Sniff.

This is it -- a tearful farewell from www.sofarsofat.blogspot.com. 
I'm no longer so fat, so I'm saying so long. 

Take care, and come and visit me at my new blog:

www.atopyandme.blogspot.com

Too difficult to decipher:  atopy and me  (atopy = look it up -- or read my first post)

See you later, alligators.

The late holiday edition.

Yes, for posterity and mostly my own personal blog book, here is the holiday letter.

     Holy Holiday Hijacking!

    (An expanded, educational epistle.)

First up this year: The pagan origins of Christmas, or Xmas (the “X” is apparently from the Roman abbreviation for Christ, because the X was the “chi” sound).  The Xians actually STOLE this holiday from the pagans, and made it all about the Baby J.  Well, I’m shocked.  The truth is, no one knows what day Jesus of Nazareth (no one had last names, because I assume there was only one Jesus, or Bob, per town back then) was born.  Most historians believe he was probably born in September.  So why do we celebrate his “birthday,” on December 25?  And what’s with the partying and gifts and whatnot?  Well, THANK YOU pagans. 

In ancient Babylon, the feast of the Son of Isis (Goddess of Nature) was celebrated on December 25, and has been described as “raucous partying, gluttonous eating and drinking, and gift-giving.”  (Sound familiar?)  In Rome, “Saturnalia” was introduced around 217 BC to raise citizen morale after a crushing military defeat by the Carthaginians.  Originally celebrated for one day, on December 17, it grew into a week-long extravaganza.  (SaturnPalooza – a House of Geldorf production.)  The festival included good stuff like a school holiday, gambling, sacrifices (as you do), naked singing in the streets (that’s still a normal Friday night in some places), and role reversal for the slaves (although apparently they had to make their own feast AND the feast for their masters – so not that great for the slaves).  Augustus  tried to reduce the celebration to three days, and Caligula to five.  (Really? I thought Caligula loved a good party!)  These attempts caused uproar and massive revolts among the Roman citizens.  (Duh.)  The customary greeting for the occasion was "Io, Saturnalia!" — Io (pronounced "e-o") being a Latin interjection related to "ho," as in "Ho, praise to Saturn."  But I like to think of it as an early “Yo,” as in “Yo!  What up, Saturnalia?!”

In 350, Pope Julius I declared that Christ's birth would be celebrated on December 25, and there is little doubt that he was trying to make it as painless as possible for pagan Romans (a majority at that time) to convert to Christianity.  The earliest Christmas holidays were apparently celebrated by drinking, sexual indulgence, singing naked in the streets, etc.  So all the good parts of Christmas – the parties, gifts, tree (brought inside by the pagans in winter), etc. were all pagan traditions.  Io Saturnalia!  I can finally get behind this holiday!  Where do I sign up for naked caroling?  (Maybe not in Minnesota.)  And what would be the appropriate dress for a modern sacrificial gig?  I bet you could probably get away with a Frosty sweatshirt or some Christmas tree socks.  Next year: who wore the first tacky holiday sweater?

So 2011 was the year I came back to camping.  It’s been a while (30+ years is a while) since I lit my Buddy Burner and fried an egg on a coffee can with the Troop at Camp Timberlake.  But now I’m an adult that can afford to buy heaters, stoves, air beds and larger-than-necessary tents (6-8-man tent = moi plus 2 dogs).  And, except for one excruciating experience at camp Blow-My-Ass-Across-the-Hot-Desert, it was going pretty well.  I’m gettin’ back to nature, doin’ yoga with a view, kayaking on gorgeous lakes....and then the Connor dog collapses!  Just drops dead at my feet as we’re leaving Woods Canyon Lake (yeah, that’s a lot of geography for one spot, but that’s what it’s called).  So I’m thinking my beloved Connor Dog has gone to the little dog park in the sky (he’s afraid of big dogs).  Not much I can do, but give him a little mouth-to-muzzle.  And, Io Saturnalia!, it worked!  Connor came back to life.  Turns out he has PAH and an enlarged heart, so despite healthy doses of doggie Viagra (vasodilator, it’s not half as creepy as it sounds), he still passes out at altitude.  And even at home lately.  Scares the heck out of me, but now I just go, “Oh, time to blow air up the dog’s nose!”  Despite the PAH, debilitating arthritis, near total blindness, and 18+ years, Connor’s still loving life.  He steals any food within reach (the nose still works), and if there’s any badness (e.g., ripped up trash bag with disgusting goo all over my wool rug), it was Connor (even though I usually find Lola in the middle of the mess).

Lola (dubbed “Loca Lola” by a tree trimmer, and “Killer” by the groomers at Wag N Wash) doesn’t half mind camping.  She doesn’t love it, but she has a great fear that I will someday go somewhere without her poodley self.  Not likely.  What would I do without the personal poodle police?  With Lola, we’re always at Threat Level Red, DEFCON 1, aka GRRRRR!  Let’s just say Lola would push The Button if someone looked at her funny.  Or just looked funny...or normal.  And Bella, my backyard cat-who-comes-in-to-snuggle-on-cold-mornings, remains afraid to fully commit to living in the house with us.  But I’m trying to turn her with some expensive cat food.  Bella likey.  Purrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

ZZZZZZZ(just demarcating the boring part)ZZZZZ...And what would YOUR holiday be without a big dose of MY continuing health problems?  This year, we have a better understanding and management of the various itchy rashes, insomnia, rhinitis, fatigue, etc. that have plagued me for years.  After MUCH midnight research (don’t get me started on how useless allergists and dermatologists are in dealing with atopy – “Would you like more antihistamines?  Or a nice steroid shot in the ass?  We can do both.”), I discovered that my atopic dermatitis is caused by a genetic defect in filaggrin production (long technical story) that results in a defective skin barrier.  This, it turns out, can be substantially ameliorated with an inexpensive, but specifically-engineered, OTC cream.  (I had tried every anti-itch lotion and cream known to man and Walgreen’s, and was using the $60 co-pay Protopic, none of which touched the problem.)  So skin barrier problem managed.  Check.  Try CeraVe – I need to keep them in business long-term.

