Down to the Last Plate of Cookies

Christmas 2009 is over. It was a very good one, full of good cheer, family, friends and delicious meals. It was also very full of cookies. Allyson and I made fourteen different kinds of cookies, which comes to about 600 in all. We spent an entire day unpacking them (half we had frozen as we had baked them earlier in the month), putting each in a decorative paper cup, and then

re- boxing them in assortments to send off and give away to friends and relatives. Joe and Al did the postal packing and trip to the post office. For the longest time I only ate one of each batch. As they came out of the oven and cooled on the rack, I felt I had to try one of each to make sure they were OK. They were OK. In fact, the were damn good, if I do say so myself.

Aside from the occasional tast-test cookie, my eating approaching the holidays was OK. And them came Dec. 20, a date that shall live in infamy, as the day I gave in to to cookie craving. It began innocently enough, with a single peanut butter cookie for breakfast. The rationale went something like this: peanut butter has protein so this cookie will probably be OK for my blood sugar. Then I ate a second, and then a third. Finally, I told myself that Dec. 20 would be a dietary restriction-free day, so for lunch I had cottage cheese and cookies. And for dinner I had soup and cookies. And before I went to bed, I fixed myself a plate of beautiful, iced Christmas sugar cookies, which are Allyson's specialty. There were green trees, pink angels, yellow stars, and my absolute favorite, blue snowflakes. I made myself a cup of herbal tea and sat on the sofa, enjoying every bite while gradually getting sleepier and sleepier. At 11:00 pm I stumbled off to bed.

At 2:30 am I awoke with something I can only describe as a combination kidney stone and gall bladder-like attack, as my digestive track, fined tuned from days of whole wheat, oatmeal and vegetables, went into a state of complete rebellion from the cups of butter and sugar I had consumed the day before. I was up and down all night. Now you would think that any rationale person would go back to healthy eating the very next morning. But, nope, I went straight back to cookies and other refined carbohydrates. And it has been that way every since, culminating with the wonderful prime rib dinner we had yesterday, on Christmas day, which included my daughter Lilly's famous candied yams, and was topped off by my daughter Rose's amazingly good mince pie and eggnog.

Within a few days my stomach has regained its capacity to digest contraband, and I have been sleeping through the night without problems. I have not been exercising. I am afraid to get on the scales. Today so far, I am doing better, gradually retuning to healthy eating. Tomorrow Allyson and I leave for a three day escape to NYC to see Kandinsky at the MOMA and other shows. I am hoping all the walking will help me get my leg strength back. Right now I feel like my first mile might as well be a marathon.

Sick, Sick and Sick Some More!

Nobody wants to hear about old peoples' illnesses so I haven't been writing for awhile. Yes, I have had two more viruses -- the ten day lung busting cougher and the 48 hour neck radiating head-splitter. Not to mention that every part of my body itches from dry skin. I was under the impression that I was sick all the time my last couple of years at work because my job was physically stressful , especially all the plane travel. But apparently I am just a weakling, prone to catching every germ in a ten mile radius. Or perhaps 60 is a year like three or 14 or 33, all years which I spent working my way through virus after virus after infection for no good reason.

My exercise regime is at a halt. Now that I am better I must start again, but a cold gray winter sky makes outside look very inhospitable. Inside we have a roaring fire and a beautiful tree, decorated by Allyson's and my grandchildren, with an over abundance of every kind of ornament imaginable. Under the tree is a profusion of gifts, each beautifully wrapped by Allyson or me. Gift wrapping seems to be the only activity I can truly enjoy while sneezing, scratching and coughing. Don't worry those of you who are my gift list. I washed my hands after every sneeze or sniffle. I love the wrapping process, all the colored papers and the contrasting ribbons, wide or narrow, shiny and curly or straight and textured. Adding the little gift cards to each package makes me especially happy. The gift cards make the presents seem finished and personal. How I love paper! It is one of life's greatest blessings.

