Gardein Giveaway - Mercy For Animals

Gardein Giveaway - Mercy For Animals

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Ten months...

So, here we are, on the twenty-second of October. I would guess that I've been meat-free for about ten months, now, and have the blood work to show for it. The icebox is still a mayhem, however, because Momma still insists that she buy and buy like we were all still carnivores, not just her, Dyllan and our new addition, Bethany. Oh, hell, I'm not knocking it. Or them. I don't expect my twisted belief system to become anything like a trend, any time soon. Dawn and I just choose not to partake in the flesh of footed animals. No soapbox, no sermon. We don't eat things with feet.

I've been out of work for a few months, now. Not such a long story; just not gonna share it. Fallout? Wow. Based upon said job loss was the loss of three of my children (temporarily? In whole or part? Who the heck knows. Certainly, yours truly has no clue.) Also in the wings were a union hearing, a court hearing, and two impending department of labor hearings. 

At first, I waited to get my job back. And, applied for jobs and jobs. Then, I gave up on getting my job back, and applied for even MORE jobs. STUPID jobs, jobs relative to what I had just been doing, any job...over 80 apps have been sent out, over 80 disappeared in the wind. I've had a couple of interviews...but got 'Dear Johns' out of alla them. WTH...times are hard for everybody. ONE bright note is that we were able to refinance the primary mortgage on our residence, and save a WAD of money; which, sadly, will have to be applied to our rental in NY state, because the damned escrow shortfall boosted THAT payment to a new level. Again, WTH. The sun shines, and the rain falls, on everyone.  I'm thinking about a new raincoat, because I'm over fifty, I'm disabled, and I have a frame-up against me. I do believe that I've joined the ranks of the unemployable. Call me a pessimist, but I have to say, I've applied for jobs that the only qualification appears to be that you can fog up a mirror, and been blown off. Hell, I can't even get a spot as a Walmart greeter...and you've SEEN some of those folks. 

BUT!!!

Before I get too ensconced on the pity-pot, I must needs take inventory: We still HAVE two houses, with three mortgages, upon which we still CAN make payments. We still have food on the table, and haven't been forced to decide which of us can go hungry tonight, for the honor of the rest of us eating. We still HAVE medical coverage, so our health needn't go begging. We still make our weekly offering to God and His church (Tithe? Not tithe? That's between God and us; I'm not telling, and I'm sure He's not gonna spill the beans, either) because HIS glory is WAY greater than MY troubles. Screw you, satan. (No capitalization of his name; he doesn't get the respect of that convention.) Dawn and the kids still love me; our new grandson loves me (I'm pretty sure, anyway) and even our son, Dyllan's girlfriend is fond of me. And...I'm still clean and sober. Still. And, until roughly 0615 tomorrow morning, I'm firm in the belief that God has a plan for me, and, 24 hours at a time, He'll continue to keep it in place until I discover what it is. Until then, I think I'm gonna get up off my less than fat ass and DO something. 

Yesterday, I mowed the lawn, mulching the leaves, collecting them and placing them in the garden to add organic matter to the soil (which, if I left it alone, would be PERFECT for bricks.) The garden is out; the ornamental plants are gone, their potting soil screened and sealed in buckets, ready for next year. The big limbs are cut into pieces for the fireplace, the little limbs for a bonfire (Dyllan and Bethany think those are romantic) and the outside is nearly done for the year. Maybe another day's work to finalize that. 

Next, to put the final touches on the remodel that began LAST year at this time. Putting that to bed will be a relief. I let it get away from me, grew lazy, got overwhelmed...my own damned fault. Dawn deserves better. God expects MORE. It's called "stewardship." Time to get out from under this keyboard. Facebook, Yahoo and all the other electronic meth will still be there when my work is done. And, to be sure, no one will miss me while I'm gone. If they do, they can always text my cell phone. Besides, I've done the obligatory 'two job applications' for the department of labor this week. 

Hmmmm...just got off the phone with the absolute FINEST grocery store in the area; perhaps the state. They wanna look at me for one of their cooks. I have an interview in a few hours. Gotta shave my head and face, suit up and show up. See ya later.

Hey, Daddy? Just in case this is the job You had in mind for me, please don't let me blow the interview. And, thanks in advance FOR the interview. I...WE appreciate it.

Huh? Wha...? Oh, crap, I fell asleep!

Not really...I just didn't DO this, since last time. BUT...I'm now down to TWO HUNDRED EIGHTEEN POUNDS! I started at 238...down to 218. That's twenty pounds; four bags of good sugar (five bags of that cat-head stuff)...2.25 gallons of oil...10 bags of confectioner's sugar...a large bag of potatoes. Think of it THAT way, and it's brought into focus...think of carrying that extra stuff around in your arms all day. Ugotz!

Another thing: I'm outta the size 42's, and into the 38's. Uh-huh: my trousers are all falling off my non-existent (_)_). Daddy always said that I have no butt; down south here, they say 'you're built like a milkin' cow...all gut, and no butt...' I started wearing uniform shirts that are one size smaller, too...and they FIT!!! 

I'm still eating no meat. Thinking along the cruelty lines, now. Difficult to forgo fish...not to make light of THEIR suffering; I guess I'm not ready to give it up. Fish was in no way as unhealthy for me as footed flesh. I am still having fun with seitan and vital wheat gluten-based meat replacement. And, dabbling in Thai-style noodles. Thank you, Jungle Jim's International Food Market http://www.junglejims.com/ for the rice-noodles and big, fat udon.I love Jungle Jim's; I buy my durum flour there, too, and some of my nice sauces. There's a KICKING chili paste out there that rocks my world...hot, zesty, lingering; wow, it's almost like a kiss from my Princess!

