Dropping that last 10 lbs

Sooo many strategies are available to drop that last ten pounds, I'm going to list a few that have worked (and if you are wondering why I need more than one, it's because I am always re-gaining that "last ten pounds," over time, and then forget how I've lost it in the first place).

1. Replace processed sugar with beet sugar. A good friend reminded me of this the other day, after I'd successfully gone 4 days without regular sugar. She kindly told me that one "must not live without sugar." Use this instead. It will help you drop about 1.5-2 pounds per week.
2. Add arm and leg weights to your daily activities, or exercise efforts. This is a no brainer. The material is soft and the weight manageable at 2 lbs for the wrists (one for each) and then 5 lb for the ankles. Sometimes I'll use this on the treadmill for at least 40 min to an hour. Alternatively, if I'm not hitting the cardio, I make a point to put them on for an hour while I'm moving around the house. It's burning extra calories and I don't have to think about it. The bonus is my arms and legs feel weightless when they are removed.



We call them "Scooby naps" in our house

1. **note on these--I've purchased and given away many types that DON'T work. The wrist ones that go around the thumbs are irritating because I want to be able to move my wrists and thumbs, wash my hands, or whatever. ignore those. Further, I don't like having the ones that go up to my elbows. They make me sweat. yuck. Last, the round bands that lack the adjustable Velcro means I can't adjust for a thick or thin wrist--the same goes for ankles. The link I put in was for ankles, but they are all the same-- and the selection ranges from 1- 10 depending on the brand.
3. Drink more water. About 4 wks ago, I plateaued. My trainer upped my water from 1 gallon to 1.5 gallons. No, it didn't make me crave salt. It just made me go to the bathroom more, but it also helped me shed another 2 pounds.
4. Add 1 lemon to the water, and 2 tablespoons of cranberry juice (natural and not from concentrate. Both are natural diuretics. Get the cranberry in the natural section, and make sure it's not from concentrate, no sugar added.
5. Get 8 hours of sleep. This is the final frontier, and very hard, but worth it. The body can't process and rejunivate. When I couldn't kick the last 10 pounds, it was because I was getting about 6 hours. When I was able to up it, all was well.

Appreciating the Bad Times

I crack open my journal and see it's been two months since my last entry. It's different than my blog. More personal. Full of details that won't see the light of day until I'm dead, if anyone cares to read it Still, I believe journals fill an important purpose- self reflection, paper to cry on. It's also unadulterated truth. While my dear readers have read about my thoughts and goings-on, there is a backstory...and it is this.

• I've been further from the Lord than I would have liked.
• I prayed to walk closer to Christ.
• Our dog developed t-cell lymphoma.
• My daughter started losing her hair.
• My movie project was beset by challenges.
• I got what I asked for: a true sign God loves me (for he chastens those He loves) so we may go through the refining process...e.g. humility, prayer, repentance, change etc)
• My dog (Daisy) had to be put down.
• Porsche had to get shots all over her head.
• For Mother's Day, Rog got me (us) a new puppy we named Trudie
• Porsche's hair is partially recovering, but she still needs more shots.
• My movie project completed its fundraising this last Monday.
• The last six weeks have been non-stop trials, including faith.

Is my faith perfected? No. It was strengthened, for the mantra I repeated over and over was "trust and faith" in the Lord. I found myself telling others of my philosophy when they asked how I was handling it.

"How can you say that?" asked one friend, implying that good things should happen to those who have faith.

Not so. God has known what was good for me then. Now. Tomorrow. Of all the hardships I've had in life, that seemed insurmountable at the time, each had a purpose-- a reason for being-- and from each one I learned much. I wouldn't take back the divorce, the financial ruin. None of it. I'm really grateful for knowing that bad things can produce really good outcomes. For instance...

• All I care about is the health of my children.
• I'm really grateful for a husband who will literally do anything for us.
• I didn't see or care or even respond to trivial things in the middle of a crisis. I should probably be more like than when all is well.
• I asked more about others during this time, and found myself listening a lot more. Also a trait I need to nurture.

When I replayed this to an acquaintance, he chastised me.

