Movin' on up

Lala Land has moved!

I planned to do this a little more gradually, but it was all so easy - I just took the plunge and did it! I've moved hosting of Lala Land from Blogger to Wordpress.

Nothing bad to say about Blogger, hell I've been using this same platform since 2005! I'ts just that Wordpress offers so many more whistles and bells!

So abra-cadabra!

Click here

or here

or here

http://lalaslalaland.wordpress.com/

See ya there!

Feathers, Beads, Food and Fun

In a couple of weeks, Downtown Dad and I will be taking a trip to Lake Charles, Louisiana to decorate and ride on floats wearing feathers and throwing beads.  We will also be eating our weight in crawfish and gumbo, and chasing a chicken through the back roads on horseback. 

Why would a couple of yankee Midwesterners be doing that you ask? Well, to the Cajuns of Southwest Louisiana, it's obvious - Mardi Gras!

I know what you're thinking.  You're picturing the New Orleans version of Carnivale.  The one where millions of drunk and disorderly people jam Bourbon Street, and the overhanging balconies in various states of undress.  Well, not that there won't be a fair amount of drinking, and a maybe a little disorder, but the best part about celebrating Mardi Gras in Lake Charles is that it is the Cajun version, and therefore it has a family friendly atmosphere.  Our kids are as much a part of the celebration as we are.

1999

Our relationship with the Krewe de Charlie Sioux started many years ago, when we lived in Sioux City, Iowa.  A sister city relationship was established which married parts of each city's name and each region's culture.  Representative Sioux Cityans travel to Lake Charles each year to take part in and experience the lavish costumes and pageantry during Mardi Gras, then in July, a whole cadre of Cajuns show up in Sioux City to put on a glittery feathery gala, followed by a bead pelting parade, ending with regional free Saturday in the Park concert. It's magical.

The Krewe de Charlie Sioux is one of over 50  Krewes licensed and registered with the City of Lake Charles. A Krewe elects royalty - a king and queen and at least 2 dukes and 2 duchesses, who preside over the meetings, and during the week leading up to Fat Tuesday, take part in several galas, and parades wearing the lavish costume and headpiece (some weighing 50 pounds or more!) designed especially for them according to that year's theme.  Downtown Dad and I, while we haven't been King and Queen, have each had a chance to be Duke and Duchess.  

We've even added some uniquely upper Midwest touches of our own by bringing Viking horn helmets into the mix.  They were quickly adopted and dubbed bead catchers, allowing the wearer to use both hands for - what else - drinking!

New for DD and me this year will be a Cajun Chicken Run. The costume for this event is more humble and native than for the galas and parades, but still requires singing, dancing and of course drinking! This is a traditional rural Mardi Gras celebration, based on begging rituals - like trick or treating, except you don't beg for candy, you beg for gumbo ingredients, namely a live chicken, which apparently must be chased and caught. Don't worry, even though it's fate used to be the gumbo pot once caught, nowadays the chicken's role is mostly symbolic. 

Over the years, we've established some deep friendships with the ever-changing cast of characters that make up our Krewe. We've also added some colorful terms to our vocabulary

• Pinch tail and suck head - to eat a crawfish Cajun style
• Mudbugs - another name for crawfish
• Throw me something mister - what you yell when you watch a parade
• Feather up - to prepare and be strapped into your Gala costume
• Coonass - the affectionate name for a Cajun to call another Cajun
• Boudin (boo dan) - hot spicy pork mixed with rice, stuffed in a sausage casing
• Chachere (sash er ay) - The Tony Chachere Cajun seasoning that's on everything  
• Laissez les bon temps rouler - (lay zay bon tom roolay) Let the good times roll!

Feathers, beads, fabulous food and fun can only mean one thing - Mardi Gras in Lake Charles!
Laissez les bon temps rouler!!!

We Have A Gym Membership

Back in the early eighties, fruit smashing comedian Gallagher added a bit to his routine that reflected how his life had changed since becoming a father.  He carried a diaper-clad anchor tied around his waist with a rope, and every time he came to a point in his story where someone would invite him to do something or go somewhere - he would throw the heavy anchor to the floor and respond morosely, "I'd love to, but ... we have a baby. We can't EVER go out AGAIN."

