I'm well into my second month of healthier eating (you did not see me eating a McDonald's cheeseburger and small fries this afternoon - that must have been somebody else) and daily exercise (yes, that was me taking a thirty minute walk this morning at 8:00 a.m.) and I've come to a few conclusions:
1. It's not as bad as I thought it was going to be.
2. It's not as much fun as Jillian Michaels would like you
to think it's going to be.
3. I like feeling stronger than I did twenty years ago. If
my knees would co-operate, I think I would be on my
way to kicking some serious ass.
4. I love kale (already discussed in a previous blog but
worth noting again) but I love it even more when
someone else cuts it up. This goes for all salad
materials.
5. I can scale back treats and still feel satisfied. Today I
stopped in a new donut shop (c'mon, I'm just trying to
support a new local business), bought two donuts and
cut them into quarters to put in my freezer. The single
bite of peanut butter chocolate cake donut topped with
a Hershey's kiss was shockingly enough).
6. I've grown to like lemon water, especially the fizzy
variety that Whole Foods sells.
7. Walking with your shoulders back and butt tucked
under makes anyone look like they lost five pounds.
8. As much as I hate getting up early, exercising in the
morning does give me more energy for the rest of the
day. (I always dismissed this notion as a delusional
ranting of confirmed morning people but damn if they
weren't right).
9. I'm actually starting to lose my taste for super-rich
foods. Looks like I won't be dining at Cheesecake
Factory anytime soon.
10. I would eat fresh fish two or three times a week if it
didn't cost the same amount of money as a new piece
of jewelry. Why is crappy eating so much cheaper than
healthy eating???!!
I'm sure there will be more revelations in the future and I'm counting on subsequent updates to keep me honest. For anyone else interested in joining me on this quest, be sure to leave a comment and let me know how you're doing.
I wonder if I'll ever be able to do fifty push-ups? Stay tuned.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
SuperKALEifragilistic!
One of the surprising things about getting older is the fact that your stomach starts to tell you what it does and does not want you to put in it. Salads get a big fat yes, Greek yogurt with fresh fruit, gets a yes, please and fried onions on a burger at nine o'clock at night, gets a resounding don't-even-think-about-it-unless-you-want-to-be-up-all-night. The good thing about this change in your digestive system is that certain foods look much more appealing than they ever used to and others, like the newly resurrected Twinkies and slabs of cheesecake smothered with whipped cream (I'm talking to you Cheesecake Factory), look a whole lot less.
Today, I got in my car and drove ten miles to get something for lunch. I had a taste for something specific and I just had to have it. It wasn't a juicy Italian Beef from Portillo's. It wasn't a bacon cheeseburger with cheddar and onions from Smashburger (although now that I'm typing it, that does sound good), and it wasn't deep dish pizza from Lou Malnati's (again, sounds pretty good). No, what I got my shoes on for was located in the nearest Whole Foods - raw kale salad.
I know, I know, kale is the new arugula. Everybody is jumping on the healthy eating bandwagon and proclaiming their love for this leafy green veggie that absolutely no one had in their refrigerators a year or two ago. But, trust me, this stuff is good.
First off, Whole Foods makes all their pre-made salads look amazingly appetizing. I don't know what they do to it, if they shine some special light on it or if we're all being hypnotized the minute we walk in, but all the quinoa, farro, bulgur, and all the other unknown-a-year-ago options actually look better than the cupcakes and gelato that are just a few steps away. The raw kale salad is no exception. Its bright green, ruffly leaves topped with bits of tomatoes, cranberries and pine nuts and drizzled with lemony vinaigrette practically scream "eat me". And I did, along with samples of several other worthy contenders. The farro salad was a "meh" (needs more seasoning) and the grilled veggie salad was an "I'll be back for more of that later" hit. After filling my cart with additional treats from the salad bar and three types of fish, I headed for the cashier with nary a brownie or key lime tartlet in sight.
Not that I should get too cocky. I know there's a pint of sea-salt caramel Talenti gelato sitting in my freezer (more on that obsession at a later time) that will be hard to resist a few hours from now. But I did make myself one heck of a healthy lunch.
Baby steps, right?.
Today, I got in my car and drove ten miles to get something for lunch. I had a taste for something specific and I just had to have it. It wasn't a juicy Italian Beef from Portillo's. It wasn't a bacon cheeseburger with cheddar and onions from Smashburger (although now that I'm typing it, that does sound good), and it wasn't deep dish pizza from Lou Malnati's (again, sounds pretty good). No, what I got my shoes on for was located in the nearest Whole Foods - raw kale salad.
I know, I know, kale is the new arugula. Everybody is jumping on the healthy eating bandwagon and proclaiming their love for this leafy green veggie that absolutely no one had in their refrigerators a year or two ago. But, trust me, this stuff is good.
