Counting Calories

Counting calories is hard.
Sure, it's manageable IF you're eating food straight out of a box, with a nutrition label that tells you how many calories are in it.  But that's not the best nutrition.  Nor the best taste. 

Daughter1 told Daughter3 about her discovery:  

LoseIt.com

The website harnesses the power of the internet to do all sorts of figuring for you.  For example, if you type in "banana," it will offer you choices of a small, medium, or large banana (with lengths to help you figure out size), and then it adds in a calorie count.  It has restaurant food in its search engines.  It has brand names, so you can look up Aldi spaghetti sauce or Starkist tuna or King Arthur flour.  

Best of all -- you can add recipes and it will figure that calorie count for you.  One time, Andrew had a project at school to evaluate his diet; it was far too difficult to eat the real food he was accustomed to.  Instead, he spent a few days eating instafood and fast food.  During that project, his goal was that all food come with a label listing the calories, protein, fat, etc.  But with LoseIt, we can record what went into the stirfry or casserole or salad, and the program figures up how many calories there are.  Maggie can also have "recipes" for things she eats regularly (such as the sandwich she frequently takes with her on school days) to simplify even further the record-keeping.

Maggie is motivated to use this.  She finds it easier to avoid the junk food when she knows she'll have to admit it to herself and watch the calories add up on her daily tote board.  She finds that exercise is easier when she enjoys the reward of typing in how far she walked or how many minutes she rode her bike, and sees her day's calorie-budget increase.  She set herself a goal of 2# loss per month, but she's far ahead of that for her first month.  

After a month of using the program, an added [math] bonus is that both Maggie and I are getting much better at estimating weights, volumes, and calorie counts.  

By the way, this program would be way easier with a smart phone, but LoseIt works just fine with a desktop.

"Don't You Trust Me?"

Doctor visit to a specialist I've never seen before.

Doctor recommends a long-term course of a medicine that is rife with bad side effects and links to cancer and heart attacks. 

I ask, "But doesn't that drug have a lot of side effects?"

Response?  "I am your doctor.  I know you.  I've looked at your chart.  Don't you trust me?  I would never give you anything that would hurt you." 

Huh.
I think it's true
that she would never
willingly
give me something
that she believed would hurt me.

But is there any chance that she could have been swayed by the pharmaceutical company to believe something inaccurate about the drug?
Is there a chance that I failed to inform her of something that I didn't know was pertinent?
Is there a chance she doesn't care about nutrition and wellness, but always turns to chemical solutions?
There's even a chance that she's spot-on right.

I was shocked that a doctor in this day and age would refuse to discuss side effects of a potent drug, and just say "Trust me." 

And if she thinks I'm going to trust her after that, I guess maybe she doesn't know me after all.



Over the next two days I spent about ten hours reading up on various perspectives by the drug manufacturer, alternative medicines, nutritionists, herbalists, and other aspects of my situation.  Man oh man -- buggy-eyed and brain-tired.  At least the doctor was good for one thing: she easily ruled out a lot of possible problems that I hadn't even considered (and which were probably the reason my GP sent me to the specialist in the first place). 

Recent Events

Elizabeth's arrival is the best of the recent events.  But, oh!, I do wish I had the strength and endurance to go help more, visit more, snuggle more. 

Gary's hungry.  He's having some health problems that require [deep serious voice--] Dietary Changes.  Right now it seems like there's nothing he can eat but veggie salads.  Nothing with sticking-power.  Yeah, but how much of that is real, and how much is scientists and chemists trying to figure out the art of medicine?  Once he gets the pain under control, I suppose then we can begin experimenting.  I'm wondering: if we fix guts, might the rest of the body straighten out too?

Sister, brother, and I divided up most of the belongings of my mom's house.  I've heard stories from other families about what happens when a parent dies.  Oh my goodness -- I am so thankful that we can get along and be nice to each other!

Maggie and I have an appointment coming up at Easter Seals to see if they have any programs that might benefit her. 

Between Gary, Maggie, Rachel, and me, it seems like we're seeing doctors or making appointments or receiving test results practically every day.  My head is swimming. 