Besides being hell on the stages where he performed, (but what part of his act wasn't?) the anchor was a great literal metaphor.

I'm feeling a lot like Gallagher since being a part of the Healthy Lifestyle program. I know that eating better and being more active have changed my life for the better. The eating healthy part, more fruits and vegetables (Sledge-o-matic optional) has been a great and easy transition, resulting in a 20 pound weigh loss. But if I want to lose the remaining 20 pounds, the terrible awful truth is, I'm going to have to work it off.

When it comes right down to working out - I still feel like I'm dragging an anchor, or serving out the community service portion of a prison sentence when I schedule time with my personal trainer. Even though he is cute, that only goes so far in providing motivation. I've only got three more months left in my contract with him, after that, I'm going to have to find a reason to go there willingly on my own.

If only the rest of my family would join me in this. Things would be different.  If only I had support peer pressure encouragement from the people I love so I could work in working out.  I would become an energetic, muscular version of myself, with Michelle Obama's arms, and Syd Charisse's legs.  I'd happily bound through the gym doors, dressed in my stylish Lululemon yoga pants, my water bottle in hand, ready to take my sluggish metabolism to dizzying heights.....

ahem...

Who am I kidding? The truth is, after working all day, I'd much rather head to the local pub, or park my butt on the couch with a glass of wine. Relieving my frustrations on a treadmill, or some weight machine, while it may be a healthier option, is not my idea of relaxing, and just isn't the first thing that springs to mind. (I grant you the glaringly obvious conclusion is, that's how I got to where I am.) But I don't do it that often, or to excess - usually.

But, much to my horror surprise, for Christmas, in response to my nagging begging request (did I actually say all those things out loud?!?) Downtown Dad got the family a gym membership! And they are using it! Almost daily, when I come home from work, or worse - on the weekend - one or more of my family members will come bounding toward me in full work out regalia, yank the wine glass out of my hand and drag me to the dreaded gym - like it's fun or something.

I guess from now on, when my friends invite me to go somewhere, or do something, I'll have to shake my head and reply morosely, "I'd love to, but ... we have a GYM MEMBERSHIP. We can't EVER go out AGAIN."

The Silken Tent

It comforts me to imagine that once they've passed, our mothers' memories exist as a protective silken tent, woven of their lives.

In time, once our tears have dried, each tent sways slightly in response to the wind of our thoughts. They are not - or are no longer - tense or tired, but instead relaxed, comfortable to be around.

The tent's pole, is its strength, backbone, character, and firmness, perhaps the lessons she has taught us. But she is not - or is no longer - dogmatic or insistent.

Rather, grounded in part by her deep investment in friends, family, and community, she is gently bound in our memories of her.

The Silken Tent

by Robert Frost

She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when the sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To every thing on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.

__________________
Visit Rosemary's Pink Saturday

I'm all out of Mothers

It's official, I'm all out of Mothers.  Birth, in-law, out-law, ex and current.

Last year, in March, my own mother passed away after a long, sad journey with Alzheimers. I should say her body passed away - the mother I knew, and who knew me had been gone for quite some time.  In September, my ex-husband's mother passed away - apparently cracking wise until the end. I loved that feisty old broad.

Yesterday we got the news that Downtown Dad's mom, Helen, had passed suddenly, although not unexpectedly. As with my mom, the Helen we knew had left us a couple of years ago.

Certainly this is a time of transition for our family, and though it is a sad one, it has been a long time coming.  We've had plenty of time to process this, but you just never know how you'll feel until it happens. I have to admit though, to a certain sense of relief along with the sadness. (accompanied by a heapin' helpin' of guilt for feeling that relief) But like I said, this has been a long time coming.

In processing through this, it occurs to me that mothers, or mother figures, in addition to being a key relationship in our lives, also represent safety and comfort in an iconic way.  As if having lost their presence in the world, we are somehow more exposed to danger.  Not any tangible danger, but the misty, vague kind of danger that is the stuff of childhood nightmares.

