I'm losing weight - again

Hint: You may want to skip this one - Everyone talks too much about diets, even (especially) me.

Much like my mother, I have spent a good portion of my life worrying about and trying to do something about my weight. I so love myself when I am at a weight where my clothes look good on me, or at least I think my clothes look good on me. Mother used to have a "fat" wardrobe and a "thinner" wardrobe, and when she reached a weight where she had only one dress left that fit, she would diet - again.

About three years ago I came to grips with a weight gain that I had tolerated and "encouraged" for almost fifteen years. At that time I lost just under 50 pounds on a laborious and inflexible diet program that cost me a small fortune and involved complicated meal planning, constant attention to eating and a bunch of expensive pills. I realized recently that my clothes were not fitting me well. Faced with the facts, I resolved that buying bigger clothes is not an option.

I have now set certain rules by which I hope I can live comfortably and lose or maintain a decent weight. These rules include certain idiosyncrasies of mine which establish parameters that are not usually recommended by the "diet programs" touted and for sale.

1 - I will never use artificial sweeteners. These neither satisfy my desire for sweetness, nor taste good enough to waste my money on. They usually leave a bad taste in my mouth, and I don't trust a lot of these formulas to be good for long term health. Who really understands these chemicals?

2 - I do not use nonfat salad dressings. They don't adhere to the lettuce and thus are useless for the purpose of making lettuce edible. Since lettuce is not one of my favorite foods, I need something on it to make it palatable. Controlling the amount and using Vinaigrette type dressings work well.

3 - I do not use margarine, or any variation of margarine or non dairy faux butters. I use less than 10 calories worth of butter to give my egg a little flavor, and when dieting, I do not add butter to any of the food I eat. A quarter pound of butter will last me over a month, even when I'm not dieting.

4 - I must have a dessert. In fact I consider having a dessert (of under 140 calories) after my evening meal to be essential for maintaining my diet program. When counting calories for the day, I include the dessert.

5 - I need a meal plan that does not require that I obsess all day on what to have for my meals. These may mean a monotonous program, but doesn't really have to. It's just that I'm not that uncomfortable with eating essentially the same breakfast and lunch on a daily basis, with minor variations.

6 - My meals must taste good. My discovery of the really good meals from Lean Cuisine and Healthy Choice has been a boon to my program this time. Add a salad and vegetable or a couple vegetables, plus my dessert, and I'm set for the evening. Oh yes, and one of my regular "fruit" servings is wine.

7 - Soup for lunch and my morning yogurt with fruit plus an egg or cheese get me through the day safely. Snacks are not only permitted, but helpful in maintaining my metabolism and keeping hunger at bay.

8 - My diet must include cheese. My favorites are Jarlsberg, Swiss and fresh Mozzarella in servings of about an ounce two or three times a day. I don't get fat free or low fat cheeses. They don't have a decent texture. I will sacrifice quantity to have good quality.

9 - I drink lots of water, always, and exercise regularly.

10 - I allow myself a slight break in routine at least once or twice a week, keeping good nutrition and my basic calorie intake limits in mind.

I weigh myself every day. Some days are discouraging, but now that the pounds are coming off, it is very satisfying and starts my day on a positive note. It feels so good to be losing weight and feeling comfortable in my clothes again. It is also amazing how many little things one does each day become easier as the weight disappears.

To date I have lost about 12 pounds of the 20 pounds I had allowed myself to gain. I'm thinking by the end of September, I should be where I have been aiming to be for over three years, which will be ten pounds less than I weighed three years ago. It takes a long time to put this extra weight on, and it seems reasonable to take it off slowly as well.

So here's my toast to baggy size 14s - who knows, I may get down to an even lower size. One can only try.

Dilemna

My financial adviser (also a long time friend) recently urged me to join and shop for groceries as well as big items at one of the big box wholesale places. I intend to do this, but somehow I don't see myself shopping for groceries there while I'm in Minnesota.

The other day I drove to the big box, thinking I'd stop in and join and look around. I was immediately put off by the line of cars in the parking aisles waiting for parking spaces. Long lines and crowds of shoppers do not excite me. Of course, in our present economic circumstances I should probably be saving pennies whenever I can. I think, however, this meager diet I'm on is saving a lot on groceries right now, giving me a good excuse to put off the wholesale warehouse shopping adventure.