Twenty pounds lost...this means that not only have I reached my goal of fifteen pounds, to buy that sausage-stuffer, but have a nice five-pound buffer zone to keep between me and obesity. You remember the sausage-stuffer. To fill vegetarian casings with seitan, and eat, fresh, or smoked. Noooooooo, I am NOT going back to meat. Just for today. And, at least until I finish lunch, tomorrow. Same way with this, as with alcohol. I'm powerless. I start an abbruzzese, I FINISH it. I start a soppressata, I FINISH it. One slice at a time, one chunk at a time... I overeat like I used to over-drink, mea culpa. There was no 'enjoyment...' just engorgement. Like De Luise said, the saying "Eat, you'll feel better," didn't make it so. I medicated with food, alcohol, cake, candy...whatever I could get my hands on. Now, I realize that my life is a delicate balance of caloric input, caloric utilization and the movement of energy from its stored state to it's utilitarian state. Anything else is wasteful, sinful. Gluttonous.

So...measurements. 

Weight: 218#

Body Fat: 30.5%

Water Content: 53.5%

Neck: 17"

Biceps:14"

Chest: 47.5"

Waist: 47"

Not so hot. I've lost weight, but haven't lost the inches like I would have been happy to see. Dawn, my diet guru, indicates gently that this means I'm losing MUSCLE MASS. I'm wasting. Again, not good. But, she says, that it's good for capo tosto (hard head, from the Sicilian dialect) like me to see that I'm not terminally unique. I have to WORK MY BODY to see some changes. That weight room is still MERE STEPS from my bedroom. I did, however, go in there to re-string my guitar, last week. And I took it over to play, at my church-sister's house, with my mother in law, today. So, I AM moving outside of my comfort zone. Baby steps. 

Oh, yeah, another step: We had a customer appreciation day at the store, this week; my committee mates and I planned, it, got approval for it, and executed it, successfully. I even put on makeup for the deal, and played my clown character all day...AND cooked samples, and waited on customers, too. Have to tell you, I was nervous. Scared, to be honest. And, I felt the need to grab another brother of mine, and ask him to pray with me, before we started. Now, I pray pretty much every time I pick up a knife and start work, or before I step outta the car, in greasepaint and hair, to entertain the crowds. This time I needed something extra. First multiple-hour engagement in forever. Two or three hours, okay. Several parades in one day, okay. Nine hours in paint? Been a long time, since I've rock-and-rolled like that. This was multi-tasking: performing, cooking, service-counter attending and more. Whatta trip. And, God in His infinite love and caring, supported me through all of it. 

I'm still standing, still achieving goals, and basking in the never-ending blessings of an incredible God. For this, Father, and for that which is to come, I am truly thankful.

Oh....by the way...

I haven't been as diligent as I could be, with the measurements. That's because I haven't walked my lazy ass across the hallway to use the Faux-flex...the weight machine in my son's old bedroom. But...I DID walk last week. That makes ONCE A WEEK that I circumnavigate old 922...only LAST week instead of double-looping the store, I went ONCE around the building, and once around the parking lot. It was cold...under 28, as I remember. And EXHILARATIN', may I add. Somewhat more than 'kinda brisk.'

I hate to admit it. I had another industrial accident, much to my embarrassment...and to the chagrin of my department head, store manager, and Risk Management down in Cincy. I've been ordered to light, one-handed duty for no less than six weeks, and had a cortisone injection. I also have to wear a sant'antonio BRACE on my LEFT hand...which, coming on the heels of my RIGHT hand coming back online, is a rather appreciable PITA. And, we're not talking Middle Eastern flat-bread, either. But, in all this, I've been assigned to Miss Tiffany, as her aide-de-camp. And, her office is on the second floor. And the particular project in which we've been ensconced this week is located ACROSS the store...on the second floor, also. No elevator, thank you. WTH, it's just ONE FLOOR. But...you have to walk DOWN one flight...across the joint...and then UP one flight. Repeatedly. All day. It's about an 85,000 square foot store. 

But....

My arthritic frikkin' knees...which had been ACHING excruciatingly these past months...don't HURT. 

My knees...do NOT...hurt. It's 2240hrs, I've been running up and down stairs, across the store, up and down off step-stools all day, and these old knees feel GREAT! No extra celebrex. No NSAID's. No lidocaine patches, no Flector patches...not even so much as an Ibuprofen or ANYTHING! I've lost almost the whole fifteen pounds I wanted to lose, in the first step, and I feel SUPER, dammit! One more pound. Sixteen ounces. I can do that ASLEEP!

What a difference, and I haven't even really TRIED. Just...gave up meat. Which created a craving for more protein. Which I feed with plant-based protein, and augment with OTHER plant-based nutrition. How wild. Far OUT, man! Far OUT!

Keep pushin', keep pushin', keep pushin', keep pushin on...

Well, best beloved, it's been another week. Down to 223#. Exactly. That makes it official. I've lost FIFTEEN POUNDS since the first of the year, and pretty much without any silly-(_)_) 'resolutions.' Now, I can go buy that sausage-stuffer on eBay...if I still want to. I still have to think about that one. Maybe I don't NEED another toy in the kitchen.