I am also baking, but believe it or not I am not overeating. I am still in a good food period that is reflected in my declining weight on the scales. I am down 15 pounds now. I keep telling myself it ought to be easier to walk. I am able to visualize 15 butter boxes removed from various parts of my body. This is a ready image because every cookie recipe requires at least half a box of butter. After I bake them, I pack them in perfect geometric patterns in plastic containers and pop them in the freezer for unpacking day, when they all emerge and Al and I put each cookie in a colorful paper cup and arrange them in assortments for gift giving.

As you can probably tell I am into Christmas big time. I keep thinking of the scene in the grandparent's house from the movie Fanny and Alexander, which captured a feeling I am hoping to pass on to my grandchildren. It's a feeling of comfort, warmth and joy, and also of peace and harmony. OK, that may be a bit unrealistic given the size of my family, but at least I can feel peaceful and harmonious, and hope that my mood is as contagious as the local viruses.

Why I Craved Celery Today

Today I opened the refrigerator to get a snack and saw a cool, crisp piece of celery that was washed and trimmed. It looked great. I ate it and washed it down with a glass of fresh, filtered water from our refrigerator. This was a a first. I actually think I may have succeeded in changing my eating habits. With the exception of Thanksgiving and Kenny's and Joe's birthdays, I have been eating very well for the past two months. I have rarely had any refined grain products, and almost no sweets.

Why I have been able to stick to my pre-diabetic diet for the first time is a mystery to me. But I have several theories. One is that I am much less stressed out than while I was working, so I am not eating to sooth myself or because I am exhausted. The second is that regular exercise has reduced my cravings. The third is that my life is changing, and I am avoiding behaviors that make me tired and frustrated, and thus am less likely to over eat.

One change is that I am trying to let go of the notion that I have to fix everything that goes wrong or might go wrong with my daughters or husband. I grew up having to know how to avoid the wrath of a maniacal mother and deal with a chronically depressed father. I learned at an early age to be able to read mood and body language and to understand and mitigate unpleasant circumstances. I used these skills in school to be the A student who always seemed to know just what the professor wanted or needed to hear. I used the skills in the workplace to convince those around me to do whatever was required to make the office go smoothly. And I got lots of positive feedback for these behaviors.

But these behaviors took time and energy and did not allow me to do things that were new, creative, or just plain fun. So now is the time to do whatever I please, and I really have no excuses to hold me back, except that it is difficult to change old patterns. The the first change was the hardest. For me that was starting to exercise. Now other changes are coming with surprising rapidity. So maybe this is why I craved celery today.

An Active Life of Thought

Since the grand kids went back to school in September, I have been experimenting with unplanned thinking. This a new concept for me. My mind works by keeping a never-ending day-planner front and center in the executive center of my brain. Each day there are short-term goals (take a bath), medium-term goals (finish my Christmas shopping) and long-term goals (run a a mile). For forty years, I have woken each day knowing exactly what I wanted/needed to do. Unless my body backfired on me, I generally achieved what I had planned.

Now I am experimenting by leaving some time unstructured, to do whatever I feel like doing. And most of this time I spend thinking. My own thoughts about life, nature, philosophy, art, you-name-it, are endlessly interesting to me. If I read, or see an exhibition of painting or a go to a movie, this creates enough material for me to think about for at least two or three days. It is intensely pleasurable.


But there are several problems with this choice of life style. The first is dealing with my own guilt. I have a pretty heavy dose of the puritan work ethic. The second is dealing with the reactions of others. When I tell them I am thinking, the most common response is, "you deserve a rest!" This inevitably makes me angry because I think everyone should have time to think even if they haven't been busy for forty years. It also angers me because my thinking, although directed internally, is a very active pursuit and I am not just lying around doing nothing. Another problem is exercise. Thinking is cutting into my exercise time. This combined with not having an outdoor pool and sunshine, has reduced me to doing only one or two blocks per day. The blocks alternate between walking, which I still hate, and stretching, which I enjoy.