...or maybe, just maybe, its the excitement and fear of having to stand on your own for the first time.

Relating everything as I do, to Disney movies, and always looking for a silver lining - I started thinking that mothers represent a comforting, safe theme in movies and stories too.  And heroes, especially Disney heroes hardly ever have a mother!  Think about it...

• Pinocchio - no mother.
• Peter Pan - no mother.
• The Sword in the Stone - Wart has no parents.
• The Rescuers - Penny is an orphan
• Tron Legacy - Sam Flynn - no mother. 
• The Great Mouse Detective - Olivia Flaversham - no mother.
• Beauty and the Beast - Belle - no mother
• Aladdin - orphan. Jasmine - no mother
• Pocahontas - no mother
• Pirates of the Caribbean - Elizabeth, Jack and Will - no mother.
• The Little Mermaid - Ariel no mother
• Bambi - Mother killed by a gunshot.
• The Fox and the Hound - Tod - Mother killed by a gunshot.
• Finding Nemo - Mother killed by barracuda 

I think, in fiction, and maybe in real life too, heroes who participate in epic journeys and adventures have to learn, grow, and stand on their own without a parent to provide guidance. The death or absence of a mother or guidance figure, brings this point to light, and creates the tension or drama that makes things interesting.

Could it be that by removing our sources of comfort and safety, some kind of drama or adventure for would-be heroes Lala and Downtown Dad is about to begin, as we are forced to confront the challenges of 2013 alone?

Tune in next time to find out!

Resolute!

Hello 2013!  OK, well I guess I'm gonna have to stick with what I told you I'd do then?

Sigh.

Demotivated

I'm cleaning out my emotional closet - so to speak - with these last few posts.
I'm writing small snippets about big things that are a negative force in my life, in the hopes that this will clear the way for more positive posts in the coming new year.  

I've made great progress, though most of it is psychological rather than physical during the past 9 months of my 13 month Healthy Lifestyle journey.

I've only lost 20 pounds... I was hoping I could say 25, because that would be halfway to my goal of losing 60 pounds, but 20 it is, and 20 it stays.

I have established regular physical activity a few times a week as a norm in my life.  This is up significantly from NO physical activity!

I've all but eliminated pop, diet or otherwise from my life, and from that of my family - which I consider a great achievement.

I understand the role that food logging plays when you are trying to lose weight.  I don't do it regularly, but it really helps when I do.

The combination of weight loss, eating better, healthier food and smaller portions, and increased exercise has greatly improved many of the things that were causing my physical pain.  My knees do not hurt anymore.  My joints ache sometimes, but much less than they used to.  My hot flashes and menopausal symptoms have eased quite a bit, and most of those I can trace back to over-drinking wine.  I haven't improved much on that, but I think I need to hang on to at least one vice to keep me human!

So what is so negative about that you ask?  Well, nothing.  It's just the counseling aspect of this program that has me grinding my teeth.

The three of us who are in this particular group meet every other week with a weight loss counselor.  I knew when I started this that I was by far the smallest one in the group, with the smallest amount of weight to lose - by at least 100 pounds. But I hadn't been able to do it on my own, so at first, I felt like I could fit in.  And I did, for a while.  But when the psychological issues they had from being heavy all their lives, started to come out, I started to sense a bit of resentment from them.

This all came to a head at one of our bi-monthly meetings, after I'd obligingly answered the usual question of "What were some of your wins since we last met?"  I'd expressed my usual frustration at how slowly I was losing, when the guy member of our trio snapped at me "What the hell is it you want? You're thin and fit, and healthy.  I'd give anything to be your weight, and you are not happy with it."  The girl member then said, "Yeah, I think  you've won already."  (like this was a competition or something).  I absolutely didn't know what to say or how to react.  The counselor asked how that made me feel, and I wanted to punch her in the throat. This was exactly what I told her I was afraid of when I had my initial session with her.  I wondered if I would be antagonistic, or demotivating to the others.  She assured me that I wouldn't.

Right.

Now, while I'm feeling good about the program, my progress, and the things I've learned - I'm totally uncomfortable and afraid to return to any of these group sessions.