Over the last week, I've been doing research...again. Found out that there's a form of seitan that is leavened. In Chinese, it's called kao fu (烤麩); Japanese, sukiyaki fu (すき焼き麩). The traditional preparation calls for leavening with baking soda. Ever the non-traditionalist, I went ahead and used yeast and sugar. Oh. Em. GEE!!! The stuff kicks BUTT. First one was just plain gluten, with spices. Nice texture, nice feel, great taste. Next one incorporated sun-dried tomatoes and garlic. Hoo-BOY. I've eaten it fried with eggs, cold by itself, over nine-grain with sauce and mozzarella, in a panini with steak sauce and Swiss cheese... Now, I wanna incorporate honey, cocoa powder and pistachio nuts into it and make a Seitanic dessert...this stuff is really and truly versatile. Slice it thin, layer it with low-fat ricotta, cinnamon, splenda...ya think?

I also made yaki-fu stew this week. Vegetable broth, carrots, onions, peppers, red pepper flakes, mahi-mahi, kombu... then I threw in udon noodles. Put the fork in, Mother, I'm done. No...not low-carb. But, low fat, high fiber, and VERY high protein.

I'm having fun. I'm eating healthier, and having a good time with it. I'm also driving Dawn NUTS, but she loves me. Wheat gluten just isn't her thing. But that's okay. I'm not exceptionally fond of "Biggest Loser," yet, it inspires her. I respect that. We're in a race, together...making each day count, making the best of the time we have together, because, Lord knows, those days are NOT indefinite. As with the Program...it SHOULD be fun. God didn't put us here to be mopes. He put us here to celebrate Him, be useful and prayerful. But, most of all, He put us here to be joyful. 

Daddy, I'm joyful. Really, and honestly. As I head into another birthday, I know there ain't a darn thing I want. And, by Your grace alone, I have all I need. Thank you for the walking I got done this week. Thanks for another set of seven days, sober. And thank you for letting us get to that concert, as well. Fun times.

God, thank you for having granted me the serenity...

...to have accepted the things I could not change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference. 

Yeah, apologies to Reinhold Niebhur. I've joined the ranks of MILLIONS that have 1) plagiarised his prayer, and 2) CHANGED it to meet MY personal feelings. Might I explain:

Every day I see signs, posters, and politicians screaming "God Bless America!" What the hell, people, He HAS!!! God blessed America from the start, and I'm really concerned that after over TWO HUNDRED YEARS, the main portion of the population of this United States has NOT learned how to publicly and concertedly say, "Thanks, Dad!" What the frig are you WAITING for? THANK Him! 

Bearing these things in mind, a few years after I started getting sober, I began saying the Serenity Prayer as this heading states it: "Thank you for the serenity..." because He HAS. He GRANTED it, I don't need to keep asking God for the same thing, over and over. If serenity, courage and wisdom were NOT forthcoming, begging Him wouldn't get it. God doesn't have Alzheimer's. He's not STOOPIT. God's just not a loudmouth. He's not going to throw a lightning bolt at what I'm asking, saying, "Here, jackass, it's over HERE!!!" Jack F, in Elmira used to be fond of saying "Be still, and know that HE is God." God's not a grand-stander. His still, small voice, that voice from within, is gentle and guiding, but not neon-lit, ground-effected or stroked and bored. It ROCKS the universe, but with majesty, power, illumination...not bluster. Don't accept that "No is still an answer" until you LOOK at where God may have quietly put the "Yes," so that you'd APPRECIATE it. 

Hear that scraping? That'd be ME, putting away my soapbox for the day.

This is me, in my office...well, okay, it's NOT an office. I figured THAT out after my desk got flushed several times. The point is, my face is getting noticeably thinner. I've gone from 238# at the beginning of January, to 226# yesterday morning. The size 38 trousers trousers that I couldn't button in January FIT me yesterday. It's working, by the grace of God. Eating well has done me well. And, I walked the store, yesterday. OUTSIDE. Twice. It's just one mile, but it beats sitting on my (_)_) doing NOTHING. And I walked it in under eleven minutes. Not bad for an old fart. And, oh yeah: I was worried, because I walked the perimeter on my first fifteen minute, Union guaranteed break (thank you, UFCW), and I did it hell-for-leather. I thinks to myself, as I walks into the happy factory: "I'm probably gonna hafta DRAG my (_)_) outta here at 1800..." Not so. I was AMPED all DAY, Bubbeleh...and I mean AMPED. I was on a ROLL and felt great all afternoon and into the evening, when I dropped into bed, at a decent hour, and thereafter slept all night.

Next, we add weights to my ankles. At one time, I had five pounds strapped to each limb, and seven pounds in each hand. Hey...If I can carry it as FAT, I can carry it as a CHALLENGE. And...another thing? When I looked in the mirror, I saw my Dad. He's gone, now...just over three years. But his rosy cheeks, his vibrant skin, that "healthiness" he exuded are showing in me. It's working. I have a shot at getting THAT old...with Dawn, with my kids and grandkids (Dean and Dyllan,  you two better WAIT for THAT announcement!) Yeah. I'm a happy boy. 

That said, this has been a good week, praise God, from whom all blessings flow. Last week was kinda hairy; another work-related accident, another visit to the ER, some small anger at myself for being human...much gratitude because God is good, ALL the time, and it was nothing worse than a couple bruises. Dawn did have to give me a crowbar so that I could pry my butt off the pity pot (thank you, Princess) but the negatives were FAR outweighed by the positives. Read on:

Some time back, Dawn and her friend Heather went ISO this place out in Gratis, OH, for oddball stuff: grains, flours, etc. I've never seen the man-folk, so I'm none too sure if they're German Baptists or Amish. They have no radio, TV or internet, but the womenfolk wear those little linen and net haircaps. Be that as it may, last time Dawn and I went to the place, together, I ordered up a TEN POUND BAG of wheat gluten, with which to make seitan. Or, wheat meat, kofu, mi cang, グルテンミート(gurutenmito,or 'gluten meat') Got it for $2.15/pound. That's like, STOOPIT inexpensive, and allows me to experiment more freely. I also bought some nice nine-grain, and a big-(_)_) sack of soy flour, to make soymilk. And, from the soymilk, tofu.