I knew that a food allergy was also likely with the atopy, and more research revealed a blood test to diagnose IgG-mediated (delayed onset) food allergies.  Long story short, blood testing revealed allergy to dairy, egg, and wheat.  So now I’m a Vegan who eats meat (TG for bacon), but not wheat.  Which has happily resolved most of my itchy rashes, my allergic rhinitis (incredible, since I’ve had “hay fever” and sinuses full of mucus since childhood), and (bonus) my middle-aged squidge.  I not only began sleeping, breathing, and wearing skirts for the first time in years, I immediately lost all the weight that I could not lose no matter how little I ate and how much I “Brought It” with P90X.  Losing almost 20 pounds killed my blog about losing 10 pounds of mid-life squidge.  (Eh.)  SO, the boring health news is GOOD news this year.  Well, except for my bunions.  But even I don’t care about the bunions.  Bunions be DAMNED, I can breathe and sleep again!

Next year?  I won’t pester you with Linus Pauling and Vitamin C, but please prepare yourselves by reading up on how bad sugar is for you.  I started with Suicide by Sugar.  And let me just put it out there for everyone: wheat and dairy aren’t really good for you (gasp!), and calcium is easy to come by in greens (Oh no, she di-n’t!).  Got kale?  When was the last time you had a vegetable?  Eat your broccoli.  And try some quinoa (even quinoa pasta is readily available) and maybe almond or coconut milk, and Earth Balance instead of butter.  Does a body good....ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

So that’s it.  There was an Omenesque fly infestation in the kitchen (check the blog for the gory details), I opened up the living/dining room wall this week (they are weaving my wood floors back together as I type this), my urban orchard is expanding to 15 fruit and nut trees, and I’m still hosting potluck dinners every Sunday.  Life rolls on with some bumps and curves, but basically, life is good and I am fortunate to have decent health and even decenter friends.  Hope this letter finds you and yours happy and healthy, now and through the 2012 apocalypse – good luck with that.

                                Io Saturnalia!

                                

                                Tracy, Connor, Lola, and Bella

✾ If you are local, please join me on New Year’s Day for my Third Not-Even-Remotely-Annual Open House.  This is your only invite – hope to see you between noon and 5 p.m. on January 1, 2012.

God, I'm such a downer! But here's what worked.

First off, Happy 2012!!  And thanks to Tim and Jerry, for hosting a fabulous NYE party.  Love, Love, guys.

Second, Merry Christmas, Io Saturnalia, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanza, etc.  I'm going to save myself a lot of time and just insert my holiday letter into the blog in a minute.

Third,  I have GOT to wrap up this blog and move on.  When I started this blog 2+ years ago, I weighed roughly 122 pounds and set what I hoped was an achievable goal of losing 10 pounds of mid-life squidge, aka fat.  I tried everything from walking, to Bringing It with Tony Horton's P90X.  I got bird poop in my hair from the walking, and lots of giggles with my friend Ena from P90X, but not much weight loss.  I thought I saw a muscle or two somewhere in there, but it was hard to see, because it remained buried under the layers of fat.

I was eating like a bird, thinking it was just a simple, calories-in-versus-calories-burned formula -- I used to laugh at the "diet" people.  And I still scorn commercial diets.  But I am now well and truly convinced that you are what you eat and it DOES matter where you get your calories.  I thought I was eating right, and switching to oatmeal and eating more veggies and eggs per Jackie Warner's advice, actually helped me drop a few pounds.  But it turns out that I was not eating that well, and that it's nearly impossible to really eat well in today's fast-paced, heat-and-eat food world.  Only when I got blood test results showing my allergies to wheat, dairy (yes, my friends, all forms of dairy -- whey, casein, butter, milk, cheese, yogurt, and even goat dairy, so, no, I can't eat your delicious feta), and eggs, did I truly start eating well.  And I would never have done it without that confirmation and the identification of my specific allergies.

Armed with information about my specific allergies, I was able to summon the willpower (because that's ALL it's about, and it's REALLY hard to summon that willpower) to eliminate dairy, wheat and eggs from my diet.  Yes, it sucks for me -- no more cheese burgers, no more French Toast, no more Blue Boxes of cheesy deliciousness, no more quiche.  Naturally, it turns out that everything I loved was killing me.  (Also one of my favorite country songs.)  But it worked and it worked quickly -- the weight I couldn't lose for a year and a half just melted away.  That layer of subcutaneous fat I bitched about 2 years ago is gone.  And my eczema and rhinitis cleared up too.  Amazing.  I've had allergic rhinitis since childhood, and figured that there was no way to cure it.  That's certainly what all my doctors said.  At the time I started eliminating my food allergens, I was actually sleeping on foam wedges at night to help all the phlegm drain from my head, so that I could breathe.  Once I stopped eating dairy/wheat/eggs, I no longer had the phlegm or the itchy eczema.  I started sleeping through the night for the first time in years.  No more bed wedges.  The food allergy was apparently contributing not only to the eczema, but also to the rhinitis.  Who knew?  (James Braly, M.D., food allergist, and author of Hidden Food Allergies knew -- I cannot thank Dr. Braly and his book enough for this life-changing information.)

It turns out that allergic reactions are inflammatory in nature, they affect multiple organs (including, for me, my largest organ, the skin), and the food allergies start in the gut.  Long story, not-so-short, the gut is more permeable than normal, allowing larger-than-normal food particles to enter the blood stream, which are then attacked by antibodies to the food (in my case, wheat, dairy, egg), causing this nasty inflammatory response as if your body is trying to kill a virus, but it's really attacking your food/nutrients.  You aren't properly digesting food or absorbing the nutrients your body needs to function properly and do things like heal.  There is a whole world of trouble caused by these allergies.  

So the secret to weight loss (not to mention relief from rhinitis and eczema)  in my case, and I believe MANY others out there who just don't know it, is food allergies and avoiding the allergens.  There is a reason that dairy and wheat are the two most common food allergies in the U.S.  And dairy and wheat are in EVERYTHING.  You think it's safe to eat sausage?  "Contains milk."  Hummus?  It's beans, tahini, and oil with some garlic, right?  "Contains milk."  The good news is that the allergies are common enough that manufacturers have to warn you that they're in there.  But it's still an enormous bummer to pick up something that really shouldn't have milk or wheat in it, only to find that they've added it.  So now I'm on a meat + fruit + veggies + grains - wheat diet.  I spend a lot more time cooking and I'm not much fun at parties and frequently annoy people by insisting on reading labels.  But hey, it's my life and my health -- I think I'm worth it.  ;-)

