Why I “Hate” Valentine’s DAY

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One stupid day.  A day when many are tempted to gauge how beloved they are based on worldly standards.

The history is murky.  There may have been several St. Valentine figures in the early Christian church.  There may have been an effort by the Church to Christianize a pagan fertility festival, which possibly involved the sacrifice of dogs. The middle of February has various cultish and agronomic associations as well (such as the beginning of birds’ mating season).  Written Valentines and love poems began to appear in the 1400s, but didn’t gain popularity until the mid 18th century. The first printed cards replaced handwritten notes, and were popularized in 1900s, largely due to improvements in printing technology, and cheaper postage rates. Today, an estimated 1 billion Valentine’s Day cards are sent each year, making it the second largest card-sending holiday. Women purchase 85 percent of all valentines.  (Excerpted from History.com)

Ladies, most of us are born romantics, but some of us sit around and wait for the “perfect” Image result for ladies pamper yourselfman to fulfill our dreams.  Even many of us married ladies haven’t met “him” yet.  I love my husband, he’s a wonderful man in so many ways, but I’ve long ago let go of that “dream Valentine.”  Single ladies, don’t bemoan your singleness!  Love yourself as the awesome person God created.  Celebrate your wonderful self.  Draw that bath.  Pour that wine, or your favorite tea.  Light the candles, get that manicure. Break out the chocolate and your favorite tunes, and pamper yourself, love yourself!

I pitifully have bought into the garish commercialism of it all for most of my life.  As a child, I of course exchanged Valentines in the classroom.  I recall considering who I did and didn’t want to give a Valentine to, in a time before “everyone must be included.”  Even when I was forced to give one to each classmate, I carefully considered who would get the prettiest ones or the ugliest ones out of my box.  My grandmothers always sent Valentines cards, often with a few crisp bills inside.  I’ve always loved to give gifts, so buying chocolates for my Mom was fun—I’m sure it also had something to do with my brother and me being able to partake in that lovely Whitman’s rectangle of assorted chocolates with a map on the lid (it didn’t stop my stinky little brother from his game of biting into one, making an “ick” face, and then being allowed to try another, while Mother sacrificially took his uneaten half).  As we do each year, we bought and sent cards to our children, and Dad put some crisp twenties in (we can only hope they check their mailboxes, something millennials rarely do).  Hubby is always very diligent in having the requisite Hallmark along with some goodies—depending on the dieting trend, it might be chocolates, a meal out, wine, or other creative goodies; those that can be shared are preferred.  He was literally at the bedroom door when I awoke this morning, excited to give me my Valentine’s card and gifts—so sweet.  I usually bring my culinary skills to bear to prepare a “romantic dinner and dessert,” since I abhor the overpriced and crowded restaurant scene, not to mention the gross commercialization of “love.”

Image result for love note from godI do remember those years in my single 20-something life, facing a Valentine’s alone with not even a remote prospect for romance.  In the years when my marriage was on the rocks, each Valentine’s Day seemed like such a farce to me.  The messages of love mocked.  I was hurting, big time.  In an effort to not be mean and forgo giving a card, I’d search high and low for the least romantic or idealistic card; it otherwise just felt so fake (there are tons of “you’re a good father/provider” cards out there… as well as the humorous ones that dance around love).  Many were the times it felt like I must’ve been the only one without love.  I can only imagine that social media makes it even worse these days. I see a niece posting thoughts on being alone on Valentine’s, knowing that at 33 she (like me at that age) desperately wants the affirmation of being a couple and in love. The commercialism of Valentine’s Day can be so damaging to one’s self-love and self-worth.

And yes, there was a time when hot, physical intimacy seemed to be de rigueur on Valentine’s Day: the scented bubble bath; the sexy lingerie; the expectations for wild and passionate sex.  These days?  Perhaps it will be a cuddle, a long hug, a sweet kiss, and if we’re lucky, some low-key nookie.  Do I miss the wild and passionate sex?  A little, sometimes a lot.  But I realize now that this isn’t the factor that necessarily sustains true love.  True love actually can be a little inconvenient and a bit messy at times.  But what it does do is endure.

I look back now and think, SERIOUSLY?  Have we been so manipulated to think that love is expressed in one special day?  What about the other 364?Image result for valentines day images

I get it.  It is hard to understand how loved we are by God.  It’s not a touchy-feeling-huggy love.  It’s definitely a much more intellectual love, a love that we experience over the many joys and trials of life, and by being habitually in the Word. “And so we know and rely on the love God has for us.  God is love.” 1 John 4:16.   It’s about how God so loved me to give his one and only son so that I might have eternal life.  It’s about how each day is given to me as a gift, each person who matters in my life is an undeserved blessing, each moment in which I savor food or walk with the sun on my face is given to me purely by grace.  My worth isn’t in the size of the Valentine’s card I got, it is in God’s love for me.

And it’s about how I love others.

On this day, I remind us to not lose sight of the fact…

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Simply Having a Wonderful Christmastime

It’s an unusual Christmas for us, full of firsts.

After 25 years, we are spending our first Christmas alone, just the two of us.  Simple.  Basic.  And that is OK.  Actually more than OK, it’s awesome.

It’s hard to remember a Christmas that didn’t involve a crowd, or stress.  The impossible dream of trying to make everyone happy. Holidays tend to be that way.  You have lots of trade-offs in your attempts to make it wonderful.  And there have been many wonderful years; the best tend to be when the kids are younger.  I also recall some stressful holidays, particularly in my growing up years.  Somewhere along the line, there was a rule made that you have to spend your Christmas with your extended family.  There needs to be lots of presents, food, and people.  If not, you are pathetic.

Ironically, without all that “stuff” I am feeling the love even more deeply.

This is the year that one daughter gets to spend it with her new husband, and that side of the family.  In the process of acquiring a husband, she also gained two more brothers and their wives.  Being young and just starting out with jobs, vacation days are scarce.  We are happy to give others the blessing of her company this year.  We are grateful she has a wonderful new family and a man she loves, a man she gets to have many firsts with.

Another daughter will spend her Christmas with her significant other, and some of his family members.  During her extended break from work, she will also get to take a fun trip.  Once again, we feel blessed she is with people who care about her and who will be blessed by her presence.

Son made a 3-day stop to see us along the way of his holiday break travels.  It was a fun time alone with him.  “Kids” in their young twenties sometimes crave a lazy and low-key time off.  He was able to have that.  He rode away on Christmas eve eve with two young work colleagues/friends who will be making a cross-country road trip together to return to their jobs.  How exciting is that?  He is with friends, he is young, and he will have adventures.  Along the way they will stop to have Christmas with family of one of the travelers.  They will have other fun stops along the way.  We’re happy for his adventure.

These are the blessings in our unusual Christmas of firsts.  We feel we raised decent kids, and they are happy and healthy.  They will bring happiness to others.  Those who realize that our kids won’t be with us this Christmas feel sorry for us.  There is a temptation to feel sorry for ourselves, as if something is wrong with this picture; but I’m not going there.  Sure, we miss our kids, but we know that Christmas 2018 will be “our turn” to enjoy them all together.

Meanwhile, we are happy with our simple Christmastime.  The small 4-foot Walmart tree adorned with my Grandmother’s ornaments; preparing small meals we enjoy that don’t require all-day cooking or endless leftovers; not baking cookies that will make us fat; walks and naps and enjoying time together.  This morning I enjoyed 75 minutes of yoga bliss.  We spent our Christmas Eve volunteering at church. And we watched old movies and ate popcorn cuddled on the couch.

There are so many blessings!  We have our health.  We have friends.  We have each other, SJ and I.  We have a good life and all our needs.  We have the knowledge that those we love are well and happy.  And we know all of this is a gift we never should stop being grateful for.

And we have the reminder of God’s love for us at this season, that a child was born to save the world.   Merry Christmas!

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Love is a Decision–And Then There’s “The Feels”

For many years, I have been living that motto. Related image

Love is NOT a feeling, it is a decision.  A choice.  Something you wake up every day electing to do… or not to do (and paradoxically, there are many memes that say the opposite…).

More often then not when I allow myself to be driven by (selfish) feelings, I elect to not love.

My marriage has been noticeably better when I chose to love and not leave it to feelings.

So much so that I’ve trained myself to numb my feelings.  Is this a good thing?

Over the past week, out of the clear blue sky, SJ has been paying me more attention.  Touching.  Random caresses and grabs.  Giving compliments.  More kisses and hugs.  Romantic stuff I always wanted, but learned not to expect from him.

I am so unaccustomed to romance, and random loving acts of physical touch and closeness from him, that I find myself strangely discomforted by this. Even a tad annoyed. I don’t know how to respond.  It’s as if I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, the punch line, the “aha, I fooled you!”

