Too Busy to Log . . . and Blog

     I admit, I've been putting off reporting on my weight loss efforts.  It's not because I've failed -- I've actually lost 7 lbs.! -- but because my results so far are, well, mixed.  If you have read previous postings, then you may recall that I signed up for an online "personal trainer" a little over two months ago.  The idea was, for a rather small fee (39.99 for three months), my online personal trainer would give me a daily menu and exercise plan.  The exercise plan has been pretty easy to follow.  The menu?  Not so much.

     The personal trainer is actually a software program that calculates my diet and exercise needs based on the information I enter into my profile.  I discovered that the system won't generate the next day's plan until I have entered my stats from the previous day.  So it should be easy to just click and enter my food and exercise for the day, right?  Well, yes and no.  For one thing, the program already has a set menu in place for each meal.  If I don't like the choices, I can click on "swap" and choose something else from a comparable list.  And believe me, being a somewhat picky eater, I have to swap a lot!  Why, why, why do all food plans have to include cottage cheese?  Not surprisingly, I have found this feature to be time consuming, as I often have to go to the online calorie counter for each item I want to swap and check the calories for each serving size.  As you can imagine, it takes a few minutes to enter a meal when you have to document every single item individually.  The exercise plan takes less time, if only because there aren't as many options.  Nevertheless, by the time I've entered all the information, I have spent upwards of 20 to 30 minutes just entering my meals and exercise plan.  Some days I'm okay with that, but too often I have forgotten to do it because I've been too busy.  And, as I mentioned earlier, if I miss a day, I have to go back and enter all the information before the system will generate a new diet and exercise plan for the next day.  There is a reset feature; I've lost track of how many times I've used it now.

     But the bottom line is, it doesn't matter if I'm entering data into a computer program or writing it on a piece of paper -- I simply hate keeping a food diary!  Yes, I know -- all the experts tell us that keeping a diary is essential for any weight loss program.  I completely agree.  But I still find it to be mind-numbingly tedious, whether it's done high-tech or not!  For me, an exercise program is easier to follow and to document.  I try to make sure I do some form of cardio every day, and I lift weights three times a week.  I schedule my strength training on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, which makes it easy to remember.  And the weather has been so gorgeous the past few weeks, I've been eager to get outside and walk 45 minutes each day.  If I have lost weight, it's probably due to the exercise more than the diet.

     Still, I have been trying to make healthier food choices.  I bought a lot of fruit this past week -- apples and grapes, which I have actually eaten as snacks!  One of my students brought me a bagful of home-grown tomatoes a couple of weeks ago.  Since I'm the only one in my family who eats raw tomatoes, I was determined not to let them go to waste.  So I had tomato slices with my sandwich at lunch several days in a row.  And today my weight loss efforts got a huge boost when I discovered that Quiktrip is no longer carrying snack-size packages of almond M&Ms.  Neither is Walgreen.  That means I'll have to kick the almond M&M habit cold-turkey.  I'm told it's the best way. 

     So . . . 7 lbs. lighter after two and a half months.  Not too bad, if I do say so myself.  My jeans are a lot looser -- I'm encouraged!  I doubt I will re-sign with my personal trainer after my three months are up, but I don't feel that it has been a complete waste of time and money.  If nothing else, the online trainer motivated me to think about my food and exercise choices and to consciously make healthier ones.  I think I can take it from here.  But from now on, I'm going to enter those choices in my food journal the old-fashioned way.  I write much faster than I click.

Senior Moment No. 4: "Baby, You Can Drive My Car . . . Until Something Breaks, Leaving You Stranded by the Side of the Road"

Note to Reader:  This is one of a continuing series of postings chronicling my son Greg's senior year in high school.

     "Mom, my car is making a weird rattling noise" ranks among the top ten things you don't want to hear from your child.  Five minutes later, Greg backed out of the driveway, and I had the opportunity to hear the rattling noise for myself.  Even from inside the house, it sounded pretty ominous.  So we took our 2002 Saturn to the auto service shop up the road.  This was last Saturday.  They called later in the afternoon to tell us the culprit was the water pump, a $300 repair.  Not good, but not as bad as it could have been, I thought.  "Okay," I told them, "go ahead and replace the water pump."  Since it was Saturday, we understood it would be Monday before they could get the part and do the work, so we made do for the weekend.

