Yesterday I took five big bags of aluminum cans to the animal shelter in town. They recycle them and use the money to help pay for spaying and neutering the animals. I hadn't been to the shelter since last November when I adopted Smokey (perhaps the most lovable cat ever), so I wanted to go in and see the cats and dogs before leaving. On the outer door there was a sign that read, "We need dry cat food BADLY. Please help us if you can. Thanks from the Kitties." My heart broke a little.
In the lobby three beautiful cats were ruling the roost. All of them nuzzled me and purred as I gave them attention and talked to the director. She said they presently have 65 cats and there have been few adoptions this summer. The one who has been there longest came in last December. My heart broke a little more.
I went back to where the cages are, first encountering the small dogs. An adorable puppy was yapping his head off, wanting so badly to get out of that cage. The pup in the cage below him was quiet but looked at me with sad brown eyes. I went down the line, petting each dog and getting profusely kissed by a half-grown black Lab, a beagle, a poodle mix, and others. One happy moment occurred when a woman stopped in to pick up the dog she'd adopted the day before.
There are two cat areas, and they were full. I went from cage to cage and petted every one, almost all of them playful, purring, and demanding attention. Buck, Fifi, Jack, Paws, Cooper, Junior, Lucy, Chubs, Lilly, Lola...One handsome boy in an upper cage knocked the sunglasses off my head with his paw as I played with his neighbor. When I finally slid my hand into his cage, he held it between his paws and rubbed his head against it. My heart was now in several pieces.
I told the director I'd be back with a bag of cat food, sniffling all the way to the store.
Every sizable city in every state has one or more shelters like this, filled with animals that need a loving home. Some of them euthanize the ones that don't get adopted after a certain amount of time. If we didn't already have 3 dogs and 5 cats, I'd bring more home in a second.
Please consider taking in one of these animals from your local shelter if you possibly can. It's been scientifically proven that people who have cats and dogs live longer--(unless you're my mom, whose puppy recently ripped a sizable chunk out of their living room carpet!) You can also help by donating pet food, cat litter, cleaning supplies, and money--or volunteer to walk the dogs and clean cages. And as Bob Barker says, please get your pets spayed or neutered.
My furry friends and I thank you.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
The Dating Game
After watching the oh-so-exciting finale of The Bachelorette Monday night, I left the TV on the ABC channel while I paid some bills. The next show was called Dating in the Dark, and I gradually started paying attention. The premise is this: each week three men and three women are put into a pitch black room where they get acquainted through conversation--not by seeing each other. The audience can see them on infrared cameras. Each of the "contestants" can request one-on-one dates in the darkroom with people they want to get to know better. It worked out this week that each guy/girl was interested in a different person, so there were 3 distinct couples almost from the beginning. Besides conversation, they got to look through each other's luggage, feel hair and faces, and sneak a few pats on the butt during the darkroom activities.
Finally each couple had the opportunity to see what their date looked like and decide if they wanted to continue dating. All three women wanted to pursue the relationships after seeing the men. Ironically, one guy who had portrayed himself as being very particular about a woman's looks still wanted to date a girl whose appearance didn't fit his idea of the ideal. The second couple also decided to date some more, but the third guy left without the girl. Even though he thought she was cute, he didn't think they were compatible because of her deep religious views.
I have been out of the dating scene for over 25 years, so I'm certainly no expert. But I have to wonder why all these seemingly normal, attractive people have to resort to TV shows to find dates. Some of them were in their early 30s, so maybe they are afraid that time is running out for finding a spouse and having kids.
I know someone who uses internet dating sites and has met a couple guys through that route. She says that for 20-somethings, unless you want to hang out in bars waiting for Mr. Right, there aren't many good ways to meet people. Is this really the case? I'm just curious, because things have changed so much since the early '80s. We didn't have online match-making, speed dating, or reality shows to facilitate relationships--just blind dates, arranged marriages, and mail-order brides.
As I continue to ponder these phenomena, let me give you a preview of next week's Dating in the Dark. This time all three women will be interested in the same man. One of them wonders aloud: "What if the three of us fight for this guy and he ends up being a troll?" Ahh, that timeless question.
Finally each couple had the opportunity to see what their date looked like and decide if they wanted to continue dating. All three women wanted to pursue the relationships after seeing the men. Ironically, one guy who had portrayed himself as being very particular about a woman's looks still wanted to date a girl whose appearance didn't fit his idea of the ideal. The second couple also decided to date some more, but the third guy left without the girl. Even though he thought she was cute, he didn't think they were compatible because of her deep religious views.
I have been out of the dating scene for over 25 years, so I'm certainly no expert. But I have to wonder why all these seemingly normal, attractive people have to resort to TV shows to find dates. Some of them were in their early 30s, so maybe they are afraid that time is running out for finding a spouse and having kids.
I know someone who uses internet dating sites and has met a couple guys through that route. She says that for 20-somethings, unless you want to hang out in bars waiting for Mr. Right, there aren't many good ways to meet people. Is this really the case? I'm just curious, because things have changed so much since the early '80s. We didn't have online match-making, speed dating, or reality shows to facilitate relationships--just blind dates, arranged marriages, and mail-order brides.
As I continue to ponder these phenomena, let me give you a preview of next week's Dating in the Dark. This time all three women will be interested in the same man. One of them wonders aloud: "What if the three of us fight for this guy and he ends up being a troll?" Ahh, that timeless question.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Hygienist the Menace
As far as I know, nobody likes to go to the dentist. I remember my first experiences as a little kid, going to an old guy who I'm now sure must have been a descendant of the Marquis de Sade. The work he did really hurt, but being a first-born respecter of authority, I closed my eyes and didn't complain.
Over the years since then, I've endured the usual--cleanings, wisdom teeth extraction, fillings, crowns, a root canal. Procedures, for the most part, became less painful with the advent of numbing drops before a shot of novocaine and more flexible x-ray cards whose corners don't slice the inside of your mouth.
After moving to Rhinelander, I obviously had to find a new dentist--and I procrastinated. I had really liked Dr. Green in Menomonie, and since we still own our house in Elk Mound, I half-entertained the idea of going back to him for a check-up on one of my lawn-mowing trips over there. But instead, I acted like a grown-up and made an appointment at a local practice here.
The hygienist was pleasant and conversational as she prepped me for a cleaning. I glanced at her tray of sharp, hooked instruments and clutched the arms of the chair. I told her the usual lie that I floss daily, then she explained that in addition to her manual instruments of torture, she'd also be using an ultrasound device in the cleaning. It sounded like a drill with a high-pitched whine like a horde of mosquitoes. Then she charted my gum recession by jabbing a needle-sharp poker into the soft tissue around each tooth. I tasted blood and had to be asked twice to open wider, my jaws instinctively closing in an attempt to bite off her fingers.
After that, she enthusiastically used her hand tools to poke, prod, and scrape from tooth to tooth. She was either digging for gold or hunting for plaque from 1996. Mercifully it finally ended and she polished my teeth with some foul-tasting goop. In Menomonie I got the choice of minty or fruity goop. Foul-tasting wasn't even an option. Then came the flossing, adding just a little more blood and pain, before she announced brightly, "You're doing a good job with your teeth! All done!" Huh? Maybe that was a motivator to brush and floss 6 times a day so there would be little for her to do when I come back in 6 months.
It was the longest and most painful cleaning I can remember since childhood. She tried to make up with me by giving me a new toothbrush, toothpaste, and floss, but after my ordeal what I really wanted was a sucker. I took Ibuprofen as soon as I got in the car, then had yogurt for lunch so I wouldn't have to chew. At least she made it easier to be on a diet for a day.
Over the years since then, I've endured the usual--cleanings, wisdom teeth extraction, fillings, crowns, a root canal. Procedures, for the most part, became less painful with the advent of numbing drops before a shot of novocaine and more flexible x-ray cards whose corners don't slice the inside of your mouth.
After moving to Rhinelander, I obviously had to find a new dentist--and I procrastinated. I had really liked Dr. Green in Menomonie, and since we still own our house in Elk Mound, I half-entertained the idea of going back to him for a check-up on one of my lawn-mowing trips over there. But instead, I acted like a grown-up and made an appointment at a local practice here.
The hygienist was pleasant and conversational as she prepped me for a cleaning. I glanced at her tray of sharp, hooked instruments and clutched the arms of the chair. I told her the usual lie that I floss daily, then she explained that in addition to her manual instruments of torture, she'd also be using an ultrasound device in the cleaning. It sounded like a drill with a high-pitched whine like a horde of mosquitoes. Then she charted my gum recession by jabbing a needle-sharp poker into the soft tissue around each tooth. I tasted blood and had to be asked twice to open wider, my jaws instinctively closing in an attempt to bite off her fingers.
After that, she enthusiastically used her hand tools to poke, prod, and scrape from tooth to tooth. She was either digging for gold or hunting for plaque from 1996. Mercifully it finally ended and she polished my teeth with some foul-tasting goop. In Menomonie I got the choice of minty or fruity goop. Foul-tasting wasn't even an option. Then came the flossing, adding just a little more blood and pain, before she announced brightly, "You're doing a good job with your teeth! All done!" Huh? Maybe that was a motivator to brush and floss 6 times a day so there would be little for her to do when I come back in 6 months.
It was the longest and most painful cleaning I can remember since childhood. She tried to make up with me by giving me a new toothbrush, toothpaste, and floss, but after my ordeal what I really wanted was a sucker. I took Ibuprofen as soon as I got in the car, then had yogurt for lunch so I wouldn't have to chew. At least she made it easier to be on a diet for a day.
