Celery is Gross & Green Tea Tastes Like Dirt: An Anxiety Diet

The other day (which was probably more like a week ago or so) Hubby and I attended a class together. It was called Behavioral and Medicinal Characteristics of Plant-Based Nutrients presented by Merrily Khun, RN, CCRN (r), Ph.D., ND. Hubby went because, as a massage therapist, he can get continuing education credits to support his license. I went because Hubby asked if I wanted to go and I said yes. I'd never been to one of those classes (he's been to several I'd have like to have gone to, too) so I thought it would not only be educational, but interesting.

The speaker (Merrily Khun) did a good job. She was funny, engaging, her subject was interesting, seemed well-researched (she cited her research, too, which - as an admin at a National Laboratory - made me happy to see), kept us on track, and presented her work well.

(Funny aside: The venue made her use their presentation equipment, which she was unfamiliar with. During the early part of her presentation, she tried to show a video. She tried several times and, while we could hear the video, we couldn't see the video. She got quite frustrated. One person tried to help her, suggesting there must be a remote she needed to use, but that was unsuccessful, and the venue guy knew nothing about the technology. Finally, I couldn't stand it and got up to assist. Me - Ms. Anxiety-Don't-Like-Crowds - got up in front of 250+ people, climbed up on stage and showed her how to fix it. Et voila! The video was now showing on both large screens and her computer. There was actual applause! It was a strange thing. I guess it was a good thing that, in a large audience of people in professional occupations like nursing, therapists of all kinds, dietitians, nutritionists, etc., there was a lone administrative assistant in the audience with a background in first-level tech support.)

Anywho- I'm glad I went. I sat from about 8:15 AM until 4:00 PM and wasn't bored once. That's pretty good, right?

Glad I went, and yet...not.

What I took away from that class was, basically, that I should never, ever, eat again. Everything we put into our bodies is bad for us.  Bread is terrible. Wheat is terrible - for everyone, not just those who have Wheat/Gluten sensitivities/allergies. Real Wheat - the heirloom stuff - can really only be found in Europe these days. Everything you eat should be organic, raw. Oh, and raw almonds are great, except you need to make sure they're steamed, not fumigated because...chemicals. Black coffee is fine. Green tea is better. She was not opposed to alcohol - in moderation, of course. Avocados (organic) are perfect. Curcumin is a wonder supplement for pain and inflammation, even for those who are allergic to anti-inflammatories/NSAIDS, like Yours Truly. Sugar is the root of all that is wrong with us. Egg yolks will kill you, just like cigarettes will. (NOTE: I'm taking giant liberties here, and this is Jen's Interpretation. I'm more than paraphrasing.)

So, here I go again with the "The Thing." You take someone like me, who is already a bit obsessive, already anxiety-ridden, already depressed (though working toward making myself better in several ways) and you tell that person that everything they eat is bad for them and they must break every habit they have, stop eating the things they love, stop eating the things they think are good for them, and start eating like a rabbit, what does that person do? Well, if you're me, you immediately go into Self-Preservation Mode and start buying organic (Holy Expensive, Batman!), stop eating bread of any kind, cut out all sugar (except what occurs naturally in fruits and veggies), drink nothing but water (not much of a challenge), black coffee (not much of a change), and green tea (which I'm trying to force myself to like, except I think it tastes like dirt). And celery is gross.

You make beautiful, colorful breakfasts and lunches with your Rabbit Food, and you pretend you're happy without bread, or cookies, or cake, or even hummus! I refuse to believe eggs are bad. Cheese is my friend (she never said otherwise) and coffee is coffee is coffee. Green tea...well, maybe I'll acquire the taste.

You know, They say "Diet" is a four-letter word for a reason.

TTFN
JMS

The Chasm of Christmas Commercialism

I have had a wonderful Christmas! Beloved family, amazing food, fantastic friends. I am truly blessed. Though now, I sit back in my chair and issue a sigh of deep, deep gratitude...

Really deep.

I am profoundly grateful another Christmas has come to a close. 

No more worrying about finances, or if something I ordered will arrive on time, or how I'm going to fit it all into the finite amount of time I have. 

No more thinking I've gotten my Christmas cards finished only to receive one from someone I didn't send one to and add them to my "Must Reciprocate" list for the following year - knowing I'll lose the list unless I put it someplace I'll be able to find it later. Except the following year is now this year and I've hidden my list so well I can't find it so now have to start all over again. (I wish I were more organized about such things, but I'm not, and I never will be. I am beginning to accept this about myself.) Thank you for not taking it personally.