Pretty soon I will be leaving my job.  Working and homeschooling and healing-from-stroke was at the utter limits of what I could do.  There was no margin.  Mom' death and helping with settling things just didn't/won't fit in.  So something has to go.  Since Maggie's not expendable, and since I have no magic wand to [poof] achieve full healing from my brain injury, the job is the only thing that I can take a break from.  I will miss it.  I will miss some of the customers.  I will miss the paycheck.  But mostly I will miss the nice feeling of having finished a task completely and correctly.  I keep reassuring myself that I can always reapply for the job when some of these family matters are wrapped up.

Google tells me that the European Union has instituted new rules for cookies on websites.  That means bloggers must inform readers about cookies and obtain consent.  I don't know how to do that!  And I don't have the time or brain power to bother with figuring it out right now.  So my counter (which is, I think, the only cookie I have) had to go bye-bye.  If you leave an anonymous comment, please sign something on the bottom so I know who you are, so I can allow the comment to go through.  (You could use initials, or first name plus last initial, or "Friend in Janesville," etc.)  It's getting tempting to just shut-down the blog or make it private (readers by invitation only).  But I'd need to save a lot of information first, including printing out recipes.  And that too is too much work right now. 

Katie, Maggie, and I watched "Pride and Prejudice" at APT last weekend.  Sarah Day does such a great job with fussy, busybody women-characters!  And Marcus Truschinski is the best Mr Darcy I ever saw.  

I'm working on lacto-fermenting veggies.   The corn relish was made with fresh-picked corn from the farm.  I made it a few years ago, and it was my favorite pickled recipe.  It's great to make another batch.  I should get my hands on some more corn while it's still available.  The pickle-batch I set aside today was sauerkraut.  Fresh, unheated sauerkraut is so much yummier than the cooked/canned soft kind.  I think broccoli slaw may be my next attempt.  There are so many possibilities that sound good.  And non-vinegar pickles are so much tastier ... as well as being super-healthy.

If You Measure It ...

"If you measure something, it will get better."

That is the premise behind a new program "offered" by our health insurance.  (And by "offered," I mean that we get to pay $1000 more on our health insurance premiums next year if we don't participate.  No.  Wait.  I take that back.  We don't pay more if we aren't following this new program.  We pay less if we are following the program.  What?  You don't see a difference?  Neither do I.  But I'm guessing there's a legal technicality that matters in how it's phrased.)

Anyway, we are supposed to rack up points.  Enough points earns you the bonus money.  We get points for reading their daily health tips.  We get points each day for self-reporting on three health-habits.  They provided us fancy high-tech pedometers, and we earn points for every 1000 steps it measures.  Extra points if you have your blood-pressure tested at work at least once a month.  And much more.

#1.  Do we suspect that the requirements will increase quarterly or yearly?  Yes, we do. 

#2.  There's some comfort in hearing that loads of other folks are bothered by the tracking of personal health data and are feeling that their privacy is infringed.  And yet, everybody feels that the huge cost difference means we must comply.

#3.  Do we think this sort of thing will become commonplace with nationalized health care?  Yes, we do.  Do we suspect that mere tracking of information will eventually morph into helpful suggestions of ways to improve our health?  And then instructions?  And then demands?

#4.  The computer glitches.  OH, the computer glitches!  Points not being counted here.  Habits not being registered there.   Besides the regular computer glitches, daylight savings time threw another humongous monkey wrench into it all.  This does not instill confidence in the system.



#5.  And finally, the so-called axiom on which the entire program is built: "If you measure something, it will get better."  Sorry.  I don't buy that.

For one thing, we've seen how that works with standardized testing in school.  We test more and more and more.  And education has not improved.

The whole point of improvement-through-measuring is that we will be embarrassed to have "bad numbers" and will then work harder to prove that we exercised or skipped dessert or lost weight.  But what the ceaseless measuring does is cause us to always be looking at ourselves and evaluating ourselves.

This is navel-gazing.
It's also stressful.
Neither of these contributes to health.