Monday, July 27, 2009
To See or Not to See
I think it might be time to invest in a granny chain. For me, being able to see things clearly these days requires a multitude of eyeware. I wear contacts most of the day, and they do fine in correcting my near-sightedness. However, if I try to read something up close, I can't see a thing--just a meaningless blur. So, I invested in reading glasses to solve the up-close vision problem. I keep a pair in my purse, the kitchen, at my desk, and by the computer. They work great--unless you leave them sitting on store counters, library shelves, or on top of your head, forgetting they're there. Thus the need for a granny chain. When I was young I would laugh at the chain attached to glasses around the necks of librarians, store clerks, and older relatives. How quaint! I thought. Now I get it! We lose our ability to see up close at the same time that our memories take a vacation. Eventually this could become expensive!
In the evening I usually take my contacts out and wear my regular prescription glasses. I now have the same problem with them as my contacts--I can use them for distance, but they cause things up close to blur. In order to read, I take them off and use my naked eyes. I could probably solve these problems with bifocal glasses and contacts, but I don't know if I could get used to either. Instead I sit with reading glasses perched on the end of my nose, looking over the top of them to see the TV. Just like my dad used to do!
Fred is also a candidate for a granny chain. He hasn't left his prescription glasses in a store or at a restaurant. No, he goes right for the big stuff, like dropping them over the side of the boat while fishing. Or setting them on the green while he putted, then running over them with the golf cart. (I can just see his reaction if the girls or I were that careless with our expensive specs!!) He also asks me "Where are my glasses?" nearly as often as he asks me to make him a sandwich.
I can picture us sitting in our rocking chairs, granny chains around our necks, and he'll ask, "Have you seen my glasses?" "They're on your chain!" I'll say. He replies, "It looks like rain??!" Yes, he needs a hearing aid, too.
In the evening I usually take my contacts out and wear my regular prescription glasses. I now have the same problem with them as my contacts--I can use them for distance, but they cause things up close to blur. In order to read, I take them off and use my naked eyes. I could probably solve these problems with bifocal glasses and contacts, but I don't know if I could get used to either. Instead I sit with reading glasses perched on the end of my nose, looking over the top of them to see the TV. Just like my dad used to do!
Fred is also a candidate for a granny chain. He hasn't left his prescription glasses in a store or at a restaurant. No, he goes right for the big stuff, like dropping them over the side of the boat while fishing. Or setting them on the green while he putted, then running over them with the golf cart. (I can just see his reaction if the girls or I were that careless with our expensive specs!!) He also asks me "Where are my glasses?" nearly as often as he asks me to make him a sandwich.
I can picture us sitting in our rocking chairs, granny chains around our necks, and he'll ask, "Have you seen my glasses?" "They're on your chain!" I'll say. He replies, "It looks like rain??!" Yes, he needs a hearing aid, too.
Friday, July 24, 2009
The Gift I want the Most
Yesterday Fred had a meeting in Wausau, and he came home with my belated Mother's Day present. It is a wooden lighthouse lawn decoration that has a solar top so it will light up at night. Very cool! He had told me on Mother's Day that he knew what he wanted to get me, but hadn't been able to get there to buy it in time. No problem--as far as I'm concerned, it can be my birthday present, too.
Yesterday I wrote again about turning 50 in September--think it's on my mind a little bit?! Today I want to address my friends and family about birthday gifts. The past few years I have been asking you for gift cards or postage money to help me send packages to the troops. I REALLY don't need anything for myself! I am lucky enough to have everything I need, but these men and women who are on the front lines often DO NOT!
Some of them are losing weight because they are on missions all day and literally do not get a chance to eat. They need snacks they can carry with them--protein bars, beef jerky, nuts, dried fruit, etc. Some live in the mountains of Afghanistan and cook over open fires! There is no PX to pick up hygiene items that we all take for granted. Can you imagine being somewhere that you can't take a shower for days? (Ok, girls, the Amberg Hilton--but at least we have the river!) Or you run out of toothpaste and that's it?! It makes me so mad that their needs aren't provided for when they are doing so much for this country. Supporting them with these basics is the least we can do. It also helps their morale to know they haven't been forgotten.
So please, if you plan to get me a birthday present, let it be something I can use for the troops. Gift cards and postage money are appreciated, but you can also give me items to send like snack foods or hygiene supplies; twin-sized sheets, magazines, board games, all-occasion greeting cards that they can send to their families, DVDs or CDs that you don't want any more--items like that don't have to be new!
You can check the anysoldier.com website under the "What to Send" section for more suggestions. Or better yet....read some troop posts and get ideas from them. You will probably be so touched by some of them that you'll want to send a box of stuff yourself. And that would be the best birthday present I could get.
Yesterday I wrote again about turning 50 in September--think it's on my mind a little bit?! Today I want to address my friends and family about birthday gifts. The past few years I have been asking you for gift cards or postage money to help me send packages to the troops. I REALLY don't need anything for myself! I am lucky enough to have everything I need, but these men and women who are on the front lines often DO NOT!
Some of them are losing weight because they are on missions all day and literally do not get a chance to eat. They need snacks they can carry with them--protein bars, beef jerky, nuts, dried fruit, etc. Some live in the mountains of Afghanistan and cook over open fires! There is no PX to pick up hygiene items that we all take for granted. Can you imagine being somewhere that you can't take a shower for days? (Ok, girls, the Amberg Hilton--but at least we have the river!) Or you run out of toothpaste and that's it?! It makes me so mad that their needs aren't provided for when they are doing so much for this country. Supporting them with these basics is the least we can do. It also helps their morale to know they haven't been forgotten.
So please, if you plan to get me a birthday present, let it be something I can use for the troops. Gift cards and postage money are appreciated, but you can also give me items to send like snack foods or hygiene supplies; twin-sized sheets, magazines, board games, all-occasion greeting cards that they can send to their families, DVDs or CDs that you don't want any more--items like that don't have to be new!
You can check the anysoldier.com website under the "What to Send" section for more suggestions. Or better yet....read some troop posts and get ideas from them. You will probably be so touched by some of them that you'll want to send a box of stuff yourself. And that would be the best birthday present I could get.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Fabulous Fifty
As the big 5-0 inches closer daily, I started wondering what celebrities are also reaching that milestone in 2009. And the question that followed was, do I look older or younger than most of them?! Unlike many of them, I don't have a personal trainer, chef, or make-up artist (well actually I do, and they're all me) to keep me looking good all the time. Here are some famous people celebrating--or dreading--the half century mark with me.
January: NASCAR driver Mark Martin. (No wonder Viagra is one of his sponsors!!) Bangles singer Susanna Hoffs, who looks like she's about 30. Linda Blair--looking better than she did when she was in The Exorcist! MSNBC's Keith Olbermann and actor Anthony Lapaglia--both of whom I thought were older than me.
February: John McEnroe, who is almost totally gray now. Throwing all those tantrums in his 20s has come back to haunt him! Actor Kyle MacLachlan, formerly of Twin Peaks and more recently Desperate Housewives.
March: Tom Arnold, Roseanne's ex-husband. Irish actor Aidan Quinn--still quite a hunk. NBC's Lester Holt and Chris Hansen, the "Catch a Predator" guy. Kato Kaelin, O.J. Simpson's former houseguest. I wonder if he's gotten a job yet? Actor Matthew Modine and actress Catherine Keener, as well as that romance novel cover guy, Fabio.
April: David Hyde Pierce from Frasier; Sheena Easton, Emma Thompson, and Clint Howard, Ron's younger brother. He actually looks older than Ron does.
May: Country singer Randy Travis, who I thought was going on 60. NBC anchor Brian Williams, actor Ving Rhames and actress Mare Winningham.
June: Former governor Eliot Spitzer, who aged 10 years during his public apology to his family and New Yorkers. House star Hugh Laurie, country singer Lorrie Morgan, and actor Vincent D'Onofrio from Law and Order:Criminal Intent. I think he's sexy!
July: Bon Jovi guitarist Ritchie Sambora. He must think that keeping his hair long makes him look younger.
August: Actresses Rosanna Arquette, Marcia Gay Hardin, and Laura Innes, from E.R.; Magic Johnson, and country singer Colin Raye.
September: actor Dave Coulier who played Uncle Joey on Full House; skater Tai Babilonia, and Seinfeld actor Jason Alexander--who has looked 50 for the past 20 years!
October: Simon Cowell, TV host Nancy Grace, Marie Osmond, TV chef Emeril Lagasse, Sarah Ferguson, and West Wing actor Bradley Whitford. (He's too old for you, Molly!!)
November: actress Allison Janney and Obama Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel.
December: actress Patricia Clarkson, comediennes Paula Poundstone and Tracy Ullman, and actor Val Kilmer. Recently his face has gotten puffy and he looks like a beaver or woodchuck.
With the exception of a couple porn actresses who were also on the website I consulted, all of the women turning 50 appeared to have boobs that aren't younger than they are. A few faces may have had some work done, but if it makes them feel better then I say go for it. I will be reaching 50 with all my original equipment except my gall bladder--and a few parts now lower than they used to be.
Happy birthday to the babies of 1959, famous or not!
January: NASCAR driver Mark Martin. (No wonder Viagra is one of his sponsors!!) Bangles singer Susanna Hoffs, who looks like she's about 30. Linda Blair--looking better than she did when she was in The Exorcist! MSNBC's Keith Olbermann and actor Anthony Lapaglia--both of whom I thought were older than me.
February: John McEnroe, who is almost totally gray now. Throwing all those tantrums in his 20s has come back to haunt him! Actor Kyle MacLachlan, formerly of Twin Peaks and more recently Desperate Housewives.
March: Tom Arnold, Roseanne's ex-husband. Irish actor Aidan Quinn--still quite a hunk. NBC's Lester Holt and Chris Hansen, the "Catch a Predator" guy. Kato Kaelin, O.J. Simpson's former houseguest. I wonder if he's gotten a job yet? Actor Matthew Modine and actress Catherine Keener, as well as that romance novel cover guy, Fabio.