Vindication

I'm cleaning out my emotional closet - so to speak - on these last few days of 2012.
I'm writing small snippets about big things that are a negative force in my life, in the hopes that this will clear the way for more positive posts in the coming new year.  

fam·i·ly

[fam-uh-lee, fam-lee] noun

All those persons considered as descendants of a common progenitor

Lately, it seems popular opinion has come to consider family as our most important institution.

But think of your own family. You play several different roles within it, and each person in it plays several different roles.  Son, Father, Brother.  Daughter, Mother, Sister.  Etc. Etc. Etc.
  
You are, in effect, many separate people, in a relationship with many different people, all of whom have differing interpretations of how, or WHO the others are, or should be.

Even with rules, laws and institutions in place to keep things on track, this is potentially a recipe for disaster.

I found out last year around this time that my own lifelong supposedly unfounded sense of mistrust, and fears about my father, were in fact, founded.

I write this here and now, mostly as backstory, so that I can link to it someday when I'm ready to write more deeply.  

Without going into too much detail, suffice it to say that my two older half sisters, daughters of my father and his first wife, twenty odd years older than my full sister and I, had been carrying a dark secret between them since before the two of us were born.  They chose the night after our Thanksgiving family reunion last year, once they had seen for themselves that our mother's Alzheimers had progressed to the point where she could no longer comprehend or communicate, to share this dark secret with us.

The funny thing is, that knowing as we do now, or not knowing as we did, just a few short minutes beforehand, really doesn't make any difference.  

I thought it would.  I was proven right all along about this man I never trusted, or respected. I was vindicated for all of the times I didn't show up for gatherings, or picked the company of my chosen family, my friends, over the ones who happened to be descendants of a common progenitor. 

But vindication, and the truth, as cleansing and freeing as they were, made absolutely no difference - that night, nor any night since then.

Sharper than a serpent's tooth

I'm cleaning out my emotional closet - so to speak - these last few days of 2012.
I'm writing small snippets about big things that are a negative force in my life, in the hopes that this will clear the way for more positive posts in the coming new year.  

I thought by using a quote from Shakespeare as the title, that it would make this post seem more literary, but I am just going to have to face the fact that it is a rant - pure and simple.

The thing Shakespeare is comparing to a serpents tooth, is a thankless child.

We all can relate to that.  I'll freely admit that all three of my children have been thankless to some degree at varying intervals. But this is about my oldest child, who, at 30something, really only qualifies as a child in the genetic sense.

He has suffered with some form of anxiety, depression, insomnia or addiction for the past 10 years, and due to a recent series of setbacks, seems to be teetering on the edge of a scary dark place.  In the past, I've been able to reach him, and cajole, guilt, shove, drag him back into what I only know as normal life. I don't know what normal is to him any more.

He's been a server at an upscale restaurant for the past nine years, but it recently changed ownership and he quit.  He's drifted from server job to server job each one worse, and for less pay, over the last three months.  Now he's under employed, and underpaid and has had to borrow money from us every month.  He lives in a hovel of an apartment with a roommate that hates him. He gave in to a shopping addiction prior to the job changes and spent all of his savings, and he has no health insurance.  He's never been on any form of antidepressant, and believes that sadness and loneliness is his lot in life.

Now, I'm a fixer. I'm also an eternal optimist.  I admit that I don't understand depression, although I'm trying.  I'm also trying to fix him.  It is my opinion that if he could get on some kind of assistance program and get the right medication, it would be a step in the right direction.  But he won't apply for the assistance, he thinks it is "beneath" him.  He also won't go to a doctor or anyone who might be able to provide some relief in the form of counseling, or a prescription.

I also have a plan B.  If he could get a full time job with benefits, he wouldn't have to apply for assistance, and he could just get the help he needs through his own insurance. There happens to be a job opening at the hospital I work for.  Full time with benefits. Its even the hours he's used to -  late afternoon into the evening. But again, he refuses to apply for it.  He thinks if he moves to Seattle, where his dad lives that everything will be better.  Fresh start.

I can understand needing to start over, but realistically, it's a more expensive economy there, with higher unemployment than our tiny little burg.  I'm honestly afraid he will be homeless if he does that.