My childhood was absent affection and cuddles from Dad.  So when men came into my life, I was craving that warm, caring touch.  Hand holding.  Cuddling.  Arm around you when you are sitting together.  Naughty pinches and caresses. Connection. One guy actually had a term for it, “Warm Fuzzies” (and we both were very tuned into this expression of love and affection).  I craved “the connection” so much it was almost like a drug.  Most men would deliver this drug—for a price.   Just like most drugs, I was willing to go to extreme measures to have that oxytocin high—and it led me to deeper intimacy in far too many cases.

Then came my husband.  He fulfilled a huge long list of things I thought crucial to Image result for husband listbuilding a life together with a person: faith, integrity, trustworthiness, financial prudence, fairness, kindness, social-political views; a genuine smile, easy laugh, and a healthy body.  Not that important to me were great hair, big muscles, or snappy dresser.  Character was. He was a gentleman, and to that point I’d had precious few of these.  He didn’t press his advantage.  We had a long-distance dating relationship and engagement, so the weekends we spent together were usually friendly and involved chaste hand holding and cuddles.  He sent nice cards and notes.  He respected my initial wishes to forestall intimacy (this had caused me nothing but trouble in the past and obviously had clouded common sense).  When intimacy did enter the picture once we were engaged, it was surprisingly not filling the sexual connection check box on my “list.”  He was not a passionate man, perhaps shy, nor was he seemingly interested or knowledgeable about how women experience pleasure.  This all led to misunderstandings and some dire years in our marriage—I sort of expected him to know all of this.  I was married to the good, kind gentleman, and we were notImage result for list of what men want in a wife doing very well in the bedroom.

Thank God five years ago this all changed for the better and we narrowly missed pushing the divorce button. We began to communicate and understand each others’ needs and love languages better.  We learned to compromise, A LOT. Forgiveness. Trying new ways to show love. Many things have improved for us.

But over a 25 year period, I apparently had learned to tamp down my expectations—after all, they invariably led to sadness and disappointment.  I focused on being appreciative for all the great things he was, and tried not to dwell on what he wasn’t… or couldn’t be.  I tried to focus on how I could make him happy, and not get so wrapped up in my “needs.” Although at times I could give him a script and orchestrate romantic moves, I knew deep in my heart I was just working puppet strings, and that he was essentially faking it until he could make it, in his own attempt to improve the marriage.

You see, I know he loves me. And, I love him.  For better or for worse.

This morning as he uncharacteristically came to kiss me goodbye for the day, I mused on all of this baggage.  I needed to say something, acknowledge his effort this past week, praise it.  Reciprocate.  Why was this so hard?  I was near tears in the shower thinking about how uncomfortable his attempts at closeness made me, this thing I’d always longed for.

I realized: I’ve numbed myself.  I’ve built a protective wall of no expectations around me, so as to not feel vulnerable or potentially disappointed. And in the process my romantic heart has withered. Or, at least the responsiveness of that heart has atrophied.  And, there’s a scared little girl in me who doesn’t want to trust that this isn’t just a flash in the pan.  I don’t want to get my hopes up.  So I just employ the Teflon—not as messy.Related image

I never stopped loving the subtle game of pursuit: caresses in passing; fingertips brushing my neck (other non-sexual parts), playing with my hair, weaving fingers in it, even a small tug; breathing in my hair or my neck; pull me spontaneously into a hard hug; cradle my head against his shoulder; hold and caress my face as part of the kiss; the kiss that builds slowly; caresses and nibbles with his lips; push me to a wall for a firm kiss; being kissed like he meant it with full body contact; weaving his fingers in mine and holding them over my head; hands that trace your curves as if they want to memorize them, assiduously avoiding the obvious but with a promise of going there in no hurry; the slow, slow dance Related imageof seduction like a tango (Argentine street tango–oh my, nothing sexier) with so many promises of things to come.  All without losing a single article of clothing. The actual disrobing (yes, I love HIM to do this),  throw down, and sexual foreplay that might follow all of this introduction is but a small percentage of the romance I respond to.

Alas, this isn’t JUST the stuff of movies and romance novels.  I’ve experienced it before marriage. And I have to think that savvy men take their cues from reading novels and watching movies ladies like.

How do I ask him, “Why are you acting the way I’ve always wanted you to act, NOW?  And, how can I trust that you won’t pull the rug out from under me?  Yell “Psyche!”  Sure, I want to be romanced and cuddled and kissed… but I’ve worked so terribly hard at healing the wounds on my heart, and I don’t want any new wounds.

‘Tis indeed a sticky wicket.

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Live Life Big!

I’ve begun multiple posts in recent months, and decided not to post them.

Too whiny.  Too ungrateful.Image result for why not have a big life emily dickinson

Blogging is tricky.  At least for me it is, now.  I’m not totally anonymous (my initial goal had been to just “come out” and be “me”).  However that means anyone connected to my blogging is not anonymous.  I have not truly gone public to a wide swath of friends saying, “Hey, read my blog.”  Hubby has expressed his extreme discomfort about being THIS transparent.  And, I get it.  Even my offer to give him full editorial privileges over my blogging has not been acceptable for him.  Quite frankly, he does what he always does when he truly doesn’t want to deal with something.  He ignores it.  I’m not sure he’s read my blog in a long, long time.

However, to write my life and my feelings, my joys and disappointments, and all the lessons learned therein, the people who matter to me will be included.  Namely, SJ, my dear husband.

This blog began with a desire to share the “wisdom of living”–with anyone who is seeking— from the point of view of a mature, sexy, married woman who has been through a roller coaster ride of a marriage and life. A Christian woman who wasn’t/isn’t perfect (actually was quite debauched for a period of time in the single years), but relies completely on a Savior, and the doctrine of forgiveness and salvation; a woman who has had difficulties trusting, and hence finds submission and surrender in marriage a constant challenge; a woman who after 25 years KNOWS WITHOUT A DOUBT that she can trust the man she married, but again, seems to have to re-learn this truth daily.

Our life continues to change, daily. Sometimes it’s lovely, wonderful, and exciting changes.  Sometimes it’s frustrating changes (mostly age-related).   Looking back and dwelling on the negatives never is helpful, but at times it is instructive.

Here are a few truths I pass along today:

Live your big life moments before marriage:  If you have big dreams that involve travel, daring or crazy fun, and spending money, get that out of your system before you Image result for why not have a big life emily dickinsonmarry.  I have friends who wanted nothing more than to be married at age 21.  They spent their 20s and 30s cash-strapped and stressed to pay a mortgage and the expenses of family, not to mention having to save for college.  Now that some have launched their kids, they are able to go on to enjoy a fun life while they were still relatively young and mobile, but it’s a risk you take that you’ll be able, after all the wear and tear and money of raising a family—not to mention the loss of yourself and your passions. It makes me sad to see so many men (yes, it’s usually men) leave their first wife in their 40s and 50s; to take up with a young gal who is fun and sexy.  It’s all good for a few years, until the young chic begins to have visions of wheelchairs and adult diapers.

For all the singles out there– whether by choice or not:  LIVE YOUR LIFE.  Don’t wait for someone to live it with you (when I followed this advice my husband unexpectedly walked into my life when I was 33; yet if he hadn’t, I had made a plan in my early 30s about how I was going to enjoy my life as a single). 

Be Kind:  ‘Nuf Said.

Save it:  yeah, I mean your virtue (and, if you say “already too late,” I urge you to try to stop damaging your future marriage with more bedroom conquests).  I’m hoping to do some research into this, but it’s not easy to get people who saved it for marriage to talk about this.  Yet those I know seem to be quite devoted to each other.  They are the only Image result for purity given as a giftone they’ve had intimacy with, and therefore “the best.”  Intimacy is something special that you saved for one person, it’s not trite or overdone.  Having done the opposite, I’m pretty convinced that sleeping around before marriage never helped any marriage.  Giving your heart away one too many times can really damage you. Once you know about all the other “flavors” out there, you will always have something to compare, perhaps something to long for.  And trust me, it can take on mythical proportions (that unreliable jerk of a boyfriend may have been super romantic and hot in bed; because our physical memories can be more potent, we tend to forget all the emotional negatives).

Romance:  Don’t let it die once you’re married.  Understand your job description, which is essentially written by your mate!  For her, maybe it’s flowers, massages, love notes, cuddles, or taking out the trash.  For him, maybe it’s letting him go to his man cave, scratching his back, and well, respecting him of course (men feel love by respect). Work on romance as if it’s your full-time job, even when you maybe don’t feel like it.  Like, you will get fired if you don’t excel at it.  And be very clear up front about your love languages.  While it’s not necessarily a deal breaker, if you can barely breathe without physical touch and closeness, don’t marry someone who cannot speak this love language (perhaps they can learn it, but they will rarely become fluent or natural in it).