No more questions from the kids about anything present/gift/Santa related.

No more trying to figure out where we're supposed to be, when, and what we're supposed to bring with us. (Sometimes I believe I need my own Personal Assistant to help me keep up with such things.)

I am - admittedly, and probably unfortunately - one of the millions of people who has fallen into the Chasm of Christmas Commercialism. (You like my alliteration?)  I worry an inordinate amount about what to get my kids, what to get my hubby, what to get other family members, what to get for people like neighbors, co-workers, friends! The list feels endless and suddenly I'm coming up against the dreaded point where I'm not done and yet my bank account is. It's a terrible cycle and every year I tell myself I'm going to start early and every year it's suddenly time to go through this all over again. I mean really! Christmas comes at the same time very single year so it's not like it should sneak up on me, but it does! Sheesh!

Does anyone else feel this chaotic during the holidays, or is it just me?  And if it's just me, is it because I'm terrible at organizing my life? Please tell me it's not just me.

***

I haven't discussed this with the rest of my family yet, but I have an idea for next year and I think it's a good one. Not only will it save me a TON of stress and worry, it will benefit others, too.

I think maybe I won't go into detail about it right now - allowing time for the idea to take root, and take shape, and grow into something tangible - but once that has happened, I'll follow up with you.  It could be a life-changing thing all around.

I'll just leave that here...

Happy New Year.  May your 2017 not suck.

TTFN
JMS

Ten Things I Love Today

In the past 6 months or so, I've started following Ree Drummond's blog, The Pioneer Woman.  She's fun, funny, and uplifting.  She is an animal lover who also has great taste in food and housewares and, probably, tchotchkes.  (I just like that word.)  I'm quite enjoying myself, thank you very much.

Anyway, she posted Ten Things I Love Today, which made me grin like the madwoman I am, only more Cheshire Cat like.  I swear, my cheeks hurt.  Make sure you check out what Ree loves, but in the meantime, here are Ten Things I Love Today.  They may be different than the ten things I will love tomorrow, but I love them - in no particular order - today.

~~ ONE ~~

My kiddos.  Though I suppose I could count them as two, I won't.  They are the absolute lights of my life.  They are my reason for getting up each morning.  They are the reason I work so hard and the reason I know such enormous, all-encompassing love.

~~TWO~~

Hubby.  He's equal parts funny and foolish and fun.  He is half grizzly bear and half honey-loving, tummy-tickling, sweet-voiced Pooh Bear.  (I hope he doesn't smack me for that.)  He's whiskery and wiry and somewhat Sasquatch-like.  He is an excellent daddy and a great outdoors man, though he'd probably disagree with me, and I luv him.

~~THREE~~

Cats.  Their do-it-yourself-no-I-want-to-help-no-leave-me-alone-no-I-want-your-attention-no-wait-maybe-not ways.

~~FOUR~~

Dogs.  Their I-LOVE-YOU-YOU'RE-THE-BEST-THING-I'VE-EVER-SEEN-SINCE-BREAKFAST-OOOH!-BREAKFAST-IS-THAT-A-BALL-SQUIRREL! ways.

~~FIVE~~

Wine.  I admit it - I love a good glass of wine after a long day.  I don't drink every day, though sometimes I might like to.  For the longest time, I preferred an ice-cold white wine.  A Pinot Grigio or a Chardonnay, or even a Riesling when I want something a tad sweeter, but lately reds have been winning.  Not sure where this is going but...wine.

~~SIX~~

Cheese and crackers.  And hummus.  Oh, and maybe pita bread, too.  Ooooh!  Bread in general.  Wait, I got distracted.  What were we talking about again?

~~SEVEN~~

My girls.  Kit and Stacy and Beth and Kasi.  We shall grow old together, make fools of ourselves, and wear hot pink when the dress code clearly said black.  They are the ones who understand me perfectly when the words which come out of my mouth are exactly what they were when they were in my head - with no filter.  And further, they are not offended.

~~EIGHT~~

Music.  Of just about any kind, except the random stuff I don't like.  Nine Inch Nails to Helen Reddy and just about everything in between.  Today, I am singing a medley of tunes from Disney's The Little Mermaid and am perfectly happy with my inner iPod on shuffle.