My advice to the rest of the world?  Don't rely on your doctors to figure everything out for you.  Doctors are people too.  Just people.  They've got a medical education, usually from a medical establishment that is certain that it already knows everything there is to know.  The world is still metaphorically flat if you want to convince most doctors of anything that wasn't taught in medical school.  And the medical establishment is heavily funded by large drug companies.  If there is a pill for it, why bother to look at your diet?  And there is a pill for just about everything.  And pills have the benefit of being fast.  The doctor just has to scribble a scrip for you and send you on your way.  These doctor people only have about 5 minutes to actually listen to the problem that has been consuming your life for weeks/months/years, about 5 minutes to examine you, and about 5 minutes to tell you about the drug they're going to give you to see if it will help/keep you from coming back.  Yes doctors have a medical degree, but they don't know everything about everything.  Most haven't studied allergies generally, even fewer have studied food allergies in particular (even my two allergy specialists were useless in helping me), and most don't even know what atopy is.  So, with apologies to my medical doctor friends, I suggest that you educate yourself.  Be persistent.  For some reason, the medical community is not willing to share the real technical articles with the public -- you will get mostly very general articles that tell you nothing useful.  But if you persist, you may eventually strike gold, like I did -- I recommend dermnetnz.org, a New Zealand dermatological web site that actually gives the public access to technical medical information.  Imagine that.  And buy the book.  Yes, you may have to shell out some cash to educate yourself, because they don't like to give out that information for free.  I eventually started buying and reading books on food allergies and nutrition, because I knew (from dermnetnz.org, thanks) that a food allergy was probable with my atopic dermatitis.

Companion advice?  Either keep your information to yourself or be prepared to do battle with the rest of the world, because your friends have never heard of your food allergy, and, therefore, you must be an idiot who believes everything they read on "the internet," big eye roll.  Even worse, if you start sharing  nutritional information, such as the evils of sugar and the benefits of vitamin C, you will confirm for certain people that you are wacko.  Yes, that's just crazy talk.  I hesitate to even write about it here, because I know that I will be judged.  So be it.  I am comfortable that I am NOT stupid, that I have educated myself thoroughly with information from reliable and intelligent sources who know more about nutrition than my friends know, and I will just have to let people think I'm stupid or crazy.  I can live with that.  And I can live with being just a little less fun at restaurants and parties.  I can sleep at night -- I can sleep at night, because I'm not being kept awake all night by eczema covering my arms and legs and phlegm clogging my nose and ears and draining painfully down my throat.  I don't need a double-blind, random-whatever controlled study to prove to me what I already know from educating myself and from personal experience.  I've got my education, and I highly recommend to anyone who will listen, that  you get your own education.  Go forth and read.  It will be time-consuming and frustrating -- there may not be a pill for your problem.  But I think it will be worth it in the long run.  You only live once, right?

Forget Route 66: Get More on U.S. 54.

Okay, it's been several weeks months now since I spent 40 hours sitting on my ass driving two furry needy dogs from Phoenix to Kansas City AND back in my Honda Element, otherwise known as The Box of Death.  I can still feel the pain.  I mean, I love that car for hauling sh!t -- that's why I bought it, and it's great for that.  But it is basically a boxy BOX on a crap suspension with an underpowered 4-cylinder engine on four wheels.  So passing on the leetle highways is like pushing a piece of cardboard into a hurricane  (upside is the adrenaline from the near death experience keeps you awake after the first 10 hours or so), and the cabin noise just enhances the whole hurricane experience.  We'll get to the wind sweeping across the planes of Kansas and O-K-L-A-H-O-M-A  in a minute.

So on the way TO the big K.C., I noticed that all the gas station/Quick Stop/Food Mart retail extravaganzas along the way were LONG on junk/crap/sweet products and short on actual food.  No disrespect to Messirs Frito and Lay, but Baken-Ets and Cheetos Puffcorn don't really provide the same nutrition as an apple, or a banana, for example.  And I really shouldn't hate on Frito Lay's very fine products -- they actually use mostly potatoes, corn, oil, and salt, and don't add a bunch of bad weird things to their products.  I think the sweets are much worse than the savories, when it comes to junk food.  These gas station stores are really a Wonderland of Twinkies, Ding Dongs, Zingers, and questionable off-branded pastries wrapped up in super-crinkly clear cellophane packages.  (Man, I miss the days when I could have a Ho Ho or three.  And while I'm thinkin' about it, Hostess should really re-package them as "Ho Ho Ho's" for the holiday.  What great stocking stuffers:  "Look, Suzie!  Santa was here and he left you some Ho Ho Hos!"  And who wouldn't leave Santa some Ho Ho Hos instead of cookies? Really Hostess, if you don't do this and slap them into red and green wrappers you're missing out -- you're WAY behind the candy-coated holiday color-changing packaging curve.  [Okay, I just Googled "ho ho hos" and was shocked to get mostly "hos" dressed in sexy Santa outfits!  Ouch, I guess Hostess already knew that "hos" has a whole new meaning these days?!])  I decided to document the appalling display of bad nutritional choices brought to us by big agribusiness and the magic of unnatural colors, flavors and preservatives.  But I couldn't be bothered to stop and get my camera out on the way TO K.C., and I'd already missed some of the best stops, so I decided to try it on the way back to Phoenix.

The result was NOT totally what I was hoping for.  

First off, I couldn't find, or I somehow missed,

my favorite billboards that tell me, in four signs or less, that if I don't find JESUS NOW, I'm going to Hell.  What happened Kansas?  You disappoint.  I had to settle for a couple of MUCH less threatening signs without the warnings about the fiery eternity waiting for those who don't believe.

I'm almost embarrassed to post these boring exhortations to conform.  These guys are clearly just trying to help me.  Help me become more like them, so that they won't have to keep telling me what to believe or kill me.

Fortunately, I only stopped once or twice in KS. 

Speaking of which, I really enjoyed my first gas/snacky stop somewhere in KS.  Once I was able to exit the vehicle (seriously, this was not easy, because the wind was like a 20,000 on whatever that hurricane scale is), I found that I had stopped at "Mikey's," which is a gas station aka junk food retailer, AND a liquor store.  I like that they give you the option of going for junk food or liquor. What the heck, try both, right?

Just a small sampling of the "food"
conveniently available at Mikey's.

And, here I am showing you how windy
it is on the plains of Kansas.

Okay, I started this post sometime mid-December.  It is now 2012, and I give up!!!  I surrender -- the holidays have killed me and the year 2011, and I will never complete this blog.  But here's what I have left:

Nothin' but tumble weeds in Minneola.

And wind.  Lots of wind in Minneola too.

Tumble weeds waiting to break free, tumble across the highway in front of me, and smash into my grill.
Yes, they really do that.