I'm at my wit's end.  I can't listen to him complain about being tired and hungry, and hating the abuse he gets from where he works and where he lives, without doing something to FIX IT! I know I'm pushing him farther away with my constant suggestions, and damn positive attitude. I also know I'm just about the only "friend" he has left.

Am I enabling him by loaning him money?  Am I making things worse by suggesting ways to make his life better?  Or am I not being forceful or tough enough?  Is this the point where an intervention is necessary? Should I just let him go?

Twitter NO!

So in case anyone is considering that whole "live Tweeting" thing. Let me just tell you it was a big bust.

There were a total of 22 tweets with my hashtag of #Linda55.  5 from some Spanish speaking chick wanting to be my BFF and 4 more from some Spanish speaking guy wearing a Santa suit. WTF?

The rest of the Tweets were between @MaxKringen and me mostly discussing whether or not @WilliamShatner would Tweet me a happy birthday wish. (He did not).

I much prefer either Blogging, if I have a lot of words to use to say something, or Facebook, if I have less words.  For the record, I hate trying to keep everything to 40 characters.

Twitter is for the birds, or the kids.

Perhaps, if the Mayans were right...

Perhaps, if the Mayans were right, in 15 days the world will come to an end.

Maybe.

The only thing I know for sure is that tomorrow is my birthday.

My Sammy Hagar* Birthday.

(*I originally and erroneously had Van Halen. Edit credit goes solely to Small Town Me for her distinct and loyal devotion to the Red Rocker)

I Can't Drive 55.

In honor of that, and in case the world does come crashing to a halt, I do NOT want to regret a single thing. So I am throwing caution to the wind this year.

I am going to LIVE TWEET MY BIRTHDAY.

Yup. Hashtag and everything.

#Linda55

If any of you kids do "The Twitter," you can follow along and everything @Lindalla!

There will be pictures, and jokes, and questions, and activities, and guest tweets, and trivia, with special tweets at 5:55 and 11:11 am and pm.

I'm not quite sure how all this is going to work, but I have full assurance from my digital pal and co-hort @MaxKringen that this will be fun!

I'm going to promote this here, and on Facebook, and of course Twitter, just like I'm some kind of celebrity or something. Please respond, or comment, 'cause if the world does come to an end in 15 days, c'mon, what do ya have to lose?

The one where I dream about a new kitchen....

About this time in 2005, after 3 months of incessant pleading cajoling, I had finally bamboozled  convinced Downtown Dad to move into the house we presently live in.

Yes, it WAS winter, and three weeks before Christmas.

No, we HADN'T sold the house we lived in at the time.

Why YES, my sister, her two children, and my wheelchair-bound mother were coming to visit for a week over the holiday.   ....why do you ask?

It was a great house - and I didn't want to let it get away.  While nobody in their right mind would have bought it anyway it was not decorated in the most current style, it has "good bones" as they say.  And  it has served us well, through that Christmas, and many others, as well as through our kids' teenage years with theatre parties, and graduation parties, and gatherings, and all manner of things that a house goes through. But it's beginning to show the wear and tear.

Downtown Dad and I decided that 2013 is the year that we give ourselves a little love. We're gonna start with the kitchen.

What follows are some "before" shots of the kitchen which is between what we call a "great room" and another tiny square room with a mirrored wall, that has little purpose, but is faced in such a way as to have the most lovely view of the sunrise in the morning.

The plan is to punch through to the square room, connecting it to the kitchen with a long island countertop.

Plans will change and evolve.  But I wanted to start with the befores, before anything started!

1980s fridge. I am tempted to paint it gold and bedazzle it with plastic jewels, then haul it to the curb and see who takes this treasure home. 

1980s dishwasher.  Hasn't worked since we moved in.

Ooooh look at all the nice wood!  See how it goes all the way to the ceiling!  ...Ugh.

You're looking into the "great room." It was added on by the original owner.  They apparently didn't know about insulation.  You can almost ice skate on the floor in the winter.  Yay.

Formica counter tops. I wish you could see them in all their undulating detail. 