Furthermore, I noticed the effect of "if you measure it" when I first chose my health habits to track.  I thought I would choose meditation as one of my options.  It would be easy to [ahem] score well, seeing as how I already have established a habit (albeit a habit that is not as consistent as I'd like).  But you know what?  It really REALLY messed with my mind and my soul and my prayers.  Just being aware that I'd have to report the number of minutes each day?  [Shudder!!]  It was so creepy that I quit after a day and a half, and chose myself a different health habit.

Measuring made it worse.  A lot worse.  Not better.

Andrew found the same thing when he had to log his food for nutrition class.  Logging it changed what he ate.  For the worse, not the better. 

When Maggie first joined Curves, she was initially interested in weighing herself daily.  Not a good plan.  That's how people become overly caught up in the numbers instead of actual health and fitness.  Occasional measurements are fine.  But measuring too often is counterproductive.

In our society, nigh onto everybody was raised in a school system that tracked and measured every little thing.  Look how people LOVE to take those little tests on Facebook that measure personality type, or which famous actress you're like, or how many of these trivia facts do you know, or which state would best suit you.
I think we've developed a mentality that takes for granted "Measuring Makes It Better."  And now we're stuck with it.

Dementia or Delirium?

Delirium -- similar to dementia, but worse, and starts in a day or so instead of worsening over the course of weeks, months, or years.  May include hallucinations, agitation, severe confusion, dizziness and falling.

So come to find out, urinary tract infections are often misdiagnosed in the elderly.  Often the typical UTI symptoms are non-existent in the elderly or those with Parkinsons.  It's important for family and care-givers to recognize that "sudden-onset dementia" may be a sign of UTI.  Of course, it may be something else, and it's always important to figure out.  But UTI is one of those things that doesn't quickly come to mind as an explanation for Grandpa's sudden and severe confusion.

It Still Itches

Still fighting the poison ivy.  The rash has improved, but I keep breaking out in new patches.

What can I wash next?!

I've scrubbed the couch with Fels-Naphtha soap, let it dry, and then shampooed it regular-like.  I washed the cushion on my wooden chair.  I have washed blankets and sheets and pajamas and jeans and slips repeatedly (in Fels-Naphtha).  This morning I've had the bed sheets soaking in a strong F-N solution; I'm going to wear these sheets out with all the washing.

I washed the handles of all the outdoor tools that have been used in the last couple of weeks.  I soaked the garden gloves in F-N solution and washed them repeatedly.  I used a F-N solution on the door knobs, light switches, refrigerator doors, faucets, remote controls, etc.

I even washed the cat.  Poor Athena.

I need to spend more time sitting on the couch, reading and watching TV and resting, applying the astringent that dries up the sores and relieves some of the itch.  But I also need to figure out how I keep being re-exposed to the poison-ivy oil ... because it seems like it should be Taken Care Of by now!

Cooties

But it was misdiagnosed.

Itching began last Wednesday.  Rash started Thursday and kept getting worse.  Doctor visit on Friday with a diagnosis of mites (from cuddling the cat on Tuesday and Wednesday) or chiggers (from sitting in the grass on Tuesday) or scabies (huh?).  This [substitute] doctor didn't test because these problems are all treated with the same Rx-cream and the same washing regimen.

Followed instructions carefully.
Refrained from hugging and touching anybody at the rehearsal dinner.  I told them I had cooties and to stay away for their own protection.
Wore long sleeves and long skirt and high neckline for the wedding, continuing to be careful to not-hug or at least to avoid any skin contact. 
Rash continued to get worse.
Continued to wash, re-wash, and again re-wash sheets, towels, clothes, etc.
Itching kept me up at night.
Rash continued to spread.
Sores became oozy and weepy.

Returned to doctor.  This time it was past office-hours and we went to FastCare.  This doctor diagnosed a bad case of poison ivy.  She prescribed steroids and an astringent wash for the sores.  In two hours I could already see significant improvement!  I slept comfortably last night.  Sores are healing nicely and no longer spreading.

The chigger diagnosis not only delayed treatment for the poison ivy; the medicine for it also worsened the rash and spread the urushiol oil.  It's sad that I could've felt this good for the wedding if the rash had been correctly diagnosed the first time. But at least it's on the mend now.