Now all I have to do is get a source for inexpensive cheesecloth, because when I wrap the dough up in only one or two layers of cheesecloth, it has a tendency to burst its seams, and go wandering. Not my intention. And, I'm wondering if a sausage stuffer is or is not the answer, because what happens when you boil a faux-sage? It expands. To, like, twice the original size...will the vegetarian casings burst? Will the artificial casings allow enough simmering medium inside the casing to properly cook the stuff? See, there are different ways to season, shape and cook seitan, and I want to fully explore them so I don't get bored with it. I mean, you can grill a porterhouse, top it with onions and mushrooms and top it with some nice Maytag Blue just so many times before the THOUGHT of a steak makes ya wanna hurl. Please, be real. We tried that famous doctor's low-carb induction twice, and lemme be honest: by the end of ONE WEEK, my 'favorite foods' was ONE FOOD: BREAD. I could have committed a CRIME for a piece of stale bread. 

But...I'm a patient man...willing to look, seek, find, after a fashion. Immediacy of gratification isn't what it's all cracked up to be. Another saying I learned in AA is "Time takes time." I didn't get this porky overnight, and I'm not going to look like Lance Armstrong when I wake up tomorrow morning, either. Or Dwayne Johnson, or Vin Diesel. Or, apparently, Stanley Tucci. Sorry, Linda. Right now, looking like Kirstie Alley isn't an option anymore. Oh, she has a cute face...but...

I'm still meat-free. I NEED fish...sorry, vegans...at this point, I still have to share in SOME slaughter, because of the omega-3's and the availability factors thereto attached in fish. Eggs and milk, as well. I may have to just go looking for humane sources for those items, is all. 

So. This week's stats. 

                   height   weight    body fat% water%     neck     waist      chest      bicep

01.01.10     5'10"      238          unk              unk           unk    over 42    d-cup   milk-muscles  

02.02.10     5'10"     223.5         32               51     (Gotta wait for Li'l Sugar to measure)

I went to Doc Goeller (http://www.premierhealthnet.com/physician.aspx?id=24542) for a routine f/u on a joint problem, and to reevaluate my sleeplessness. They did my vitals; they ran blood work. BP? 110/80. That's not what it was, ten years ago...but it's WAY better than it's been running, routinely. I got a telephonic about my serum levels, and wasn't thrilled...they've gone UP...but, since LAST YEAR. I'm going to ask for a recount in six months, after I've been doing this pescetarian gig for a bit. 

Dawnie says to look at it like this: You cheat on your spouse. You do it again. And, again. Pretty soon, they're not gonna trust you anymore. Oh, you may be a good boy (or, as the case may be, good girl.) But, it's going to take some time before they trust you again. On the other hand, you cheat on your diet. And you do it again. And, again. Pretty soon, when you go to picnics, people invite you over so YOU can provide the shade. You get tired of GreenPeace running up to you at the beach, prodding you toward the water with sticks, saying, "Don't dry out, Big Buddy..." and you go onna diet. Don't be shocked that, within only a month, you haven't cleaned out that cesspool of fat, stored carbs, artificial additives and whatnot. Don't be surprised that...time takes time, and that the journey of a few dozen pounds begins with the loss of ONE...and the conviction that you can do it, by the grace of God. 

I mentioned my earthly father, a minute ago. Vinnie. Great guy, good father; product of the depression, the swingin' thirties and forties, product of the cold war and the fifties. His method of parenting wasn't much more different than any other Dad, at that time. He was 'tough love' embodied. But, when he got soft, he'd do things like take us to work with him, at Food Fair, or Grand Union, grocery stores in the area. Someone broke a case of pickles in the meat room yesterday, and I slid right down that briny, garlic smell to the deli departments I remember from 45 years ago...the smell of cold, hanging meat, hams and wursts, pickles...HUGE friggin' roast beef on hard-roll sangwiches, with REAL Hellman's on them. That's when I hadda break and go into the biffy, and saw my face in the mirror. Somehow, with all the smells in the meat department, and the way I looked in the mirror...it was like seeing him again, and he wasn't on his death bed. It was like seeing Daddy again, in his garden (which, in my youthful stupidity, I accused him of loving and caring for more than us kids; sorry, Boss). And, I dreamed last night of my own garden, and woke up thinking how happy he'd be, us following in his footsteps, raising things we love, just like him.

Heavenly Father, it's been a wonderful week. I am grateful. I'm above ground. I'm sober. I'm STILL MARRIED!!! I'm happy, relatively healthy, and productive. I like what I do (that lady with the chicken breast fillets, and the other with the suet for her birds? Thanks for them, too.) My family loves me. I'm appreciated where I am. My hand? It's better. I'm cutting, at work again. My foot? Getting there. Thanks, for the healing talents of Doc Scott. My problem with the VA? Congressman Turner and Governor Strickland are on it. The money tree I've been asking for, in my back yard? Ain't there, yet; not even a sprig. But, You, Father God, provide. You give me this day, and every day, my portion. And for that, I am truly, lovingly grateful.

Muddling through...