Children:  Don’t have them if you or your spouse are selfish.  It’s OK to be married without kids.  Don’t have them to affirm yourself, or to make your marriage better.  Chances are, children will challenge any good marriage, and kill a bad marriage.  Raising kids is hard and expensive.  IF you have kids, love them unconditionally, even when they Image result for children are difficultaren’t lovable (and express that to them daily); don’t just train them to be giving, polite, trustworthy, honorable and responsible citizens—model it daily (more caught than taught).  Turn a deaf ear to their petty complaints. Go to church.  Teach them giving.  Keep focusing them back on all the blessings.  Don’t squelch their spirit.  Read to them every day from birth on. And ENJOY THEM when they are young and adore you. They will grow up, they will “hate” you, become snarky, they will challenge you, and distance themselves.  If you were a decent parent, eventually they’ll come back and say “Hey, you were a pretty good parent… but not perfect.  Watch me do this better when I’m a parent…

Older Parents:  Take care of them (aka “honor.”)  This truly may be the hardest thing you’ll have to do, now that people are living so long.  Harder still when our parents are difficult or have been a source of grief to us.  This deserves its own post, but the bottom line is obey the 5th commandment and trust in that promise.  Our kids are watching us, and they will one day decide how to care for you (quick note: you can honor from love; or you can honor from duty.  Just do it).

Purpose, Plan, Passion:  I know I’ve written about this before.  Every life needs these three.  If you are part of a couple, you both need it, together and individually.  While early life can drive this by necessity (you have to have a job; a budget or plan to live), Image result for passion for liferetired life can be tricky.  I love retirement.  I have had so many people recently asking me what I like about it (and a fair number of people asking “what do you do with yourself?” as if I should feel ashamed I’m not working a 50-hour work week, mowing a lawn or cleaning gutters). What I like about retirement is the opportunity to do what I want to do and not what I have to do; and also the chance to serve without need for compensation.  My passions are varied, but usually involve anything travel, international, using my languages, children, church ministry, and education.  I’m working on how to bring these together into my purpose(s) now—re-inventing myself with a plan to begin a new chapter.  I’m proud of my different “schizophrenic” life chapters (from careers in translating, Foreign Service, economics, educator, writer, novelist, and many other things).  I’m not one-dimensional but wonderfully multi-dimensional.  I look forward to carving a few more facets into my complex diamond.  When we move out closer to the mountains of the Old Dominion State, I think about wonderfully wild ideas like teaching at toddler ski school (I love kids, I love skiing, I’ve slowed down a bit and don’t take the black diamonds…), or perhaps owning that horse I’ve always wanted. Teaching Yoga to the elderly or to the pre-school set.  So much ahead.  Maybe even grandchildren someday.  Yes, I love retirement, and I guarantee it won’t be a sedentary one if I can help it.

Live life big.  God Bless.  Namaste!




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My Whole 30 Journey (Week 4)

A little late in coming, most probably because Week 4 wasn’t so compliant.  So here it is.

October 22-25 remain on plan.  We aren’t having sugar, dairy, grain, or alcohol.  No fake stuff. And it is getting very hard.  Boring.  Time consuming.  Labor intensive.  I’m really, really am ready for this to be done.

October 26: Today we embark on our mini-vacation which involves New England Fall colors, road tripping, hiking, seafood, and quaint Bed and Breakfasts.  Can we stay onImage may contain: tree, sky, plant, cloud, grass, outdoor and nature Whole 30?  When we finally have lunch at 3pm I decide that being a total food nazi is silly, and order a delicious coconut curry chicken soup, and a brochette of seared scallops and shrimp, which comes with a side of perfectly sauteed julienned veggies.  So far, so good, no major goofs. Oh, but the fries that come with it.  Yes, I could’ve said “leave them off,”  but I didn’t, and I enjoyed every last one.  No ketchup, just a dash of malt vinegar.

Later a sugar-free light cafe mocha at Starbucks doesn’t seem so bad, but it really feels like a decadent treat. We skip dinner, and nosh on fruit and nuts. With 4.4 miles today I’m not terribly guilty.

October 27:  It’s a touring and walking day.  The Inn has “continental breakfast” which is basically carbs and coffee.  There is NOTHING Whole 30 here.  I settle for an instant flavored oatmeal packet, and a piece of whole grain toast with peanut butter.  I do resist the danish, scones, pastries and bagels.  When we break for our midday meal, I’ve already decided it’ll be fresh-caught lobster, a side salad with Oil and vinegar.  This is all pretty legal, methinks.  Compared to Hubby’s choice of seafood pot pie with an enormous flaky pastry crust, and the creamy clam chowder.  But with 7 pounds lost, he’s entitled.  After 5 rugged rock-scrambling miles, we pick up grocery provisions for a light evening repas in our room.

October 28:  Repeat the carby breakfast.  Our next stop has an iconic breakfast Image may contain: foodrestaurant, so all bets are off now.  Waffles with authentic maple syrup (small dribbles), eggs, bacon, hash browns– delish and worth it.  This is my first real infusion of sugar and serious carbs, and frankly my body is unfazed and pretty happy.  This is our main meal of the day, we clock another 4.5 miles, including hills, and nosh on snacks of fruit and veggies for dinner.

October 29: So, here’s the carby “Inn” breakfast again.  Ugh.  Half a bagel, cream cheese, and oatmeal.  By noon my belly is very, very unhappy.  Here’s my proof that gluten (and possibly dairy-cheese) is decidedly  NOT my friend. Regardless, by the time we make it to our very late lunch/meal du jour (at a decidedly unimpressive hole in the wall), I immediately regret my order before it’s completely out of my mouth: chicken parm with ziti pasta and very average tomato sauce.  I immediately box 2/3 of the plate, and what chicken I do eat is after scraping off the breading.  The ziti isn’t so good either.  Done, done, done with gluten!  The leftover languishes in our mini fridge to never again be eaten. Image may contain: sky, cloud, mountain, house, outdoor and nature

October 30: It’s quite a disappointment that we really have found no other very impressive eateries.  We have a big breakfast, and then later stop at some Applebys-type place where I order beef vegetable soup that is horrible, and a side salad.  I think this is the day I do have bad gas station snacks like a Coke and Cheese puffs.  Here’s to absolutely being off Whole 30.  In spite of rain, we do have some lovely views.

October 31:  It’s our departure day and I’ve given up trying to find a decent place to eat.  So many of the establishments here in the north woods are shut down for the season.  Serendipity lands us at a nice little breakfast place at a quaint inn, with a menu a mile long.  It totally was possible to order something within Whole 30 boundaries.  I feel quite virtuous for turning down that “free” sticky bun, and I order the child’s breakfast with a little of everything.  Including French Toast.  Before boarding the plane we grab Wendys (disgusting) and I eat the Jr. patty, and 2 chicken strips to go for a nosh  while we travel.  Should we be proud we didn’t eat Halloween candy?

This last pretty pathetic week of Whole 30 was a wash, but I remained completely cognizant of what I was doing.  When I stepped on the scale upon getting home I saw that I’d not lost a single pound.  For a fleeting moment about 2 weeks into this I saw a small reduction, but it came right back.  SJ, on the other hand, had about 8 pounds come off. Ugh.

Health: I had marginal benefits, but nothing earth shattering.  Tummy distress has subsided but occasionally returns (even when on strict W30).  Sleep was a bit better.  Energy levels same, and inflammation was not any better (if anything I had more RA flares).

I suppose I’m glad I tried, even if I officially only made it about 25 days, and imperfectly at that.  I will never be the Whole30 poster child. The “reward” pizza slice, and glazed donut weren’t such a big deal (I don’t eat these things with any regularity anyway).  We’ve been eating whatever this past week, with a slight nod to still trying to stick to the spirit of not eating junk or fake food.  I think it made us mindful.  It was a relief to go to the store and not read labels.  I now know what it’ll say, and yes, I’ll go for the walls and more natural ingredients as much as possible (always have).  And, well, I’m willing to have a little sugar and nitrates for a few slices of bacon, sliced turkey, or ham now and then; I’m not overly concerned that the chickens who laid the eggs were happy and running free– not for $5-6 a dozen (I know, I know, that’s only about 50 cents an egg, but when you can get eggs for 15 cents that taste essentially the same…).  Coffee with creamer (lo fat and SF) and stevia (I’ve reduced it to 2-3 drops, half what I used to have) is so worth it. I need to get back to regular old water after my Crystal light drink mix and Coke binging. Dairy hasn’t made a huge come back; I guess I really didn’t miss the yogurt and cheese so much.  Those couple of glasses of wine were great, and oh, the Polish pierogies were pretty awesome, as was rice and beans.  Talk about carbs…Image may contain: 1 person, smiling, standing, sky, grass, outdoor and nature

Maybe I’ll do this again in the future.  Maybe I’ll be a little more disciplined and not eat as much fruit, potatoes, “pretend desserts,” or other things that obviously didn’t help with weight loss.

But for now the elusive holy grail of weight loss remains my challenge.

Pulling out my Medifast stash again…  And glad for cooler temps, stretchy yoga pants, and big shirts and sweaters.


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The Reality of Our Retirement

(I may have misnamed this post; but it’s one of those “rants” which shows that into every marriage–even the good and enduring ones–comes challenges, even when all seems to be smooth sailing.  The “day after” lessons are in green).

