Dietary Ramblings

Scientists did a study of ancient bones and discovered that folks had the same rate of heart disease as we do today. Thus putting into question the theory that we are more prone to heart attack because of our modern diet.

Gratuitous Cat Photo

Of course, there are other scientists who have pooh-pooh'ed the findings, saying the studies are inconclusive, etc. That's how they roll.

In another story, a guy is writing a book about a study he did of obese youngsters. One group got a diet of processed food and stuff that was low-fat, while the other group got a selection of natural foods that had some fat. Not surprisingly (to me, anyhow), the kids who ate the low-fat products did poorly compared to their compatriots.

Lessons learned:
1. Stay away from all soda, including diet soda.
2. Minimize junk food intake. This includes low-fat snacks.
3. There is good fat and bad fat. Good fat can help you lose the bad fat.

Also, "vegan" is not synonymous with "healthy." I was in the vitamin store yesterday and overheard a conversation between the clerk and a woman who was asking about vegan cookies. His response was, they fill them with vegetable fat and sugar and they still taste like crap.

They have also lowered the numbers for what constitutes diabetes and obesity, so by definition, there are more Americans who fall into these categories. I haven't seen any studies that include the change in criteria. (Although, surely someone has, somewhere.)

So, although I'm not a scientist (and I don't play one on TV), it seems to me that rumors of our health crisis may be slightly exaggerated.

The upshot is, eat healthy foods as much as possible, get off your duff and move around during the day as much as you can, eat a little less of the things you love that aren't good for you. Remember, moderation is key.

And, yes, relax and be kind to yourself. Stress is bad for you. That includes stressing about what you eat.

Sermon over. I've got some cool cats waiting to provide me with my own stress relief.

Chain of Fools

Getting mail was a big deal back in the day.

I remember my excitement, then puzzlement, one day when I opened the envelope and out came a chain letter.

I'd never seen one before. I read it through. At the bottom was a list of names, ending with mine. Each name ahead of mine had been crossed out. The instructions were to copy the letter*, cross out my name, and add the name of each of my 10 friends/victims at the bottom. I don't remember the reward,  it was something nebulous like, if I did what the letter told me to do, I'd have good luck. There was also the threat that terrible things would befall me if I threw the letter away.

Being the naive dolt I was (no wisecracks, please), I ran to my mom in tears. I didn't have the money for all those stamps, and I didn't know the addresses of 10 of my schoolmates to send the letter to. She sat me down and explained that nothing bad would happen and I should just throw the letter away.

"But what if all my friends do it, and I break the chain?" I sobbed.

"Just because your friends are willing to spend good money on something silly, doesn't mean you have to."

So, I threw the letter away and waited for signs of Armageddon. I was certain my friends would know I was the one who broke the chain, and I would be ostracized forever. Or a meteor would strike the earth, a plague would be visited upon my house, or I would fail my next math test.

Of course, nothing happened.

One would imagine that, with the dawn of modern technology, there would come an end to chain letters.

Of course not.

From time to time, I would receive an email that was much like the letter I received via snail mail. The only difference was it was so easy to send to a ton of people, and it didn't cost anything, so those snarky things lived on for a long time. It got so bad for awhile, the company I work for issued a policy banning them from company email.

As a result, I haven't seen one for awhile. Then came Facebook.

Now I get posts that tell me if I feel a certain way but don't share the post, I'm a dirty, rotten scoundrel. I hide these posts. Even when I do think what they are initially sharing is a good thing. Just because I don't like to be threatened.

If you agree with me, be sure and share this post.

Or the goblins will git you if you don't watch out!**

*It had to be a handwritten copy. No, youngster, we didn't have photocopiers in them days.

**With a nod to Charles Whitcomb Riley. Denise and Paul know what I'm talking about.

Resolving the Future

Well, it's that time of year again...time to make a bunch of promises to myself that I'll not likely be keeping.