12 January:         19 January:       26 January:

height:     5'10"         5'10"                      5'10"  

weight:    231.5#      228# (-3.5#)      227.50# (-.50#)

body fat: 31.5%       32%   +.5%           30.50% (-1.50%)

water:      51%          51%                         54%

waist:      46.5"        46.5"                       46.25" (-.25")

chest:      47.5"        47"     (.50")          46.50"(-.50)

biceps:    14.5"        14"     (.50 ")         14.25" +.50

neck:       17"            17"                            16.50" (-.50)

Not much of anything pithy or erudite to say; down a half pound, down a couple half-inches in circumference. Kinda...flat-lining, I guess. But...I didn't BINGE when I had an unfortunate turn of events, at work. I didn't snap at my Princess, and I didn't pick up any of the OLD, old habits. I picked up the phone, told on myself, and got it DONE WITH. 

Blessings: 

1. I have one more piece of baseboard to paint and install in the new dining room, and then the finishing touches: pictures, documents, plants. Just the undersides of the kitchen cabinets and gourmet rack to paint, the new lighting to hang, the white brickwork to finish painting, and again, the finishing touches. Then, it's the upstairs hallway, and bathroom.  I am ENABLED, by God.
   
2. I have some new, SWEET pics of my son, and grandchildren, this week. Rita, where are YOUR pics, holding the kids? 
3. I have the talents of my heart and hands, that I can make kids smile; I can prepare food for my family and others; I can write!
4. I have my wife, sons, daughters, mothers and extended family that I love, and that love me. 
5. I'm getting stuff ACCOMPLISHED as our store's Inclusion Coordinator.
   
6. I'm still on the GREEN side of the grass. I'm still clean and sober.

By the way, I've been not only meat-free, but fish-free, as well. For about five days, now, heartbeat-free sustenance. Even took Dawnie on a date, Saturday, and was strictly vegetarian. Okay, not STRICTLY; I bit her on the neck...but just a little...

Heavenly Father, thank you for reminding me that a rut is just a coffin, with the ends kicked out. I have choices, and tonight, I choose gratitude. Tomorrow, I will choose a cheerful countenance, a professional mien, a manner of being which, if I were to meet myself as a stranger, I would enjoy being with me.

"...and when I was wrong, promptly admitted it."

It's been another week...I'm still watching what I eat (not just gazing as I graze) and I've begun to take on more water ballast. Lemme tell ya, Brothers and Sisters...just cramming in that extra 96oz of water makes for about a thousand extra steps per day, back and forth to the back'ouza. I'm seriously considering giving up asking God to "...grant me the serenity," and BUYING Serenities, instead. Hooo-EE! Anyway, here are the facts:

12 January:              19 January:

height: 5'10"            5'10"  

weight: 231.5#        228# (-3.5#) (-7.50#, total; 3.24%)

body fat: 31.5%      32%   +.5%

water: 51%               51%

waist: 46.5"             46.5"

chest: 47.5"             47"     (.5")

biceps: 14.5             14"     (.5")

Lost some weight, lost half an inch around the man-boobies (instead of Mae West, I'd rather look like Goldie Hawn, personally...) and some bicep circumference. BUT...the weight is making me happy, because that means that it's WORKING. Slips notwithstanding.

Yes, I said 'slips.' Sad to say, I've had a couple. Nights where I can't sleep, or something stresses me out so that I'm awake past that golden parenthesis of chemically-induced somnolence have always been a problem. Last night, it was my hand. Had surgery in October, and I'm POSITIVE that my surgeon did his best. Unfortunately, HE was only doing what he was able to do, given that the emergency room physician stepped all OVER his wanker when he treated me. He should have referred me to a specialist that night, instead of my having to have found out ten days later, after scar tissue had all but precluded a satisfactory surgical result. 

That being said, I snapped at the little lady last night, and ground my incisors in the bed for about an hour, until I decided to eat the last of the strawberries, and about a quarter of a cantaloupe before retiring to the couch. Rascal came to comfort me, and even THAT had no effect; no solace was to be found. Somewhere in there, the Ropinerole and the Trazadone bushwhacked me, and I slid into the fringes of rest, until that water issue came up again. So, I went BACK to bed, with my darling angel, and slept the rest of the night. But I had grazed. Good stuff, mind you...fruit is good...but at an inappropriate time, as an inappropriate response to an uncontrollable situation.

IAW the Tenth Step, when I got up this morning, I apologized to Dawn, but still feel like crap. a) because I snapped at her and Dyllan over something as completely STOOPIT as a disarticulated index finger, and b) because I let it get so far inside my head. Again...sorry, guys. I love you. 

Also, this week, I had Dawn work me up a smart, gradual weight-loss dietary plan. She is very fond of the American Diabetes Association diet, and calculated my needs to around 1900 calories. That all depends on timing, though, and lotsa diligence on my  part. I knew this weren't gonna be easy...my head just can't embrace it all, is all. Maybe the points system... 

Now, for the REALLY hard part: getting my silly butt in front of the boobless tube. Eating well isn't going to do it, completely. Shoot, that ONE TIME we walked around the big box-store was a BLAST. Back when I was a substitute teacher, Dawn and I would walk, up behind Orchard Family Health Care, regularly. It was fun. We'd walk, rest, have a snack... And, I can walk FOREVER, behind my pretty little wifey. The view is GREAT, lemme tell YOU. I should look up Richard Simmons' "Sweatin' to the Oldies," too, since he and I have so much in common: no taste in clothes, bad hair and a taste for that type of music. 

