35 Days to a Better Me

First let me say that I still look okay. I saw a picture of myself taken just the other day. I was nicely dressed, make-up was on, and it was not a frightening picture. Still, I now weigh what I weighed on the day I gave birth to my son and that freaks me out. “You’re older” you might say. Well I know that!!!! The trouble is, I don’t get it. My grandmother was old when she was my age. Not me. I listen to the music my son listens to. Okay, I have his iPod, but I don’t hate it. Okay, I hate the rap stuff, but I really like a lot of it! I am not going gently into that good night. I am fighting it with every ounce of strength I can muster and every Tylenol I can get my hands on to ease the aches I wake up with every day. But I am trying.

My Nutrisystem package arrived today bringing me 35 days of breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert especially designed to reduce the pounds that have adhered to my frame, ten pounds per decade, as if by appointment, regardless of diet, exercise, resolutions or wishing them away. Before I even opened the package I think I lost a pound… lifting it, that is. The delivery man dropped it on the porch as if he had gone far enough and the rest was up to me. I was starving so I ripped it open and treated myself to a tiny serving of Bean and Ham soup. Not great but I didn’t gag. God was good to give us salt and pepper. By dinner time I was also being grateful for garlic and the tablespoon of olive oil that would comprise my fat intake for the day. The tomato sauce vaguely reminded me of Chef Boyardee, something I had lost my taste for by the time I was five. By this time I had taken a closer look at the variety I was to look forward to for the next month. There’s a lot of tomato sauce. I ran to the supermarket and filled up one of those reusable bags with some fruits and vegetables, fat free cottage cheese, fat free yogurt and fat free salad dressing. You have to do a lot of eating on this diet; more than I’m used to. Consequently, after the salad and the veggies and the not-quite-awful entrée, I became slightly nauseas. Perhaps this is how the diet works. You simply get too nauseas to eat.

I intend to stick to it. My I paid for it so I will eat it. That is my belief; order anything you want but eat what you order. Well, that’s my mantra at restaurants anyway. Now I have to put my mouth where my money is. I have ordered 35 days of vacuum packed sealed foods that don’t even have to be refrigerated, which I don’t even understand how that is possible, and I will eat what I have ordered. And at the end of 35 days I will be thinner; otherwise there is no point to this exercise. I will use these 35 days to change my eating habits: portion control; more fruits and vegetables; fewer sweets; more water. I just wonder, if I can change a habit in 35 days, can I also train my taste buds to look forward to these meals? And if that happens, will I ever be the same? 34 and 1/3 days to go.

Family Vacations: Dynamics 101

There are three parts to a family vacation.

Part one is about excitement: the excitement of going, the excitement of being there, the excitement of seeing everyone, of planning how to spend the days and evenings ahead. There is lots of hugging, lots of laughter. Then the reality starts to set in.

Part two begins with the dawning realization that it is impossible to get everybody on the same page. There are three factions within this category: Person A, who wants to go “there” or do “that”; Person B who doesn’t want to go “there” or do “that”; and Those Who Don’t Care. Note: Persons A and B may change from day to day, event to event. Those Who Don’t Care fall into two categories: Category one people are genuinely thrilled to do anything as long as everyone is happy. Category two people are those who SAY they don’t care but then complain about every choice. Those Who Don’t Care Category Two can be particularly annoying because they have abdicated any responsibility in the decision making process, leaving Persons A & B slug it out while Those Who Don’t Care Category One cower in a guest bedroom. Occasionally Those Who Don’t Care (Category one) come out to tell Persons A & B to shut up, prompting Persons A & B to turn on Those Who Don’t Care with the full force of their frustration, causing Those Who Don’t Care to escalate the drama even further with cries of “What are you yelling at me for?” The situation further deteriorates when you realize it is impossible to get everybody dressed and out to dinner house in less than two hours with only two bathrooms and a 25 gallon hot water heater. Add unseasonably inclement weather to the mix and it is a recipe for disaster. Warning: the addition of inordinate amounts of alcohol, while contributing to purgative bouts of laughter, can have adverse effects on some people.