On the positive side, thinking has reduced my stress level and my compulsive eating is less evident. It is much easier for me to stick to my pre-diabetic diet most of the time. My weight has continued to decline at the rate of about 2 pounds per month, so I am now down ten pounds. I feel good physically and mentally. Each day is different because my mind takes me to different places.


Another change is that now, when I am in a social setting, I am very outgoing. I have always been an introvert who extroverts well, but it has been a challenge. I am definitely not a party person. In the past, after large social gatherings, I always felt like a had to go home and assume a fetal position mentally (physically I was way too fat and stiff to even attempt this.) I have always preferred small gatherings and especially intense one-on-one discussions to big bashes, unless I host the bash at my house. I am sure this is a control issue, but I feel like I can be myself when entertaining in my on home.

Last night we were invited to an engagement party for my nephew and his wonderful girlfriend. I genuinely had a good time. But perhaps I over did it. With one glass of bubbly (I generally don't drink any more because of my blood sugar), I was prompted to tell the saga of how Joe and I met and decided to marry, which is not the romantic story that would be appropriate for the occasion. As if this weren't bad enough, I then expounded on some of Joe's old girlfriends, making him mad. It was probably not the best choice of subject matter, but what can I say. All my inward energy exploded in a barrage of verbiage. Thankfully, the center of attention of the evening remained on the beautiful young couple, sharing their joy with their family. I think I will leave it there.

Back at Last

I have been gone from this blog for a long time during which I have experienced a period of inactivity and introspection. I am not really certain what external factors led me to drop out of my exercise program. -- there were illnesses, back problems and family issues, but to me the inability to get my body going seemed more internal. During this inactive period I felt entitled to do nothing on some days. After all, I have kept to a rather tight schedule for forty years. I also felt I needed silence and time where I did not have to deal with other people. I must say that I am a true introvert, in the sense that I feel the most centered when I spend time alone in silence.

And then of course there are sports. October is my favorite month. It features the
World Series (my oldest daughter when she was five called it the World Serious because of how determined I was not to be interrupted during the games.) There is also both college and professional football. But please do not ask me about the Redskins. Their performance alone is enough to drive me into a catatonic state. And my grandsons are playing football and doing very well at winter swim meets. During the past month I also watched the President's Cup, the world tack and field championships, the world gymnastic championships, iceskating and world cup ski racing.

But whatever the many reasons for my withdraw from blogging and exercise, I now feel ready to come back to this part of my life. Today, Allyson and I did two walking blocks at Brookside Gardens. It was raining and the last survivors of the amazingly colored fall leaves still held tenaciously to the trees. The chrysanthemums were vibrant. They were pruned to form perfect balls and topiaries which offended my sensibilities. I prefer wild gardens, or those with subtle structure.

Allyson and I have been developing a small conservatory in our sun room. We have a gardenia, an evergreen, a mum and some ferns. I also have a small jade plant that I hope to use to start a bonsai garden. The sun room 's air seems wet and super oxygenated. We bought a wicker chaise lounge and several chairs, and I love to have my morning coffee in there. I feel as if air is rejuvenating.

I also feel I can now reach out to friends again, and put words on the computer, so I expect to be writing more often. I feel like I can return to my exercise program. Tomorrow we are going to Miami for a few days, and I am looking forward to many hours in the pool and the ocean.

The Homeric Wallop

Wallop is a term my housemate, Allyson, uses to describe a series of bad events that are beyond control and leave you exhausted, depressed, and with little energy to fight back. Last week I received a wallop of epic proportions, at least from the perspective of someone spoiled by retirement and on a journey to better health and fitness.