Lazy? Or Sick?

I cannot scold myself into not being weak.

But that doesn't stop me from trying.  Dumb me.

It's so hard to know when you're being lazy because your body is weak and ill and fighting germies ... and when you're Just Being Lazy.  You try to give yourself a kick in the heinie and make yourself tackle that list of projects.  But then you don't bother to get out of bed in the morning, lying there to amuse yourself reading a story till far too late.  Or you plunk on the couch and watch television.  "Do something productive," you yell at yourself.  But you keep being unproductive. 

So you nap.
And you cough. 
And you blow your nose.

The only reason I can even begin to convince myself that it's not complete laziness on my part?  Last Sunday afternoon's fever.  And the fact that Katie's family has all the same symptoms.  When a 5-yr-old doesn't want to listen to stories but begs to be put to bed early, you know something besides laziness is plaguing her. 

Soft Foods

ice cream and sherbet
pudding and yogurt
mashed potatoes
fruit smoothies
scrambled or over-easy eggs

tomato soup
chicken-noodle soup
beef-noodle soup

pancakes
Dutch oven-pancakes
macaroni and cheese
tilapia in coconut-milk sauce

winter squash
pumpkin pie
applesauce
canned peaches
creamed spinach
banana
baked sweet potato
scalloped creamed-corn

soft bread (no millet or bulghar)
quiche
lentil soup
baked beans
chicken and dumplings
egg roll guts
burrito
fajita
cole slaw
tuna salad
bubble-n-squeak
muffins

spaghetti
stroganoff
meatloaf
pizza lentils
lasagna
chili
gumbo
crab with rotini
chicken pot pie
shepherd's pie
zucchini skillet
pulled beef in a barbecue sauce
hamburger-corn-noodle casserole
African peanut soup
teriyaki chicken and rice
red beans and rice
Mom's fried chicken

Curves

We have been at the Curves gym two-and-a-half months now.  It takes time.  We progressed past the point of not wanting to bother going.  (C'mon, really?  Audible verbal arguments with myself?  "I don't WANT to go today."  "You need to."  "No, I don't.  What difference does one day make?"  "For exercise, probably not much.  But making a habit?  Skipping just one day makes a huge difference in your mental commitment."  "Commitment schmamittment.  Bah humbug."  "Fetch your gym shoes and get moving, you lazy bum.")

Maggie finds Curves to be more fun than going for walks or using the Goodwill-purchased exercise equipment in our basement.  We were doggedly pushing each other to build this into a habit, a routine, a natural part of life.  And it was working ... until we skipped a week due to illness and another half-week due to holiday closures.  Now it's time to rebuild that habit.

Some critics say Curves is for old women.  Or for people out of shape.  Yeah?  So what's the problem?  I'm old.  And Maggie is out of shape.  We're doing something.

Maggie lost 3 pounds in the first three weeks.  Unfortunately, she gained back most of them with Halloween chocolate.  But she gained back "most."  Not all! And this morning we did our first weigh-and-measure since we joined, and she's down nearly 8#.  That's excellent news!

Touch

I've had one massage in my life, and I left more stressed and tense from it than I went in.  (I won't ever go back to that place -- that's for sure!)  The chatty masseuse, however, did expound upon something I agreed with: the need for people to be touched.  Physical contact is necessary to both physical and mental health.  The masseuse desired for people to believe in the importance of touch -- of course, she wants them to pay for her services. 

I thought it was sad sad sad that people have to pay a stranger to be touched.

Some friends linked to an article today about how everything is so over-sexed in our society that there can be no comfortable (and normal and healthy) platonic touch.  Innocent touching is assumed to have sexual overtones.  For example, occasionally at work my boss would like my dress and couldn't quite tell from looks alone what the fabric was made of.  So she asked permission to touch the sleeve, and apologized for even wanting to do that.  But of course it was okay for her to touch the fabric -- oftentimes that's the only way you can know what a fabric is.  It says something about society that she must ask, instead of just giving me a pat on the arm.