For inspiration, I went to my daily newspaper's advice column. Dear Abby suggested I adopt the Al-Anon credo. These steps are common to what many religions and self-help groups use as a path to enlightenment.

Me being me, I took the steps and put my own little spin on them to create my list of resolutions. Let me know what you think.

Just for today...

...I will live through this day only. Any sarcastic comments I may or may not have made about a certain person or persons are in the past, and I will not say they really shouldn't dress themselves like they are in their 20s because those days are long, long gone.  

 ...I will be happy. Sunshine on my shoulder makes me happy. John Denver sang that song. But he's dead. Well, that didn't go to happy place. I'll try that one again tomorrow.

...I will accept what is, fix what I can and leave the rest alone. I can't fix the fact that I'm getting old and creaky. But I can do something about being overweight. There's a donut over there with my name on it. I can fix this. Let's be friends, Mr. Cruller!

...I will improve my mind. By watching news programs on TV. I can trust them to deliver current events to my living room in a fair and balanced way. I know this because they say so. And they would never lie. Over and over again.

...I will be agreeable. This one is easy. There's not a snarky bone in my body. Ask anyone. Well, okay, don't ask her. Or him. Or that guy over there...

...I will take responsibility for my own actions. Especially when I do something good. I want to be sure everybody knows about it.

There, now. That wasn't so bad. Re-reading my list, I think I've covered everything. Oops, I need to add one more of my own.

Just for today...I will be totally serious.

There, that should do it. Happy New Year, everyone!

Let's All Get Potted

There is no denying I have a black thumb.

While others may tenderly place their plants in nutrient-rich soil, then nurture and coo at them, my style of plant care can best be described as survival of the fittest.

One coworker gave each of us a flowering plant again this year. It was a thoughtful gift -- although not thoughtful as far as the plant was concerned. I could almost hear the poor blighter scream as it neared my desk, sensing the souls of plants past, once green and lush, now perished from too much/too little watering, overexposure to light or work-related stress.

There are those who may not be great with houseplants but are a whiz with their gardens.

Alas, these skills have passed me by, too. Only the hardiest of plants have survived over the years: the ones that conquered the weaker varieties -- the chokers, the insidious vines, the creepers. Bullies and badasses hold the keys to the kingdom that is my yard.

Yes, I have tried to cull the herd. I hack and chop and bludgeon. But still they rise again. And the little, pretty ones, blocked from the sun and unable to cope, simply stop appearing. Until one day, I think, "There used to be a tulip here. And wild strawberries over there. Hmm."

I have this dream. It's to cultivate an herb garden. I will grow thyme and lavender and all sorts of exotic varieties. I will plant them where no animals can pilfer them and where my predatory plants can't get at them.

Sigh.

We all know better, don't we? While I love flowers and trees and green things, I just need to step away and rely on the talents of others. Or visit the MetroParks, where Mother Nature has created her own soul-stirring works of art.

To be honest, I think the plant kingdom is cool with that.
 
 

Afraid of the Dark

I feel like Charlie Brown. It's Christmas, and I should be happy, but I'm not.

I tried to sort it all out in the car on the way home last night. 

Then all evening I tried not to let it bother me, but it just snowballed, and I didn't mean to, but I took it out on Mr. Ginley.

Then I felt worse.

So I got up this morning, determined to be happy. I thought I would read the paper for inspiration for my blog. I read a story about a pastor battling cancer and a drunk driving victim who's in a wheelchair struggling to keep up with his 1-year-old son.

Then I felt worse. How could I be feeling sad when others had so much more to be sad about? What a schmuck!

I'd thought about writing about Lillian Vernon, who passed away last week. With her family, she escaped Nazi Germany, came to America and founded an empire.

Then I felt worse. What have I accomplished? I go to work every day, slay dragons, come home, make dinner, and crash on the couch. I can't even keep my eyes open long enough to watch an hour-long dvd. Then I go to bed and work all night in my dreams.