April: David Hyde Pierce from Frasier; Sheena Easton, Emma Thompson, and Clint Howard, Ron's younger brother. He actually looks older than Ron does.
May: Country singer Randy Travis, who I thought was going on 60. NBC anchor Brian Williams, actor Ving Rhames and actress Mare Winningham.
June: Former governor Eliot Spitzer, who aged 10 years during his public apology to his family and New Yorkers. House star Hugh Laurie, country singer Lorrie Morgan, and actor Vincent D'Onofrio from Law and Order:Criminal Intent. I think he's sexy!
July: Bon Jovi guitarist Ritchie Sambora. He must think that keeping his hair long makes him look younger.
August: Actresses Rosanna Arquette, Marcia Gay Hardin, and Laura Innes, from E.R.; Magic Johnson, and country singer Colin Raye.
September: actor Dave Coulier who played Uncle Joey on Full House; skater Tai Babilonia, and Seinfeld actor Jason Alexander--who has looked 50 for the past 20 years!
October: Simon Cowell, TV host Nancy Grace, Marie Osmond, TV chef Emeril Lagasse, Sarah Ferguson, and West Wing actor Bradley Whitford. (He's too old for you, Molly!!)
November: actress Allison Janney and Obama Chief of Staff Rahm Emanuel.
December: actress Patricia Clarkson, comediennes Paula Poundstone and Tracy Ullman, and actor Val Kilmer. Recently his face has gotten puffy and he looks like a beaver or woodchuck.
With the exception of a couple porn actresses who were also on the website I consulted, all of the women turning 50 appeared to have boobs that aren't younger than they are. A few faces may have had some work done, but if it makes them feel better then I say go for it. I will be reaching 50 with all my original equipment except my gall bladder--and a few parts now lower than they used to be.
Happy birthday to the babies of 1959, famous or not!
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Moments in Time
Last night I saw a movie trailer for a film coming out next month called The Time Traveler's Wife. Based on a book by Audrey Niffenegger, it's about a man whose genetic disorder causes him to time travel.
Like economics and the George W. Bush presidency, time travel is a concept I've never been able to get my head around. The problem for me is basic: how can someone exist in two different time periods simultaneously? How can someone go back into a past that's over and done with and subsequently change the future? Over the years, I've watched it happen numerous times. James T. Kirk did it in TV and movies. Marty McFly made a habit of it, as did Terminators in several different forms. In The Lake House, Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves lived in the same house but a couple years apart, leaving each other letters in the same mailbox to communicate between the years. HUH??!
Fred, a lover of science fiction, has tried to explain the idea to me over the years. He says it's a matter of parallel universes, where a character can exist in 2009 while a different version of himself resides in 1945. So because of a tear in the fabric of the universe or a lightning strike on the town clock, it's possible for each self to go forward or backward in time and affect the future.
Just to be clear, let me assure you that I know time travel isn't real--my issue is that it can't be real in science fiction, either. Sci fi is supposed to be about things that haven't happened yet but could possibly happen in the future. I don't believe there will ever be parallel dimensions where we can pass ourselves walking across the street 100 years ago. So, it's hard for me to get past this premise in a movie, even when it involves Arnold Schwarzenegger dropping naked from the sky/future. (Some time travelers apparently lose their luggage.)
Maybe I don't have enough imagination. Maybe it's a natural human desire to want to experience the past that we missed or fix a disaster before it happens. All I know is that I'm stuck in the here and now--but I'd love to make a quantum leap back to 1999 and bring my then-120 pound body back to the future.
Like economics and the George W. Bush presidency, time travel is a concept I've never been able to get my head around. The problem for me is basic: how can someone exist in two different time periods simultaneously? How can someone go back into a past that's over and done with and subsequently change the future? Over the years, I've watched it happen numerous times. James T. Kirk did it in TV and movies. Marty McFly made a habit of it, as did Terminators in several different forms. In The Lake House, Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves lived in the same house but a couple years apart, leaving each other letters in the same mailbox to communicate between the years. HUH??!
Fred, a lover of science fiction, has tried to explain the idea to me over the years. He says it's a matter of parallel universes, where a character can exist in 2009 while a different version of himself resides in 1945. So because of a tear in the fabric of the universe or a lightning strike on the town clock, it's possible for each self to go forward or backward in time and affect the future.
Just to be clear, let me assure you that I know time travel isn't real--my issue is that it can't be real in science fiction, either. Sci fi is supposed to be about things that haven't happened yet but could possibly happen in the future. I don't believe there will ever be parallel dimensions where we can pass ourselves walking across the street 100 years ago. So, it's hard for me to get past this premise in a movie, even when it involves Arnold Schwarzenegger dropping naked from the sky/future. (Some time travelers apparently lose their luggage.)
Maybe I don't have enough imagination. Maybe it's a natural human desire to want to experience the past that we missed or fix a disaster before it happens. All I know is that I'm stuck in the here and now--but I'd love to make a quantum leap back to 1999 and bring my then-120 pound body back to the future.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Food Orgy
Saturday we are having some friends over, so I've been thinking about what kind of meal to make. Planning food for an occasion normally isn't a traumatic experience, but that was before THE DIET. I used to skim through cookbooks, the recipe box, and cooking magazines with a general idea of what I was looking for. I'd pick out the recipes I wanted, make a grocery list, and that was that. But now things are a little different...
Instead of flipping through the pages of Taste of Home, I turn them s-l-o-w-l-y, taking in the full-color photos of all the bad, naughty foods. First I see Fiesta Lasagna. The thick, melted cheese is sensuously drenching three layers of noodles, meat, sauce, cottage cheese, and the secret ingredients: salsa and taco seasoning. A crispy slab of golden garlic bread, soaked in butter, accompanies the pasta centerfold. Now I'm sweating.
Next I slide my finger across the glaze on the Chocolate Party Cake, imagining the taste of that sweet icing on my tongue. I savor the list of ingredients with passionate longing: Devil's food cake mix...chocolate pudding mix...milk chocolate chips...It feels like the chocolate is melting beneath my hand. Oh no. I drooled a little.
Turning the soggy page, I find Caramel Apple Bread Pudding--a sweet, filling, comfort food. Gloomily I consider the ingredients: unsweetened applesauce, chopped apple, day-old bread, fat-free whipped topping, fat-free caramel ice cream topping...Hey, I can eat this! The nutrition info is provided, and the dessert is 187 calories per serving. It's a treat that won't make me feel guilty about cheating on my diet. After all, I promised to be faithful till fat do us part.
I'm still no closer to knowing what I'll serve Saturday, but I know I can find some healthy, tasty options that won't cause me to overeat or feel deprived. Here is the recipe for Caramel Apple Bread Pudding: 1 c. unsweetened applesauce; 1 c. skim milk; 1/2 c. packed brown sugar; 1/2 c. egg substitute; 1 tsp. vanilla; 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon; 5 c. cubed day-old bread; 1/2 c. chopped, peeled apple; 1/2 c. fat-free whipped topping; 1/2 c. fat-free caramel ice cream topping
In a large bowl, combine the applesauce, milk, brown sugar, egg substitute, vanilla, and cinnamon. Fold in bread cubes and apple. Pour into an 8-inch square baking dish sprayed with cooking spray. Bake, uncovered, at 325 degrees for 35-40 minutes or until a knife inserted near the center comes out clean. Serve warm with whipped topping and caramel topping. Refrigerate leftovers. Yield: 8 servings.
Sara, (a reader in Montana, :) also sent me a recipe for Black Bean Brownies that sounds really yummy. Today I bought the stuff to make them--after taking a circuitous route through the grocery store to avoid the bakery. Let me know if you'd like the recipe. And be good--those magazines have more than just pictures in them, you know. Read the articles instead.
Instead of flipping through the pages of Taste of Home, I turn them s-l-o-w-l-y, taking in the full-color photos of all the bad, naughty foods. First I see Fiesta Lasagna. The thick, melted cheese is sensuously drenching three layers of noodles, meat, sauce, cottage cheese, and the secret ingredients: salsa and taco seasoning. A crispy slab of golden garlic bread, soaked in butter, accompanies the pasta centerfold. Now I'm sweating.
Next I slide my finger across the glaze on the Chocolate Party Cake, imagining the taste of that sweet icing on my tongue. I savor the list of ingredients with passionate longing: Devil's food cake mix...chocolate pudding mix...milk chocolate chips...It feels like the chocolate is melting beneath my hand. Oh no. I drooled a little.
Turning the soggy page, I find Caramel Apple Bread Pudding--a sweet, filling, comfort food. Gloomily I consider the ingredients: unsweetened applesauce, chopped apple, day-old bread, fat-free whipped topping, fat-free caramel ice cream topping...Hey, I can eat this! The nutrition info is provided, and the dessert is 187 calories per serving. It's a treat that won't make me feel guilty about cheating on my diet. After all, I promised to be faithful till fat do us part.
I'm still no closer to knowing what I'll serve Saturday, but I know I can find some healthy, tasty options that won't cause me to overeat or feel deprived. Here is the recipe for Caramel Apple Bread Pudding: 1 c. unsweetened applesauce; 1 c. skim milk; 1/2 c. packed brown sugar; 1/2 c. egg substitute; 1 tsp. vanilla; 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon; 5 c. cubed day-old bread; 1/2 c. chopped, peeled apple; 1/2 c. fat-free whipped topping; 1/2 c. fat-free caramel ice cream topping
In a large bowl, combine the applesauce, milk, brown sugar, egg substitute, vanilla, and cinnamon. Fold in bread cubes and apple. Pour into an 8-inch square baking dish sprayed with cooking spray. Bake, uncovered, at 325 degrees for 35-40 minutes or until a knife inserted near the center comes out clean. Serve warm with whipped topping and caramel topping. Refrigerate leftovers. Yield: 8 servings.