It’s a beautiful sunny, crisp fall Saturday.  We have nowhere to be, nothing demanding IMG_4043our time.


I roll out of bed and pad to the living room.  He’s on the couch having his morning nap.  The cat meows to be picked up and cuddled for exactly 45 seconds (the only time this crazy cat wants to be handled, and often these days the only connection I get with a living thing).  We mutter a few banalities, and I go for my morning coffee.  It’s an easy morning.  I offer to fry up some bacon so we can have a proper breakfast.  He plays an installment of his favorite sitcom, which while I agree is funny, isn’t exactly my taste.  In the name of “togetherness” I watch with him and indulgently laugh when I’m supposed to, so he can turn to me and say, “See, you think it’s funny too.”  We sit as far apart as is possible in our small apartment living room. At this point we have not touched.  Not kissed.  Not connected in any way beside quick monosyllabic, utilitarian phrases.

In passing I brush and fondle his crotch.  He shrinks.  I playfully grind into him from behind.  He chuckles.  It reminds him of a friend’s bawdy joke, one I’ve heard before, one he’ll regale me with again.  Humor deflects so much for him.

And that’s all.

“It’s a beautiful day… we should find something to do outside, a nice walk, enjoy this gorgeous weather,” I finally say. I think maybe he grunts.  He definitely doesn’t take up the suggestion.

I ask him about our upcoming trip to New England.  I’ve done all the travel agent plans to get us there and lodged.  He now gets the tour guide stuff.  What did he have in mind?  Should I bring my serious hiking boots?  He consults his notes and gives me his proposed itinerary; he stands and shows me a map—is he really trying NOT to touch me?.  The place next to me on the couch is wide open, but he deigns to address my question from the chair across from me, well enough out of reach to risk human touch.

“Are you going to yoga today?”

“No, I’ve gone 4 days this week, Saturdays are more crowded, so I’ll stick with weekdays.”

And silence.

I know that I should just lean into and enjoy this laid-back life, and be appreciative for serendipity and absence of pressures or have-tos.  Nearly all our days are ours to do with as we please.  Few demands.

(And I should just be direct and say that I’m looking forward to spending the day together, with him).

Thirty minutes later he asks “So, what do you have planned today?”


I pause for a moment.  I guess this means he’s got his day planned out, and I’d better figure out my own plans.

(Ah, the misguided art of silent communication and reading into things…)

Now, it is perfectly fine for us to have separate plans. We aren’t joined at the hip, after all.  We are not joined much at all these days. The other day he decided to go into the city, to work on genealogy research.  I’m delighted he has a new hobby.  Over the past 30 days, he’s been away for 14.  I am totally chill with that, I have several old friends in town, have enjoyed dinner and movies and hanging out;  had two lovely visits from dear friends from out-of-town.  No lack of things to do, places to go, people to see.  Just enough busy-ness in my schedule to volunteer and work very part-time. I have all the work I could want if I chose to take it.  Stories that need to be developed, finished, edited, revised, published.  Solitude enjoyed.

I admit to a tad bit of ire at his banal question about what I have planned for the day.  Uhm, I guess I presumed we’d do something together, especially since I did already suggest something. Oh, that, and we’ve not done much together in the past 2 weeks.

I take a deep breath as he seems to be gathering up his gym bag, and apparently is headed off to swim and workout—and whatever.  “Oh, I’ll just make some plans of my own.”  Yes, my tone is a bit passive aggressive.  But seriously, do I need to spell out what an idiot you are?  I cringe inwardly a little at my snarky thought.

He hems and haws a bit. Now determined that I don’t “need” him, I go to change into my yoga clothes and brush my teeth; I just missed the 10:30 class, but I’m determined to go to 12:15.  By the time I’m done changing he’s left.  So let me plan this day for myself. I call my two girlfriends; both seem to have plans already underway, and why not?  It’s a gorgeous day!  Both say they’ll try to call me later; I try to give them a pass and tell them to enjoy their day.  I look at the clock and consider that for the next hour he’s gone, I’ll get in a little writing therapy.  I start to pack my backpack for a serendipitous day of my own: water, snack, Bible study materials.  He walks back in about 15 minutes later.  Hmmm.  Was the pool closed, I wonder?  I quickly shut down my computer and throw it into my pack.  Plan B… I’ll go to the coffee shop, sit outside and write until Yoga time.

“Hey, I’m sorry… What do you want to do?” he begins.  At least I think he said sorry.  It didn’t seem that sincere.

(I cut him off, because unfortunately I’m on a completely different trajectory now, and determined not to veer from it).

“Hey, no worries.  I get it. We both get to have our own plans and that is cool. Because, you see, when I tried to ask you about doing something together, you totally ignored me, and then went on to asking me what plans I’d made for myself today.  So, what am I to think?  You must have your own day planned out, and it doesn’t include me.  Therefore, I’ve made plans for myself, so I’ll just catch you later!  Have a good day.”

And with that I’m out the door.

OK, yes, I’m a little mad.  Not about time apart.  Once again it’s about his lack of thoughtfulness, and his inability to make a plan, make a decision, be a partner, pursue—or choose to be with me.  When he got home after his week away, he made sure to bed me once (check).  It was nice, enjoyable.  And in that soft, connected moment, I reminded him that we need to continue working on our intimate connections—kisses and hugs need to happen every day, and consist of more than a peck.  I put it into practice the next day and lie atop him for a snuggle as he reclines on the couch.  He chuckles.  No more. I listen attentively to his repeated stories, his complaints about his family, about his time away.  I resist revealing to him the intense annoyance I feel when he acts like a clown and pretends to trip into my boobs with a comedic grab. This is pretty much the extent of our physicality, him acting like a buffoon, a 12-year old silly boy.  Humor.  Teasing.  That is not romantic, not sensual, not erotic, nor arousing or remotely grown up; and it really isn’t funny at all, when that’s all it is.  It’s a turn off. Try as I may to laugh along to make him feel good, to encourage him to move beyond these juvenile expressions of intimacy, and yes, even try to approach him in the same teasing manner, it’s hard to avoid feeling I am more the brunt of his jokes than the object of his affection or desire.

You’d think after 25 years we’d have figured this out. What our love languages are, how to “speak” them.  I do my utmost to give my attention, quality time, words of encouragement, acts of service.  Retreating into hermit/lone ranger behavior isn’t an option he gets in a marriage, ESPECIALLY when he just had 14 days away in which to indulge this. He’s an introvert, this I know.  For different reasons, we do need our time alone.  The difference is, it takes a lasso—no, maybe it’s a noose—to pull him back to the reality that he IS married to someone, and has some responsibility to be a partner. And the love language of that someone is physical touch and closeness, romance.

(I realize that we need to make ourselves a schedule, and discuss a middle ground for our expectations.  Like, these are the days I’d like to be alone doing my own thing, and these are the days we do things together).

IMG_4042I’ll be out for the day.  It IS a gorgeous day, too lovely to be missed.  The insanely bright sunlight with a hint of autumn in the breeze; the trees deciding whether to turn colors. The local coffee shop is relaxing at an outdoor chair; yoga is tranquil; the local park sublime.  I ponder where I’d like to lunch, where I can sit outside. And I realize that by the time I return home, he’ll perhaps be contrite and apologetic, maybe making herculean efforts to be the husband he needs to be, forgot to be, but seemingly has to force himself to be.  It doesn’t come naturally.

It never does come naturally, and each time we go through this cycle of disinterest-distance-disenchantment, and desperate attempts to repair, it gets more and more wearisome.  Intimacy, affection, connection… these are not givens in this marriage.

(We have read in one of our marriage books that this is called “The Crazy Cycle” so it’s nothing new… we just need to learn how to manage it).

What comes naturally?  He takes care of me.  Duty means a lot to him. When I have to go to the ER, he takes me.   When I’m unwell, he’s sympathetic. He takes care of the bills, he cleans the kitchen after I cook his meals, and frequently compliments my culinary skills.  He feels guilty when I start housecleaning around him, and sometimes chips in. He doesn’t cuss or yell.  He sometimes listens to me, and acts like he’s interested.  He enjoys watching Jeopardy with me, and asking me to help with the crossword clues he can’t get.  He likes to laugh at what he considers “clever humor.”  He stays in shape and takes care of his health.  Every week or so, he wants low-key, tender sex (with me).  Sometimes not.  He is a nice, non-aggressive person, who really enjoys introverted activities like reading.  He respects me… like a cherished cousin.

(And, while these are all excellent and praise-worthy things, the truth that seems to get buried time and again is that my love language of physical touch and closeness involves more aggression, thrill, romance, and hot pursuit—it’s so very hard to keep repeating this and to feel not heard).

And I tell myself, that’s a lot more than what many have.  I need to just be grateful and not expect too much more.  I have friends my age who don’t have any of this.  The last time they had sex may have been months, even years.  Some don’t have anyone to complain about.