Instead I went to my favorite Byerly's (Golden Valley), where I bought my one or two necessaries and checked out, visiting and exchanging smiles with my friends there. I know most of the staff by name. They are genuinely friendly (as opposed to robotically programmed friendly) and have been welcoming me for upwards of 25 years.

My mother used to tell perfect strangers with whom she had struck up a conversation that she was from a small town and always expected to know the people she saw on the street. So, of course, she looked them in the eye and talked to them. I'm not as friendly as my mother, but a little of her has rubbed off on me, and that is good.

So when I shop for groceries, I go to Byerly's. I may pay a few cents more for my groceries there, but I don't see my life being fully happy without my chance to visit with Bob or Linda or Barb or Joni or Shawna or Michel or Peggy or Kathleen or Sandra or James - or many of the others.

Disclaimer: This is not intended to be an advertisement for Lunds/Byerly's.

Blog posts

My favorite "friend" blog site is being shut down. I shall miss it. It was both my inspiration and my source of concern as I considered and finally set up my own site. I enjoyed reading Scott's blog, but feared that I could not be as entertaining at this sort of thing as someone so much younger than I - about 30 years - and a college student with a sharp mind at that. I do now realize that what I do has some amusement value at times too.

The thing I'm realizing about this blogging thing is that I find almost everything I do or see is now being sorted through my brain for it's blog value. Should I write about my klutzy propensities, mentioning, for example, that I crashed into the clasp on the hand bell case in church yesterday and nearly screamed in pain. This klutzy act having been topped this morning when I opened the closet door on to my foot, leaving a space too narrow to safely access the closet itself. This, in turn, caused me to bang my head on the door as I reached into the closet. That's the klutzy behavior that takes actual talent to accomplish, and reminds me of the time I opened the car door and, as I was getting into the car, bounced my head a couple times off the door and the car roof - apparently because I hadn't opened the door far enough to get into the car safely. Ok, so now I've written about that, and I occasionally wonder that I've survived without more significant brain damage for so many years.

Now, where was I? Ah, yes, I'm now reconciled to the fact that I will write as I write, and will try to avoid boring. I think it's healthy to pay attention to the mundane and trivial in one's daily life, perhaps to find something that can be amusingly expounded upon. Or not!

Mother's Day

The Star Tribune featured mothers' remembrances today, including one mother who memorialized her child's butt cheeks in green ink for her baby book. So very glad am I that my mother did not do such a thing for me, although having been the one to go through all her letters and papers, I'd have had the final word as I shredded it, as I certainly would have done. Sentiment has its limits.

My mother saved letters. Actually, she saved everything, but that's another story. She stored things in our home of 54 years, setting them away in the basement, the attic, various closets and the storage spaces under the eaves around the attic, not to mention the garage, carriage house and shed. She saved what appeared to be pretty much all of my father's love letters to her over a period of the six or seven years he was in law school and was courting her, the only woman he could ever love. He fell in love with her when she was his high school English teacher and was never seriously interested in anyone else. Mother's oldest brother, it seems, had also saved every personal letter he ever received, and mother had conscientiously saved these too, although she probably never read any of them.

Mother also saved my letters, from the time of my leaving home for college until about ten years ago or so. I haven't started to look over these letters, as they are, I'm pretty sure, mundane and dull. I have now looked through all of my father's love letters and reviewed my Uncle Harry's stuff to glean information about my mother's life before me. Mother didn't dwell in the past, as she was always more interested in the future - where she might travel and what adventures she might have.

Mother died a year ago January and this month is the fifth anniversary of my father's death. Most of the letters she saved are now shredded, as she requested when she allowed me to read them, saying, "They're awfully mushy, you know," and they were, sometimes tediously so. I spent time this winter writing down my memories of her life based on this information and on our many, many long talks together. My best friend all my life, Mother remains a big part of my daily thoughts and prayers. I believe she and my father watch over me still.