Sara, (a reader in Montana, :) also sent me a recipe for Black Bean Brownies that sounds really yummy. Today I bought the stuff to make them--after taking a circuitous route through the grocery store to avoid the bakery. Let me know if you'd like the recipe. And be good--those magazines have more than just pictures in them, you know. Read the articles instead.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Loons and Calories
Friday Fred and I headed over to Hayward to spend the weekend with our friends Paul and Lauri at their cottage on Round Lake. The weather was cold and rainy, but by Saturday morning the rain had stopped and it was merely cold and windy. My fishing license had been burning a hole in my pocket since May, so I was willing to go out on the water despite the weather for my first fishing experience in years.
Fred, Paul, and I boated to a spot across the lake, and the first thing I saw was a family of loons. There was a mom, dad, and one youngster. The mother hung close to the baby while Dad was fishing for some breakfast. He would dive beneath the surface and be under for what seemed like ages, then pop up far away from where he'd disappeared. At one point he was only a few yards from the boat, and I fumbled for my camera to get a picture. He dove just as I snapped, and I had a nice photo of the empty lake. I waited for him to reappear and then Fred, in the back of the boat, said the loon was now behind us. By the time I passed him the camera, it was underwater again. Finally Dad emerged with a fish in his mouth! He started swimming toward his family, and we chugged along perpendicular to them, getting close enough for some pictures. I think they are fascinating, and it was really fun to watch them. Their haunting cry across a lake gives me goosebumps.
As for the fishing part of our morning, it wasn't so successful. To get out of the wind, we went to a more sheltered bay, and I nearly froze into a statue in the front of the boat as we made the trip. We watched in amusement as a woman chased her two dogs along the edge of the lake, yelling most of the time. It reminded me of the many times I've futilely chased Huskies. I think I cast my line about a thousand times, catching one limp chunk of seaweed. Paul got a hook caught in his finger, and we lamented that we hadn't brought any beer--or at least hot chocolate.
The rest of the weekend was filled with relaxing, shopping, a campfire, and eating too much. Lauri and I did take a long walk, and of course shopping counts as exercise! But my friend Will Power seemed to have abandoned me for the weekend, probably off helping some other fat lady. Surprisingly I was down a pound this morning, so that's 3 pounds in 3 weeks. I'm happy with the slow and steady approach, and feel more in control now that PMS week is past.
Thanks to my friends Cathi and Sara for your encouragement and support! Won't it be great if there is less of us when we finally meet?!! Think HEALTHY!
Fred, Paul, and I boated to a spot across the lake, and the first thing I saw was a family of loons. There was a mom, dad, and one youngster. The mother hung close to the baby while Dad was fishing for some breakfast. He would dive beneath the surface and be under for what seemed like ages, then pop up far away from where he'd disappeared. At one point he was only a few yards from the boat, and I fumbled for my camera to get a picture. He dove just as I snapped, and I had a nice photo of the empty lake. I waited for him to reappear and then Fred, in the back of the boat, said the loon was now behind us. By the time I passed him the camera, it was underwater again. Finally Dad emerged with a fish in his mouth! He started swimming toward his family, and we chugged along perpendicular to them, getting close enough for some pictures. I think they are fascinating, and it was really fun to watch them. Their haunting cry across a lake gives me goosebumps.
As for the fishing part of our morning, it wasn't so successful. To get out of the wind, we went to a more sheltered bay, and I nearly froze into a statue in the front of the boat as we made the trip. We watched in amusement as a woman chased her two dogs along the edge of the lake, yelling most of the time. It reminded me of the many times I've futilely chased Huskies. I think I cast my line about a thousand times, catching one limp chunk of seaweed. Paul got a hook caught in his finger, and we lamented that we hadn't brought any beer--or at least hot chocolate.
The rest of the weekend was filled with relaxing, shopping, a campfire, and eating too much. Lauri and I did take a long walk, and of course shopping counts as exercise! But my friend Will Power seemed to have abandoned me for the weekend, probably off helping some other fat lady. Surprisingly I was down a pound this morning, so that's 3 pounds in 3 weeks. I'm happy with the slow and steady approach, and feel more in control now that PMS week is past.
Thanks to my friends Cathi and Sara for your encouragement and support! Won't it be great if there is less of us when we finally meet?!! Think HEALTHY!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
I Cut Myself Shaving
One of the universe's great mysteries is why men lose their hair in middle age, only to have it reappear on women's faces. Where is the logic in that? Since I was already at Walmart today, I decided to investigate some of the products in the hair removal section. I wasn't interested in a bikini wax or leg hair remedies; no, I wanted to see whatever would prevent me from turning into Santa Claus.
As soon as I started my research, a sales associate materialized and started beeping her price changer gun at the shelf I was perusing. I loitered, waiting for her to leave, and she bellowed, "Can I help you?" I whispered no and rushed off to look at electric toothbrushes. After killing a few minutes, I peeked around the endcap and saw that she'd left. I again began scanning all the options: All-over Body Wax Hair Removal Kit; Nair Face and Upper Lip Kit; No-Heat Gel Hair Removal for Face and Body; Creme Hair Bleach. Wow, lots of choices! I figured wax should be a last-resort option; after watching Steve Carell endure a chest wax in "The 40-Year-Old Virgin," I knew it would involve certain pain. I don't need to bleach my facial hair--it's already blond and catches the sunlight in full splendor, thank you. The no-heat gel remover included a "post-treatment skin relief lotion for pain and itching." Yikes! Just then two guys appeared and were looking at shaving stuff directly above the women's products. Who designed the layout of this stupid aisle, anyway? I nonchalantly checked out razors until they left. I decided that the face and upper lip kit was the best deal--since they apparently don't make do-it-yourself electrolysis products. I didn't buy it though; that would be as humiliating as a purchase of Preparation H or a stool softener!!
What would you ladies think if this invitation turned up in your mailbox?
"You are invited to a BIG N' FUN party! (Ban It, Girls: No Fuzz Under Nose)
Try hair removal products in the privacy and comfort of my home among friends for moral support and assistance. Wine and desserts will be served!"
We get asked to candle parties, cooking parties, lingerie parties...how about an item we really have a need for?! I might even try the lip waxing if I had a friend there to rip off the strip for me as I sucked wine through a straw. I could see it catching on and becoming a hot new trend. "Hey, did you get invited to Rhonda's hair removal party? All the cool people are going to be there!"
Maybe women aren't ready to admit yet that their facial hair is increasing. But as more female Baby Boomers start looking like Juan Valdez, my idea may have increased appeal. Just remember, you heard it here first.
P.S. Why do people ride in cars with the tops down and the windows up??
As soon as I started my research, a sales associate materialized and started beeping her price changer gun at the shelf I was perusing. I loitered, waiting for her to leave, and she bellowed, "Can I help you?" I whispered no and rushed off to look at electric toothbrushes. After killing a few minutes, I peeked around the endcap and saw that she'd left. I again began scanning all the options: All-over Body Wax Hair Removal Kit; Nair Face and Upper Lip Kit; No-Heat Gel Hair Removal for Face and Body; Creme Hair Bleach. Wow, lots of choices! I figured wax should be a last-resort option; after watching Steve Carell endure a chest wax in "The 40-Year-Old Virgin," I knew it would involve certain pain. I don't need to bleach my facial hair--it's already blond and catches the sunlight in full splendor, thank you. The no-heat gel remover included a "post-treatment skin relief lotion for pain and itching." Yikes! Just then two guys appeared and were looking at shaving stuff directly above the women's products. Who designed the layout of this stupid aisle, anyway? I nonchalantly checked out razors until they left. I decided that the face and upper lip kit was the best deal--since they apparently don't make do-it-yourself electrolysis products. I didn't buy it though; that would be as humiliating as a purchase of Preparation H or a stool softener!!
What would you ladies think if this invitation turned up in your mailbox?
"You are invited to a BIG N' FUN party! (Ban It, Girls: No Fuzz Under Nose)
Try hair removal products in the privacy and comfort of my home among friends for moral support and assistance. Wine and desserts will be served!"
We get asked to candle parties, cooking parties, lingerie parties...how about an item we really have a need for?! I might even try the lip waxing if I had a friend there to rip off the strip for me as I sucked wine through a straw. I could see it catching on and becoming a hot new trend. "Hey, did you get invited to Rhonda's hair removal party? All the cool people are going to be there!"
Maybe women aren't ready to admit yet that their facial hair is increasing. But as more female Baby Boomers start looking like Juan Valdez, my idea may have increased appeal. Just remember, you heard it here first.
P.S. Why do people ride in cars with the tops down and the windows up??
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Surviving the Storm
We are currently under the astrological sign of the Crab, which is quite fitting since there's a big grumpy one living at our house. It's like the "perfect storm": a deprived dieter meets PMS week. Since Monday I have been in moods varying from verge of tears one minute to fuming the next. One of the cats peed over the side of the litterbox; they're out to get me! The only good thing in the mailbox all week has been a 20% off Kohl's coupon. Nobody loves me!! I watched a chubby kid eat two samples of free cake in the grocery store bakery, but I can't have any!! Life is so unfair!! It's Wednesday and the sky is blue. Waaahhh!
Fred, after all these years, still thinks that there has to be something specific that I'm upset about. I mean men don't blubber for no apparent reason, right? And if there's a specific problem, it follows that there is a solution for it. He questions me repeatedly, "Are you sure there's not something bothering you?" I can't convince him that it's a stew of hormones, emotions, and chocolate cravings that would best be dealt with by Fed Exing me to Abu Dhabi.