     Monday afternoon, the shop called.  "Here's the good news:  it's not the water pump!  Unfortunately, your air conditioner compressor is dead."  I already knew that; the air conditioning quit working a year ago.  Saturn's repair quote was in excess of $900, so we decided to just live without the a/c.  After all, it's a seven-year-old car with over 150,000 miles on it.  "The problem is," the service technician explained, "the compressor is on the serpentine belt, which is about to fall off.  It's also connected to the alternator and the power steering, and, if it goes, then you'll be stranded." 

     STRANDED.  There it is -- every parent's 3rd Worst Fear, right behind #1 "Abduction By A Stranger," and #2 "Terrorist Attack."  Given that, at 17, Greg is not likely to be abducted, and, as Dick Cheney keeps coming out of retirement to remind us, we haven't suffered a terrorist attack in nearly eight years,  Worst Fear #3 "Stranded By The Roadside" has unequivocably moved up to first place.  Well, we can't have that, can we? 

     Not that my own parents were so concerned, judging by the three times I found my own teenage/young adult self stranded by the roadside!  Twice I was forced to pull off the road by a busted radiator hose.  One of those times, the car I was driving -- a 1975 Oldsmobile Regency -- lost a radiator hose in the middle of Parallel Parkway in Kansas City, Kansas . . . during afternoon rush hour.  I managed to steer the car over to the curb, where it sputtered to a stop.  But, considering I was in the left-hand lane when the hose blew, there was no way to get the car completely out of traffic.  Plus, it was a huge car (my husband later nicknamed it the "S.S. Coble") -- my parents' one and only luxury car -- not easy to maneuver off the road or to drive around.  Needless to say, my disabled luxury liner caused a big traffic backup.  I turned on the hazard lights and walked to a nearby grocery store to use a pay phone to call my dad (yes, children, this was back in the Dark Ages, before cell phones).  Dad was at work and more than a little annoyed, but he called a tow service and promised he'd be there in a few minutes to pick me up.  Meanwhile, a police officer arrived to direct traffic. About 20 minutes later the tow truck arrived, as did my dad -- incredulous that his "baby" (the car, not me) had burst a hose, overheated, and stalled . . . and seemingly oblivious to the fact that it would have happened anyway, no matter who was driving.  

     A few years later, out of college and temporarily living at home, I was driving my dad's Oldsmobile Starfire (his one and only sports car--and an Olds; I think I'm seeing a pattern here).  One night, on my way home from teaching flute lessons at a music store, the timing chain on the Starfire broke, stranding me on Shawnee Mission Parkway, somewhere west of Pflumm.  I say "somewhere" because, at the time, there was practically no development there -- it was, quite literally, out in the country.  Still in the pre-cell phone era, I turned on the hazard lights, locked the car, and walked about half a mile back to the nearest gas station, where I called my boyfriend from a pay phone.  Steve came and rescued me (yes, I married him later,and this is one of the many reasons).  We left a note on the windshield so the police would know the car was stranded, and we drove back to my house to give my dad the bad news.  Dad, of course, was absolutely stunned that an eight-year-old timing chain would just suddenly break like that.  Well, what can I say?  They don't make cars like they used to.

     Now, I'm sure my parents worried about me driving, especially alone and after dark.  But they rarely showed it, funneling their fears instead into frustration over the car's mechanical failures.  Maybe that was the best strategy for them, but I prefer to take a more proactive approach:  I get regular oil changes and, while I'm there, I ask the technician to do a brake inspection and check all the hoses.  ("As God is my witness, I will never be stranded again!")  Still, one can't foresee everything that will go wrong. At least this time, with the Saturn, we had a little warning.