I think about our week ahead; I have my own commitments on the calendar, and quite possibly will spend one evening with a friend.  We have theatre tickets.  And then we’re off for 5 days in New England (note to self—get book on tape for long drives; bring lots to read; anything to avoid the agony of interaction).  And we will somehow continue to co-exist into the future…  good days and bad days, ups and downs.img_4045.png

(Introspectively and retrospectively, I realize this is much to do with tempering my high expectations, and not setting myself up for disappointments.  It is also about trying to become more selfless than selfish—our lesson at church today).  I should stop selfishly wanting MY way, and just think about how to be selfless and think about him. All tall orders).

I can’t help be feel a bit sad that for the next 20-30 years (is it “God willing” or “God Forbid?”), “tempering expectations” means I need to continue to build my temporary fortresses around my passionate, romantic heart, check the expectations, and appreciate what I have. Praying that God shows me how to do this without bitterness, and to seek a grateful heart.

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My Whole 30 Journey (Week 3)

October 15: Another very easy day as we have breakfast of grain-free “oatmeal,” then for lunch we nosh on a plate of the only sliced lunch meats I’ve found that are compliant (from Trader Joes: a Parma salami and Applegate herb turkey breast), grapes, apple, nuts. Dinner is Chicken Stew.

October 16: BFF leaves after our breakfast of leftover spinach frittata, avocado, fruit and try sweet potato “toast”; Lunch after yoga for me is small cup of chicken-veggie soup, turkey slices with homemade mayo and apple; Dinner: I later prepare an easy sheet pan dinner for visiting friend: 4 chicken thighs, pre-cut cubbed butternut squash; halved brussels sprouts (toss all in olive oil, add seasonings.  I love Zatar (a middle-eastern spice mix), in addition to S&P; I always sprinkle chicken with paprika as it nicely browns). Bake all together in roasting pan at 375 for 30-40 minutes or until veggies are done. My friend is raving over it.  This definitely is the simplest of meals that wows everyone.

October 18-21: In summary, I’m following the plan.  There were a few days where 3-4 stevia drops hit my coffee. Belly pain is back, albeit mildly, and I’ve had diarrhea.  I sort of link it to the delicious crunchy seed crackers I frequently nibble on when I need the salt and crunch… even though it’s only 2 tablespoons of psyllium husks for an entire batch (cookie sheet size), I suppose that’s enough for the laxative effect (physllium is what is given as a “natural laxative” but it also works as a great “binding” ingredient for the seed crackers).  A few highlights:

Trader Joe’s Roast Tenderloin of Beef is very good and handy.  At $10 it’s worth the convenience for 4 servings.  Trader Joe’s horseradish has no extra bad ingredients, and is the most potent I’ve ever had (talk about clearing sinuses).

Spaghetti squash with legal (and expensive ) Whole Foods Italian sausage, homemade sauce (labor intensive), is yummy.

To fill an urge for comfort food that are filling (and because SJ is commenting on needing a protein-packed meal), I look up recipes for paleo meatloaf and paleo mashed potatoes (which claim to be W30 compliant), and even whip up a W30 ketchup.  Meatloaf just isn’t the same without Lipton’s Onion Soup mix for me, but it’s ok.

The desire for sweet tastes never leaves.  I fill it with fruit—raw, and concoctions of legal ingredients that approximate a “dessert” even though W30 frowns on this.  Sliced baked cinnamon apples with the sweetness of chopped dates, raisins, and some walnuts.  Adding to this a dollop of refrigerated heavy coconut cream is delicious and almost like whipped cream or ice cream.   Freeze-dried fruit (pricey) is a very interesting texture—it actually crunches. I’m assuming the fruit is what is stalling out my weight loss… indeed, this week the scale is yo-yoing a bit too much, and the losing trend is over. For remaining so good, this is disappointing. To add insult to injury,  SJ is telling me the pounds are “melting off” for him.  And he’s eaten cereal.

This program is labor intensive.  You spend a lot of time with planning, shopping (reading labels), and you spend top dollar.  A measly 10 slices of sugar-free bacon is about $6.99.  Yes, enjoy that 70 cent a slice bacon. Sugar-free/preservative-free sliced meats also are in the $6-7 range for about 6 oz. Time is needed to concoct the recipes, because so little prepared food is compliant.

Do I feel better?  Kinda Sorta.  Nothing drastic like increased energy.  I think I am sleeping better.  Intestinally, the jury is still out.  I’m sort of grumpy about the limited beverage choices and although I drink the water, it is boring even when dressed up with lemon or other fruit.  I congratulate myself on 90+% compliance, resisting temptations.  The coffee shop today made an almond milk latte that was too delicious and I suspect it must’ve had some sugar. My Peruvian roasted chicken and plantains—well, a Diet Coke just was unavoidable (my first Diet Coke in 21 days).

I’m looking forward to finishing the program.  I hope that I see some more pounds gone by the time the next eleven days of deprivation are over. If not, it’s back to Medifast because I just can’t continue on with this excess weight.


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My Whole 30 Journey (week 2)


October 8:  It’s a baking day. In South Africa this eating style is called “Banting,” this paleo-esque diet. The Real Meal Revolution book was introduced to me by a SA friend. My two favorite recipes from the book appear W30 compliant; nutty seed crackers (delicious crunchy crackers made purely with seeds and water– psyllium husks make it doughy enough to bake; and nut granola, which as its name implies is nuts toasted in coconut oil and spices. Since the nut granola usually was a garnish for yogurt or oatmeal (and rarely, to dress up ice cream), I’m not quite sure its use now… I’m sure I’ll find a way.

Dinner: Roasted Za’atar chicken breasts (bone in and with skin, cuz it’s juicier) with lots of veggies–Brussels sprouts, carrots, cauliflower, red potato– cuz roasted veggies are so flavorful. This is an easy meal cuz you just toss ingredients in olive oil and Za’atar spices (most inexpensively found in middle eastern stores, online for a bit more; or you can make your own if you can find the ingredients; sumac lends it the exotic touch).  You can use other spices like Italian or Herbes de Province.  Roast together in one pan 40 minutes. Served with half a sliced pear. We eat the last of our pumpkin custard; oh wait, I just happened to have half a can of coconut milk leftover so add 2 eggs, a couple mashed dates, and half can pumpkin, pp spices — blend in bullet, voila, 4 mini custards. Top with nut granola.

October 9: Breakfast: two fried eggs, hash brown patty (baked from frozen and possibly not legal, because it tastes so good… white potatoes have always felt “wrong” on a diet) and a slice of amazing pineapple that tastes like candy (also not good… my body needs to not want this sweet taste).  Lunch- my fav chicken salad with HB eggs and homemade Mayo, chopped veggies, pumpkin seeds, and a few grapes sliced super tiny. Delish on 3 seed crackers, and I’m full and happy!!!
Movies: ahhhh!! Have to resist hot buttered popcorn smells, but proud that I did (even though my companions were indulging!). Larabar and seed crackers in purse, smuggled in a kombucha. Coffee after was black. I hate black coffee.  Dinner Cuban picadillo hash, grilled plantains (bananas since I don’t have) and pineapple slice; green salad with W30 Mayo-based dressing. This is a dish that begs black beans and rice… was so hungry I didn’t miss so much.

October 10:   This morning black coffee or with Nutpods was not cutting it. I used a few drops of “illegal” stevia extract. This has been so intolerable, the plain coffee. It’s one thing to sugar up my diet with teaspoons upon teaspoons of pure sugar (aka a real Coke). It’s another to just enjoy coffee that tastes good in the morning. Nutpods does little more than just change the color of the coffee (and sometimes seems to separate into an oily mess on top of the coffee).  Breakfast: Spinach/pepper/potato scrambled eggs.  Getting tired of this.  Lunch: finished off yesterday’s chicken salad, and unsweetened grapefruit slices.  A couple hours later succumb to the call of the “Key Lime Pie” Larabar.  It is delicious. Somewhere in the back of my head “Delicious=Bad.” Dinner: Friday’s left-over stew. Snacks at Bible study are tempting, I have a few grapes and one Trader Joe’s chili mango slice—before checking ingredients and seeing it has added sugar.

October 11: Hubby out of town. Challenge for “if no one sees it, it’s not really cheating.” Breakfast:  Eggs for breakfast are getting very old, so I try a version of this “Grain Free Oatmeal” recipe adding a few tweaks of my own (stuff already in fridge: a tablespoon of pumpkin puree, coconut milk, some of my nut granola, and one egg for a protein boost… I microwave the concoction 1:30, and find it really good and satisfying.  I return to coffee, no sweetner today, and it’s not as objectionable. Today’ goal will be eating more veggies, and avoiding snacks (especially after dinner).  More shopping at Trader Joe’s for Whole 30 compliant foods (including turkey and ham slices!!!  This is a major coup, to find these without added sugars and chemicals).  Dinner is a hearty chicken crock pot stew which will provide several meals this week.  Try tapioca flour in place of cornstarch for thickening and it works great (learned a new cooking term: “slurry,” which means a mix of a flour with water to thicken a soup, stew, etc.)