However, his concern doesn't prevent him from beating me at two more games of gin. Or asking me to come outside and help him with something at the moment of a huge revelation on "The Bachelorette." Or dragging me out at six this morning to help plant oak trees!! Then when we're done, he winks and suggests we go back to bed. Has this guy ever heard of Lorena Bobbitt??!
I try to put myself in his shoes and wonder how I would deal with it if he acted nutso once a month. I wouldn't probe for the source of the problem; I'd just take action. I'd rub his feet and let him hold the remote; I'd take him out for dinner every night for the whole week. I wouldn't care if he drank 3 margaritas with the appetizer, and I'd tell him, "One little piece of turtle cheesecake won't ruin your diet!" I'd give him the credit cards and tell him to go shopping. I'm sure that's what I'd do! I'd even give him my 20% off Kohl's coupon!
I may be onto something here. I could write a book for men on how to survive PMS and menopause. For the title, I'd borrow from the mug I recently bought as a retirement gift: "Why do men die before their wives? Because they want to."
Fred, after all these years, still thinks that there has to be something specific that I'm upset about. I mean men don't blubber for no apparent reason, right? And if there's a specific problem, it follows that there is a solution for it. He questions me repeatedly, "Are you sure there's not something bothering you?" I can't convince him that it's a stew of hormones, emotions, and chocolate cravings that would best be dealt with by Fed Exing me to Abu Dhabi.
However, his concern doesn't prevent him from beating me at two more games of gin. Or asking me to come outside and help him with something at the moment of a huge revelation on "The Bachelorette." Or dragging me out at six this morning to help plant oak trees!! Then when we're done, he winks and suggests we go back to bed. Has this guy ever heard of Lorena Bobbitt??!
I try to put myself in his shoes and wonder how I would deal with it if he acted nutso once a month. I wouldn't probe for the source of the problem; I'd just take action. I'd rub his feet and let him hold the remote; I'd take him out for dinner every night for the whole week. I wouldn't care if he drank 3 margaritas with the appetizer, and I'd tell him, "One little piece of turtle cheesecake won't ruin your diet!" I'd give him the credit cards and tell him to go shopping. I'm sure that's what I'd do! I'd even give him my 20% off Kohl's coupon!
I may be onto something here. I could write a book for men on how to survive PMS and menopause. For the title, I'd borrow from the mug I recently bought as a retirement gift: "Why do men die before their wives? Because they want to."
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Play Ball!
Last Saturday Fred and I rode the Harley down to Merrill to watch our grandson Joshua play in a baseball tournament. It had been years since we'd been to a ball game, the last time being when Erica played summer softball in junior high. She gave up softball for track in high school--which was probably a good thing. (One of our basement windows didn't survive her pitching practice.) Katie dropped the sport after T-ball. She played an outfield position, and not too many balls get whacked that far by first graders. Since she spent most of the time being bored out there, she preferred to sit down and pick flowers instead of paying attention to the game. One time a well-hit ball went sailing past her, and everyone was yelling, "Katie, get the ball! Throw the ball in!!" Katie looked up from her daisy chain like, Huh?! Another parent said, "Whose kid is that??!!" Eek!
We learned Saturday that the sport has become more sophisticated than it was when the girls were younger. These were 8 and 9-year-old boys, and they had uniforms with their names on the back! I was impressed with the quality of their fielding and pitching at that age. Of course there were overthrows and wild pitches, but for the most part they were focused and and accurate in their fielding. I couldn't get over the way these kids pitched overhand and actually struck batters out on called strikes!
We weren't there for the first game of the morning when Joshua hit an inside-the-park home run. His defensive positions included catcher, third base, and shortstop. In game three he made an awesome over-the-shoulder catch that I wouldn't have been able to do in a million years! We were sitting in lawn chairs right behind home plate, so were able to see how good/bad the ump was at calling strikes. On the last ball of the last game, the ump called Josh out on a called strike. Grandma wanted to tell the guy to go buy a pair of glasses, but I refrained.
Caleb and Gabriel, Josh's brothers, are also in summer baseball, so Mom and Dad--Heidi and Ryan--have spent the past 2 months running in different directions for games and tournaments. Caleb had a 3-day tournament in Nekoosa over the weekend, so we only got to see half the family Saturday. (5-year-old Cora is into ballet and Barbies, not sports!) Heidi is probably already looking forward to Caleb getting a driver's license in 5 years!!
As for Grandpa and me, we plan on seeing them play more ball games in the future. We will have to get to Illinois and North Carolina to catch Luke, Rachel, Christian, Courtney, Drew, Jake, and Dani playing soccer and basketball. Have Harley, will travel.
We learned Saturday that the sport has become more sophisticated than it was when the girls were younger. These were 8 and 9-year-old boys, and they had uniforms with their names on the back! I was impressed with the quality of their fielding and pitching at that age. Of course there were overthrows and wild pitches, but for the most part they were focused and and accurate in their fielding. I couldn't get over the way these kids pitched overhand and actually struck batters out on called strikes!
We weren't there for the first game of the morning when Joshua hit an inside-the-park home run. His defensive positions included catcher, third base, and shortstop. In game three he made an awesome over-the-shoulder catch that I wouldn't have been able to do in a million years! We were sitting in lawn chairs right behind home plate, so were able to see how good/bad the ump was at calling strikes. On the last ball of the last game, the ump called Josh out on a called strike. Grandma wanted to tell the guy to go buy a pair of glasses, but I refrained.
Caleb and Gabriel, Josh's brothers, are also in summer baseball, so Mom and Dad--Heidi and Ryan--have spent the past 2 months running in different directions for games and tournaments. Caleb had a 3-day tournament in Nekoosa over the weekend, so we only got to see half the family Saturday. (5-year-old Cora is into ballet and Barbies, not sports!) Heidi is probably already looking forward to Caleb getting a driver's license in 5 years!!
As for Grandpa and me, we plan on seeing them play more ball games in the future. We will have to get to Illinois and North Carolina to catch Luke, Rachel, Christian, Courtney, Drew, Jake, and Dani playing soccer and basketball. Have Harley, will travel.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Gin with a Rummy
Twenty-six years ago I made the mistake of teaching Fred how to play gin rummy. Gin was my family's favorite card game, whereas Fred grew up playing pinochle and cribbage. My dad and brother played gin all the time and had their own lingo from which we still borrow. "Jumped on that like a bitin' sow!" said to an opponent who quickly picks up your discarded card. "Fidar fidar!" crowed when a card "fits" perfectly into a run in your hand. Observers would probably think they were crazy. I still have the score sheet from the last games Fred and I played with my dad, eleven days before he died. My dad won two of three, Fred won the third, and I didn't score a single point in three games. Maybe that should have been an omen...
When Fred first learned the game, I won most of the time. Unfortunately, that changed pretty quickly. During almost every game, I'm subjected to remarks like "The student has surpassed the master!!" We play for a dollar a game, plus a penny a point if the spread is more that 100. A skunk costs double. So if Fred beat me 133-0 (a game goes to 125) I'd owe him $2.66. During each game he invariably asks in an innocent voice, "Have you ever seen someone be behind 124-0 and come back to win??" He won a game like that against me a few years ago, causing me to stomp around the table using words I don't normally say. Is it any wonder my pet name for him is Dead Horse? We've played "strip gin" in January, resulting in me shivering in my BVDs. (Hey, winters are LONG in Wisconsin!)
A month ago my family was here for a picnic, and Fred played gin with my sister Kelley. She beat him three straight games--and since that day, I haven't won a single game. I had $9 and some change in my gin jar, and now it's empty. I've had to take money out of my purse to pay him, too. He counted the money in his jar on Saturday and had $19.52--the counting accompanied by comments like "I'm going to need a bigger jar!"
We have both gone through these slumps over the years, but it's especially frustrating to keep losing when I'm the one who taught him the game. My one claim to superiority is that I don't tear up cards and throw them on the floor like his family has been known to do during cribbage games. (Though I may have called him a shithead once or twice...) If the shoe fits!!
**After writing the draft of this blog yesterday, I won a game 148-116. I gloated, "The streak has ended!" "STREAK??!" he scoffed. "More like a drought!" See what I have to put up with? At least I now have a dollar of seed money back in my gin jar!!
When Fred first learned the game, I won most of the time. Unfortunately, that changed pretty quickly. During almost every game, I'm subjected to remarks like "The student has surpassed the master!!" We play for a dollar a game, plus a penny a point if the spread is more that 100. A skunk costs double. So if Fred beat me 133-0 (a game goes to 125) I'd owe him $2.66. During each game he invariably asks in an innocent voice, "Have you ever seen someone be behind 124-0 and come back to win??" He won a game like that against me a few years ago, causing me to stomp around the table using words I don't normally say. Is it any wonder my pet name for him is Dead Horse? We've played "strip gin" in January, resulting in me shivering in my BVDs. (Hey, winters are LONG in Wisconsin!)
A month ago my family was here for a picnic, and Fred played gin with my sister Kelley. She beat him three straight games--and since that day, I haven't won a single game. I had $9 and some change in my gin jar, and now it's empty. I've had to take money out of my purse to pay him, too. He counted the money in his jar on Saturday and had $19.52--the counting accompanied by comments like "I'm going to need a bigger jar!"
We have both gone through these slumps over the years, but it's especially frustrating to keep losing when I'm the one who taught him the game. My one claim to superiority is that I don't tear up cards and throw them on the floor like his family has been known to do during cribbage games. (Though I may have called him a shithead once or twice...) If the shoe fits!!
**After writing the draft of this blog yesterday, I won a game 148-116. I gloated, "The streak has ended!" "STREAK??!" he scoffed. "More like a drought!" See what I have to put up with? At least I now have a dollar of seed money back in my gin jar!!