Part three begins when everyone realizes that vacation is almost over. They start thinking about returning to work, missing each other, of all the time they wasted arguing, and the stress of repacking, getting to the airport and dealing with Security. It ends with guarded apologies, heartfelt thanks, and tearful goodbyes. Painful memories recede and are replaced with warm recollections of the good times. Hundreds of pictures of smiling faces showing no sign of any sort of discord are sorted and shared. Plans are begun for the next getaway.

Then They Came for the Peanuts

When did the world get so vulnerable? We’re all so worried about global warming; well those of us who don’t believe it’s a hoax are worried about global warming; the rest are worried that they may have to give something up because of the possibility that it might be true. But, global warming aside, perhaps the world won’t be undone by melting polar caps or any catastrophic event. Perhaps neither terrorists nor weapons of any sort of destruction will be the cause of our ultimate demise. Perhaps it will be… (drumroll) THE PEANUT!

Who poisoned the nuts? If you have a nut allergy, or know or love someone who has a peanut allergy, I am probably about to offend you. Deal with it.

We got to Newark Airport this morning, brooked the extra security, removed our shoes, our belts, our electronics, surrendered our Fruit 2-O, were scanned and chatted with and eventually passed through to the waiting area where we purchased replacements for the confiscated water. We got on the plane and I started looking forward to those tiny packets of smokehouse almonds they would eventually give out when a cheery voice announced: “Welcome aboard flight 503. We have a severe nut allergy on board and ask that all passengers refrain from consuming any nuts or any products that contain nuts.” There was a collective gasp. (Okay, just my family gasped.) (Okay, just my husband and I gasped.) “When we begin our cabin service, we will not be serving any nut products.” No almonds?! The announcement continued, “This means we will not be serving our almonds, our cashews or our chocolate chunk cookies.” WHAT????!!!! NO CHOCOLATE CHUNK COOKIES?! WHAT ARE THEY GOING TO SERVE, LETTUCE? “Please refer to our in-flight guide for a list of what’s left.” I was appalled. They had plantain chips.

Where was this person who was allergic to nuts? What row was he or she in? Surely there must be a limit on how far an airborne nut fragment could go! Otherwise the world would be a very dangerous place! And when was the last time you saw a packaged food that did NOT come with the warning, “This product may have been prepared on machinery that is sometimes used for nut products.” (Or something to that effect; I’m too lazy to get up and look at a package.) I was starving! I had been up since 5:00 a.m. and had neglected to bring a snack but, of course, if I had brought a snack I wouldn’t have been able to eat it since it would most likely have contained nuts!

This was injustice. If it were a show and the star was out, we would have been able to get our money back! Of course we wouldn’t have seen the play; in this case, we wouldn’t have gotten to Florida but, still, we would have had the option! So here’s my question: how did this happen? What if a person with a severe allergy to dogs was on that plane? Would Minnie Feinberg have been expected to surrender her seizure dog to the baggage compartment? Would Pierre La Peupeu have been expected to relinquish his prize Pomeranian to the clutches of the baggage handlers? Or would Mr. and Mrs. “It’ll Make Me Sneeze” be expected to take a Zyrtec, keep their epi-pens handy and DEAL WITH IT! Would anyone have even asked?

I am… well never mind how old I am. I have personally never witnessed an allergic reaction to nuts. In my day, if peanut butter and jelly weren’t on the menu, more than half the school kids would have gone without lunch. How much tuna-fish can one child be expected to eat? PB&J was the perfect food! You could have grape jelly one day, strawberry jam the next, and for those who didn’t confuse those solid things with anything from the natural world, orange marmalade next! Endless variety, gone because one child in somebody else’s class who doesn’t even eat lunch at the same time has a peanut allergy! SO I ask again, HOW DID IT GET SO BAD? And what is next….
First they came for my grapes but I could do without grapes so I stayed silent. Then they came for the peanuts but I didn’t like peanut butter so I said nothing. Then they came for the meat but I was planning to become a vegetarian. Then they came for…. And on and on and on…

“Once there was a mighty people… but they poisoned their own food and starved to death.”