Self explanatory, but I assure you, I only used the toilet, once the lady showed me how to open the door.

Also self-explanatory, but I totally had a cheeseburger and fries.

I gotta admit -- the whole photo editorial of junk food stops would have worked out better if I had been in a mood to actually stop and take photos.  But I wasn't -- I was in more of a "Let's just frickin' get there mood."  Which always seems to happen to me when I get in a car.  Sounds good at home.  Not so much on the road with two crazy dogs that need to poop on the frozen midwestern tundra.  So we stopped at my favorite LaQuinta in Albuquerque and...more of the same on day two.

Lola wigging out on dash of car, because...

As you can see, Connor was OUT of the car with Mommy.

But look how cute they are when we're all in the car.

 

From me (and most of my cousins) to you -- Happy Late, Late, Late Thanksgiving.

And that's it -- stick a fork in me, I'm finally done with this dang post.  Hope you had lots of turkey and no Baken-ets or Ho Ho Hos last Thanksgiving.  And that you didn't have to spend 44 hours in a Box of Death with two fur balls like I did.  But it's all good.

 Next up:  Christmas and New Year's in February.

 And then I have to find a way to end this blog and move on, since I've already lost the 10 lbs of squidge +.  Perhaps a blog where I rail against the lack of research into atopy.  That should be fun.  No?  Maybe we work on midlife muscles.  But I've said that before, haven't I?  But this time, I really MEAN it.  (Ho Ho Hos, I crack myself up.)

"Boy, you can really taste the kale!"

Yes, that's a quote from the Veggie Boy episode of Cheers.

Sounds stupid, but I really LIKE kale chips.  Some people are going, "Kale?"  Thick, leafy, green scariness from the produce isle.  It's kind of like spinach, but it holds up better in soups.  Kale is the most fun, and one of the only really healthy snacks I've found yet.  (But then, I haven't exactly been looking for leafy green snacks -- I hate lettuce.  And Popeye don't make no spinach chips.)   Cody gave me a recipe for a soup with cannellini beans, sausage and kale that is to DIE for even without the parmesan cheese rind that I can't put in it now that I know I'm allergic to dairy.  But kale chips are awesome.  And I'ma tell you how to make them.

The skinny:

Clean, de-spine and chop kale.

Grind 1-1.5 C cashews in blender or processor (all my measurements are "rough," at best)

Add to cashews:  2 T nutritional yeast, 1 t salt, juice of 1 lemon, and water or pureed red bell pepper as needed to make it like a thick dressing.

Dress kale and dry in dehydrator or oven at low temp until light and crispy.

Watching kale dry.

 The juicy and unnecessary details:

You are going to dress the kale (like a salad) with ground cashews (get a giant tub at Costco, because they can be pricey), lemon juice, nutritional yeast, and a bit of water or pureed red bell pepper and salt.  Sounds weird, but the result is a dairy-free, gluten-free, vegan kale chip that tastes like it is made with parmesan cheese. I could give you a more precise recipe, but I think you need to adjust the ingredients to your own taste, so this is just a rough guide to your own private Fun with Kale.

You need kale.  Get a bunch or two -- start with one if you're not used to it.  (It can be a lot of work and a HUGE pile of kale to do two bunches, but sometimes a "bunch" is small -- depends on what kind of produce you're dealing with.)  Rinse, shake dry, and de-spine (stem?) the leaves (they have a thick stem that you need to get rid of, or at least that's what everyone does).  Rip or cut leaves into pieces that are about two by two inches -- bigger or smaller won't kill anyone and you'll figure out what you like after you make them once or twice.

Grind up maybe a cup and a half of cashews in your blender BEFORE adding any liquid.  Otherwise, you will wind up with a Jiffy/Skippy nutty mess of large and small cashew bits that you cannot get out of your blender.  You can do the rest in or out of the blender -- your choice, but I like to just put it in a bowl and stir from this point, because until you get enough water in the mix, your blender won't do much but piss you off.  Add about 1-2 tablespoons of nutritional yeast flakes (check around, I bet even Safeway has this stuff, and if you need some, I have a lifetime supply, because I ordered a GIANT container that looked really small in the picture on Amazon) and throw in maybe a teaspoon of salt (I'm not really good with measurements -- I usually just throw in pinches until it tastes right).  Add the juice of a lemon to your dry stuff.  Then stir it all up with as much water or pureed red bell pepper (the bell pepper came from a recipe I have, but I don't find it to be necessary and it's kind of a pain and it makes the mix freaky Cheetos orangey) as you need to make this the consistency of thick salad dressing, so that it will stick to the leaves, but also spread.  I used maybe 1/8 cup of water tonight -- just add a little at a time.  Toss the kale in the dressing until you get it on all the kale pieces.

That's it.  Spread the coated kale pieces on the trays of a dehydrator (or a cookie sheet or two, if you're using your oven) and dry it at a low temperature over night.  Don't cook it.  Dry it.  If you get the temperature too high, it will taste funky/burned.  It needs to be done at the lowest temperature you can manage (170F or less) until the leaves are completely dry and crisp.  Not heavy and droopy and almost dry.  Completely dry.  They should be light and airy and crunchy.  CRUNCHY.

Enjoy your crispy delicious kale chips.  I usually eat the whole batch in a day or two solo.  And if you want to be the talk of your next party?   Yes, I said kale chips.  Only problem I have is sharing -- they don't usually make it to any party.

Hail the kale.  Nutty green goodness.

Now, you can BUY these at lots of places.  My farmer's market sells them for 8 BUCKS for a little tiny brown bag (which is where I met my first kale chips), and Fresh & Easy has an even tinier bag for $5something.  So if you're made of cash, just buy some.  If not....  I gotta admit, that the cashews are pricey, so your own chips ain't cheap, but YOUR kale chips won't be all broken, and they come with a big ol' bunch of satisfaction.  Your call.  But these are pretty cool.

P.S.  I'm loving my Amazon ads on the blog -- they think I'm a survivalist or hunter!  Yeah, that's so me.

Put down the Pom Not-So-Wonderful and step away from the sugar.

Today we go to Sugar School and offend family.  Yes, the front steps are still unstripped and my muscles are still unmuscled, but the discovery of 2/3ds of a bottle of Pom "Wonderful" in my fridge has prompted this post in an attempt to SAVE my sister's sugar-lovin' soul!  My sister and nephew were just here for 4 days.  Apparently unable to make it through as much as 2 days without a sugary drink (Huh?  There's only cold filtered WATER?  WTH!  We'll probably die!  [No, they were way too nice to actually say this, but....]), my sis bought a bottle of Lemonade and some of that Wonderful Pom after only two days.  And at this point, I hear Kathy going, "Well, I don't drink it straight.  I just add a little bit to some sparkling water."  Plus, it's 100% juice, how can it be bad?  Oh, fear not, I will tell you why this is bad.

