrigerator, freezer and pantry, and got rid of everything that contained boatloads of white sugar, white flour, insane levels of sodium, and anything prepackaged and preserved with chemicals. In other words, everything we considered unhelpful to our health was removed.

The cupboard was pretty much bare. It was a considerable gut punch. We were faced with a choice: Do we continue to live like this and roll the dice on our health, or do we undertake a massive paradigm shift?

Well, we have now been living this new lifestyle (including my being 99% gluten-free) for 24 days, and let me tell you something: it works. Behold the ongoing results…

  1. The Thriller’s dry, cracked hands and arms are clearing up.
  2. We’re both sleeping better.
  3. Our digestive problems have disappeared. Acid reflux=gone.
  4. I no longer feel wasted every morning, dragging it out of bed with a bad attitude.
  5. My propensity for nailbiting when stressed or nervous is completely gone. (In fact, I’m honked about having to trim them in order to play guitar on my high school concert on the 20th.)
  6. I’ve discovered the awesomeness of coconut oil. I made some salmon patties for dinner last night, breaded with crushed-up gluten-free crackers, and fried in organic coconut oil. Beyond fantastic.
  7. And most importantly — my cravings for sugar have all but disappeared. Although I am an official sugar addict (trust me, this is a real affliction), I can feel good about remaining abstinent, and that’s something that’s never happened to me, ever.

The 8-lb. weight loss thus far? I’m looking at that as a nice side effect, and not the major goal. The Thriller hasn’t weighed himself, but I can tell a difference, and so can he, in the way his clothes fit.

So there’s my sermon for this morning. Get the chemicals (and believe it, white sugar and flour are made up of little else) out of your body and start loving yourself more. We thought living largely organic was going to be a huge drain on our finances. Granted, while organic foods are more expensive, we’ve noticed that over the last three grocery buys, we’re saving lots by not buying canned goods, ice cream, cookies, donuts, and boxes full of fake dinners. Instead, I’m getting excited about being creative in the kitchen again.

Time was, I dreaded the idea of coming home after a long day and cooking dinner. There was a considerable stretch when I didn’t cook at all, and we both just fended for ourselves. No longer. We have to decide what’s important in life — not only for ourselves, but for our kids (and grandkids).

OK, pulpit closed for the day — unless you want to evangelize in the comments. :-)

Various & Sundry XLIV

I wants to go to all the heres.

Some of these I already knew, but others, cool.

“Dogs don’t say ‘I love you’ with a hug.” They don’t? :-(

Coolest Central Park picture ever.

Yes, this morning I am a “bored panda.” A bored panda who hates Mondays. And now, a non sequitur…

We pretty much all have a span in our professional lives when we say, “This has been the most stressful, unhappy year ever.” It’s a close call for me this year, and of course it’s not the kids. I love them. It’s a bunch of other forces at work. Et maintenant, we drink a bitter wine. Seeing my grandsons this week should help. Gotta get on that.

I’m rambling. Stalling, actually. Time to giddyup.

Rainy Sunday

So much work to catch up on, so little desire to do it.

J’ever have a Sunday like that? I put off some tasks so the Thriller and I could watch Argo last night (I’d seen it, but he hadn’t), and now I’m behind the 8-ball with school stuff. I’m trying to care more about it, but failing.

I’m ready to put this septimanis horribilis behind me now. It was definitely a horrible week, beginning last Sunday night, when we first noticed Rousseau refusing food and water, through his listlessness and increasing weakness on Monday, followed by the vet visit on Tuesday, through his death on Wednesday and the following days of grief. And while we’re still struggling without him in our lives, we’re trying to move forward. It’s been a week of tears, but also a week of great comfort from our family and friends. That means a lot.

But the coming rains today kind of match my mood. So I may get rhythm section parts written today, and I may not. All depends on how I feel, and on what’s playing at the matinee. :-)

I vote for being a layabout; a sluggard. What say you?

OK, weird.

had a funny thought as I made my breakfast (pictured, of course, because that’s what silly people do: take photos of their food) this morning.

I used to hate oatmeal. I mean, really hate it. Maybe it’s because Mother tried to make me eat it when I was, oh, five years old, and I clearly remember gagging. She thought I was being dramatic, but I was for real horking on the stuff.

Well, now I love it. As I cut up the strawberries and bananas to put in it this morning, I mused on all the foods I used to hate, but really like now:

  • Salads and salad dressing (although I will eat only Caesar dressing; no other kind)
  • Sugar snap peas
  • Pizza (Can you believe it? A teenager who hated pizza.)
  • Cranberries
  • Rice
  • Alfredo sauce
  • Cantaloupe

Bizarre, eh? I guess your tastes really do change as you get older. Do you have a list like this?

Speaking of tastes, I can’t finish my oatmeal and type at the same time, so I’m out. Yay for Finkday though. :-) Happy weekend!


But not shattered.

That’s what I told Lars yesterday, after we lost our dear Rousseau during surgery. Our hearts are broken, but only temporarily, because of the joy he brought to our home and our family. We will return to that joy in the form of our memories of him.

Rousseau came to us in 2005, when our friends Bob and Kay moved to Europe and couldn’t take him along. They’d adopted him as a two-year-old, from the local animal shelter.

At first, I was adamant against taking him: No dog hair in my house! The Thriller was bummed. But then we kept him for a weekend, and it was all over. It took Rousseau about five minutes to win me over, and he came to stay soon after. What I wouldn’t give to see those tumbleweeds of hair in the corners this morning…

A part of me died with him yesterday, and I was happy to lose it. He was the best companion anyone could ever want.

He had no bad habits. Zero. He didn’t chew on furniture or shoes. He wasn’t a barker. He was indifferent to other animals (except the occasional groundhog — those got him going). Never had an accident in the house, outside of barfing a couple times. Playful, obedient, gentle, smart, affectionate, patient, cooperative and quiet: he was everything any human could have wanted in a pet, and more.

He did shed, boy howdy. But that wasn’t his fault.

I will miss seeing this face bumping up under my elbow at the computer — something he did every time he thought I needed to get up and feed him or take him out. I will miss the nights of sitting on the floor with him, with his head on my lap.

So much I’ll miss, but so much to treasure. It’s good to talk about him.

Wait for us, Rousseau. We love you always.