~~NINE~~

My blankie.  Yes, you heard me right.  I am 40-something years old and I still sleep with a blankie.  My daughter and I sometimes argue over who it really belongs to, but it's mine, I say!  Mine!  It's a thrift-store blankie and it's pink (which is really not my color) but it's soft and reminds me of easier times.  It makes me go, "Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh....." at the end of a long day.

~~TEN~~

This blog, and the, like, five people who actually read it unless I force them to.  I am not sure if I could function without this blog as an outlet for my weird.  This blog has allowed me to get things off my chest that no one else (except possibly my above-mentioned girls) would listen to or care about.  I love that this is a place where I can legitimately say what is on my mind, know my opinion is my own, and not have any expectations about differences of opinion.

Which I guess brings this post to a close.  My Ten are definitely not as interesting as Ree's Ten, but then we are not the same person and her loves are not my loves, and mine are not hers.  Wait, I think I got confused again.  I'm so glad it's Friday (as I write) and the weekend is upon me.

TTFN
JMS

Thoughts on a personal weight loss journey

By now I'm sure most of you know, at least in a very general way, about my slow trudge toward a significant weight loss.  I'm making progress, and it is most definitely rewarding to see how far I've come from where I started, but I'm not there yet.  The progress is slowing down too, which admittedly irritates me though is not any cause for concern.  I am told slower weight loss is more conducive to success, and so I will continue to believe.  (I'll ask you, most kindly, to not shatter the illusion, please?) 

Careful!  Weight loss can sometimes have unintended consequences!

A few weeks ago, I was noticing a continuing tremor in my hands.  Putting it a little more bluntly, I was constantly shaking like a leaf.  My heart was racing to an unseen finish-line and sometimes I felt as if I were gasping for breath just to get it to settle down.  I felt wired all the time and my usual caffeine intake (which has not been any sort of issue) was suddenly too much.  Those of you who know me well understand how cutting back on coffee was…challenging…to say the least.

One sunny day, while sitting at my desk cursing silently at my violently shaking hands, telling them most cruelly how useless they were as they clumsily pounded out more typos and nonsense in one short paragraph than my poor ergonomic keyboard typically sees in a year, I had an epiphany:  No more thyroid equals daily maintenance medication carefully considered and prescribed by my doctor for a person nearly 23 pounds lighter (at the time) than the person the medication was calibrated for.  So, I made a call to the endocrinologist to schedule an appointment. 

The following week, blood-work complete, results in!  What do you know?  Just as I suspected; I was over-medicated!  After the appointment, a prescription for a lower-dose of thyroid medication, and a couple of weeks for my body to adjust, I feel human again.  I have to go back in two months for a follow-up, but so far so good.

Healthier doesn't always mean happier!

Hubby is a massage therapist.  One of the things he must do in order to keep his license in good standing is to have a certain amount of continuing education each year.  Not quite two weeks ago, he attended a seminar called What Is In Our Food.  It was a six-hour seminar for health professionals and came to a town nearby.

I knew (knew!) when he came home from this class his head would be teeming with information and he would immediately dump out everything in our refrigerator.  (Ok, not quite everything – but pretty close.)  We are now both actively trying to make better food choices, and let me tell you, it isn't easy.  Not only is it difficult, but it's expensive and lacks any kind of palatable taste.  It's boring!

As an example, I'm trying very hard to acquire a taste for plain, Greek yogurt.  I think it's going to take a lot of acquiring.  After the first couple of shudder-inducing, taste bud mishaps, a fair amount of grumbling on my part, and some well-placed advice from Hubby as to how to (healthfully) enhance the flavor of the thick, sour cream-like substance, I have discovered a tolerable level of edibility.

I don’t believe I will ever be a health-food nut.  (Another kind of nut, absolutely, but not the health-food kind.)  My love for all things pizza negates just about any possibility of my becoming someone who pours soy milk on her organic kamut flakes in the morning.  But I do think I can continue to make a conscious effort toward making better food choices.  I can just about guarantee you there will be grumbling; I’ll complain about it, a lot.  However if my own personal better choices can make a difference for me, imagine what my children might learn by proxy?

Win-win, right?

TTFN
JMS

Humor for the "Unbrained"

I have a coffee mug, given to me by a co-worker.  It’s black and has white lettering which says: “I’m trying to be awesome today, but I’m exhausted from being so freakin’ awesome yesterday.”  I love this mug.  It says so much about me, especially the Morning Me, when I am decaffeinated.  Or, as another co-worker so eloquently put it, “Unbrained.”  Being unbrained is no fun.  And no, we’re not talkin’ zombies, here.