Today I just couldn’t resist a piece of my favorite sugar-free (chemical laden) gum because dragon breath just wasn’t cutting it with a client.  Yes, burning fat does stink up your breath.

October 12:  Hallelujah!  I feel I’ve found the holy grail of breakfast—grain-free “oatmeal” is delicious and a great alternative to eggs every day (I put one egg in my mix of chopped apples, one date, a few tablespoons each of coconut milk pumpkin, coconut and slivered almonds; dash of pumpkin spice mix; 2 minutes in the microwave results in a creamy-custardy deliciously filling concoction.  Lunch (out): Great compliant salad with lots of greens and grilled chicken; Dinner:  chicken salad with homemade mayo for evening snack.

Noted: The past couple of nights have been good and restful sleep, without the help of Ambien.

October 13:  Found a recipe for W30 pork sausage.  It was pretty good, but in spite of all the seasonings I added, it wasn’t like the “real deal.” Big protein breakfast, not too hungry rest of day.  Today I put a few drops of stevia in coffee to enjoy, thus making it a “cheat day.”  This evening I’ll see what looks good.  My friend arrives today for the weekend, and she’s the one who is willing to adapt to whatever crazy diet I’m on.  I will miss wine and snacks, but we will enjoy each other’s company most.  I’ve prepared lots of reheatable meals that are W30.  Just thought how I’ve now gone more than 2 weeks without cheese; today’s the first day I really miss it.  We end up having reheated butternut squash soup (made paleo with coconut milk and other veggies, it’s good but quite sweet).

I’ve noticed in recent days some return of belly issues—slight cramping and loose bowels.  Not sure if it was the extremely cruciferous salad yesterday; that it was “restaurant food;” or, i don’t want to face it– is it the few drops of stevia?

October 14:   Everything for my girls’ weekend is super planned-out, but easy, as my friend Lynn wants to experience a Whole30 eating experience. Prepare breakfast of veggie-loaded spinach frittata with enough for another day. Late lunch is a picnic of veggie sticks, chicken salad, seed crackers, apple, Larabar “treats” (bad—not supposed to have “treats”). As we road-trip today, I do crave a Coke or some other beverage but water, but resist.  I also can’t resist a piece of SF gum because breath stinks. I must congratulate myself more often rather than chastise.  On most normal road trips I’d buy some bad packaged snacks, and I resist this time even when at a store and confronted with these.  At home, a light meal of leftover Cuban Picadillo.

Our weekend together is a success for staying on Whole 30, as I introduce a few “recipes” to her.

Week Two Reflections: 

I should start with the “good” before I complain.  I have lost another few pounds (illegally weighing myself– but this just is a non-negotiable for me, I need the reinforcement of the scale) so perhaps from my highest, most bloated number 14 days ago this makes about 5 lbs lost (but I’m thinking more like 3-4)? For me, it’s not fast loss, but it’s loss with healthy “real” foods and some deprivation (without starvation).  No outright bad packaged foods and no glaring cheats.  A bit of longing for pizza, donuts–the latter I rarely indulge in (sadly I pass donut shops as well as other restaurants in my daily walks, and yes I need a different route).   I have reduced cravings for salty and sweet snacks and junk and managed to race through the cookie or baked goods aisle without “noticing.”  I am also sleeping better.

I’ve been on a variety of diets over the years.  Among them are Weight Watchers, Adkins, South Beach, Mayo Clinic, “Banting,” and Medifast.  Each had it attributes and drawbacks, most were ketogenic/paleo/protein types.  Weight Watchers always was a sane eating plan, but there was so much cheat factor for me because there were too many choices and opportunities to negotiate with myself. When WW changed their rules every few years, I grew disenchanted.  Medifast was the one that helped me lose a massive amount of weight; yet after 75 pounds, I neglected to follow their transition and maintenance programs, which would have likely helped me to move on to healthier choices rather than return to the poorer habits (and I see they have updated their plans to give more options, like “fast loss” and “slow and steady.”  I’ve got to wonder if others have had the same regain issues that I have; in all fairness, Medifast was created by Johns Hopkins’ doctors to help morbidly obese patients lose dangerous weight fast before surgery).  Medifast “helped” me because the choices were easy and clear;  5 of my 6 meals were their packaged products (technically not “real food,” mostly “add water,” and very soy-based).  But I felt full, and the gluten-free aspects were helpful for my body; I got refined sugar out of my body but not sweet tastes as they have fake sugar. I hated not having fruit.  I believe there was something to eating smaller “meals” every 2-3 hours was helpful for my metabolism.

As I go through Whole 30, I have the sense that I am truly “feeding” and “healing” my body.  I’ve taken away chemicals and harmful foods; I’m healing my gut (I hope–this last week has seen a return of a few small belly discomforts, and some small RA flares).  It’s teaching me to reach for more natural options, to read ingredients, and not to be lulled into thinking everything is healthy just because packaging tells me it is.

Will I forever give up my favorite guilty pleasures like Utz Special Dark Pretzels or Barbeque potato chips, or Tasty Kakes Peanut Butter Kandykakes (the only time I want to have milk)?  Chocolate? Lovely cheeses? Yogurt? Occasional ice cream?  Fake sweetners?  I doubt it, but hopefully  I will use these as very occasional treats rather than staples, and more often reach for “real foods.” I prefer the concept of eating healthy, ethically produced real food, no additives, and am more educated than ever about how difficult these are becoming to find and afford.

W30 says: Drinking your coffee black. Is. Not. Hard. (and goes on to comparing “hard” as cancer, childbirth, and death of a parent). It’s hard to argue, but to me it’s an apples and oranges comparison.  I hate black coffee, so I’m faced with a dilemma.  I don’t want to give up my coffee… (OK, beyond caffeine, it has a “laxative effect” for me and keeps me regular) and I don’t want it black.  I have been putting a few drops of Stevia in it, half of what I’d normally do, but no dairy, so I suppose I’m not contributing to my gut healing… I’m mustering the motivation to this coming week to resist stevia.  I may need to just go to herbal teas, which I can manage without sweetner… yet that proposes some caffeine withdrawal which I’m not looking forward to.

Their site says: “Whole30 is, at its heart, an elimination diet.  Just a small amount of any of these inflammatory foods could break the healing cycle; promoting cravings, messing with blood sugar, disrupting the integrity of your digestive tract, and firing up the immune system.  One bite of pizza, one spoonful of ice cream, one lick of the batter in the 30-day period and you’ve broken the reset button, requiring you to start over again on Day 1.  It’s only 30 days.”

This strict program can be a set-up for failure among the less strong of us.  Nearly every single day a small, tiny choice has come my way (eating a piece of SF gum for stinky breath; coffee with stevia; wanting a sweet taste after a meal, even if I’ve not done any refined sugars and only “natural” sugars from dates (high sugar) or other fruits).  To claim total “defeat” isn’t helpful.  I’d say I’ve been 90% compliant.  But for this program that’s not enough, only 100% compliance counts–and I do understand what they’re all about and can’t argue it.  I’ll continue and see if I truly can get sweet tastes out of my life, and finish this 30 days of less-than-perfect compliance out with more compliance.  That will be my personal achievement, even if 90%.

For me, in spite of not meeting the strictest of requirements, I feel it’s been a success.  I wish I could be as disciplined as they require for “success”: eliminating all dairy, grains, sugar, artificial sweetners, legumes, alcohol, additives carregeenan, MSG, sulfites, treats, and stepping on the scale.  But even a 90% has been beneficial for me.

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My Whole 30 Journey

(I considered creating a blog page just to detail this attempt at following the Whole 30 Program(R); but truthfully, it was just too much trouble.  So here is my log with my impressions, successes, and challenges during this 30 day plan.  I do not represent the perfectly compliant follower of this plan, so don’t look to me for advice.  If you have no interest in reading a log about my attempts to complete this month-long challenge, skip!)



Not sure what convinced me to try this plan, because it is super restrictive. Oh yeah, how about nearly 3 months of misery in my gut? Not to mention I could not stop gaining weight (5 years ago I lost 75 lbs, and felt wonderful. Since then, 30 lbs have crept back). It was starting to become a pound a month; no diet or deprivation seemed to work. But this truly came to a head mid-July. I was plagued by a UTI that just wouldn’t go away. Followed by the antibiotic macrobid, and then the horrible Cipro. Cipro is an over-prescribed, broad-spectrum drug, with horrendous life-altering side affects and I avoid it like the plague (google “Cipro toxicity” or “floxin/fluroquinolone poisoning”). Sometimes in your UTI suffering you make desperate choices.