All joking aside, I have to look back at that Tenth Step again. I was wrong; I apologized to Dawn, I need to tell Dyllan, too. But...I have to forgive ME. I made a stupid choice. But, I made some serious SMART choices this week, too. I didn't graze the holiday buffet at work...FREE LUNCH, and yours truly didn't eat the cake, the cold cuts, the soda water...I held fast! I didn't hit the leftovers in the icebox ALL WEEK, until last night...and, I left the meat ALONE. (Momma's a little taken aback by it. I guess she hadn't noticed that I wasn't eating meat, for the last three weeks.)

I did good. I lost weight, lost an inch, and am taking positive, noticeable steps toward living longer, happier, healthier. Par example... Last night I made another seitan recipe. Rolled it into a sausage shape, boiled and simmered it, as per usual, and sliced it into a nice garden sauce I had made and let it simmer some more. Turned out pretty nice. Dawn was excited, because she had some left over to bring to lunch. I was excited because (until around midnight) I was actually FULL and satisfied, with what can be considered a normal portion.

*sigh*

Father God...Abba...Daddy...thank you for the serenity, courage and wisdom. I know that I'm still addicted to food. I always will be. I still have to walk the tracks. But, balancing on that rail, ready to dodge the next highballer, I know You've got my hand. I know You're watching over me, gently pointing out the good and the bad, allowing me the freewill, and rooting for my success as a man, a husband and a father. Thanks for all the plants and spices; thanks for the inspiration to cook them, and Daddy? Thanks for all the fish*

Week One...

Okay, here's the skinny...oh, my HELL, I kill me.

No, really, I am feeling good about 'me' today. Stepped on the scale, for the official 7th-day weigh-in, had the little Princess measure my strategic spots, and WINCE. But, it's all good. Here are the stats:

height: 5'10"

weight: 231.5

body fat: 31.5%

waist: 46.5

chest: 47.5

biceps: 14.5

Not pretty, IS it...?

This is the first week I've done all that. I just know what I weighed LAST week from visiting the Doc. Oh, yeah, THAT'S going well, too. He prescribed Trazadone, 50mg for sleep, and hoo-BOY!!! A full night's sleep, which has eluded me for Y E A R S seems to be in sight.

Again, full night's sleep = no grazing.

No grazing = no inappropriate calorie intake.

No inappropriate calorie intake = losing weight.

This is cool. I can't WAIT until NEXT week, to see how I'm progressing. But this isn't strictly about my sorry ass. I promised a certain little someone that I'd love, honor and obey 'til death do us part. Shortening that tenure with a knife, fork and spoon isn't exactly what God would consider 'good stewardship.' Remember, He had the chosen people following strict rules of dietary vigilance in the old testament. Musta been a reason, no? Also, the Twelfth Step says that, 'having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these (eleven previous) steps, try to carry this message to others, and practice these principals in all my endeavors.' I know that food isn't exactly the same as other addictions. It's the only one that requires the walking of the tracks...constant flirting with disaster...looking that monster in the eye, and holding its hand, REGULARLY. But, I'm taking the steps to walk more carefully, flirt less outrageously, and hold that monster's hand more gingerly, to live that longer life.

Now, I had shown the seitan I had made, in a previous post. Gotta get that recipe down mo' bettah. It was a wee bit salty, albeit wonderful in texture and flavor. Remembering that you can make this stuff taste like anything you want to, within limits, I said to myself...'salty?' Hmmm...I went to bed, thinking about that and woke up Sunday EXCITED... I went to the icebox, grabbed that leftover seitan from Saturday's dinner, and sliced off a few pieces...nice and thin...stirred them with liquid smoke, sauteed them and...FAKE BACON! Hard-fried an egg, slapped on a piece of smart cheese, the Facon, and bookended it all with two slices of whole wheat bread. Facon, Egg and Cheese as good as any diner I've ever graced.

This morning? I diced up some seitan, stirred in some sausage spices and sauteed it in olive oil. Tossed in a scrambled egg, some fat-free mild cheddar cheese, covered it, and turned off the stove (Energy saving note here: get your pan hot enough to sizzle a drop of water, do your sauteing, etc...and when the egg is dropped in and covered, turn off the stove. The residual heat of your ELECTRIC STOVE (Sorry, gas users...unless you have heavy-clad bottomed pans) will continue to cook your egg.) Small step, but a step, nonetheless. Used to be that my 'carbon footprint' had ingrown toenails. I'm trimming back. And the sandwich? Yeah, Baby...it was MONEY.

Now, you may notice that I'm sauteing a lot...saying "olive oil" and "walnut oil" and "grapeseed oil..." As I may have intimated, my darling wife is a nutritionist (okay, she has two more quarters until she gets certified, but what the hell, a nod is as good as a wink, right? If I'm drowning, I'm not gonna ask to see the CREDENTIALS of the guy that throws me a lifeline...) and DAWN says that olive oil, walnut oil and grapeseed oil are GOOD FATS..and good fats, in moderation are good FOR you. So THERE. Hey, NO good engine can run without lubrication. Fats help you absorb vitamins A, K, D and E. They also address the satiety centers in the brain, helping us to feel full and satisfied with our eating.

Stopped to go get tires on Dawn's car. Sauntered around the Big Box Store for a couple of hours...I shoulda made the effort to storm the place, like we did, two weeks ago...but it's no fun alone. Besides, when Dawn walks a little in front of me, the view from back here is SWEET...whatta CAN on that girl! I can follow her ANYwhere, Dude! Maybe I'll get this painting a little closer to finished, and get outside to take a pic or two, this afternoon. OUTSIDE...anything is better than my FORMER exercise regimen: I used to joke that 'pushing 55, jumping to conclusions, running my mouth and bending the truth' were exercise enough. Not so. Dawn, my phamily physician, my sleep studies physician, Dr. Mehmet Oz and everyone else seem to agree. Raise your core temp, your basic metabolic rate and your circulation for at least 20 to 30 minutes...and you'll sleep better, burn calories and fat, and make HEALTHY growth in your body, like muscle tissue. This, so I don't get discouraged in that the weight loss slows down. 'Cause I KNOW that someday, my body's gonna QUIT shedding the excess, and start going the other way, what with the healthier lifestyle and all.