Last week I had a routine appointment to remove a non-cancerous growth on the inside of my knee. The procedure was painless, but what I was not prepared for was the large (the size of a fifty cent piece) open wound which had to be bandaged and prevented me from entering a public swimming pool. Then on Thursday I awoke with a sharp pain in my back right molar that shot down my jaw. This necessitated an emergency root canal, during which my dentist put so much pressure on my jaw that I developed a painful crook in my neck that did not allow me to turn my head to the right.

On Friday, I awoke to a residual jaw ache, a neck ache and a painful stomach which I attributed to the pain killers I had been taking. Unfortunately this was a missed diagnosis and I proceeded to develop a four day bout with a rough stomach and intestinal virus. By the weekend, during which I had planned to clean my office and bake a birthday cake and a brisket for my five year-old grandson, Pierre, (who loves meat), I was laid out in bed, miserable, feeling walloped. My mind took a turn for the depressive side and I felt that all my efforts to improve my physical condition and run a mile would never succeed.

What saved me from this bout of self-pity, was the book I am reading, the Odyssey by Homer. As I lay there miserable in body and heart, I came to think that the Great Achilles, son of Zeus, and God of foot speed, was taking direct aim at me during my heroic journey to run a mile run at a competitive track meet. But what had I done to cause the great God's indignation? Certainly not striving for good health and walking around Brookside Garden? And then it hit me. I had bragged about my zen moment on the path in this very blog!

With that thought I came to the passage where Odysseus sails close to the cave of Skylla, the horrible monster with twelve tentacled legs and six heads, and believes he is sneaking upon her (note: monsters in literature are usually "her") until:

"By heaven! when she

vomited, all the sea was like a cauldron

seething over intense fire, when the mixture

suddenly heaves and rises..."1

This sent be running for the bathroom head hung in the toilet bowl.

Afterwards I composed this:

Oh Achilles, God of flight, take pity on this woman

whose heroic voyage to be fleet of foot

has mired in this bed of deep malaise. Forgive her for the

words of pride, which she so thoughtlessly bestowed

upon this audience.

She has learned now, oh winged one, son of Zeus,

to respect that your gift is rare

through heaving bouts spent in the loos.

This morning I felt much better and did two blocks of floor exercise. Tomorrow, God willing, I will return to the track.

1 " Homer, "The Odyssey," translated by Robert Fitzgerald, 1961.

Home Again....Getting Re-Started

I am now back home after a month away. My house feels luxurious. I love my beautiful large kitchen, comfortable king-sized bed with good quality sheets, cable TV and soaking tub. I can't believe how fortunately I am.

After a few days of self-congratulatory bliss, it is time to get started again on my exercise program. With some exceptions, I was reasonably active while I traveled, and I watched what I ate, so I still feel in pretty good shape. Stretching feels great. The exercises are like old friends and are helping my spine recover from the minimalism of Scandinavian beds (they do not have box springs and mattresses, but instead a sort of lumpy combination base covered by two light down comforters in duvets, which you sleep between.)

Today I began my track work again. Unfortunatley the high school track where I used to walk was locked because school is now in session, so I went to Brookside Gardens near my house. I can't believe I have been letting such a beautiful place go untouched by my eyes and feet. The Japanese maples are a full, rusty red, and perfectly placed behind the Japanese style pavilion.

Giant cut rocks form natural benches. They were hard to resist. The first hundred feet or so my legs were leaden, but from past experience I know if I keep going they will lighten. Sure enough after about ten minutes there was a spring in my step. Unlike the track, the Garden's paths gently rise and fall around a beautiful like filled with water lilies. So I actually had to walk uphill. As I approached the first rise, I felt a bit intimidated, but I told myself if it was too hard, I could take a rest one of the beautiful rocks. But I made it, jauntily stepping out to cover the slight incline quickly.

On the opposite side of the lake I approached an Asian man about my age, who was simply standing on the side of the path, looking and breathing. I stopped and stood beside him for awhile experiencing the first cool air of fall, and my breath. My body felt energized yet calm.