The green, green grass of home

"Yes, they'll all come to meet me, arms reaching, smiling sweetly.
It's good to touch the green, green grass of home." This refrain has been haunting me for several days, as I plan my getaway from the hot, hot sands of Phoenix. Not, of course, that I don't love Phoenix in the winter. But, it's time to go home.

Mornings here are beginning earlier and earlier, as I think my body is crying out to be back on Central Daylight time. Here we are two hours earlier, as Arizona is the only state in the U.S. that doesn't go on daylight savings' time. They have some cockamamie theory that they want early sunsets so that they can cool off in the evenings surrounded by the hot, hot sands of Arizona. What they're missing in my opinion are the cool, cool mornings and the luscious rays of rising sun which, by virtue of my early waking, I can enjoy in peace around 5:30.

I catch up on the news while covered in Boston terriers, then enjoy my fruit and yogurt with my mealtime partner, Lily, who sits on the chair opposite me, or on the window sill beside the table, watching me eat and listening to my insightful observations on the day. At home this will change, as the seat across from my breakfast table is bar stool height, too high for Lily.

Then there are the morning walks, which, should I get distracted by my Facebook reviews and daily cryptogram, my faithful Yo will remind me about in her own rude and insistent manner. Three walks, total about two miles, take about an hour. I look forward to these walks on the parkway, where the dogs can run from tree to tree, romping through the green, green grass etc.

At home I get the news of the Twins, which I miss here. I've tried, unsuccessfully, to appreciate the Diamondbacks, but, really, how can one get excited about a team named after snakes?

By next week at this time, I shall be back in green grass country and will have home well within my sights. I don't expect they'll all be out to meet me, arms reaching, smiling sweetly, but I won't need that. Home reaches out and makes me smile sweetly - and all will be well.

Class reunions

She's just a little older than I and definitely much grayer, but she looks a lot better for her age than I do. We were high school classmates. I seldom think about high school classmates. In fact I have forgotten most of them, and some of them are dead. I've only once or twice attended a class reunion, and it seems this was a long time ago.

It has been 53 years since I graduated from high school. Our last class reunion was, I think, three years ago. I didn't go. I was in town at the time, and I considered going, but had not troubled to find out what was happening or where. I made a halfhearted attempt to find some classmates, but nothing came of it. I was in an adjustment period, with my father recently deceased and my mother in assisted living in Des Moines. Our old home was pretty lonely, with many items cleared out and the rest spread out on the living room floor. I think it was a last review of stuff before the big sale to clear out the rest. Obviously, not a time when I was in a mood for partying.

After my visit this week with my old classmate, I am thinking I might attend a future reunion. Our town holds all school reunions in conjunction with their annual Creek Days event. Some towns have lakes, others have rivers, but in Odebolt, it's our creek, the Odebolt Creek. Was the town named after the creek, or the creek named after the town? No one knows. Anyway, I think they dam it up downstream to be sure there is water in it for this annual event.

My reservations about returning for one of these events is now related to my parents' deaths. For so many years I was blessed with their being there, sort of right where I'd left them and always the same, except, of course, older. Could I make it there as a stand alone Dresselhuis? Might it be a healing experience? Do I need a healing experience? Or might it just be fun to see where people I sort of knew way back then have been and how they're doing now? Or might it just be fun? I'm thinking about it.

Non-scientific personality tests

As I was growing up, my mother, the wise one to whom I still defer for advice, told me, "Ellen, you'll never be able to get by with anything. You are a person people will remember." I knew she was probably right, but I did a lot of things that I'm glad I did get by with. They were generally speaking rather fun. Perhaps, however, this little personality test I just did on Facebook is right after all. It says, in part:

". . . you are such an honest and true individual sometimes it is easy for others to move through life as if you are invisible to them, pushing you around and hurting you in ways they would never imagine doing to [other types of people]." Maybe I was invisible when I behaved in questionable ways, because I was thought of as honest and true. It's lovely to be thought of so nicely, but I really doubt I have ever been invisible.

But, for those of you reading this who might be concerned that you have pushed me around and hurt me in unimaginable ways, let me assure you, I don't remember any of it. This memory issue - perhaps not an issue, but yet another blessing.