Father God, thank you for the healthier choices. I don't need books, pamphlets, notes or articles. I KNOW this stuff! Now, I have to put it all together. As with the first seven years just being 'clean...' NOW I have to take action. Guide my hands, my feet, my heart, that I can continue to do what I need to do, to live a longer life, a more productive life...for my wife, our kids, and to Your greater glory. HOO-ahhhh! Go Team!

Seitan worship on Sunday morning...

Well, now...I'm seriously looking at my food. LOOKING at it. And, even though this has happened before, I'm looking more closely. I was grinding beef at work. I was looking at the trimmings, and aside from the MFA factor (mercy for animals movement: http://www.mercyforanimals.org/meet-mfa.aspx ) you really have to admit...it's kinda unpalatable. Think about it. Meat doesn't START in nice neat little packages, all shiny and plastic-wrapped, like you see it in the store. Meat comes in fur...on feet (oh, okay, dammit...HOOVES) with eyes and hearts and, to some extent or another, FEELINGS. I have a difficult time of it, sometimes. I try and justify it by comparing myself to Dr. Mallard, "Ducky," on NCIS. He doesn't like DEATH, but he loves his job. And, I like what I do. Really. But...it's part of the Machine. The farm factory Machine. And, sadly enough, it's not all 'ee-eye, ee-eye, OH."

I DO feel way better about eating veggies. Like, it's a CHALLENGE to get the daily requirement of calories and nutritional building blocks, without stopping a heart...mine, or some other animal's. Some scientific research indicates that plants have feelings, but I never HAVE had a plant as a pet. Well, ONCE. Meggie and I planted some orange seeds one time, and one actually SPROUTED. Yuppers, it did. Grew about four feet tall, shiny dark and green, with some SUPER thorns. Pretty, but I never wanted to sleep with it, like Mister Mittens, or Nanny-Cat. Anyway, I've been two complete days, now, without benefit of furry animal consumption. With the exception of a couple of tilapia fillets, it's all been vegetable based. Par example:

Friday

1. breakfast of milk, cereal and a couple apples
2. lunch of salmon with Mediterranean spices and light mayo, a spinach pie and a za'atar bread, both made from whole-kernel durum flour. 
3. dinner of Momma's vegetarian vegetable and Textured Soy Protein (http://www.bobsredmill.com/organic-textured-soy_protein.html)soup
4. a couple of cookies, and LOTSA skim milk during the day

Saturday

1. breakfast of a tilapia fillet LOADED with veggies and spices, (Dawn's recipe) hummus, an apple and skim milk
   
2. lunch of the REST of the tilapia and hummus, skim milk, an apple and an orange.
3. Dinner of seitan steak with sauteed mushrooms and onions, baked potato with some kinda smart butter-like spread, sauteed cabbage and bok choi with organic peanut butter/lime sauce, with blueberry tea. (I passed up a porterhouse dinner, on PURPOSE. I even COOKED it, for Mom and Dyll.)
   
4. night-time snack of a few cookies, with another glass of skim milk.

Now, see? I feel pretty darn good about all those menu choices, cookies and all, because NO blood was shed (save for that of the tilapia, and I'm seriously considering sea-life, too) and it DOES seem that I'm losing some kinda weight. What the hell, not grazing all night until I fall asleep HAS to have a benefit, nyet? 

Oh, yeah; I'm on a new medication, for sleeplessness. I take the usual Ropinerole for RLS, at 8:00 or so...or else I twitch like crazy, otherwise. But...this OTHER stuff seems to be working. At least, for now. Before I actually tag it, and have to recant my endorsement, I'll just wait and see. The IDEAL model is to remain on it, at lowest dose, until I get into an unaided sleep pattern, and then QUIT. Not quit sleeping, I meant quit taking the med. So, I'm sleeping almost all the way through the night, waking up for a fast biffy-call, because all that milk and water content has to go SOMEPLACE...and then pretty much immediately fall back to sleep. But I don't toss, turn, raid the icebox...OR, wake up with that damned 'food hangover' anymore! HOORAY! I mean, I gave up alcohol hangovers a few twenty-four hours ago...what the hell am I doing suffering from any OTHER kinda hangover, huh? Like I said, I HAVE the tools...one day at a time. 

One of my old online friends has been looking at my photo posts, on Facebook. She saw the seitan and said "Yuck." She said "Ralph!!!" Well, Kiddo, here's the deal: I have done SEVERAL things in my life, with which people may, or may NOT have agreed. When I quit my job at the hospital ($2.50/hour!!!) to become a medic...when I ETS'ed the Army to go to UTEP...when I left UTEP to go to the US DoD Language School...Sh%t, I've been raising eyebrows since 1957. And, I'm still alive. Now, not to hurt anyone's feelings, but I don't care if you like what I eat, or not. Each of us is entitled to our own opinion. Broadening of the horizons is an option, and if you choose to remain myopic, when eyeglasses are right there on the table, so be it. I'll send roses to your funeral. Mine is being postponed. 