Friday, July 10, 2009
Can't Get it Out of My Head
After a long day that included a 90-minute dentist appointment, a 3-hour drive to Elk Mound, and almost 3 hours of mowing the lawn, I was collapsed in a chair last night watching the Will Ferrell movie "Anchorman" with Katie. When the characters started singing "Afternoon Delight," I thought , Great! Now I'll have one of the worst songs of the '70s stuck in my head for the rest of the night!
Why is it that the bad songs are the ones that stay with us? There were plenty of them during my teenage years, when I would faithfully listen to Kasey Kasem's Top 40 every week and write down the titles. (I apparently had no life!) I hope you realize that by writing this blog, I'll be thinking about them all day--but here goes.
10. "I Shot the Sheriff" by Eric Clapton. I hate the lyrics, melody, and the way he sings it. "I shot the sheriff....but I did not shoot the deputy." Does he think that shows he's not a bad guy?
9."Werewolves of London" by Warren Zevon. I like the music, but it's a dumb song. Werewolves??!!
8. "Disco Duck" by Rick Dees. The title says it all.
7. "Let's Get it On" by Marvin Gaye. This song was used in one of the Austin Powers movies and made the scene a lot funnier. What real woman could keep a straight face if a guy looked at her intensely and used that line??!
6. "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" by Paul Simon. I don't like the simple rhymes that lodge in my brain and won't get out: "Just slip out the back, Jack. Make a new plan, Stan. Hop on the bus, Gus." With today's new technology, he could probably add "Send her a text, Rex! Give her a Tweet, Pete!" How about being a man and breaking it off face-to-face instead of sneaking off?
5. "Lovin' You" by Minnie Riperton. The sound of her higher-than-Mariah voice could shatter glass and your eardrums.
4. "Havin' My Baby" by Paul Anka. "Havin' my baby! What a lovely way of sayin' how much you love me..." Would a guy really say that??
3. The aforementioned "Afternoon Delight" by Starland Vocal Band."Gonna find my baby gonna hold her tight, gonna grab some afternoon delight..." Isn't that romantic? "Gonna grab some." Just what every girl wants to hear.
2. "Midnight at the Oasis" by Maria Muldaur. This one seemed to be on the radio 20 times a day and it drove me nuts. "Midnight at the oasis....send your camel to bed."
1. And finally, the dumbest song of the '70s...(drumroll)..."Muskrat Love" by the Captain and Tennille. "Muskrat Susie and Muskrat Sam do the jitterbug in Muskrat Land..." The Disco Generation did not want to hear about two muskrats whirling, twirling, and tangoing. How did this ever get to the Top 40?!
That's my list. To those of you who are my age or older and will recognize these tunes, I apologize for planting them in your heads. I'll leave you with something better:
"Ooga chucka, ooga ooga. Ooga chucka , ooga ooga, I can't stop this feeling deep inside of me. Girl you just don't realize what you do to me. When you hold me in your arms so tight, you let me know everything's all right. I'm hooked on a feeling, high on believing that you're in love with me..." Take that, Paul Simon.
Why is it that the bad songs are the ones that stay with us? There were plenty of them during my teenage years, when I would faithfully listen to Kasey Kasem's Top 40 every week and write down the titles. (I apparently had no life!) I hope you realize that by writing this blog, I'll be thinking about them all day--but here goes.
10. "I Shot the Sheriff" by Eric Clapton. I hate the lyrics, melody, and the way he sings it. "I shot the sheriff....but I did not shoot the deputy." Does he think that shows he's not a bad guy?
9."Werewolves of London" by Warren Zevon. I like the music, but it's a dumb song. Werewolves??!!
8. "Disco Duck" by Rick Dees. The title says it all.
7. "Let's Get it On" by Marvin Gaye. This song was used in one of the Austin Powers movies and made the scene a lot funnier. What real woman could keep a straight face if a guy looked at her intensely and used that line??!
6. "50 Ways to Leave Your Lover" by Paul Simon. I don't like the simple rhymes that lodge in my brain and won't get out: "Just slip out the back, Jack. Make a new plan, Stan. Hop on the bus, Gus." With today's new technology, he could probably add "Send her a text, Rex! Give her a Tweet, Pete!" How about being a man and breaking it off face-to-face instead of sneaking off?
5. "Lovin' You" by Minnie Riperton. The sound of her higher-than-Mariah voice could shatter glass and your eardrums.
4. "Havin' My Baby" by Paul Anka. "Havin' my baby! What a lovely way of sayin' how much you love me..." Would a guy really say that??
3. The aforementioned "Afternoon Delight" by Starland Vocal Band."Gonna find my baby gonna hold her tight, gonna grab some afternoon delight..." Isn't that romantic? "Gonna grab some." Just what every girl wants to hear.
2. "Midnight at the Oasis" by Maria Muldaur. This one seemed to be on the radio 20 times a day and it drove me nuts. "Midnight at the oasis....send your camel to bed."
1. And finally, the dumbest song of the '70s...(drumroll)..."Muskrat Love" by the Captain and Tennille. "Muskrat Susie and Muskrat Sam do the jitterbug in Muskrat Land..." The Disco Generation did not want to hear about two muskrats whirling, twirling, and tangoing. How did this ever get to the Top 40?!
That's my list. To those of you who are my age or older and will recognize these tunes, I apologize for planting them in your heads. I'll leave you with something better:
"Ooga chucka, ooga ooga. Ooga chucka , ooga ooga, I can't stop this feeling deep inside of me. Girl you just don't realize what you do to me. When you hold me in your arms so tight, you let me know everything's all right. I'm hooked on a feeling, high on believing that you're in love with me..." Take that, Paul Simon.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
A Thrill--and a Laugh--A Minute
Last night Fred and Katie took a ride to Family Video on the Harley to pick up a movie for her last night here. They came back with "Transporter 3" starring Jason Statham--an actor that the girls and I have dubbed "Dad's Boyfriend" because Fred always wants to see his movies. Statham is the buff, nearly bald British martial arts expert who has played Frank Martin in the three "Transporter" films, Chev Chelios in the "Crank" movies, and starred in "The Bank Job" and "Death Race" among others. He's kind of like Chuck Norris, but better looking.
I actually kind of like the guy, but the film we saw last night was the most far-fetched yet. Frank always takes on 5-12 bad guys at a time, and his flips and kicks are so fast and high that it seems he must be suspended from wires. He pulls off his shirt and jacket to entangle his opponents, tying them in knots. He must have been a Boy Scout or a sailor at some point.
The dialogue had Katie and I laughing so hard that Fred was glaring at us. A car smashed through the wall of Frank's house, obliterating the couch where he'd been sitting only seconds before. He calls an ambulance, and in the understatement of the year growls, "There's been an accident." He tells a burly German mechanic, "Otto, you know I love your schnitzel."
His big problem in the movie is that he must stay within 75 feet of the car he's driving or he'll be blown up by the bomb attached to his wrist. When someone steals the car, he chases it on foot for a couple miles, then grabs a kid's bike and does some fancy jumps over assorted obstacles. He flips around on an iron bar like Paul Hamm and crashes through the driver's window of the car, landing behind the steering wheel and going on his way as if there had been no interruption. Driving a chase scene at 200 mph, he tips the car sideways and drives on two wheels through the narrow space between two semis to elude his pursuers. COME ON!! (Katie and I were giggling as Fred watched intently at the edge of his seat.) Frank drives through a bridge railing to avoid being shot, needing to stay underwater for several minutes. Like a contemporary MacGyver, he sucks air out of the tires for oxygen and fills large duffelbags with air to float the car back to the surface. Uh-huh.
The obligatory chick in the story is a redheaded Ukrainian who wasn't wearing underwear and whined like a 2-year-old through much of the film. "I want to feel sex one more time before I die," she blubbers to Frank. She holds the car keys hostage to make him perform a striptease, which Katie and I ranked as the high point of the movie.
Of course, Frank never fails to deliver, and this time was no exception. After having his car hauled out of the lake, he launches it from another bridge onto the top of a moving train--twice. He blows up the villain, saves the girl, and falls in love. Who would have expected any less?!
I told Fred it was the worst Jason Statham movie I've seen, but he liked it. I'd say he has no taste--but then he did pick a boyfriend who looks awesome with his shirt off!!
I actually kind of like the guy, but the film we saw last night was the most far-fetched yet. Frank always takes on 5-12 bad guys at a time, and his flips and kicks are so fast and high that it seems he must be suspended from wires. He pulls off his shirt and jacket to entangle his opponents, tying them in knots. He must have been a Boy Scout or a sailor at some point.
The dialogue had Katie and I laughing so hard that Fred was glaring at us. A car smashed through the wall of Frank's house, obliterating the couch where he'd been sitting only seconds before. He calls an ambulance, and in the understatement of the year growls, "There's been an accident." He tells a burly German mechanic, "Otto, you know I love your schnitzel."
His big problem in the movie is that he must stay within 75 feet of the car he's driving or he'll be blown up by the bomb attached to his wrist. When someone steals the car, he chases it on foot for a couple miles, then grabs a kid's bike and does some fancy jumps over assorted obstacles. He flips around on an iron bar like Paul Hamm and crashes through the driver's window of the car, landing behind the steering wheel and going on his way as if there had been no interruption. Driving a chase scene at 200 mph, he tips the car sideways and drives on two wheels through the narrow space between two semis to elude his pursuers. COME ON!! (Katie and I were giggling as Fred watched intently at the edge of his seat.) Frank drives through a bridge railing to avoid being shot, needing to stay underwater for several minutes. Like a contemporary MacGyver, he sucks air out of the tires for oxygen and fills large duffelbags with air to float the car back to the surface. Uh-huh.