First off, Whole Foods makes all their pre-made salads look amazingly appetizing. I don't know what they do to it, if they shine some special light on it or if we're all being hypnotized the minute we walk in, but all the quinoa, farro, bulgur, and all the other unknown-a-year-ago options actually look better than the cupcakes and gelato that are just a few steps away. The raw kale salad is no exception. Its bright green, ruffly leaves topped with bits of tomatoes, cranberries and pine nuts and drizzled with lemony vinaigrette practically scream "eat me". And I did, along with samples of several other worthy contenders. The farro salad was a "meh" (needs more seasoning) and the grilled veggie salad was an "I'll be back for more of that later" hit. After filling my cart with additional treats from the salad bar and three types of fish, I headed for the cashier with nary a brownie or key lime tartlet in sight.
Not that I should get too cocky. I know there's a pint of sea-salt caramel Talenti gelato sitting in my freezer (more on that obsession at a later time) that will be hard to resist a few hours from now. But I did make myself one heck of a healthy lunch.
Baby steps, right?.
Monday, July 22, 2013
Watch Out
Moving out of the motherhood is challenging and re-inventing yourself is an up and down journey that throws more curve balls at you than Chris Carpenter throws at National League hitters. You have to get motivation and inspiration wherever you can find it. And where do I usually find it? That's right. . .sports.
Yesterday, I spent a few hours watching a golf tournament. Nothing unusual about that.Anyone who is a regular reader of this blog knows I'm kind of obsessed with sports and tune in to any major event that doesn't involve cricket, soccer or rugby. This latest excuse to put my own life on hold and gawk at a bunch of people actually doing something with theirs happened to be The British Open (or just The Open for those purists on the other side of the pond). I told myself that this productivity detour was okay because a) it came on at 7:00am and would be over by noon and b) one of my favorite players just happened to be in contention.
As I sat there, happily ensconced with The Sunday Tribune and a cup of tea (Britain, remember?), doing double duty rooting Phil on and cheering whenever Tiger made a mistake, I felt encouraged by what I saw unfolding in front of me. Here was a forty-three year-old guy that one month ago had the biggest disappointment of his career when he came in second in The U.S. Open for the sixth time (after leading in the final round with a couple of holes to go). He was conquering an insidious Scottish course that had chewed up and spit out some of the best players in the game. Not to mention, he was doing it after being written off as not having the kind of game to ever win this particular major.
So, what happened? Even non-sports nuts probably know the answer to that one. He went out there and won the thing from five shots back, leaving Tiger and a whole lot of other talented players in his wake. It was great TV but, for me, it was more than that. This was one for the good guys and I picked up a few pointers watching him on his way to winning The Claret Jug. He succeeded by taking chances and trusting his talent. He triumphed because he didn't listen to the naysayers that said he couldn't. And he came out on top without acting like a jerk while he was doing it.
Now that he's won the tournament, I wonder if he might have a few minutes to teach me one other lesson - how to stop watching others live out their dreams and go out and fulfill a few of my own.
Yesterday, I spent a few hours watching a golf tournament. Nothing unusual about that.Anyone who is a regular reader of this blog knows I'm kind of obsessed with sports and tune in to any major event that doesn't involve cricket, soccer or rugby. This latest excuse to put my own life on hold and gawk at a bunch of people actually doing something with theirs happened to be The British Open (or just The Open for those purists on the other side of the pond). I told myself that this productivity detour was okay because a) it came on at 7:00am and would be over by noon and b) one of my favorite players just happened to be in contention.
As I sat there, happily ensconced with The Sunday Tribune and a cup of tea (Britain, remember?), doing double duty rooting Phil on and cheering whenever Tiger made a mistake, I felt encouraged by what I saw unfolding in front of me. Here was a forty-three year-old guy that one month ago had the biggest disappointment of his career when he came in second in The U.S. Open for the sixth time (after leading in the final round with a couple of holes to go). He was conquering an insidious Scottish course that had chewed up and spit out some of the best players in the game. Not to mention, he was doing it after being written off as not having the kind of game to ever win this particular major.
So, what happened? Even non-sports nuts probably know the answer to that one. He went out there and won the thing from five shots back, leaving Tiger and a whole lot of other talented players in his wake. It was great TV but, for me, it was more than that. This was one for the good guys and I picked up a few pointers watching him on his way to winning The Claret Jug. He succeeded by taking chances and trusting his talent. He triumphed because he didn't listen to the naysayers that said he couldn't. And he came out on top without acting like a jerk while he was doing it.