And, lest I forget, the sugary drinks were not the only purchase -- there were watermelon candies and other sweet stuff that had to be purchased and eaten to sate the sugar addiction.  (And I'm not even gonna count the cotton candy on Saturday night, or the gummi bears and chocolate snacks, because that was my badness, but it was in the mix.)  Four days.  Not able to make it without the sugar.  4.  Not good.

So what up with the "Wonderful" pure and natural Pom?  Here's what up: 62 grams of sugar in one small plastic bottle.  Not kidding.  I thought it was a mistake.  72 carbs, only 1 gram of protein, and 62 grams of sugar.  So if you drink that 16 oz. bottle, which many people undoubtedly do, you would send your blood sugar sky rocketing.  Even half a bottle is 31 grams of sugar.  One fourth of the bottle is 16.5 grams.  And a couple of swigs would give you at least 8 grams.  Indeed, fruit juice has as much, or more sugar, than is found in sodas.  http://www.hookedonjuice.com  (Just one quick link explaining the loads of sugar in fruit juice.)  And if you don't like that site, Google it your own self.  

So what?  Big deal?

Well, 4.2 grams of sugar is the equivalent of eating an entire teaspoon of sugar.  So if you take only a couple of swigs of Pom Wonderful (and no one stops at a couple of swigs), you are eating TWO TEASPOONS of sugar.  That's right, just shovel that sugar right into your mouth.  And how much can the body handle at one time?  Only about two teaspoons or 8 grams.  (Per Suicide by Sugar [a book I sent my sister that she will never read -- written by a 70 yo reformed sugar addict with a PhD in nutrition] and the sources cited therein.)  Now here's where I attempt to summarize and oversimplify and lose my sister, because this stuff cannot be explained in a few sentences, and I don't have the PhD in nutrition.  But basically, sugar injects you with a buttload of glucose and fructose, which temporarily increases your serotonin, dopamine and norepinephrine (making you feel all nice -- one reason it's addicting), but also forces your body to draw minerals from the blood stream and secrete insulin in an attempt to bring the body back to homeostasis.  This knocks the blood chemistry all out of whack, causes hypo or hyper glycemia, depletes minerals (and or absorption of minerals you need) like chromium, copper, and magnesium, damages your endocrine system, inhibits your immune system, and causes things like premature aging, cancer, arthritis, leaky gut, inflammation, allergic reaction, asthma, obesity, diabetes, dementia, etc.  (that doesn't begin to cover all the stuff the author says is caused by sugar, but I'm being conservative here).  That's a very short version of a whole book about sugar and nutrition and body function.  There is a reason that cancer patients are told to avoid sugar.  Sugar feeds cancer cells.  That's not really debatable.  So even if you're skeptical about everything else, that alone ought to be enough to make EVERYONE avoid sugar and sweeteners.  And yet....

So that was it.  A very short trip to sugar school, but my attempt to encourage a conscious and determined change in sugar consumption.  Not complete abstinence, but a safe level of sugar consumption of 5 grams or less in any one serving/sitting.  If it has more than that, it will be very tasty and will feel really good, but it is really bad for you.  And if you're trying to lose weight?  Forget about it -- if you can't cut back on the sugar, I don't think it's gonna happen.  Today, I'm passing along advice to eat whole foods and complex carbs like oatmeal (without added sugar), vegetables (ooh, ick!), and for sweetness, WHOLE fruits, not fruit drinks, not even 100% Pom Wonderful fruit juice, but whole frickin' fruit.  Without sugar on it.  (Yes, I've seen a certain sister put table sugar on bananas and strawberries.  WTH?)  Try it, you'll like it.  Okay, maybe you won't like it at first (or even ever, compared to the tasty wonders of modern prepared foods), but it will be SO much better for you.  That gurgling sound is the Pom "Wonderful" going down the sink.

Baby steps.  Really.

Caution: stripper at work.

RRRRR.  Round three.  Or is it four?  I know I'm on my fourth container of paint stripper.  First I scraped.  Then I tried regular stripper.  Then I hit it with "heavy duty" stripper.  But I succeeded in peeling off more of my own skin than the paint on my front steps.  I don't know what someone used on them 80 or so years ago, but it's on there good.  So last night I decided to stop playin' with it and get serious.  (Yes, I have just revealed how exciting my Saturday nights usually are.)  After lots of Googling and two more trips to the hardware store (so far, it's a 4-trip, 2-day job, and it's early yet), I have settled on soy.  Yes, they have done something really unnatural with the soy bean and turned it into a non-toxic stripper.  It supposedly works well, but you have to wait.  Wait?  I suck at waiting.  I'm the definition of haste and impatience.  I can barely wait the 15 minutes for the heavy duty stripper.  So this waiting for HOURS is gonna be tough.

Stripper break.

Okay, I just did a little scrape test and the soy appears to be working.  But, like all good strippers, it only takes off one little layer at a time.  (Look, I just made a stripper joke!!!)  So I have redistributed the soy goo (it's a gel, so think really thick clear snot), and I'm going to sit down with a movie.  Maybe a movie outside with some champagne.  Because life is short. 

Give me patience.

Update:

Well, it's been about 30 minutes since I posted, and, of course, I could not just go sit with a movie.  I immediately went out and scrubbed the soy stripper with a brass brush.  And I think it's working!!!!  And working better than the toxic heavy duty stuff.  Or maybe it's just the wire brush and my greasy elbows.  Either way, I'm thinking I may get this job done in a week or so.  (I love that my original naive estimation was that this could be done in one weekend!  Snort!) 

Plus I didn't have any champagne in the fridge.

Tentaholics is waiting for me.

Okay, I have purchased another tent.  Yes, my apologies, but I have.  You may start the tentervention and report me to tentaholics anonymous.  In my quest for the perfect tent, I have located one that I can set up SOLO in under 2 minutes (staking not included) with minimal effort and it is large (an "8-person," i.e., me and the doggies) and tall enough to walk around in, supposedly water tight (it is either very watertight, or leaks like a sieve, depending on who you believe), but with large mesh windows in the front room, etc.,  so that I can use it as a screen room, and I can put it up quickly enough that I should not need the separate doggie shelter, which is good -- one shelter, not three.