The obligatory chick in the story is a redheaded Ukrainian who wasn't wearing underwear and whined like a 2-year-old through much of the film. "I want to feel sex one more time before I die," she blubbers to Frank. She holds the car keys hostage to make him perform a striptease, which Katie and I ranked as the high point of the movie.
Of course, Frank never fails to deliver, and this time was no exception. After having his car hauled out of the lake, he launches it from another bridge onto the top of a moving train--twice. He blows up the villain, saves the girl, and falls in love. Who would have expected any less?!
I told Fred it was the worst Jason Statham movie I've seen, but he liked it. I'd say he has no taste--but then he did pick a boyfriend who looks awesome with his shirt off!!
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Hodag Hunt
Yesterday Katie and I went to town armed with cameras, in search of the Hodags on Parade. I had already seen 4 of them from a distance as I was driving around Rhinelander, but we needed to find the fifth and take pictures of them all. We dropped Katie's car off to get the muffler fixed and set out in the beautiful morning on foot to bag us some Hodags.
The first one we encountered is called "In Memory of Those Who Served." This is my favorite, of course, because it's honoring the troops. Painted by nine students in a Rhinelander High School art class, it is done in camouflage on a base designed like the American flag. The POW/MIA flag is on the back of the "log", with the words "You will never be forgotten." Awesome! This one is located across from the public parking lot behind M & I bank.
Next we turned left on Brown St. to head up to the end and see the one Hodag I hadn't yet been by. (Window shopping on the way, I saw something in a frame shop that I wanted for a gift and went in to get it. It was a perfect Christmas present for someone Fred works with. I need to spend more time checking out the downtown shops here!!) The second sculpture was titled "Nightmare on Brown Street." It shows various "monsters" that might appear in our nightmares--like Freddy Krueger and snakes! Katie had her picture taken with this one.
We retraced our steps and headed for Stevens St. and the remaining three Hodags. In front of the public library we found "Creatures of the Northwoods." This one has detailed pictures of several critters you'll see here in the North--eagles, bears, deer, badgers, loons, raccoons, skunks, foxes--and of course, a hodag! I took pictures of all the detailing (which can be found on Facebook)
Next to McDonald's is the "Lumberjack Hodag". He is wearing a plaid flannel shirt and represents the logging industry that boomed here years ago. This one was my least favorite as it lacked detail or specifics about its subject. (Oooo, now I'm an art critic!)
Finally we came to "All Roads Lead to Rhinelander" across from People's State Bank. This one has the U.S. on one side with symbols of various cities and arrows pointing in the direction of Rhinelander. The Golden Gate Bridge, Space Needle, Mt. Rushmore, the White House, and Statue of Liberty are just some of the small details depicted. The other side shows the Rhinelander area and its various townships in detail.
Finally we drove out to the Chamber of Commerce building to see the BIG hodag, the "Mother Ship" as Katie called it. She sprawled across the hodag's feet like a playboy centerfold for a picture--then we saw the sign that says "Please do not climb on the hodag." Oops.
We haven't lived here that long, but I'm already a Hodag fan and proud to be represented by such a unique and legendary creature. The cards I send out to soldiers for the Halloween card swap through anysoldier.com are going to have Hodags on them--with a picture of the Parade's military Hodag inside. I know they're supposed to be ugly and scary, but after awhile they grow on you. They sort of remind me of Shrek!
The first one we encountered is called "In Memory of Those Who Served." This is my favorite, of course, because it's honoring the troops. Painted by nine students in a Rhinelander High School art class, it is done in camouflage on a base designed like the American flag. The POW/MIA flag is on the back of the "log", with the words "You will never be forgotten." Awesome! This one is located across from the public parking lot behind M & I bank.
Next we turned left on Brown St. to head up to the end and see the one Hodag I hadn't yet been by. (Window shopping on the way, I saw something in a frame shop that I wanted for a gift and went in to get it. It was a perfect Christmas present for someone Fred works with. I need to spend more time checking out the downtown shops here!!) The second sculpture was titled "Nightmare on Brown Street." It shows various "monsters" that might appear in our nightmares--like Freddy Krueger and snakes! Katie had her picture taken with this one.
We retraced our steps and headed for Stevens St. and the remaining three Hodags. In front of the public library we found "Creatures of the Northwoods." This one has detailed pictures of several critters you'll see here in the North--eagles, bears, deer, badgers, loons, raccoons, skunks, foxes--and of course, a hodag! I took pictures of all the detailing (which can be found on Facebook)
Next to McDonald's is the "Lumberjack Hodag". He is wearing a plaid flannel shirt and represents the logging industry that boomed here years ago. This one was my least favorite as it lacked detail or specifics about its subject. (Oooo, now I'm an art critic!)
Finally we came to "All Roads Lead to Rhinelander" across from People's State Bank. This one has the U.S. on one side with symbols of various cities and arrows pointing in the direction of Rhinelander. The Golden Gate Bridge, Space Needle, Mt. Rushmore, the White House, and Statue of Liberty are just some of the small details depicted. The other side shows the Rhinelander area and its various townships in detail.
Finally we drove out to the Chamber of Commerce building to see the BIG hodag, the "Mother Ship" as Katie called it. She sprawled across the hodag's feet like a playboy centerfold for a picture--then we saw the sign that says "Please do not climb on the hodag." Oops.
We haven't lived here that long, but I'm already a Hodag fan and proud to be represented by such a unique and legendary creature. The cards I send out to soldiers for the Halloween card swap through anysoldier.com are going to have Hodags on them--with a picture of the Parade's military Hodag inside. I know they're supposed to be ugly and scary, but after awhile they grow on you. They sort of remind me of Shrek!
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Willpower
A person's will is an amazing thing. It can make a runner reach that finish line even though his legs are noodles and he's gasping for breath. It gives a woman the strength to push just once more and bring that baby into the world. And it keeps me from eating the things I shouldn't.
"Mind over matter" really is a saying that a dieter must take to heart--and maybe tattoo on her arm. So much of losing weight is about what's going on in our heads, not our stomachs. I have needed to lose weight for the past 6 years, but my heart hasn't really been in it every time I've made a New Year's resolution or faced another Monday. A week ago I decided it's time to really get sensible and start making better eating choices, both for my health and my appearance--and just like that, I had a resurgence in willpower that I haven't experienced in years. I haven't been tempted to eat things I shouldn't because I just say NO! Bad choice! If I can convince myself that the thick, frosting-covered brownie is not good for me, then that's it; I walk away and think about something else. So far it has been working--but I haven't had to deal with PMS week yet...
It's like giving myself a constant pep talk, visualizing the fat cells being chewed up by the monster growling in my stomach. So it's not a question of being able to do it or needing to do it--you have to want to do it. Really want to. Where there's a will there's a way. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Never give up. Eat, drink, and be merry. Oops! Scratch that last one.
My friends Cathi and Cheryl are also trying to shed pounds with me. Cheryl was told by a fitness trainer that if you eat cereal for breakfast, it increases your metabolism by 4%; if you eat protein, your metabolism goes up 30%. Cheryl has cut back fat in her diet and lost 9 lbs. in 2 weeks! Way to go! Cathi is doing well, too, and we are going to share tips in a phone call later today.
Until then, I have a new guy in my life, holding my hand through the hard times. His name is Will Power, and don't tempt him. You'll lose.
"Mind over matter" really is a saying that a dieter must take to heart--and maybe tattoo on her arm. So much of losing weight is about what's going on in our heads, not our stomachs. I have needed to lose weight for the past 6 years, but my heart hasn't really been in it every time I've made a New Year's resolution or faced another Monday. A week ago I decided it's time to really get sensible and start making better eating choices, both for my health and my appearance--and just like that, I had a resurgence in willpower that I haven't experienced in years. I haven't been tempted to eat things I shouldn't because I just say NO! Bad choice! If I can convince myself that the thick, frosting-covered brownie is not good for me, then that's it; I walk away and think about something else. So far it has been working--but I haven't had to deal with PMS week yet...
It's like giving myself a constant pep talk, visualizing the fat cells being chewed up by the monster growling in my stomach. So it's not a question of being able to do it or needing to do it--you have to want to do it. Really want to. Where there's a will there's a way. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Never give up. Eat, drink, and be merry. Oops! Scratch that last one.
My friends Cathi and Cheryl are also trying to shed pounds with me. Cheryl was told by a fitness trainer that if you eat cereal for breakfast, it increases your metabolism by 4%; if you eat protein, your metabolism goes up 30%. Cheryl has cut back fat in her diet and lost 9 lbs. in 2 weeks! Way to go! Cathi is doing well, too, and we are going to share tips in a phone call later today.
Until then, I have a new guy in my life, holding my hand through the hard times. His name is Will Power, and don't tempt him. You'll lose.
Monday, July 6, 2009
More Better Than Worse
Having been married for almost 25 years, Fred and I have of course had our ups and downs. Most married couples go through the periods of blissful beginnings, the excitement and exhaustion of having kids, the daily routine of work and family--often passing like ships in the night. Sometimes appreciating each other; sometimes taking the other for granted, like a piece of furniture you've had since the wedding.
I've rediscovered over the past week some of the reasons that I married Fred all those years ago. He was at the cabin on vacation for the week, so not having him here to share things with--except through a spotty cell phone connection--made me miss his mere presence. My friend Mary was in Wisconsin last week to say goodbye to friends and family before her move to China. The farewell picnic, scheduled for the 4th, was conflicting with the family reunion we'd planned with Fred's side at our cabin. I didn't know how I could do both at opposite corners of the state, but he told me not to worry about food or other details. He would take care of it all so that I could spend time with Mary. It worked out that I was able to meet her in Madison mid-week and avoid the conflict, but just knowing I had his support took some weight off my shoulders.