Not long ago, Gary and I watched The Major and the Minor.  Excellent movie from 1942!  Funny.  Sweet.  A young woman is short of cash and needs a train ticket.  She passes herself off as a 12-yr-old so that she can buy a half-price ticket.  A man on the train ends up watching out for this "child" and taking care of her.  She spends the night in his compartment.  When his fiancee finds out there is a girl with him, she's livid.  But then (and here's where the expectations and moral changes of the last 70 years are exposed) the fiancee learns that the "girl" is a 12-yr-old.  And of course everybody knows there would no hanky-panky with a child, nothing whatsoever indecent, and that the fiance was being gentlemanly to take care of a child and protect her. 

Oh, and it's not just touch.  Words are over-sexualized too.  It surprises me how a simple comment can be twisted into some sort of sleazy innuendo.   I hear it on tv shows and in real life.  Sometimes I say something and am met with eyebrow waggles & giggles in response.  I know that they've mixed in some innuendo.  Sometimes I can figure it out.  But sometimes I am clueless as to what they're insinuating.  In the name of "freedom" (sexual freedom, that is), we have actually become isolated, in what we say, in physical contact, and in the people we can hang out with.

Gall Bladder

(Notes to remind myself.  Nobody else will want to bother reading.)

Low-fat vegan diet for several days: no caffeine, no sugar, no gluten, no alcohol.  Raw fruits and veggies as much as possible.  Lots of cukes, beets, tomato, lemon juice.  Rice salad works well.

Day before and morning of cleanse:
No fat.  No, really -- NO fat: olives, avocado, coconut milk, nuts, crackers.


Day starting the cleanse:
2:00 p.m. -- begin fast.  Drink plenty of water because of the salt later.  Unsweetened herbal mint tea is okay too.
6:00 -- first potion (3/4 cup water or apple juice with 1 Tbsp epsom salts)
8:00 -- second epsom-salt potion; prepare another potion for morning and put by bed
9:15 or 9:30 -- get ready for bed, pj's and brush teeth
9:45 -- mix 3/4 cup olive oil with juice of 3 lemons or 2 grapefruit (1/2 or 3/4 cup juice); shake well in jar until thin and frothy; go to the bathroom
10:00 -- drink the "salad-dressing" potion; it may help to use a straw or to chase sips with honey; drink it quickly (within 5-10 minutes); immediately go to bed; do not clean up the kitchen; lie down on the right side in the fetal position and stay still for at least 20 minutes; okay to get up overnight to use bathroom if necessary

Day ending the cleanse:
6:00 a.m. or later -- another dose of epsom salts; go back to bed
8:00 (or 2 hours later) -- another dose of epsom salts (may skip if stomach is too nauseous), then relax for another two hours
10:00 (or after 2 or 3 trips to toilet) -- may begin juice
10:30 or 11:00 -- may have some fruit
12:00 -- may begin eating light food
supper -- simple and easily digestible food




Organic better.
Freshly juiced juices better than purchased.

Too Busy to Take Care of Yourself

Slowing down with meals, then, is symbolic of relaxing into our body, our career, our fears and desires, and anything life presents. It’s about granting ourselves the right to share in the simplicity of joyous moments on Earth. It’s about reclaiming our time, our dignity, and the sanctity of self-care.

My friend recently posted this quote

from Institute for the Psychology of Eating

Since we moved five years ago, our meals have changed drastically.  Part of it is getting home late from work, and part of it is having activities in the evening, and part of it is the lack of a dining room.  Whereas we used to sit down and eat meals together 10-18 times a week, moving cut that number in half.  When I started my job, it got worse.  And our commitment to mealtime continues to wane.  People grab food for themselves because we're not having mealtimes together.  When we are all together at a meal, too often we eat in the living room (with the tv on) because the kitchen table is too cluttered with mail and projects and other items.

"The sanctity of self-care."  I've been thinking about that ever since I saw the quote above.  "Sharing in the simplicity of joyous moments."  As we have fallen away from mealtimes together, I've noticed that it's harder to tend to other aspects of self-care: getting exercise, making sure my heels don't crack and split, flossing, etc.  