The Coleman Instant 8.

The only downside to this, was the lack of a veranda/vestibule/rain fly -- tent supposedly does not need a rain fly, so it doesn't have one.  But necessary or not, I would prefer to have a fly over the tent door, if not the whole tent  (in case those Instant-8 haters are right).  Plus I want a veranda for sitting, cooking, yoga, whatev.

 

So last night, about 11-2 am, I'm laying there pondering the solution (because that stupid Texidor I was drinking must have sulfites or something in it, because it makes me itchy, and the two cans of pork and beans I ate were working their magic) and it came to me:  I will make my own rain fly.  Yes, I will.  And it will solve all my problems.

Now, I could just use a plain old tarp for this rain fly.  That would be adequate.  Or I could use the 4-pole Coleman rain fly that I already own.  (And I will use the poles from that, anyway.)  But I'm thinkin' -- what a great opportunity for some stripes!  So, I have given it a lot of thought (because I had nothing else going on from 11 p.m. to 4 a.m.) and I am going to make something magical for my new tent.  Something worthy of "Diva camping."  I envision something grand.  (It will probably be more like, WTF?)  And this should be the last of my tents and screen rooms.  I could even send a couple of those things back.  Maybe.  If this works out, I promise to CONSIDER returning the enormous Swiss Gear 8 -man tent and the large Wenzel screen room with a floor and 8 fiberglass poles, both of which I like quite a lot.  (BTW, check out the Sierra Designs Wu Hu  tents -- sweet.)

So that's what I have been doing instead of working out or blogging.  I will keep you posted.

Now that I'm not fat...

...I've got nothin. Nothin at all to say.  The literary well has run bone dry.

Maybe (well, maybe not "maybe," how about definitely?) need to focus on getting some muscle back.  And in the spirit of that, I actually burned some calories last weekend.  I haven't figured out the exact time spent aboat, but I took the doggies kayaking at Fool Hollow Lake last weekend.  Three days of lovely weather and relaxation without the need to launder any laundry or clean up anything that came out of either end of either dog (well, except for one very explosive digestive deal with the Connor dog, but most of that was left to the elements).  I think I spent maybe 5-6 hours on the lake (which is GORGEOUS Fool Hollow photos, by the way).  So, even though I spent a lot of time floating around like I was on a Pirates of the Caribbean ride, I did get in a little exercise. 

And if I could go back every weekend, I'd do it.  It was really lovely to do nothing but eat, sleep, drink, walk the doggies, drink (being honest), and yoga when possible.  Ah, if only.

But reality always intrudes.  Connor passed out again while at the lake and then yet again when we got home, I've got to earn the money to pay the mortgage, and I found out on the way up to the lake that Dad has been diagnosed with colon cancer.  Reality does, indeed, bite.

But here's my resolution (Can I resolve in late September?  Well, I'm a trendsetter.):  I will work out more.  I'm already not eating anything tasty and not going anywhere exciting.  If I have a day where I have to put on mascara, it's a big deal.  I really ought to be able to work out a little bit.  So I'ma make the effort.  Tomorrow.  Or maybe the day after that, or something.

OR, I'll just wear more makeup.

Let me eat "cake."

I still have nothing to say.  So here's more nothing.

It's my b-day month.  And in honor of my birth (and I guess my continued existence), I baked myself a gluten-free, dairy-free, egg-free, chocolate free (mostly) German Chocolate cake!  Kind of reediculous.  Kind of dense.  And kind of...I don't know, but it aged well -- the icing soaked into the cake, so after a few days it was all one dense mass of sweet sticky coconut and sugar with pecans.  Not bad, for a "cake" missing wheat, butter, and eggs!  And, really, the whole point was to create a vehicle for carrying the icing to the mouth.  So MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

The only downside to my sweet hypo-allergenic "cake," was that my vanishing act was slowed a bit by all the sugar.  I got a touch of "icing butt," or maybe "icing gut."  I even rocketed back up to 105 lbs for a day or two there.  But the giant, gooey, two-layered hockey puck is gone now, and I'm back in light and flabby form. 

Did I mention my light and flabby form required new bras?  Yes, I've lost so much fat, I mean weight, that I had to go look for new bras.  As any woman knows, this SUCKS ROCKS.  But after an hour or so in the Nordstrom's dressing room with the nicest-possible fluorescent lights, three-way mirrors, and continual interruptions from the sales lady ("How's that one working?"  I don't know, because I haven't had a chance to try on the last three frickin' bras you brought me.  Is it just me?  Am I slow?  Or is the sales lady expecting a bra-changing speed that no mortal woman who can't reach those adjusters on the back straps can deliver?), I found two bras.  One even got to come home with me (the other had to be ordered from their Cal. store, but hey, if it fits....).  These bra manufacturers seem to think we're all sporting a couple of cupcakes right in the center of our chests like sports car headlamps.  Or Madonna in the 90s (I think it was the 90s).  Personally, I've got some squidge that suishes out the sides in a way that even I don't want to see.  But Nordstrom Sales Lady and I worked it out and my squidge is now controlled by a lovely Natori contraption.  With an On Gossamer back up on its way.  And, of course, I let myself be talked into a couple pair of unjustifiably-expensive panties.  (I'm wearing them now, so that I can wring every penny's worth out of them.)

Muscles?  No thanks, I'm fine.  But I'm working on them.  Kathy/Sis/Doc and I Skyped yoga last night.  And I even did some strength training a couple of times this week.  (Watch out D.R. Ena -- I might be in shape by the time you get back from Spudsville, Idaho!   Oops, now I want a tater tot.)  Am still only drinking on Sunday nights.  Or birthday nights.  Or special nights, like Tuesdays.  Okay, just kidding.  Still pretty much only on Sunday, and that's because I found myself stressed and cranky from prepping for potluck, so that everyone, and I mean everyone, benefits from my alcohol-based attitude adjustment on Sunday nights. 

Hmmm.  Guess I had more nothing to say than I thought. 

Dear Diary:

I am boring myself.  Yes, all this infection, infestation, and cleaning B.S. is even boring to ME, and I'm living/writing it!  Not exactly la vida loca.  Since I've lost the 10 pounds of mid-life squidge, I have nothing amusing to write about!  I picked 10 pounds as my goal, because I thought it was reasonable/achievable.  I also didn't realize how much I really weighed -- a teeny bit of intentional ignorance going on.  But I've lost almost twice that now.  The New Digital put me at 103.2 this morning, so that's 19 pounds down from my original 122!  No more brown smoothies, no more walks with birds pooping on my head.  Just healthy (boring) eating and cleaning up dog disasters.  I'm hardly even drinking any more.  I can only post about the wonders of Vegan + meat and how I lost those 19 pounds, so many times.  And then even I'm sick of my own preaching.