Haircut

A haircut costing $55 is way out of line! I'm thinking it had better last more than twice as long as the ones I get at home, as it really doesn't look that much different. The warning signs were obvious when I opened the door. I should have taken them seriously. It was a place with trendy, modern looking furnishings, but not a tool of the trade in sight. Old fashioned beauty parlors could be so messy, with bottles, sprays, combs, hair dryers, scissors, etc. lying about. The place was also empty of customers, although there was a meeting going on where a few young, hip and trendy looking people sat around looking bored and shuffling through some papers. As the pretty little girl (Hey! She was young, pretty and short) was tenderly snipping a few hairs at a time and much time was passing as she did so, I knew I was in for sticker shock when I checked out. She did giggle some at my attempted witticisms, but not enough to justify $55. And she agreed that I am not as gray as her mother, who is 40. I was glad she didn't compare me to her grandmother. I tried to convince myself that this was some kind of pampering, and that I should enjoy it. It didn't work.

I do look better than I did before the haircut, but I'll also look better after the next haircut I'll get, which will cost about $24 back in Minneapolis and take half the time. Next winter I'll have to find a cheaper hair cutter, or, perhaps, just let it grow.

I'm no gray haired lady

My hair is only gray in pictures, never in my mirror. I don't know why that is, but I can clearly see some highlights of gray when I look in the mirror, but never a whole head of gray hair.

I do, however, wear the colors lavender and rose, though usually not in the same shirt. One day some years ago I approached the checkout counter at Daytons (you can see how long ago that must have been) with two blouses in these colors. A gray haired older woman was standing there and commented, "Oh those are such good colors with our gray hair." "Our gray hair"? I chuckled as I drove home. This was either a defining moment or an effect of the store lighting. I never did look quite the same under department store lighting.

I suspect the reason I look so gray in photos also has to do with the lighting. Take a picture in the bright sunlight, and the gray hair shines so brightly that it simply overpowers the other, more abundant, shades of color in my hair.

You may suggest that I could just color out the gray with a rinse. You see the ads all the time for men to color their gray, and if men can do it, surely we can too. Unfortunately, that would lead me into another difficult spot. I am, as of this writing, still putting off a haircut that I have needed since early to mid March. It is now April. How much worse might I look if I were coloring my hair and put it off for weeks at a time? It doesn't bear thinking about, really.

I've decided the best solution to this problem is for my friends to simply accept that I am not gray, except for a few enhancing hightlights mixed with my normal hair, and for me to try to stay out of the sunlight - at least when there is a camera around.

Odebolt, Iowa

We called ourselves the popcorn capitol of the world. Perhaps that was a slight exaggeration, but Cracker Jacks, I'm told, were born in and around Odebolt. For a time, and maybe still, our welcome to Odebolt sign called us "the star in the crown of Iowa." Nice try, but hard to justify. This is my home town, the place where I grew up, received my early education and was instilled with the values I carry with me today.

As a child, I was convinced that small town living was the best of all possible worlds. I benefited from the innocence, relative safety and opportunities available in my little Iowa home town. We had an excellent school system with sports opportunities. I played basketball before other states offered it for girls. We had a fine music program with a band that consistently placed first in state contests. There were music teachers to encourage me to sing and play an instrument. My singing continues to this day, but the musical instrument feel by the wayside when I left for college. I also had a pony.

I could ride all over the countryside. We didn't worry about protective helmets, riding boots or safety measures, so when I met with some obstacle, like a tree, I did get hurt. I had no fear riding or being around horses and am told that I scared the dickens out of my parents when I did foolish things like hanging on the tail of our buckskin mare, Babe.

Sometime into my high school years, I began to yearn to be "unknown", so I could try out behaviors that would be frowned upon in our small town. Mother warned me, though, that "you'll never be able to get by with anything because people remember you." Damned if she wasn't mostly right. Knowing that didn't prevent my trying some bad things, some of them with consequences. As I reflect on those times in my now more conventional years, I am sometimes a little embarrassed. I'm not sorry I had the adventures, but you can be sure I'll not be sharing them with you on this blog.

I remember my home town with pride. Take a look at it with the link on my site. It's a great website, among the best in the country, I'm betting. You could even check out the History section, search for Thelma Dresselhuis (my mother) and see what she had to say about her life in Odebolt.