The Lost Art of Packing

I’ve been making the trip to Florida ever since I was a child and packing has been an evolutionary experience. When I was a 12, a cousin of mine arrived at our hotel with three large suitcases filled with everything she owned. She was there for the weekend, but the airline allowed three bags per person and that’s what she brought. “You never know what you’ll feel like wearing”, she cooed to her mother’s delight, her breast swelling with pride at her Jewish American Princess logic. My mother thought she was nuts. I thought she was so cool. It took me years to realize she was an idiot. Such extravagance never occurred to me. Plus, at the time, I’d have had to throw in all my schoolbooks and stuffed animals to fill 3 suitcases and even then I’d have room to shop. But her suitcases were loaded with items packed in haste, wrinkled, twisted, like I’d seen in the movies when some frantic person would scoop up all their possessions, dump them in the suitcase, slam the lid and lift it like it weighed nothing.

I was taught the “proper” way to pack. My mother packed on the assumption that no other city or country had heard of an iron. There was easily twice as much tissue paper than clothing in my mother’s suitcase. Each item was carefully laid out and folded with tissue paper so it wouldn’t crease; each layer was perfectly even and separated by even more tissue paper so it wouldn’t move. There would be no mingling of layers in my mother’s suitcase. Do you remember when the Miss America contestant packed a suitcase in the “Talent” portion? My mother took notes.

My own packing practices fall somewhere in between these two extremes. First of all, current airline luggage rules make it impossible to be as whimsical as my extravagant cousin. Half of what she carried would land her in a pat-down with all her worldly possessions on display as bemused TA workers tried to figure out “What’s this for?” and “What do you do with this?” Secondly, they charge by the bag now with extra levies for weight and public humiliation in the labeling of your bag as “Heavy” if you actually pack anything inside. Remember Samsonite? Those bags tipped the scales when they were empty! And that was in the days before wheels and straps, when traveling was not for the faint of heart! Don’t you love it in the movies when the heroine fills her bag with whatever pleases her and then lifts it off the bed as if it were stuffed with feathers? Do you know that moment when you try to lift your suitcase and find you are rooted to the spot?

I start packing days in advance. I lay out all the clothes that fit, which immediately eliminates half my wardrobe. Then I put back everything that is weather-wrong. Then I put back everything I have two of. Then I put back everything of an outstanding color than might require special accessories. Then I pick out neutral accessories. Then I realize I have nothing to wear… during the day, that is; I am fine for dinner. So I go back to the drawers and pick out the clothing I will end up living in except for dinner. Then I put back half of the dinner clothes.

If I am not flying, this is the point where I add the toiletries. If I am flying, there is no longer any point in bringing toiletries as they will be confiscated. I am amazed to learn how many commonplace toiletries in western society can be used to make a bomb. No wonder bombers always look so dirty!.. besides the insanity factor.

I start putting my items in the carry-on-sized bag, carefully filling up the spaces between the bars of the extendable handle with socks, underwear and items that can be rolled up until I get the first flat layer that would make my mother proud. Next come the flat items; the things I don’t want to wrinkle. (Yeah, right.) They are followed by the shoes. Since I won’t be checking it in, my almost empty bag gets filled up with things to read, writing implements in case I get an idea ((Yeah, right), cards, and my laptop because Wi-Fi is free at the airport and God-forbid I should get stuck without something to do! And “voila”, the bag with almost nothing in it suddenly weighs a ton. But it’s on wheels and I’m not checking it in so who cares. Once I arrive at my destination I unpack and realize I brought nothing to wear. So I go shopping. Ah, vacation!