Now that he's won the tournament, I wonder if he might have a few minutes to teach me one other lesson - how to stop watching others live out their dreams and go out and fulfill a few of my own.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Let's Put on a Wedding
When I got married thirty years ago, I booked our church, found a banquet hall that had our date available (and featured family style dinners for $21 per person including open bar), and bought a dress for under $200. I picked out bridesmaids' dresses and flower arrangements and found a decent photographer. After that, I figured my work was done. And it was. I showed up on the big day, said "I do", and partied for the rest of the night. Today, if you don't want to pony up thirty or forty-thousand dollars, you have to get a lot more involved.
This past weekend, I saw what can happen when a group of loving, dedicated friends and family get together to help start a young couple off on their marital journey without breaking the bank. For two days (and many months leading up to those two days) a "village" of hard-working people did everything and anything necessary to ensure the bride and groom would have the wedding of their dreams. They strung lights, carried tables and chairs, arranged flowers, baked goodies, ran errands, hung decorations, practiced music, and calmed nerves. In the end, they turned an empty field and bare barn into a garden paradise and twinkling wonderland. Despite the summer heat and a rapidly approaching deadline, there was little complaining and a whole lot of laughter while everyone worked toward one goal - to give the best day of their lives to the much-loved bride and groom.
So, forget about those Kardashian-style extravaganzas that cost a million bucks and end in a couple of months. Forget about going into debt to feed over-cooked prime rib to 300 people you're not even sure you sent a Christmas card to last year. Forget about running away to some remote island destination wedding with you and your ten best friends. This is the way to do it. Surround yourself with people who love you, throw some chicken on the bar-b-que grill and pour some chilled Moscato into a Mason jar glass. When you're done, you won't be looking at a drawer full of credit card bills and you'll never have to ask yourself that question that creeps up on most of us once in a while - 'I wonder how everyone really feels about me?'
You'll have an album of pictures that tells you all you'll ever need to know.
This past weekend, I saw what can happen when a group of loving, dedicated friends and family get together to help start a young couple off on their marital journey without breaking the bank. For two days (and many months leading up to those two days) a "village" of hard-working people did everything and anything necessary to ensure the bride and groom would have the wedding of their dreams. They strung lights, carried tables and chairs, arranged flowers, baked goodies, ran errands, hung decorations, practiced music, and calmed nerves. In the end, they turned an empty field and bare barn into a garden paradise and twinkling wonderland. Despite the summer heat and a rapidly approaching deadline, there was little complaining and a whole lot of laughter while everyone worked toward one goal - to give the best day of their lives to the much-loved bride and groom.
So, forget about those Kardashian-style extravaganzas that cost a million bucks and end in a couple of months. Forget about going into debt to feed over-cooked prime rib to 300 people you're not even sure you sent a Christmas card to last year. Forget about running away to some remote island destination wedding with you and your ten best friends. This is the way to do it. Surround yourself with people who love you, throw some chicken on the bar-b-que grill and pour some chilled Moscato into a Mason jar glass. When you're done, you won't be looking at a drawer full of credit card bills and you'll never have to ask yourself that question that creeps up on most of us once in a while - 'I wonder how everyone really feels about me?'
You'll have an album of pictures that tells you all you'll ever need to know.
Monday, July 8, 2013
Breakfast at Wimbledon
Having lived in England for a couple of years, I have to cop to being a bit of an Anglophile. I drink tea instead of coffee, get a kick out of all that pomp and circumstance surrounding the Royal Family, and make a mean scone, complete with clotted cream and strawberry jam. When I get the opportunity to celebrate my affinity for all things British, like Kate and Williams' little shindig a while back, I jump right on it. I may not be there to get caught up in all the pageantry but I still like to find a way to reconnect with my "second home" from this side of the pond any chance I get. Needless to say, that includes the annual Wimbledon fortnight.
Luckily for me, I have a son who likes tennis almost as much as I do. I wish I could say that I play as well as he does (just wait, he'll have arthritic knees someday, too) but the joy I get from our shared passion almost makes up for the fact that I will never, ever beat him. He usually doesn't have the patience (or time) to watch a televised match with me but yesterday, when I asked him if he wanted to watch the Men's Final between Djokovic and Murray, he actually said yes.
When he arrived around 9:30 a.m., the DVR already had an hour and a half head start. Learning that I was out of both o.j. and bacon, he bolted back to his car to head to the nearest grocery store. By the time he got back, the poached eggs were almost done and I was working on the French Toast. A few minutes later, we were sitting in front of the TV with our calorie-laden breakfasts watching Novak and Andy duke it out.
After the first set was over, I mentioned that, while I had forgotten to thaw out the amazing frozen chocolate croissants from Trader Joe's that he loves, I did have a can of Pillsbury Grand biscuits in the fridge. (For those not in the know, these things make phenomenal donuts. Just punch out a hole with a vanilla bottle lid, drop them into a shallow pan of hot oil, and dredge in powdered sugar or cinnamon or dip in chocolate frosting - beats any store bought donut around.)