So here I sit, caught in a continuous loop, feeling guilty because it's Christmas and I'm blue, feeling bad because others have it worse than I do, then beating myself up because I could be doing so much more than I am.

Deep breath. Cup of coffee. Do a little Reiki. Stretch. Stop comparing. Open the pressure valve. Count some blessings. Be kind. Forgive. Myself.

There, that's a little better.

I'm going to the cat shelter to work this morning. Engage in a little cat therapy. Then spend the day with my husband, who knows me so well and loves me anyhow.

Maybe I'll find a little merry here after all.

Yule Be On My List

A headline in today's newspaper states that 36% of us have not yet begun to do our Christmas shopping.

This no doubt includes my brother-in-law, who, in his growing-up years with my husband, was famous for his last-minute forays at the local drugstore where his only gift options were things like the Pocket Fisherman, Old Spice gifts sets and the (then) ubiquitous soap-on-a-rope.

For the record, I have made major strides in my gift shopping. This is made easier by the fact that my son is grown, and I no longer need to go elbow-to-elbow with fellow moms who are also on the hunt for the Toy of The Year.

Aren't gift cards just the ginchiest invention?

The internet has made things simpler, too. Rather than troll the mall for that perfect something, the world is your oyster at Amazon or E-Bay. I game the system by going to Giant Eagle, buying a gift card for either of these places (thus getting points which translate into big savings on gasoline), then go online and pay with the gift card. The other upside is my credit card gets a little rest.

I try to get to the mall at least once during the holiday season. The urge is overwhelming, even though I know I'm going to have to park in the next county, be jostled by gawkers who are reading inane texts from other gawkers, and ultimately leave with one or two things I bought for myself as a reward for surviving the experience.

Shopping locally has become more popular over the past few years. I think this is a great idea, and I put a few of my holiday surprises away in May, when I shopped booths set up at the Hooley in our neighborhood. Hopefully, I'll be able to find them before Christmas.

In the meantime, I do have a few odds and ends to pick up to complete my shopping. So, although I'm not part of the 36%, I cannot yet hold my head high and crow about having everything crossed off my list.

Ho, ho, ho...happy trolling to all!

Sentimental Journey

If the media and my own personal experience count for anything, the Millennial generation hasn't a sentimental bone in their collective bodies.

On the other hand, I, at the tail end of the Baby Boomer generation, am sentimental to the point of ridiculous.

I have kept boxes of old greeting cards from people I haven't seen in years, a pre-teen scrapbook, dolls and toys from my childhood, company newsletters from former places of employment, a closet full of photographs and much, much more.

As if it weren't enough that I've dragged this flotsam and jetsam around with me, I've also inherited some of my parents' treasures. After my dad passed away and my mom went to live in a nursing home, we went through and chose the things of theirs we wanted to keep. After everyone was finished and we were down to the things that were headed to Goodwill, I sighed, took my mom's paint-by-number bird pictures, and put them in the trunk of my car. I also have their yearbooks and even my grandmother's address/date book.

I'm just a girl who can't let go.

Contrast this with my son and his generation. I am not the only parent to lament that their kids don't care much about the toys of their own youth, let alone the items their parents or grandparents cherished in days long gone. The dishes and photos and mementos don't seem to mean all that much. And when we talk about selling our house and moving one of these days, our son does not get teary-eyed as I would have as a young adult.

Oh well.

When it's time for me to move on to whatever my next existence may be, I know most of my treasures will hit a landfill somewhere. Or a Goodwill. And maybe my sadness at that thought is just vanity. We all want to believe we're leaving something behind, but it doesn't matter. We won't be around to know.

And, not having lived in my era, who will understand my fascination with Little Kiddles. Or cardboard puzzles. Or the original Nancy Drew series of books.

In the end, it's all just stuff, right?

Maybe I'll spend an hour or two going through some of those boxes this weekend. Maybe this time I'll throw some of that junk away.

Sure I will...