1980s Jenn Air range oven with 4 electric burners. 1 works.  The oven  works really well on the right side, not so well on the left side. Oh, and that famous Air, of Jenn Air? Doesn't work.

Worst part of the layout of this kitchen. Awkward L shaped bump out.

Fun fact, we recently pulled down the green checked wall paper that used to cover these walls. Cool huh?

Look, there's Skimbleshanks, our kitty!

And we're back, full circle, to the fridge.  Let's move on into the square room with the heinous wall of mirrors shall we?

To your right, is where we want to blow out the wall and put an island counter, opening up into the weird little room you're about to see. 

This is to your left - the mirror wall - reflecting me.

Side note.  I love this wall.  The picture is a pencil drawing Downtown Dad drew himself of Tasha, his first Samoyed.  

This is looking into the living room beyond.

A slight turn to the right.

Further to the right.  A lovely view of my glass table and matching glass lamp.  Never could figure out what to do with that back wall.  That's the one we're going to blow out to the kitchen.

Looking toward the kitchen into the dreaded mirror wall.

Again, into the mirror.

This is a little dark, but looking from the soon to be blown out wall, into the living room.

That is all.  I hope you enjoyed my before tour.  This was also literally 10 minutes before the boxes of Christmas decorations came up from the basement!

Either you've got it or you don't

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, I'm following along a path I've laid out, writing about topics that interest me.  Today's topic is probably my favorite - Customer Service - and as the title suggests, I would argue that either you've got it, or you don't, there is no in between.

I got all excited to write something inspirational about customer service. I thought about it all day, hoping something would dawn on me.  I searched all kinds of terms, and I found all kinds of new customer experience "thought leaders" to follow on Twitter, but nothing ever surfaced that didn't seem to be preaching to me.

The best thing that I found is what I will share with you - a link to a website with 11 great (and short) customer service stories.  Enjoy!

Write. Then write some more.

OK, I failed Na-No-Wri-Mo.

Not only failed it.  I didn't even make it past the 2nd day!  But, for some reason the crazy optimist in me kept the NaNo banner on my Facebook page up... as if I could somehow....

I still want to write.  I still want to tell stories.

When I read something someone else has written and think to myself  "I could do better than that." The fact is, they've already done better than me, because they've written, and I haven't.

And still, storytelling calls to me...

But, I need structure. If not structure, at least a map. Lately, I've been trying to follow a list I've made of the things that interest me. I'm trying to focus each day on one of those topics and blog about it.  Today's topic to focus on was blog/writing. I happened to open what I thought was a spam email,

And I found Storylane

"Storylane works like a blogging platform but is social from the ground up. Your content can be categorized by you and then discovered by our fast growing community. Storylane can breathe new life into the content you created for your old blog and hopefully connect you with people, places, and ideas that can add value and meaning to your life."

OK, add meaning to my life?  I'm not sure I buy that.  But, I was intrigued enough to sign up. And, like the marketing piece on their writing page says:

"If the blank page excites you like nothing else, if you always turn a word twice around before putting it down, if you've ever re-written something twenty times, this is the place for you."

What the heck - it's a start.

Learning, and Inspiration Comes in Threes

Bill Clinton, Joe Thiesmann, and Abraham Lincoln.

An interesting trilogy.

On the surface, they don't have much in common.  A couple of former presidents, all famous, all very inspirational.

And I was lucky enough to meet all three within 30 days.

(OK, I know, Lincoln is dead, but through the magic and the teamwork of another unlikely and interesting trilogy, Doris Kearns Goodwin, Daniel Day Lewis and Steven Allan Spielberg, (since we're going with middle names here) - Lincoln has recently been resurrected.)

I met Bill Clinton at a rally here in North Dakota for Heidi Heitkamp. (OK, I didn't actually meet him. I was, however standing next to Downtown Dad, who did get a handshake and a fist bump as a result of my waving like a madwoman antics, so I think here, among friends I can say I met him.)

Clinton's speech was like a great concert.  He doesn't talk TO the audience, he talks WITH you. At a time when I was troubled by the great conflict between the two parties, point by point, he very respectfully and convincingly explained the opposing messages as only a former president with a deep understanding of policy and politics could. 