He also told me that before Mary found out about the China move, the two of them had been cooking up a 50th birthday surprise for me, probably another trip to Knoxville so that she and I could celebrate our September milestones together. It's just one of many times in 25 years that he's planned something special for me.
He extends the same helpfulness and generosity to our friends. Whether it be neighbors at the cabin, work colleagues, or people we've known for decades, he's always the first one there to lend a hand.
Seeing him at his family reunion Saturday increased my appreciation for who he is on several levels. He was great with the kids who were there, giving long rides on our Mule (family-sized 4-wheel vehicle), letting each of them take a turn at driving it. He played a nearly endless game of "War" with a 7-year-old, and quietly tolerated some family dynamics going on that had me ready to blow up. (He must learn that patience and diplomacy from working with school boards and administrators!)
Sitting around the campfire with Erica and Craig that night, I appreciated him for being the girls' dad and his role in who they've turned out to be. Having any of them visit at the cabin is his dream come true.
Things aren't always wine and roses--some days I rapidly get demoted from being the apple of his eye to the pain in his ass. But today I want him to know how glad I am to be married to him. I encourage each of you to take a purposeful look at your significant other and let him or her know what they mean to you, too.
Love you, Dear!!
P.S. I lost 2 lbs. in the past week in spite of being at 3 holiday cookouts in a row!
I've rediscovered over the past week some of the reasons that I married Fred all those years ago. He was at the cabin on vacation for the week, so not having him here to share things with--except through a spotty cell phone connection--made me miss his mere presence. My friend Mary was in Wisconsin last week to say goodbye to friends and family before her move to China. The farewell picnic, scheduled for the 4th, was conflicting with the family reunion we'd planned with Fred's side at our cabin. I didn't know how I could do both at opposite corners of the state, but he told me not to worry about food or other details. He would take care of it all so that I could spend time with Mary. It worked out that I was able to meet her in Madison mid-week and avoid the conflict, but just knowing I had his support took some weight off my shoulders.
He also told me that before Mary found out about the China move, the two of them had been cooking up a 50th birthday surprise for me, probably another trip to Knoxville so that she and I could celebrate our September milestones together. It's just one of many times in 25 years that he's planned something special for me.
He extends the same helpfulness and generosity to our friends. Whether it be neighbors at the cabin, work colleagues, or people we've known for decades, he's always the first one there to lend a hand.
Seeing him at his family reunion Saturday increased my appreciation for who he is on several levels. He was great with the kids who were there, giving long rides on our Mule (family-sized 4-wheel vehicle), letting each of them take a turn at driving it. He played a nearly endless game of "War" with a 7-year-old, and quietly tolerated some family dynamics going on that had me ready to blow up. (He must learn that patience and diplomacy from working with school boards and administrators!)
Sitting around the campfire with Erica and Craig that night, I appreciated him for being the girls' dad and his role in who they've turned out to be. Having any of them visit at the cabin is his dream come true.
Things aren't always wine and roses--some days I rapidly get demoted from being the apple of his eye to the pain in his ass. But today I want him to know how glad I am to be married to him. I encourage each of you to take a purposeful look at your significant other and let him or her know what they mean to you, too.
Love you, Dear!!
P.S. I lost 2 lbs. in the past week in spite of being at 3 holiday cookouts in a row!
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Brain Pain
Last week on the way back from Bayfield, Fred and I stopped in Hurley for a bite to eat. I had a strawberry smoothie with my sandwich, and a couple seconds after slurping up a mouthful--Yeoooww!! A stabbing pain behind my eye and in my forehead. ICE CREAM HEADACHE!! You'd think that someone who has been a connoisseur of margaritas for 30+ years would know better, but nope. The headache went away after a minute or so, but it made me wonder: why do cold things give us that terrible pain in the head?
Also known as brain freeze and cold stimulus headache, this phenomenon starts in the mouth. We have taste buds and nerves at the back of our tongues and palate that transmit information to the brain. When we eat something cold that touches these nerves, the nerves set off the vessels that control the amount of blood flow to the brain. The cold causes the blood vessels to rapidly constrict, and that results in the almost-instant headache. The pain usually lasts only 30-60 seconds, but as I can attest from that smoothie, it really hurt!! To add insult to injury, it happened to me twice--obviously, a slow learner.
How do we prevent these headaches without giving up ice cold treats? It is recommended to eat cold foods and drinks slowly, allowing them time to warm in your mouth a few seconds before swallowing. Try not to let it touch the back of your tongue and palate right off the bat. Avoid using a straw, as this will prevent drinking slowly and usually draws the cold liquid right to the spot that will cause the most pain.
Wow, you learn something new every day! I hope you'll all enjoy some ice cream and cold beverages this weekend without any headaches. Now that I know this, I don't plan to experience this pain ever again. From now on my only "brain freeze" will be when I can't find my car in the parking lot.
Have a great 4th, everyone! We'll be at the Amberg Hilton, so catch you here on Monday!
Also known as brain freeze and cold stimulus headache, this phenomenon starts in the mouth. We have taste buds and nerves at the back of our tongues and palate that transmit information to the brain. When we eat something cold that touches these nerves, the nerves set off the vessels that control the amount of blood flow to the brain. The cold causes the blood vessels to rapidly constrict, and that results in the almost-instant headache. The pain usually lasts only 30-60 seconds, but as I can attest from that smoothie, it really hurt!! To add insult to injury, it happened to me twice--obviously, a slow learner.
How do we prevent these headaches without giving up ice cold treats? It is recommended to eat cold foods and drinks slowly, allowing them time to warm in your mouth a few seconds before swallowing. Try not to let it touch the back of your tongue and palate right off the bat. Avoid using a straw, as this will prevent drinking slowly and usually draws the cold liquid right to the spot that will cause the most pain.
Wow, you learn something new every day! I hope you'll all enjoy some ice cream and cold beverages this weekend without any headaches. Now that I know this, I don't plan to experience this pain ever again. From now on my only "brain freeze" will be when I can't find my car in the parking lot.
Have a great 4th, everyone! We'll be at the Amberg Hilton, so catch you here on Monday!
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Unchained Eating
Erica decided at some point during her 5 years in Madison that she isn't going to eat at chain restaurants anymore. She says, "I just like to support local businesses rather than great big chain restaurants, especially when I am taking someone out to eat--why take someone to a place here that they can eat at when they're in their own hometown? I also find that the food is generally better--fresher, more interesting, and more customizable, since there's usually a chef/cook on-site." Some of the ethnic places she favors are Kabul (Afghan); Lombardinos (Italian); The Cabana Room (Brazilian) Her favorite place serves Indian food, and she's even thinking about having her wedding rehearsal dinner there. She goes online to peruse menus and read reviews of the restaurants so she knows what to expect when she eats there. She has taken me to several of her hang-outs, including an Irish pub, a Peruvian restaurant for her post-graduation dinner, and last night to Husnu's, purveyor of authentic Turkish cuisine.
I was a little leery at first, worried that my only entree options would contain goat, llama, or some other creature I didn't care to consume. (I'm a boring American-food eater, stereotyping everything new to my palate as weird before even trying it. ) Fortunately, my open-minded daughter enjoys sharing her discoveries with her family and friends, including reports of spending the rest of her evening in the bathroom after certain food forays! Anyway, she first recommended that I have a blueberry beer. I figured alcohol wasn't allowed on my stupid diet, but Erica is a marathon runner, in excellent physical shape--and if she tells me I can have a beer, who am I to argue? It smelled just like blueberries, but looked and tasted like beer--and it was yummy. Looking at the menu, I decided to go with an entree whose description sounded tasty and whose name I could pronounce: "Spicy Orange Beef." I also had some excellent bread with olive oil and a salad. The beef came with rice and veggies--it was all wonderful and very filling. Erica had something with a Turkish name, Craig (her fiance) and Molly (my niece) had Turkish dumplings, and Kelly (her roommate) had shish-ke-babs. Everyone was happy with their food, and the service was great, too. I didn't know what was the proper Turkish way to express my satisfaction, so I kept my burp to myself.
I really enjoy being taught to appreciate new things by my kids. Erica has passed on many tips for healthy eating, and I'm hoping they will help in my quest for weight loss before shopping for the dreaded mother-of-the-bride dress. In the meantime, Erica, if you find a place that makes an acceptable low-cal margarita, let me know!
I was a little leery at first, worried that my only entree options would contain goat, llama, or some other creature I didn't care to consume. (I'm a boring American-food eater, stereotyping everything new to my palate as weird before even trying it. ) Fortunately, my open-minded daughter enjoys sharing her discoveries with her family and friends, including reports of spending the rest of her evening in the bathroom after certain food forays! Anyway, she first recommended that I have a blueberry beer. I figured alcohol wasn't allowed on my stupid diet, but Erica is a marathon runner, in excellent physical shape--and if she tells me I can have a beer, who am I to argue? It smelled just like blueberries, but looked and tasted like beer--and it was yummy. Looking at the menu, I decided to go with an entree whose description sounded tasty and whose name I could pronounce: "Spicy Orange Beef." I also had some excellent bread with olive oil and a salad. The beef came with rice and veggies--it was all wonderful and very filling. Erica had something with a Turkish name, Craig (her fiance) and Molly (my niece) had Turkish dumplings, and Kelly (her roommate) had shish-ke-babs. Everyone was happy with their food, and the service was great, too. I didn't know what was the proper Turkish way to express my satisfaction, so I kept my burp to myself.
I really enjoy being taught to appreciate new things by my kids. Erica has passed on many tips for healthy eating, and I'm hoping they will help in my quest for weight loss before shopping for the dreaded mother-of-the-bride dress. In the meantime, Erica, if you find a place that makes an acceptable low-cal margarita, let me know!
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