While my son continued watching the match, I fried up the dough. Within minutes, I had a plateful of warm, crusty, gooey donuts that would lead to me adding another half hour to my exercise schedule. (Side note: I've been on a real health kick for the last month. I've been exercising every day, eating more greenery than your average rabbit, and cutting down on sweets.) But watching my son devour his favorite childhood treat while we watched Andy Murray become the first British male to win Wimbledon in seventy-seven years put a big smile on my face.
Some things are worth a few extra calories.
Luckily for me, I have a son who likes tennis almost as much as I do. I wish I could say that I play as well as he does (just wait, he'll have arthritic knees someday, too) but the joy I get from our shared passion almost makes up for the fact that I will never, ever beat him. He usually doesn't have the patience (or time) to watch a televised match with me but yesterday, when I asked him if he wanted to watch the Men's Final between Djokovic and Murray, he actually said yes.
When he arrived around 9:30 a.m., the DVR already had an hour and a half head start. Learning that I was out of both o.j. and bacon, he bolted back to his car to head to the nearest grocery store. By the time he got back, the poached eggs were almost done and I was working on the French Toast. A few minutes later, we were sitting in front of the TV with our calorie-laden breakfasts watching Novak and Andy duke it out.
After the first set was over, I mentioned that, while I had forgotten to thaw out the amazing frozen chocolate croissants from Trader Joe's that he loves, I did have a can of Pillsbury Grand biscuits in the fridge. (For those not in the know, these things make phenomenal donuts. Just punch out a hole with a vanilla bottle lid, drop them into a shallow pan of hot oil, and dredge in powdered sugar or cinnamon or dip in chocolate frosting - beats any store bought donut around.)
While my son continued watching the match, I fried up the dough. Within minutes, I had a plateful of warm, crusty, gooey donuts that would lead to me adding another half hour to my exercise schedule. (Side note: I've been on a real health kick for the last month. I've been exercising every day, eating more greenery than your average rabbit, and cutting down on sweets.) But watching my son devour his favorite childhood treat while we watched Andy Murray become the first British male to win Wimbledon in seventy-seven years put a big smile on my face.
Some things are worth a few extra calories.
Monday, July 1, 2013
LX and Counting
Well, it's been an eventful week. I celebrated a milestone birthday and The Blackhawks won the Stanley Cup. I have to say that the Hawks winning The Cup on my actual birthday made the transition to a new decade a lot more tolerable but still, when the high-fiveing and jumping up and down were over, I had to face my new reality. I was now in serious AARP country; a place where Scooter Store flyers and hearing aid offers would be regular visitors to my mailbox. (My husband actually asked me the next morning, "How's my little senior doing today?" It's amazing the man is still taking in oxygen after that one.)
Don't get me wrong, I know there are a lot of people in this world who didn't get to reach the birthday I just celebrated, including a very dear friend that I miss terribly. She would have given anything to be standing in my Clark shoes so I should shut up and appreciate the gift of every day. And I do. Honestly, I do. But there's something about hitting those zero birthdays that sobers you up in a hurry - Blackhawks win or no Blackhawks win.
So, here's my plan. I'm getting off my saggy heinie and getting myself in shape. I'm looking very carefully at food labels (hello, Whole Foods) and trying to cook fresh, healthy meals as often as possible (goodbye, McDonalds). I'm not going to go through another day putting off what I know I need (edit that book) to do and want (a 2015 return to Italy?) to do. I want to learn more; help more; grow more (except in that aforementioned heinie area which has grown quite enough, thank you very much). In short, I want to use whatever time I have left on this planet to be as productive, supportive, generous and kind as I possibly can.
And if, along the way, a book with my name on it ends up finding its way to a shelf at your nearest bookstore, I don't think I'll be too worried about that next zero birthday.
Don't get me wrong, I know there are a lot of people in this world who didn't get to reach the birthday I just celebrated, including a very dear friend that I miss terribly. She would have given anything to be standing in my Clark shoes so I should shut up and appreciate the gift of every day. And I do. Honestly, I do. But there's something about hitting those zero birthdays that sobers you up in a hurry - Blackhawks win or no Blackhawks win.
So, here's my plan. I'm getting off my saggy heinie and getting myself in shape. I'm looking very carefully at food labels (hello, Whole Foods) and trying to cook fresh, healthy meals as often as possible (goodbye, McDonalds). I'm not going to go through another day putting off what I know I need (edit that book) to do and want (a 2015 return to Italy?) to do. I want to learn more; help more; grow more (except in that aforementioned heinie area which has grown quite enough, thank you very much). In short, I want to use whatever time I have left on this planet to be as productive, supportive, generous and kind as I possibly can.
And if, along the way, a book with my name on it ends up finding its way to a shelf at your nearest bookstore, I don't think I'll be too worried about that next zero birthday.
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