"Don't you know you should never, ever, ask to learn more or have your faith strengthened." He went on to say, essentially, 'you are asking for trouble.' Sure. I knew that might be an outcome, but that is part of having faith. Who knows what I need better than the person who created me? Next time, however, I may just wait until the end of summer.
 

Give me the high- mileage version, in cars and in men

It's 10:27 according to the clock on the office wall, and I sneak up behind Rog. The glow of the two adjacent computer screens give an ethereal look to his body, like an angelic being facing down a site with lots of red. I creep. I wonder. I sigh.

It's a Porsche site, and I'm thinking, "please, no more parts. No more parts," for we could feed an Etheopian village at this point for the money he's been dumping in this thing.

"Whatcha doin?" I ask, making sure it is absent sarcasm, irritation or any non-happy-time manner. I must have been successful, for he answered with a hint of defensiveness.

"Checking out values." He's going to sell it? I wonder (nay, hope). "It looks like value has really gone up." I'm immediately commodities trader on the floor in Chicago. Sell! Sell! (but I say nary a word outloud). He points out one similar to his own that's just shy of $70K. Not bad for a 20 year old car.

"But that's low miles," I point out, seeing the odometer at around 20,000 miles. He disabuses my notion.

"Any good mechanic will tell you that low miles on an older sportscar, particularly a Porsche, is bad. The (here he loses me) will need a complete overhaul and that's spendy." Apparently, cars need to be driven, not just looked at.

As I stood there, only slightly disappointed we weren't going to free up the third bay in the garage, I'm thinking that yes, I'd rather have a well-running, high mileage car than one that newer and/or, not broken in. This then, got me thinking about older men in general, and the wisdom that comes with age. There is a value in experiences, and perhaps this is what attracted me to older men when I was of dating age, which really didn't get going until my early twenties, because I was so gawky etc. What I found, however, was the mental experience was there, but the physical compatibility wasn't, and I'm not talking about bedroom activity. I'm talking about jetskiing, skiing, climbing--just a few of the activities I liked to do, yet weren't appealing to some of the older men who appealed to me. When I met my Colorado-born outdoors guy, who'd grown up dirt-poor and had many challenges to overcome on his way to achieving professional success, I knew that I'd had it all backwards. Rog was like a young, shiny-new model wrapped around an engine that's had a few hundred thousand miles on it. He ran great and had smooth skin to boot.

"I say you keep the one you have with more miles," I say, offering my unsolicited advice. The kinks have already been worked out. The engine overhauled. Less cost. Less risk. I pat him on the shoulder and leave, content in my own thought process, and he keeps staring at the screen, completely oblivious to my moment of clarity, wherein I found myself a bit more content with him, and with our relationship.


 

Another day, another pitbull puppy

f

The obvious sign: the bumps.

This started as a red mark so small that

we thought it was a bugbite.

Then it grew to the size of a quarter in a  matter of days.

 It wasn't a "mass cell" cancer,

rather, it was evidence of the lymphoma.

Our vet originally thought Daisy was going through

"puppy acne," a common occurrence in 'blue-haired' dogs,

such as great danes, wimeriners (sp?) pitbulls et all.

Two weeks ago daisy, our 8 month old blue haired pitbull was put down. She had t-cell lymphoma, which, as the canine pathologist said, was akin to having every part of your body burn from the inside out. In constant pain, she was literally trying to eat her skin off. Faced between drugging her up to the point where she stared into space drooling, perhaps seeing heffalumps and oozles, or seeing her knawing her legs off, we did the humane thing and sent her on her way.

Two weeks later, the tears had dried, and emptiness rang through the house when the girls were off to school. Mother's Day came, as did Rogs gift of a two month old black pitbull puppy I named Trudie. (As an aside, Rog named our first dog and our daughter named the second. My turn had finally come around, the fate of death spinning its wheel and landing on me).

Yesterday it's been a week, and Rog and I have marveled at the difference between a healthy puppy and a sick one. Since we had no idea, I figure others may be equally as clueless. Here is what we have noticed:



Putting Daisy down- the final moments of life

1. Barking. First dog whined like the baby she was when we put her in the kennel or were in the other room. Same with Trudie. The sick one, Daisy, never barked or whined. We bought it was a blessing- the pathologist said it likely her too much.