I met Joe Theismann at a Chamber of Commerce Luncheon called Voices of Vision. I honestly didn't want to go. All I knew was that this big lunk was a quarterback and he supplied me with the grossest moment I'd ever seen when his leg was broken on live TV. And I don't even watch sports, OK, I was watching THAT game in 1985 for some reason.  

This guy had my attention.  I'm pretty sure this is what they mean when people talk about "locker room speeches."  They are loud.  But in a good way.  Theismann's speech was like a rock concert. I was a little surprised that this jock knew so much about corporate politics. At a time when my department is in the midst of a reorganization, I found some real inspirational ideals to hold on to. In the end, I guess it really is all about teamwork. 

My meeting with Lincoln was a little different.  A little more personal.  It was in the telegraph office where he's about to send a message to General Grant. The setting of this scene is pitch perfect. Almost a metaphor in itself.  It opens with him sitting there, hat in hand, the two telegraph operators waiting for him to tell them what to transmit, -- leaning toward him -- as if to say "listen, something important is going to happen here!" 

Lincoln then muses half to himself and half to the boys about Euclid's theory of Equality.  He says things that are equal to the same thing are equal to each other. He says Euclid calls that a self evident truth. Then,  appearing to make a mental note about that he continues on about equality, and self evident truths. It's a beautiful scene.

These three men's ability to whittle down complex issues to one key principle, or a central idea, directly spoke to me, and inspired me this past month.  

What has inspired you?

Veggie Turkey Soup with Basil Ricotta Dumplings

With so many thanksgiving leftovers still lingering in the fridge, I was feeling the need for something that would bring them all together and this soup is just the ticket.

Light, yet comforting herb flecked ricotta dumplings distinguish this turkey soup from the thousands of others simmering on stoves across the country this weekend.

2 leftover turkey legs plus 2 cups leftover sliced turkey
2 leeks chopped
3 carrots chopped
1 onion chopped
2 cups chicken stock
2 cups water
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 pound green beans
1 can stewed tomatoes
Basil Ricotta Dumplings (recipe below)

In a large frying pan saute the leeks, carrots, onion and green beans in the olive oil until tender. Add the stewed tomatoes.

In a large soup pot pour together the stock and water, add to that the veggie mixture, the turkey legs, and the  sliced turkey.  Bring to a boil. Lower heat to simmer, cover and cook for 20 minutes. Remove meat from turkey legs, and discard bones.

Make the Dumplings

1 cup grated Parmeasan ceese
1 cup ricotta cheese
1/2 cup flour
1 lightly beaten egg
3 tablespoons minced fresh basil
liberal amount of ground pepper
salt to taste

Combine the cheeses, flour, egg, basil, salt and pepper until smooth, drop by heaping spoonfulls onto the simmering soup. Cover and cook about 6 to 8 minutes.

Halfway to Goal

9/16/2012-54-5'4"-166-28-Ecstatic

I have now reached the halfway point in my 13 month Healthy Lifestyle weight loss program.  As you can see from the top line - I have officially almost lost 20 pounds.  And honestly, given the day, and time, and what I'm wearing... there have been days where I am actually down to 163 which is a full 20 pounds less than what I weighed at my highest ever point.

I also think there is a noticeable difference in my appearance.

It is important to me to point out that this has not been an easy journey.  I've ramped up my physical activity from practically nothing, to letting a personal trainer kick my ass for an hour twice a week.  I've changed my eating habits to include more vegetables than I ever thought possible.  I've realized that while I was never in the morbidly obese, or dangerously overweight zone, I did qualify for the Sanford program, which forced me to acknowledge that my BMI firmly put me in the Obese category.

And still, with all of this effort, it has taken me from the end of March to now in mid-September to achieve a 20 pound weight loss. The two other  people who are in my group have lost probably twice what I've lost.  Granted, they probably had twice what I have to lose.

But I couldn't seem to break that 10 pound loss threshold. No matter how much I worked out, no matter how much or how little I ate... I always hovered at the 175 mark.  My dietitian suggested that I increase the amount of vegetables I was eating.  That knocked my weight down a solid 2 to 3 pounds, but there it stayed.