So what now?  I'm thinking a new blog (which I can't start until 2012, so I can print out the 2011 blogs in one book): "So Far So Flabby: adding two pounds of mid-life muscle."  (Two WHOLE pounds -- I know, it's crazy.)  Now that I'm not carrying the extra squidge, I need to change my flaccid Old Lady arms and legs into something more acceptable.  Oh!  How about: "No longer placid about the flaccid!"  Yes?  No?  I see a blog about facial exercises.   I wonder what I did with those CDs?

Dream big.

The Sleeper Has Awakened.

O. M. G.  Now I'm quoting from Lord of the Rings.  But I don't know what else to say.  No, I'm not working out and getting fit.  Although that may happen eventually.  I imagine that at some point, I'll get down to a layer of house shit that is acceptable and feels like an improvement, so that I can, once again, focus on LIVING my life in my house.  Meanwhile, however, I am prowling the house one room, no, one cabinet/bookcase/closet at a time, cleaning out year and YEARS of "stuff" that I have been keeping.  And for some reason, I can look at this stuff now, and just think, "WTH?  Why was I keeping this?"  Now that I'm not sick and tired all the time, I seem to have more time and energy to just get this stuff done.  And I'm much more motivated than I have been for years.  The piles of "stuff" were just getting to me to the point where I was starting to feel like a hoarder, and I am determined to get it all cleaned up and put away and have room to spare for more junk.  That's the plan anyway.  Plus then everything will be easier to clean, so I'll have less dust, thus making my life and health betterer.  Bonus.

Last weekend I cleaned out half the kitchen and dining room cabinets.  This week, I am improving my office with new, grown-up storage (a secretary and a nice wooden lateral file cabinet).  After that, I'm going to refinish the vintage oak office furniture in a nice ebony finish, and, voila, new and improved office.  It's about frickin' time.  And did I mention I just bought new office and home phones?  That was long overdue as well.

Lest anyone get the impression that I'm going to be really clean and organized in short order, I'm looking at a serious pile of camping crappola taking up half my guest room.  And there's more in the car.  So that will need to be sorted and stored.  (I was hoping to camp again, but after Connor passed out on my last trip, the vet says he has pulmonary arterial hypertension, and shouldn't go to altitude.  So camping is out for the immediate future.  Dang it.  I had a birthday yoga retreat and literary fest planned for next week.  Canceled.   But maybe I can do something on a smaller scale at home.)  And don't get me started on the backyard -- I'd clean that all up, but first I have to sort through the shed and the art studio out back.  Both of them are a total mess, but I can't touch them until the weather cools off again, so we're looking at October, probably.  So I won't be done soon.

BUT, when I AM done, there will be scads of room to breathe and yoga, and strength train, and....

Well, Hell, now I'm wondering if I'm just cleaning/organizing to avoid working out.

The exorcism.

Technically, this exorcism took place before my last post.  As I closed my front door to go camping at WCL, I held my breath to avoid inhaling the fog of neurotoxins I had left for my Leetle Friends, the dozens of flies swarming in my living room and kitchen windows.  Leetle ba$tards.  I'm not sure when this started, but over the preceding 2-3 weeks I had noticed an increasing number of flies in my kitchen.  Didn't bother me much at first -- I leave my kitchen door open a lot so that the dogs can go in and out, and with potluck on Sunday nights and everyone going in and out, I get flies.  They seem to know when you are going to open the door and manage to zip in during the nanosecond that you part the curtain to go in or out.  They have ODR - Open Door Radar.  Again -- LBs.

But eventually I noticed an unusual build up of flies.  One night I had to light a citronella tea light while sitting in bed reading a book!  Okay, THAT's not cool.  And it's not normal.  So I started shutting the door more, and being pyscho-diligent about picking up the fresh dog poop out back.  But it didn't seem to help.  I even started cleaning up my normal messes -- no crumbs left behind on the counter, the floor, whatever, wherever.  Nothing was working.

When I came back from the Fool's Hollow trip and found a maggot on the floor of my kitchen, I decided to get serious.  In the course of vacuuming and bleaching my kitchen and bathroom floors, I found their evil breeding ground:  the very edge of my wool rug jammed up next to the kitchen cabinets and a tiny crack between the base of the cabinets and the floor.  I thought flies needed water to breed, but this was apparently some mutant breed of LBs that needed only dog fur, cooking crumbs, and wool rug.  So I spent hours vacuuming up  maggots, larvae and whatever that last cocoon stage is before they hatch, and then hitting the kitchen floor with ammonia, diatomaceous earth, and  bleach (not all at once, you understand).  

After this maggoty adventure, I was grossed out, but feeling a bit better about my chances with the demon swarm.  I had destroyed the nursery (Sigourney Weaver, Aliens).  Unfortunately, the adults were still here.  They were crafty LBs, managing to elude capture with my Eureka AirExtreme (although I DID get pretty good with it in the kitchen windows).  I foolishly thought that they would die quickly, because I've always heard that flies only live for like a day or two.  Wrong.  I looked it up and they can live for weeks.  Ouch.  And females can lay like 500 eggs in a single day.  Double frickin' ouch.  So after days of vacuuming up maybe 5-6 flies at a time about 10 times a day, I decided I was losing the battle of the flies.  And since I was about to leave town for two days and I didn't want them breeding with impunity in my absence, I needed to get rid of them fast.

This required a more efficient killing machine than the AirExtreme.  So a trip to WalMart was in order.   (I tried Target, but apparently Target shoppers don't GET fly infestations.)  WalMart, however, was a gold mine of fly-killing power.  Fly paper -- 4 rolls for $.99.  Check.  (I got three boxes.)  And I couldn't resist the clear peel-and-stick window trappers.  (The LBs LOVE windows, yes they do.)  I was about to walk away, thinking I was good, when I saw the spray.  A beautiful blue can of Raid for killing LBs.  Hmmm.  Did I really need it?  Why take chances.