2. Growling. Playing tug of war elicits fun playful growling, that, if not managed properly, can actually be problematic later in a dogs life. However, daisy didn't do tug of war or growl. She dropped and was mellow. Again, we thought we got a laid back pitbull. With Trudie, we realize that there is no such thing.



Day 2. Trudie on Mom's pass-me-down-dog afgan

3. Fetch. Pitbulls are not alone in being interested in fetch, but one thing is owners really love is that pitties ate naturally inclined to play fetch and return it, as well as playing hide and seek. They are highly intelligent dogs and its fun to hide items and watch them go "in search of." Daisy was not down with this, nor did she have an attention span, even near the end.


I know it's wrong to dress a dog, but my type-A hard ***
husband went mushy on me and bought a friggin too-too

Contrast this with Trudie, who on day two, saw the toy in our hand, ran after it and brought it back. Again, a natural instinct.

Nothing heals the pain of loss like an all-consuming puppy

I could go on, but my thumbs don't type well, and I'm actually supposed to be watching my daughters dress rehearsal for Beauty and the Beast. There were other signs, although these were the most obvious- outside her wounds of course. Perhaps someone else will look for these items when in the process of selecting a dog.











Trudie at 2 months (she'd been with us one week). I know
my mother will vomit I had her on the breadboard, but honestly,she kept getting under my feet as I was in the kitchen, and I needed"just a second," to coral her.
She found a piece of apple and went at it.
 



Rotator cuffs and Romance

"Can you please pay attention? I'm trying to share my world with you."



Oh, the sexiness..,



I immediately snapped back to the present. I was, in fact, physically present, but my mind hand wandered to somewhere far more exciting than hearing him talk about a cam shaft, the rotator cuffs and what happens....well, I'm not sure what happens. It got blurry somewhere along the way, I think it was between the time he started pulling the metal items out of the box and explaining to me (in excruciating detail akin to a root canal), what each part did and what it was for. For really, what did it matter after he'd informed it was yet another two grand.

"When the engine is dropped, doing (this or that) is a few hundred bucks, but--"

"I know," I interrupted, "it will be $1,200 if we do it later." Quite honestly, I can't even dissect the conversations now, which one was a rotator, which one was a tube or a tire. In the end, the car should run, and that's all that matters. For car enthusiasts, this car is an old school Porsche turbo, 1995 vintage, and the heavy doors click, the engine rumbles, the tires are fat and the fin is wide. When oil leaks, it's spendy. When the muffler cracks, it's spendy. Really, when the wrong person farts in the car and leaves a stench, cleaning it's spendy.

But whatever. It was and is and always will be, Rog's dream car. Life is short. Keep the car. I have but one rule. Drive the **** thing. Don't let it sit and mold in the garage like a mummy that will take 4,000 years to be useful to someone.

I nod my head and give appropriately-timed grunts, but he saw my glassy, vacant-eye look.and he starts shoving the parts back into the box.

"I'm just doing what you said," Rog says as he sullenly puts back the parts. (e.g. get it running or get it gone, or something to that effect). In a last ditch attempt to mollify him, I draw upon a long, purposefully-forgotten image  of one of those car and driver magazine covers flashed in my head, and you know what I'm talking about. Some half-dressed girl with big calves and a Hooters crop-top t-shirt stretched over the hood like she's going to give an X-rated wax job. 

"Well," I drawled, putting my hand on his back. "If you intended this to get me rarin' to go, you succeeded." Of course I saw with the perfect combination of sincerity and come-hitherness. "After that explanation of how the camshaft lobes and rocker arms sit on the bearings, and that it has six rocker arms per camshaft, I can tell you that those aren't the only valves that are opening."

His mouth dropped open. His eyes popped wide. His 15 year-old boyish grin curls the corners of his lips skyward, and I detect an attitude of victory. He came. He communicated. He conquered. Most importantly, he shared his world and I actually listened,





Model Skin- get to the vitamins

"What have you done to your skin?" my friend Melanie, the hair and makeup artist for the studio asks me. I'm not sure what to say, as I'm trying to gauge if her question is of the good, it-looks-great-type, or if its the 'girl, you need a lot of sleep,' nature.