Finally, the managing physician suggested that I try a medication that would help give my metabolism a "kick start."  I was all for it, I mean honestly, legitimate prescribed speed?  Yes please. I have to add that the dietitian cautioned me against it initially, saying that I needed to learn the proper nutritional balance before trying something like that. I backed off my enthusiasm, trying the increased vegetables prescribed. But once the increased veggie intake approach stalled, she agreed to my prescription.  OK, yes please again.

The prescribed Fentramine has taken me down a solid 5 pounds in two weeks. It does this, not by making me feel like a roller skate with a jet pack like the time in the 70s when my friends and I took "cross tops." But more like a triple shot of espresso.  It also just makes me not have an appetite.  I still eat my salads, veggies, lean protein, and drink water, I just don't want as much. It never occurred to me how strong hunger was in its ability to make us do things we know we shouldn't, until I realized how much of the day I didn't think about eating.

I will say that there are a few unpleasant side effects. 1) It gives me cotton mouth, which is easily taken care of by drinking enough water.  2) It makes my pee stink, and while no one has said anything, I feel like that same stink is oozing out of my pores.  3) In not being hungry, you can forget to eat, and thus skip the important veggie component.  Skipping veggies, can make you constipated, and that is not a condition conducive to losing weight.

Having said that, there has been one really good side effect.  I stopped taking my hormone replacement pills.  In fact, I've stopped taking all of the 7 or so supplements I was taking.  I'im guessing that this is more of a coincidence than a result of taking the pills.  But whatever the causation, my hot flashes, and the flashes of adrenalin that preceded each hot flash have stopped completely.

I'm still in the first phases of this, but let me add that I feel great!  My clothes fit better.  My knees and hips don't hurt.  I have lots of healthy energy.  That can't be bad right?

Family Portrait - Bloopers and Out Takes

We've all seen them, those impeccable family portraits.

Where everyone is not only looking in the same direction, but looking composed and not at all stressed.

In those portraits no one has their hand in their pants, or is picking their nose, or their brother's nose.

In those portraits no one farts,

or smells a fart,

or tries to smile through watering eyes

or denies having been the perpetrator of the fart.

Those quintessential photos seem as if the family is enjoying a typically candid moment, no one is killing anyone, but instead, relaxing in perfect harmony.

Having recently survived this hellish ritual been through this experience, I have to say that photographers, (ours at least) should be a spokesperson for Zoloft nominated for sainthood! And while out of 260 frames taken over the span of 3 hours, we were able to agree on at least a couple that would be suitable for framing or for a Christmas card, I have to admit that there were a whole lot more that were much more representative of my REAL family.

In order for you to be able to achieve the same success that we have had in this endeavor, I will pass along some tips that worked for us in taking the perfect family portrait.

1.  I've always heard it said that when being photographed with pets children young adults convicts, the responsible parties boring people adults ones who are paying should always smile, no matter what is being broken who is being killed what is going on around them. This way the photographer can capture the kids' angelic smiles as they happen. Also you have the added benefit of looking slightly daft.

2.  Think about your family members and their personalities... then devise a portrait theme that will allow their individuality to shine.  After you've chosen the theme, the rest of your decisions become easier.... It is also said that in every family, "there's always one."  I'd be interested to know if anyone could guess from looking at our family who that one is... I bet it would be difficult...

3.  Shoot outdoors, natural light is most flattering.  Late afternoon also works for adding warmth to your photos... unless that warmth is upwards of 100 degrees, and your photographer runs the risk of 3rd degree burns on his torso from laying on his belly to get a shot of you by the pool. Also, always keep your iPhone in your pocket, so you can have a reason other than your hair and clothes for your kids to NOT to push you in the pool.

4.  Try having the kids sing a family favorite song, so that your mouths are open or closed at the same time, and you all appear to be happy and having a good time...

I would not suggest Ozzy Osbourne's Crazy Train for that song.

5.  Have cash, and a stiff drink ready for the photographer and yourselves once it is all over.