     Not so in August, 1989 when Steve and I drove our little Honda CRX to New Orleans for the National Flute Association Convention.  The Honda, a.k.a. "The Shoe" because it looked like Nike athletic footwear, had previously belonged to Steve's stepmom.  When she married his dad in 1986, she needed a bigger car (the Honda was a two-seater).  We needed a car, so we bought it.  It worked great, no problems -- we even drove it to San Diego in 1988 for the NFA Convention.  Maybe the California trip put too much stress on the a/c; maybe it was just bad karma . . . all we know is the air conditioner sputtered and died just as we crossed the Louisiana state line.   Fortunately, we didn't have to do much driving in New Orleans.  Our hotel was within walking distance of the convention site and the French Quarter.  It was the drive back to Kansas City that nearly killed us.  Imagine driving through Mississippi, Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Kansas in an athletic shoe, without air conditioning.  Did I mention it was the middle of August?

     In the aftermath of that experience, we decided to trade the car during the winter rather than face another summer driving around in a shoe-shaped sauna.  Our next adventure in driving sans air conditioning came more than a decade later when the compressor in our minivan quit working.  Once again, the event happened in August, but we were willing to do without the a/c since cooler weather was on the way.  But in the spring?  You guessed it -- we traded the van.

     So, when I think about it, although we've lost compressors before, we've never had the vehicle long enough to find out what happens to a dead one.  It never occurred to us that the compressor actually affects other vital functions besides the air conditioning.  Well, as the saying goes, you learn something new every day! 

     The shop gave us a 10% discount, which brought the final total just under $800.  Greg willingly paid half.  The engine no longer rattles, and the bonus is that Greg now has air conditioning.  Not that he really needs it, now that the weather is getting cooler.  Still, the defogger on that vehicle works much more efficiently with the a/c running; he'll be glad to have it in the winter.  And me?  I'm glad that Worst Fear #3 has been averted.  Now I can concentrate on Worst Fear #4:  "How To Pay For College."  Right now my strategy is to cross my fingers and hope we don't have any more expensive car repairs! 

    

    

Texas Toast?

     So, apparently there is a gubernatorial candidate in the state of Texas who is running on a platform of secession. (You read that correctly.) Now, as I recall from my Texas history -- which was a state requirement for the 4th grade curriculum when I lived there in 1969 (San Antonio, in case you're curious), Texas was originally a part of Mexico and content to be so . . . until the Mexican government abolished slavery. Since their economy at that time was dependent on slave labor, Texans went to war with Mexico for independence, won the war, and became an independent republic. When that didn't work out so well, they joined the United States and proudly flew the stars and stripes . . . until Abraham Lincoln won the presidential election of 1860, causing South Carolina to secede from the Union. Not wanting to be left out, Texas seceded along with the rest of the South and joined the Confederate States of America, proudly fighting for states' rights. Which was just great . . . until the South lost the war. Texas, along with the rest of the southern states, was reinstated and, we assume, content with that status . . . until 2008 when Barack Obama was elected president.

     Now the states' rights issue has come up again. This time it's about the state's right to refuse any kind of federal assistance, be it for health care, education, disaster relief, jobs, police protection, fire protection, animal control, farm subsidies, (insert your own here) . . . If the federal goverment wants to pay for it, then at least one candidate for the governorship of Texas wants the right to reject it. Because God forbid they should accept any help from "socialists!" In fact, God probably WANTS Texas to secede and go it alone. Hey, they've done it before -- at least twice by my count.  They even have a state nickname and a flag all ready to go.  It's like "Sovereignty In A Box!"

     Well, who am I to argue? After all, they've been advertising themselves for years as "A Whole Other Country." I'm sure they have enough private industry to handle emergency relief the next time the Texas coast gets hit by a hurricane.  I'm relatively sure the member schools of the Big 12 North wouldn't miss them (hey, can we toss in O.U., too?  Couldn't hurt to ask). And yeah, I suppose gas prices would go up a little, since we'd suddenly be importing foreign oil. But we already do that, so what's the difference? The only downside I can see is that, without Texas, Kansas would go back to being the state with the most crazies. But that's a small price to pay -- and we DO have government funded mental health programs here.

     Fair enough.  If Texas wants to secede, I say let 'em . . . as long as they take Dick Cheney with them. But please, MAKE UP YOUR MINDS, Y'All!  And hey -- Don't let the door hit 'ya on the way out.