"You aren't so pasty and it looks-- fresh!."

Ahh. It's the vitamins, I tell her.

My model friend, who recently landed the contract for Coke in Asia, and regularly appears in fitness magazine, has great skin, and not just on her face- her whole body. She looks polished, even on her arms, which is not an easy thing to pull off. About 6 wks ago, I bit the bullet and started training with her (she's a nutritionist and has a lot of degrees- modeling paid her way through college), she revealed to me what I will now reveal to you---for free. Love that!

When I convey my newfound wisdom to Rog, he walks me to our pill shelf in the kitchen, opens it up, and shows me every. single. item. GRR.

"Been doing this for years for hockey," he says, and pulls them out in the proper order. What the..?? I seethe of course, but am inwardly thankful I don't have to spend the money out of my grocery budget. No wonder Rog has the gluteous maximus fanny (here, the whole time, I thought it was the workout).

Pre-workout: (1 hour, ideally)

• BCAA (pills, not the powder)
• Vit D and A

Post workout: (within 30 min, you must eat and take the following)-

• Glutamine (1 tsp)
• Glucosamine (1 tsp)

*why within 30 minutes? Because the muscles need to repair themselves and this requires a little help. The food if for fuel and metabolism.

Evening

• Zinc
• Magnesium

A few tips:

• Don't take all at once. It defeats the purpose. you need pre and post workout, then recuperation at night when you are done exercising. the other reason is that it's an overload on your stomach and it might come right back up.
• Don't take combination vitamins. Many grocery stores sell vitamins, but they are combo. You don't want that (and for D and A, its impossible anyway).
• The Glutamine and Glucosamine powders are absorbed faster. I tend to put both in a protein smoothie for post workout.

 

Stop the vomiting and pooping: homemade pedialyte

There I was, crouched in the shower, suffering from vomiting seizures the likes that had not been seen in...well...since my last dog died, all due to the fact that my 8-month old puppy Daisy had to be put down, and Rog dares peek his head around the corner.

"You need anything?" He's in more misery than I am, because you see, men hate to be helpless. I've come to believe that a man would rather lose his hee-haw truck or get a medication-free root canal than watch his wife be in pain.

"Yes," I croaked. "Pedialyte."

This is my magic recovery drink, the only thing my stomach will retain after a spout of vomiting. In this case, it was about 6 hours on an off, through to dry-heaves and blood. Not good. When Rog tells me we are out, I block out his words and they become one with the falling water.

Sometime later, he comes back in (I hadn't noticed he'd left) and asks me to look up. I see a gallon jug full of water that looks yellowish-orange.

"I made my homebrew pedialyte," he proudly announces, with the hope-infused voice that expresses his sincere desire that all my grief over losing the second dog in less than a year will dissipate when I drink his concoction. "I got it off the World Health Organization site," he continued.

Later, when I have a glass of ice (I must have ice to crunch on this stuff) I take a sip. It wasn't bad. In fact, it lacked the "syrupy" nature of the real thing, and I got it down a lot easier because it wasn't so sweet. When I tell Rog this, he is clearly pleased with his efforts (the survivalist-in-training that he thinks he is), and he tells me that another recipe exists that is even more bare bones "for people who really are in the desert).

Ok then. For all you folks who will get sick, are sick or just believe in experimenting, here's the recipe. I couldn't actually find it off the WHO site, but Rog told me what was in it, so I went to several recipe sites. Rog said he substituted the packet of Cool-aid with 1/4 cup orange juice. walla! If only the grief could go away as easy as the vomiting.

INGREDIENTS:

4 cups water
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons sugar
1/2 packet Sugar-Free Kool-Aid (optional)- sub with 1/4 cup orange juice

DIRECTIONS:

Mix all until disolved.

Store in the refrigerator. Throw away any remaining after 1 week. You can also freeze some in ice cubes to use later, or keep drinks cold.

Use instead of juice or milk for diarrhea, vomiting, and fever. Children under 3 months old should go directly to the doctor if they have any of these symptoms.