And what's worse is that this makes me less attuned to caring for the needs of others.  After all, if there's not enough time for me to take care of my hair, then I'm not motivated to help Maggie fix her hair all pretty and nice either.  If there's not enough time for me to sit on the Homedic massager to knead the knots out of my back, neither am I bothering to knead the knots out of Gary's shoulders and neck.

When we place little importance on mealtime---when we eat in the car, when we snatch bites of lunch while trying to work on a project, when we eat alone without setting the table for ourselves---does that cause callousness to grow in us?  Or maybe it's just a symptom of what's wrong.  I think a lot of health and happiness could be gained by going back to the mealtime practices we had before moving.  

But I don't know how to do it.  
Too many other things would go by the wayside.
And yet, should they, maybe?

Starting the Sit-Ups Habit

When we were kids and took the Presidential Fitness Test, there were a lot of areas in which I did not excel, and some "strengths" in which I had no strength.  But sit-ups?  I could do sit-ups.  "How many can you do?"  "How long will you give me?"  I did sit-ups until they told me to stop and go to my next class.  No biggie.

Decades pass.  The Child-of-Strong-Stomach-Muscles becomes the woman who can only do two or three (or maybe four!) sit-ups.

So when Anthea wrote about her attempt to start some new good habits, I thought about getting into shape.  Being a person who does well with lists and the Awesome Wonderful Reward of checking things off, I printed out two Don't Break the Chain calendars.

Calendar 1: Sit ups.  Ten per day.  Oh, the agony ....   But after 10 days of daily sit-ups, it was easy to do 7, and possible to do [gasp] more than 10.   So the next month's goal was twelve sit-ups.  The following month's goal will be 15 sit-ups daily.  Hey!  This is working!

Calendar 2:  Going for an exercise walk.  Not working so well.  If I realize at bedtime that I didn't fit in a walk, I'm not going to get dressed again and go out in the dark (and the cold -- brrrrr!) to earn my check mark.  (A dozen sit-ups is easier to squeeze in at the last minute.  I can see why Anthea set herself a goal of reading for just five minutes.)

Right now there are a gazillion ideas I have for habit-starting calendars.  But I don't have enough space to hang 'em all.  Or ... enough brain-power and will-power to obey the calendars.  So for now, just two, with hopes of making habits. 

The Couch of Recuperation

When you're sick, where do you head?  To the couch?  Or to your bed?

Maggie asked me once why Beaver Cleaver's mother would send him up to his bedroom when he was sick.  Similarly, watching Downton Abbey, we see people sent to their bedrooms when they are sick. 

But for us, it's the couch. 
When I was a kid, it was the couch. 

I think it's partly because the television is in the living room, where the couch is.  The tv helps keep a sicko entertained and quiet.  But that's not all.  If I had a tv in my bedroom, I'd still prefer to lollygag in the living room when ill. 

I don't want to be alone, tucked off in another room, when I'm sick.  I want to have my loved ones around.  Even if I am snoozing for much of the day.   And when others are sick, I want to go about many of my chores while still keeping an eye on the sick one, available to fetch things or help. 



(This should probably teach me something about the importance of sitting with people who are stuck in the hospital.)

Posture

Is it harder to stand up straight when you're tired and weary? 

I've been noticing people.  I can't tell if it's just my imagination, or if attitude really does show in a person's shoulder and posture.

Gary's Back

Three weeks ago Gary hurt his back by committing the wild and crazy act of [gasp!] setting a coffee cup on his desk.  After several doctor visits, four days of working from home, lots of drugs, and six days of being [self-]banned from driving, he began to improve. 

God answered our prayers and decreased Gary's pain, increased his mobility, and provided the above torture device equipment via Craigslist.  (Torture device:  look how red his face is!)  The doctor suggested borrowing an inversion table from somebody to see if it might help.  Finding nothing to borrow, we were thankful to find one on Craigslist the very next day for a great price and only a half-hour away.

The inversion table has helped tremendously.  Gary even mowed the lawn today!

We stumbled over the inversion table which sat smack-dab in the middle of the living room for over a week.  But now Gary needs it only once or twice a day (instead of 4+ times daily) and Gary's capable of walking up and down the stairs easily [woo hoo!]. So it was time to relegate the torture device to the dungeon basement.