I feel good. I'm taking steps to clean out my heart, my body. Maybe baby steps. It's PROGRESS, not PERFECTION. We are not saints. The point is, that we are WILLING to walk a straighter walk. And, can actually see my feet, without the help of a mirror. I started out, Tuesday, 5 January, 2010, at 236 pounds. Today, Sunday, 10 January, 2010, I weigh 230.5 pounds. Just from eating better. Maybe not smarter, I have to begin to actively track my calories and begin exercising to do all that. But, as I said, progress, not perfection.

Speaking of exercise, now it's time to go to Union Chapel. Every once inna while, yours truly gets Sunday off work, to be with the little lady, and it's my honor, my duty, my dream to be in church, singing the doxology with her.

Eat-iology of the Disease

Hi. My name is Steve, and I have an addictive nature. Thankfully, I'm in recovery from alcoholism. But food? Oh, man, I'm HOOKED. Bad. I'm 53 and overweight, with high blood pressure, hyperlipidemia, arthritis, hypothyroidism, insomnia, restless leg syndrome and sleep apnea.

In short, I'm a sleepy fat guy that walks funny and twitches. Perfect as a walk-on character in "Family Guy," but not as the life partner of a hot babe that's twelve years my junior, with a PLAN. Healthy lifestyle plan, that is. Her blog is "Lite of Dawn," and is pretty good. And, it's WORKING for her. The blog, AND her plan. My plan? Well...let's just look at the title of this blog.

Graze Anatomy. That's me. I'm not an emotional eater. I only eat when I'm happy. Or, sad. Or, bored. Or when the day ends in 'y.' I eat like I drank. Just because.

Good day? Celebrate. Bad day? Bury it. Angry day? Stuff it. Flatline day? Graze.

I graze. I can walk into a room, and SEE the food. HEAR the food. The grocery store is like a pornography shop to me. The Food Network? Same thing, only more EXOTIC. I don't have to be hungry. It's Pavlovian. I've become instantly responsive to the presence of food, and I can't rest until the last leftover has been eaten, the last crumb of cookie or cake has been consumed.

Speaking of rest, and hours of sleep, as they're known in the medical world, that's when the urge is the most INSAAAAAAANE. How's THIS: I take half of the prescribed dosage of my restless leg syndrome medication at roughly 8:30pm, so I can sit still through the nightly TV routine. Somewhere around 10pm, we head off to bed. Or, in my case, the computer, where I play, sleeplessly, for hours, until my poor little Sugar rolls over for the ten ZILLIONTH time, finally asking if she can turn off the lights. After twelve years of being online, I STILL can't type without looking at the keyboard, so I have to throw the CPU on scan, and turn off the monitor. I take the OTHER half of my ropinirole, my zolpidem tartrate and the rest of my pharmacopoeia, and roll into bed. I strap on my CPAP...and then lie there.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting for sleep.

Not good. First thing that goes out the window (almost literally) is the CPAP. For the first few months, it worked well. Now, it makes me feel like I'm gasping for air. I can't even get through the 'ramp-up' stage, where it goes from a moderate amount of pressure to fully-prescribed pressure. Then, I turn over...and over and over. Poor Rascal and Mister Mittens. They're two of our five cats that sleep on the bed, when it's not a tornado of sheets and feet. They try valiantly to avoid being kicked off the bed, climbing over to Dawn's side, jumping on a dresser...nothing saves them from the wrath of my restlessness until I get out of bed, grab two pillows and my old robe, and scuff off to the family room couch. Where I toss and turn some more.

Then, it happens. I hear it. I FEEL it: the icebox calling me, whispering to me, like Poe's telltale heart..."I felt that I must scream or die! and now --again! --hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!"

I go upstairs, open said icebox...delicately poking as a surgeon on an exploratory mission. Soon, I'm not just tasting this or that by the spoonful, but gorging. Empty that container of cottage cheese...add some honey, a few walnuts; whoa, there's a bratwurst or two that no one will miss. Oooooh! LOOK! Potato chips on the counter! And so on.

A variation of this is to quietly get dressed in my painting clothes, get out the roller pan and roller, stir up some paint and roll a couple of walls. We're remodeling the kitchen, dining room and bathroom, and this puts my insomnia to good use. But, all the while, I have tea and cookies, or something like the cold, leftover pork roast from New Year's day dinner, in slices on a plate. Roll...nibble. Stir...nibble. When I'm embarrassed, overfull and very ashamed, I go back to the couch and finally, almost tearfully, some mornings, I find sleep.

Like I said, I graze. I have a graze anatomy. I even look like a Holstein: All gut, no butt.

It's time to stop laughing at it, as my life-partner says, and start DOING something about it. Last night, I was as sleepless as ever, but didn't paint. But, I didn't graze, either. Well...not much. I had half a cup of white beans and tomatoes...two glasses of milk and one teaspoon of honey. I watched TV. I slept three or four times, had one SUPER nightmare...but I didn't whack that pork roast, or the cookies in the garage icebox.

In AA, we have steps. One involves recognition of our powerlessness over the substance of choice. Another involves believing that a higher power (personally, my higher power is God) will restore us to sanity. Another involves our turning our will and our lives over to this higher power, and another strongly suggests prayer and meditation as an avenue to maintaining said sanity. Here goes:

Father God, I am POWERLESS over my eating habits, and it's gonna kill me someday: Suicide on the installment plan. I know you have my heart in Your hands, and will NOT let me fail, if I trust You. Give me this day my daily bread, I pray, and ask You to help me be satisfied with that portion. I pray your assistance, in the form of encouragement by my wife and friends, to make a plan and stick with it, set a goal and meet it, make a mistake and learn from it. By the power of your Son's death and resurrection, I pray. Amen.