 

Being told that I rock is another thing entirely.  My response to being told today that I rocked was, “Yes.  I occasionally do!  Usually to AC/DC or Metallica.  Just sayin’.”  I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again: I think I’m hysterical.  On this particular occasion, the party to whom I was speaking took it exactly as it was meant; lighthearted banter.  (We also discovered a mutual appreciation for liverwurst, but that’s another story.)  

 

I began thinking about the strange and wonderful conversations I’ve had that amuse me as much as they amuse others.  It amuses me (there’s that word again) that there are people in this world who just don’t appreciate my particular brand of humor/sarcasm/wit/what-have-you.  (And please, don’t give me the, “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit,” comment.  That belongs to those who have no sense of humor.  Be gone with you!)  In fact, I’ve even gone back later to re-read stuff I’ve written and have laughed at myself.  One must laugh at oneself.  Often.  Otherwise, there’s something wrong.

 

Um…Jen?  Do you have a point?

 

Nope.  Not really.  I warned you that my blog was random.  I like to write the way that I think – so if you think reading this is bad, with me jumping all over the place from one topic to the next, try being in my head.  I shall quote my beloved Anne of Green Gables: “You ought to give me some credit.  You cannot imagine all the things I want to say and don’t.”

 

TTFN
JMS

And speaking of...

Many, many years ago, this blog used to be called Random Ramblings.  There are those of you out there who will remember this little historical tidbit.  When I started writing for Tananda.com, and when Tananda and I started brainstorming what my alter-virtual-personality would be called, we agreed upon Tangent…because I frequently go off on one.

Last night, my son and I were talking about online safety (stuff he should be aware of now that he is in middle school and owns a tablet) and I said something about my blog.  “What’s a blog, mom?”

In typical Jen fashion, I pulled my laptop over, opened it up and went directly to my blog for visual aid purposes.  I did not pass go.  I did not collect $200.00.

“Mom?  Is your blog safe for me to read?”

“Mostly.  There are a few things in here I’d rather you didn’t read yet.  I write this thing for a grown up audience, not with kiddos in mind.”

“Mom?  Is there anything I can read on here?  Like, now?”

So, I spent a little bit of time researching a old posts, doing a quick mental check of content, and then proceeded to read a couple of them aloud to him.  He responded appropriately in all the places that require laughs, chuckles, guffaws, snickers, and even an occasional snort.  I’m not really trying to be funny, but apparently I am - at least on occasion.  

“Mom?  Why is your blog called …Off on a Tangent?”

“Well, do you know what a tangent is?”  (Considering quickly that there is also an explanation that is math-related and deciding not to go there, since math is most definitely not my strong point.)

“Uh…no.”

“So, you know how sometimes someone might be talking about one thing and then all of the sudden they’re talking about something else completely different?  And maybe you’re not quite sure how they got from one thing to another?  That’s called going off on a tangent.  Think of it like a river.  You’ve got the main, big river – which is your main, big thought – and then suddenly you branch off into another, smaller river – a tributary – which is a tangent.  Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yep.  Can we read more?”

“Nope.  It’s bedtime.”

Followed by lots of complaining and shuffling of feet.

I bring all of this to your attention as preface to my actual reason for this post: Eggs.  

What?

Yep.  Eggs.

So, you know how you like your eggs.  And I know how I like my eggs.  And my sister and I like our eggs the same way when we’re feeling somewhat blue and need comfort food.  And Joe Blow down the street likes his eggs scrambled…barely.

I like my eggs past soft-boiled, but not quite hard-boiled, peeled, mashed into oblivion and mixed with butter, salt and crumbled up Triscuit crackers.

I like my eggs scrambled, with ketchup.

I like my eggs fried, over-hard, yolks broken – like shoe leather.

I like my eggs hard-boiled.  With salt.

I like my eggs mixed with yummy stuff to create other yummy stuff like meatloaf, and cake!  (Oooh!  Cake.  Is there chocolate?  Oooh!  Chocolate.  Oh!  Wait.  See what I mean about tangents?)

I don’t like my eggs poached.

I don’t like my eggs runny.  Eeew.  (Unless there’s an abundance of toast, and then I can dip or sop.)

But really – eggs are just about the best thing ever.  Unless you have bacon, in which case you are my new BFF (…sorry, Kit!) because bacon is, in fact, the World’s most perfect food.  Extra crispy, please?

TTFN
JMS