I now realize that 3 months of misery was in fact the Cipro annihilating my good gut flora– to the extent that it hurt to just sit down, ride in a car, enjoy my husband, and involved an emergency room visit for excruciating upper abdomen pains. After a CT scan, blood work, Gastro ER doc report, and a follow up with a Uro-gynecologist and fears I had some form of cancer or bladder mesh erosion, I was pronounced “ok.” No medical professional even considered for a minute blaming Cipro or bad intestinal health.

Not to belabor this, but from hours of research I realized my entire digestive tract was damaged. The best advice given from an essential oils friend was to take LIVE probiotics (found in fridge section of health food stores). Within a couple of days my 3-month saga of pains subsided.

This was a wake up call. I needed to feed my body with good, healthy, natural foods, and heal it. Whole 30 fits that description. This really isn’t gimmicky or a fad-diet. It’s rather normal.

I’d already known the benefits of trying a gluten-restricted diet. Even my Upper Respiratory allergy issues improved when I restricted gluten. I love veggies and fruits, try to cook healthy meals, but sugar and crunchy, salty snack foods was my real addiction. My first successful diet (75 lbs in 5 months on Medifast– yes, that’s fast but very gratifying) forbade fruits because of sugar, so I have always been very selective to pick the lowest sugar fruits like berries.

I was game to eliminating sugar, dairy, grains, and all fake/unpronounceable additives for 30 days, and instead eat clean, single-ingredient natural foods.

Here’s my journey!

September 28-30: asked hubby if he’d like to join me in this 30-day eating challenge, starting October 1. He says yes. I promptly start cleaning out all the forbidden foods remaining in our cupboard or fridge by binge-eating: chips, crackers, breads, pasta, microwave butter popcorn, Tasty Kakes, chocolate, cheese, Halo Top ice cream. Finish the “healthy 80-calorie greek yogurt.” Kill the open bottle of wine. Although I’d already been weaning off my twice a week Diet Coke, I had my last ones in these days. I’m eating like a condemned woman.

Shop Whole Foods and Mom’s for acceptable shelf items like ghee, coconut aminos, LaCroix waters, and kombucha. Will be sourcing as many organic and unprocessed fruits, veggies, and meats as possible (organic, non-GMO, and clean/ethically raised is recommended– hey, isn’t this what we basically called “FOOD” 40-50 years ago?). Panic about an upcoming trip and find Epic meat bars and certain Lara Bars are Whole30 compliant (always check ingredients for sugars etc; these are “emergency food” with “legal” ingredients, and not recommended too often; but isn’t it utterly amazing you rarely can find a packaged food with 3 ingredients or less? Lara bars are exceptional in this way). Research, research, research (Whole30.com). Print pages of FREE helpful guidelines, shopping lists, and put in a binder.  Screen shot a few pages for ready reference on my phone.

October 1: Hubby and I embark on our W30 journey. Black coffee is UGH (I’m a stevia and low-sugar flavored Coffee Mate gal). Dinner is zucchini “noodles” with a meat sauce made from scratch: veggies, herbs, simple tomatoes and paste; plus a salad with avocado, walnuts, strawberries S&P, oil/vinegar. Dessert is strawberries.

October 2: I leave 4:45 am for my 4-day trip. Packed refillable Nalgene water bottle, apple, tangerine, Epic and Lara bars. Have “Mr. T’s” Bloody Mary mix on plane, only to find out later it’s completely NOT W30 compliant (neither is innocuous sounding Dasani lime water– both have high-fructose and sugar along with other unpronounceables). By 3:30pm I’m starving and have head ache. Hubby texts: “Was dizzy this morning. Had my appointment w doc. Really low blood pressure. Probably from diet. Still a little blurry. Made my cod dish – not bad. Miss you.” (Note: his BP was 107/70– his norm is 140/90).
IMG_3974Dad’s senior-living dining room thankfully has a big salad bar and plain meat and veggie options on buffet.

October 3: hotel breakfast has hard boiled eggs and basic fruit. I took the turkey sausage knowing full well it probably was not compliant and full of bad additives. Patting myself on the back I avoided waffles, pastries, muffins, bagels, yogurts, cereals.  Paltry salad IMG_3976lunch at Dad’s club. Stop at store to buy compliant kombucha, freeze-dried fruit, Lara bars at Walmart. Later for my dinner (Dad has his left-over Reuben and an early night) I’m combing the aisles of local grocery and finding NOTHING. Eventually settle for the healthiest frozen meal I can find, a salad and fruit. Find one brand of sliced turkey without sugar or additives. I consider this a coup, since most options involved fast food, Chinese, pizza or tacos.

October 4:  stay as compliant as possible with hotel breakfast bar (I know the bacon isn’t the compliant kind, but who resists bacon???). Black coffee results in less temptation for 2nd and 3rd cups (but REALLY looking forward to the W30-compliant Nutpods coffee creamer I’ve ordered) Lunch: plain burger patty and simple salad (scrape off cheese and croutons but not before brother notices). Dinner: Dad wants to treat me to a “nice restaurant dinner” and suggests the Italian place. Nothing on that menu is W30. I suggest the other restaurant and have filet steak, sweet potato with no toppings, asparagus and salad (while breathing in the aroma of Dad’s yummy BBQ ribs). A feast and I couldn’t finish!!! Dad now has at least two meals in leftovers boxes between his and mine.

October 5:  Hotel breakfast bar, same as yesterday. Proud of my travel-food prep today: in my backpack I have my compliant turkey slices; carrot sticks, banana and an apple for lunch (too much fruit but better than alternatives). At about 3pm at 35,000 ft. I resist the airplane pretzels and have fully researched the compliant beverage options (I ask for IMG_3979seltzer and OJ–having asked flight attendant before take off to look at ingredients on OJ).  Have also figured out an herbal tea bag in my Nalgene’s cool water lends it a nice subtle flavor. Also packed are oven-roasted almonds, Orange, Epic and Lara bars– I won’t land until 7pm and don’t want to be ravenous and tempted to cheat (and with the 3 hour delay, I’m not home until 10).

According to W30, ANY “cheat” puts you back to day one, and this is understandable but rather sad. I know these first days had a few things that would not be 100% compliant, but I think in spirit I did the best I could with a lot of uncontrolled factors that come with travel. Possibly sugar detox is happening.

October 6 – Now at home I can have better control (I hope). On the run this morning so a HB egg and some grapefruit. Did the big shopping today for healthy stuff, planned a menu, did a lot of prep. Lunch scrambled eggs with a touch of onion, spinach and potato. I wonder if Ore-Ida hash browns are legal? No bad ingredients listed… Nutpods hazelnut “creamer” is ok but not great. I mostly miss my stevia sweetness in coffee.

Tonight’s crockpot veggie-packed beef stew was a little disappointing; the beef was tough; without Lipton’s Onion soup mix it was missing flavor. Threw in a diced turnip, a first. Ground up the remaining stew meat for leftovers.

Also roasted beets today (another first– always used jarred), sliced for salads and pickled an few as well.  Homemade Mayo is excellent and quite easy to make.

Oh– and why is arrowroot so expensive? $7 for a small spice jar size?? Need a cornstarch replacement for thickening sauces and stews.

The redeeming part of today was the pumpkin custard   which was amazing but probably qualifies as SWYPO (“sex with your pants on,” aka an “almost cheat” because technically I guess it’s a dessert-y thing). Still, it felt virtuous because there was no sugar, dairy or gluten; it purports to be W30 compliant (more about these boasts later). It’ll be a breakfast alternative when the eggs get old.

A pitcher of Raspberry Zinger iced tea, and LaCroix flavored waters provide more appealing beverage choices.

October 7:  spinach onion frittata with a handful of OreIda frozen potato cubes. Cooked up 6 pieces of the pricey sugar-free bacon, intending to have leftovers. We each had 3. So IMG_4001delish (W30 is right to caution that bacon can be abused; good thing the “legal” kind is so expensive, won’t be buying often). Tomatoes, avocado garnish, 6 grapes. For lunch I coat thin turkey cutlets with almond-coconut flour and seasonings and cook in coconut oil. Slice over raw spinach with 2 sliced strawberries, several pecans, dribbles of Italian dressing made from W30 Mayo. Satisfying. Mid afternoon I’m hungry so a small hand of mixed nuts, and a Larabar. Dinner out with friends (we requested a steakhouse): 4oz filet, plain baked potato (asked for drawn butter vs regular– isn’t this close to “clarified?) and asparagus. Later at home we have a small serving of pumpkin custard. Are we feeding our “sugar dragon” with this? Always have craved “something sweet” after a meal; so, how is it different than if we ate the component ingredients of this custard?  Also, can’t resist stepping on the scale so broke that “rule.” I just need that motivation any time I’m restricting food. Small reductions are motivating.