This involved a massive rearrangement of the basement.  Bookshelves were moved.  (Argh!  That is always SO much work!!)  We dusted and vacuumed.  Hardest of all, I sorted through some stuff to pitch.  Ow, ow, owie!  It hurts to throw away perfectly good homeschooling software just because the programs are too obsolete to run on any computer we've got around here.  It hurts to throw out vcr tapes of movies I love; but who wants videotapes these days?  The garbage stack will be big this week.  The finished part of the basement is opened, neatened, put in order, and cleaned. 

And we can walk through the living room again.

Plan for Exercise?

Over the past week, I finally succumbed to the idea that we could (should?) join a gym.  Maggie needs exercise.  We're not managing to make it happen.  What if we joined the gym that's about a mile from the house?  No more "it's too hot to go for an exercise-walk" or "it's too cold" during winter or "it's too rainy" (which we haven't had ANY problem with this summer).

Curves requires a year-long contract.  Snap doesn't.  Snap is less than half the distance as Curves.  So we dropped by today to sign up.  But registration had to be online.  And I couldn't register Maggie for the one-month-trial because she wasn't old enough.  When I asked the local gym, they suggested getting a free trial for me and then bringing Maggie as my guest.  But that means we'd have to be there only during the hours they are staffed which (given my work hours) gives us only two afternoons a week.  Not exactly a realistic trial.  But maybe better than nothing?

Maggie begged to not join.  (She really likes following the rules to a T.  And this would've involved several exceptions to the rules.)  We finally decided we'd take another crack at exercising at home.  Walks will have to be in the morning before the temperature of the air becomes higher than body temperature.  Same for biking.  We checked out some Netflix instant-play exercises videos.  For the most part, they move too fast for us to figure out.  Move your arms how while you're doing what with that sliding dance step?! But time may help with that. 

We have to start small.  With achievable goals.  But it's such a long haul to see improvement ....

Exercise?

After reading Katie's blogpost the other day, extolling how much better she feels when she exercises, I remembered. I remembered what it was like before I started. I remembered what it was like when I had the energy to run two or three or five miles whenever I wanted. I remembered how my stamina waned when I had to stop the jogging. I keep trying to armtwist myself into returning to my exercise regimen, but there's just not the time for it. Today I woke up and figured that 10 minutes was better than nothing. (Right? Isn't it? I'm the queen of "if I can't do it perfectly, why bother doing it at all?" So I am insisting to myself that 10 minutes four or five times a week is better than nothing. I'm not sure I believe it, but it makes logical sense....)

Anyway, in the 60 minutes that passed from the time my little eyelids first fluttered open, I said my prayers, bundled up to go outside, jogged/walked a mile, returned home, showered, and dressed. Not bad. I don't think I can pull it off on days I open at work, but most days, this should be doable. Maggie too got up, exercised, showered, and dressed, all in time to leave for chapel. We both noticed how much quicker our minds woke up today.

Of course, by early evening we were yawning uncontrollably.

We'll work on that.

So Cold. So Tired.

The last week I've been freezing. It had been especially warm, so why the chills? I'm suspicious that the warmth at work might be making the 65-68° at home feel uncomfortable. I also suspect that my lack of daily outdoor exercise -- whether it's 25° or -10° -- has made me wussy.

Haven't been able to stay awake recently either. I was actually grateful for a big ol' problem at work earlier this week: it required my mind to stay aware and engaged at the time of day where I'd be snoozing on the couch were I at home.

With a calendar that looked exceedingly bare this week (woo hoo!) I had toyed with the idea of a visit in central Illinois, squeezed in between my days at work. But after a few afternoons of daily naps and being so so cold, my brain said, "You idiot, you're on the verge of getting sick. Don't drive ten hours. Stay home and get extra rest." So with sadness I dismissed the idea of visiting my mommy (who probably wasn't up to company this week anyhow).

After driving home from chapel this morning and watching cars fishtail all around me, maybe it's just as well that I didn't make the trip. The flurries forecast for today are no mere flurries.