Reflection on Week One:  It’s officially one week on Whole30 and the jury is still out for me. The more I read up about this plan, the more Nazi-like I find it (as each day an illegal choice comes along). And, I accept it’s ONLY 30 days, AND you can eat delicious REAL food.   Whole30 requires a TON of careful label-reading as you shop, lots of prep and cooking to have control over ingredients and what you’re putting in your body (which is why I chose October, it was a month I knew I had more time).  But forget about any concoction that reminds you of dessert or sugar, which feeds your “sugar dragon,” or qualifies as “Sex with your pants on (SWYPO).” Sure, fruit is “legal,” but in small portions and with meals so you’re not pouring sugar into your bloodstream (which apparently disturbs the good things this plan does for your body, especially weight loss). Of course W30 doesn’t want to demonize IMG_3999healthy fruit in reasonable portions (and even opines it is “optional”). But what disturbs me is that W30 says I can’t mix “legal” ingredients like coconut milk, fruit, and OJ into a smoothie. Or, eggs, coconut milk, banana, and pumpkin into a yummy custard– because these things are “desserts” or “treats,” and the point of Whole30 is to get out of this need/mentality.  I despise black coffee, and the Nutpods “creamer” really doesn’t cut it.  One side of me agrees that’s good and for 30 days I should be able to; the other side (the side that enjoys life and food) says this is too harsh, and decidedly not fun. Gotta start focusing on all the good points.

Learning to make sure my purse is always stocked with emergency snacks: Epic! Bar, Larabar, nuts. All of these things are considered “last resort” options but better than going on a desperate fast food binge while out.

I “illegally” have weighed myself, which is something I just need to do. And the news is good, so I stay motivated.


The “good” I take away from week one: I’m pretty much off sugar; I’m down a couple pounds; I managed to stay with it even when traveling and it wasn’t easy to find foods; my GI system feels better; my water intake is up; I haven’t had one packaged salty or sweet snack food or drink in a week (aside from legal Epic and Lara bars); and I’m not consuming lots of chemical additives.

Now on to Week 2.  Eggs for breakfast is getting old.


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Our door is always open. Drinks can be ready in minutes, and the kitchen is a place of problem solving, peace and love. Anyone who needs to chat is welcome anytime.

There may be laundry to be folded and housework to be done, but it can wait! I have food in the fridge and tea in the cupboard, listening ears, shoulders to cry on and love to share.

We will always be available… you are always welcome!!

This is an old value that is being lost to technology…a text, Facetime, or emoji is not the equivalent of making time for those we love or care about!

Could at least one friend please copy and re-post (not share)? We are trying to demonstrate that someone is always listening, you are never really alone.

A friend posted this today on Facebook.  Except for the part that exhorts one to copy and paste, I loved it.  (I don’t like being “expected” to copy something… at least they said “please”).

In the past, this friend practiced the art of hospitality when I was single, alone, and living in a foreign country.  I started out as a “stranger;” we are now close friends.  I watched hospitality4their kids grow up, and am friends with them still.  Invites for day trips to family beach outings were frequent.  Once when I was dealing with an excruciating unexplained pain, her surgeon husband himself transported me to the hospital and saw I received good care.  Throughout my Foreign Service career, home hospitality was central for most (having full-time housekeepers of course made that easier).  In most third world countries, there are few places to gather in public, so dinners and hospitality2parties abounded and were the way people socialized.  People would sit around someone’s patio or living room until the wee hours of the night enjoying conversation, good food, drinks, and company.

Hospitality is becoming a dying “art” and that makes me sad. I am grateful I was raised this way and had my time overseas understanding what hospitality looks like.  It was never a burden and more often a privilege.  Growing up, invitations to dinner were routinely extended by my parents.  Mother could whip something together, always ensuring there was double the food needed so guests never refrained from seconds.  We kids were pressed into service serving guests drinks and snacks;  setting the table and cleaning up; as bell hop; and other general welcoming duties.  We loved it. We always had a guest room at the ready; and if there were more guests than rooms, my brother and I were expected to give up our rooms.  I never recall being upset by this displacement; perhaps it was fun to sleep on the couch or in a sleeping bag in the family hospitality6room.  I’d like to think it was the joy of having guests.

As SJ and I searched for a new home, I always envision it filled with family and friends. I love to entertain and cook, and I love having good people around me.  We will have a nice open concept living area and kitchen, with lots of counter space over which to linger (we’ve always found folks gravitate towards the kitchen (the “hearth”), and it’s always been the center of our home).  There are bedrooms and baths enough for all our kids, and future grandkids.hospitality7

Through the years, I’ve enjoyed extending hospitality.  For new friends, SJ and I often invited people over to dinner at our home; we hosted church community groups, studies and gatherings.  We welcomed our children’s friends, and made it a fun hang-out during the teen years when having them closer to home gave us peace of mind.  Those who happened to be in our home at meal time were offered a place at the table.  We routinely extended invitations for a place to stay.  For my close circle of college friends, I’ve always loved hosting them at my home.  First when I was single in a one-bedroom apartment; and later in the large home I shared with my hubby.  Recently I’m back to the apartment (two bedroom) with plenty of room for guests.  Fun hospitalityGirl’s weekends are back, now that we all live closer.  A pack of late 50-somethings sit around, eat, and happily yack for hours on end.

But what’s interesting to me, is that many people seemed uncomfortable or even embarrassed after the first or second invite.  Hubby counseled me that I had to pull back a bit, because most people felt awkward that they could not/would not reciprocate. This baffled me and made me very sad, as truly I didn’t care that much what others did, or if they reciprocated.  Even now that we live in a wonderful area for tourism and have extended invites widely, few have taken us up; a couple actually chose hotels and meeting at restaurants.

I’m not trying to toot my own horn or say I’m special… because hospitality selfishly makes me happy.  It’s just that I don’t get how it’s changed.  I don’t think we smell bad; and I know these people like us.  Even accepting old-fashioned hospitality is on the decline.

I’ve several cousins in town.  We’ve been here for about 18 months and yet to have an invite.  I’ve extended invites multiple invites.  There are many excuses and some apologies (some legit for those with busy schedules, families and younger kids).   Hubby IMG_4241has urged me to pull back.  It has made me sad.  To my favorite cousin’s remark during a phone call: “we will work harder to get together,” I said “It better be soon, because in about 7 months we’ll have moved.”  (In all fairness, this particular lovely cousin with half dozen kids and a hectic lifestyle invited our family to their home when we in town over holidays some years back, and showed lovely hospitality).

I recently had the chance to visit my 30-something niece, who I don’t get to see much anymore.  She recently purchased her first home, and I knew she was rightly proud of it.  I decided that while I was in her town, I’d make an effort to go visit her and tell her what a wonderful home she had (of course we all want to hear this; our first home is especially special, be it ever so humble).  Now, she has the misfortune to live next door to some very tough looking alleged drug dealers.  And she has two large pitbulls who terrify me (and hopefully the drug dealers).  She politely exiled them into the backyard during my visit.  She had earlier given me the idea that she had to be somewhere that afternoon, so my visit would be short, 30 minutes max.

The visit ended up more than an hour as we caught up and enjoyed reconnecting.  She gave me the 10-minute house tour, as she told me of all of her plans to “finish” or complete renovations or organizing.  I praised and complimented her home and her fix-ups (ignoring the lived-in state, which I never feel should be held against anyone or Image result for pit bull attackcreate a barrier to invitiations).  We then stood either in her kitchen or living room, and talked.  At no time during my visit did she offer me a seat, or a refreshment.  At one point she opened the back door to show off her “fur babies.”  The dogs are not trained, and they went wild with the presence of a stranger.  One aggressively tore through the screen door and into the house, and immediately for me (a person who has been attacked by a dog in the past).  It jumped on me, wove between my legs, and acted aggressive and wild.  When I attempted to muster my courage and speak calmly to the dog, or pet it, it nipped and grew more agitated. I tried the command voice, “SIT!” to no avail.  I was completely unnerved.  For several minutes my niece only shouted wildly at the dog to stop; the dog didn’t listen.  Panic was setting in for me as my efforts to seem unfazed and accepting of her “fur baby” were wearing thin.  The dog didn’t have a collar to grab to lead off.  I finally said, “I need to go to a room away from the dog, because I am very freaked out right now.”   The dog merely followed me.  Eventually she pulled it off and away…  (To her credit my niece apologized and expressed understanding of my fear (in response to my apologies for freaking out and that I held nothing against her precious dogs), and admitted she hadn’t trained them properly for company. I tried to get my Chippyracing heart to slow down and smile sympathetically).

[Contrast this to an old friend’s family who prided themselves on well-trained dogs; although their collie was large—I know, and a more gentle breed—I loved that dog and felt comfortable around it, well, until it would stick it’s long probing nose somewhere I didn’t like.  But there was a time that people would be horrified if their pet distressed a guest; the guest came first.  We will shut our cat into a room if we have anyone visiting who is discomforted by cats.]

What are we teaching this generation about hospitality, which really is akin to “otherness?”  I fear not much.  I can only pray that my own kids, once in a position to have their own places and extend hospitality, will have something to look back on and model.

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“Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.” Hebrews 13:2

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