So I zoom home with my new weapons and start my offensive on the Northern Front (the living room windows).  This required unrolling/untwisting four rolls of VERY sticky stuff.  And then promptly sticking my hair into one of them.  Ew.  Let me just say, that I'm glad I'm not a fly.  That is some sticky sh!t.  I was trying to work that day, so I thought I could just spot treat the hair with some shampoo and water.  Nope.  Two attempts failed.  I ultimately had to resort to Goo Gone on my hair.  Sigh.

When the fly paper in the front window (very attractive) wasn't producing immediate results, I turned to the spray.  And Raid did not let me down.  I don't know what evil kind of neurotoxins they put in that stuff, but it WORKS.  Indeed, you don't even have to spray the flies directly -- the residual stuff in the air will kill them for hours.  And if you spray the windows, I've found that the residual on the window will kill them for days.  Yes, that's some toxic stuff.

I thought I had gotten lots of them before I left, but to be sure, before I closed the door to leave for WCL, I sprayed all the rooms with a mist of the magical Raid LB killer.  Man, you would not believe how many LB carcasses I found when I returned on Sunday -- about 40 on the fly paper strips and another 60 victims in the kitchen and other areas.  At least 100 of the LBs.  FINALLY.  

I found only one survivor on Sunday, so I gave the windows another spritz to be sure, and have only seen one or two random LBs since then.  Whew.  Disgusting, I know, but yet another valuable life lesson.  I wish life would quit teaching me sh!t I don't want to know.

What else do I know?  I'm still shrinking.  I've been successful with treating my health issues by avoiding the dairy, egg and wheat and using CeraVe for my atopic dermatitis.  I'm sleeping better, I'm breathing better, my allergic rhinitis is virtually gone, and I'm dropping even more weight than I had ever planned.  I'm down to 104-105.  Wow.  Remember when I was thrilled to be at 110?!  I've worked through most of the cravings for dairy, etc.  And I finally got to the point where I've been able to skip the alcohol as well -- food allergist Dr. Braly recommends avoiding alcohol to let the intestines heal (alcohol makes the intestines more permeable, thus permitting larger food particles to pass into the blood stream, contributing to the allergic reaction).  And since I'm trying to shake some bacterial overgrowth (aka an infection) in the genital tract (gardnerella and strep B) and I continue to have sinus infections deep up inside my nasal passages, I figure it's a good idea to avoid the alcohol for a while and let my temple get all healthy.  Anyone who knows me knows how improbable this is -- I like my alcohol about as much as LBs like windows.  So I thought this was going to be really tough.  But, other than the first few days, I haven't been missing it that much.  I've been avoiding party atmospheres a bit, but I don't think even that is going to be a problem.  We'll see.  And speaking of C, Dr. Braly, my new hero, says that vitamin C helps with withdrawal and cravings for allergens and alcohol -- so how can I go wrong drinking Emergen C instead of champagne?  It seems to work well.  Not quite as much fun, but this is for my long term health and I am determined.  Once again, research and perseverance and a healthy skepticism of the accepted view that all doctors know everything has served me well -- literally!

So I continue to get healthier and accidentally skinnier, and now I can focus on the real excitement in my life, like exorcising LBs from my place of residence.  OUT damned spots!

I'm keeping the Raid handy for future infestations -- just in case.  Watch out LB's I'm armed.

P.S.  Hard to keep the house maggot-free when the backyard cat is killing birds and leaving parts and the two dogs, independently on different days, find the nasty leftover bird bits and decided to bring them into the house for a snack, maggots and all.  Again -- sigh.  I had to bury the remaining maggoty bird leg and some feathers in the 108F afternoon heat.  I need a condo on the 75th floor somewhere.  One that excludes pets.

Kayaks be me. And Lola. And Julie and Molly.

As planned, I took the doggies camping AGAIN.  This time we tried Woods Canyon Lake, which is an hour closer to Phoenix than Fool's Hollow, and a little higher, so it was actually cooler (got to wear long pants in July - yeah!) than our last trip.  And less windy.  Thank the Baby Jeezus for that!

So this trip was much easier -- two hour drive, I've already got the car half packed (because I left most of the stuff in the car from last time), and I'm all prepared with my new, front-yard-tested Alps Moutaineering tri-awning, which beat the Kelty medium Shadehouse structure all to Heck for ease of solo set up and functionality.  Met up with friend Julie and her dog Molly at the check-in hut around noon Friday and proceeded to set up. (Wound up setting up two separate and, it turned out, unnecessary, camp sites, because we thought another friend was joining us for Saturday night.  [They have a two car maximum per site.]  So I had this lovely HUGE camp site all to myself.  Well, me and the doggies, anyway.)

My first visitor?  A big ol' elegant elk.  She was beautiful.  And tall.  You can't really appreciate it in these photos, but she was a pretty tall girl.

So, once I got over the whole "Wow, there's an elk in my camp." thing, I set up all the shit.  The tri-awning is smaller in square footage than the Embark square shade, but the ability to set it up solo more that makes up for any size limitation.  In fact, it's so cool, that I ordered a second one (being shipped to me as I type) to set up next to it, and make a veritable domed wonderland!  WHO's got the most shade in camp?  That would be me.

Here's the WCL camp:

So that's the excitement for the first day/night.  Julie came over and we hung out and roasted marshmallows, which gave Lola (previously in my lap, but still tied to my chair) a chance to attack.  Under cover of darkness, Lola attempted to murder, or at least seriously intimidate, poor Molly, who had done nothing to deserve such treatment.  Fortunately, between Julie and the leash and the chair, we were able to wrangle the insane toy poodle into submission without any damage to Molly.  But Lola still gave Molly the evil eye and the occasional rabid-poodle-charge for the rest of the trip.  (I'd really love to know what kind of life Lola had for the 10 years before I got her.  She got issues.)

Saturday was yoga and go-to-the-lake day.  Gorgeous day, with fluffy clouds in the blue sky.  I hit the lake and tried my new solo sit-on-top inflatable kayak, which is not as fast as a regular kayak and more susceptible to wind, but oodles easier to transport and store.  And it was fun!

And Lola was a trooper again.  She's not a big water dog, but her fear of my permanent departure is so curiously strong (Altoid, anyone?), that she will risk death, or at least a little sun and water, to be with me.

Land-loving Lola on a break.

So it was a beautiful morning at the lake.  I saw a crawfish eat a small frog.  (I'd show you the photo, but all I got was a picture of a stick under water -- it was sunny and I couldn't see the screen, what can I say.)  And then a gorgeous blue heron came by to fish.  He was there again on Sunday too and was too cool soaring above the lake.

I got about two hours of exercise in (Did I mention it was NOT as windy as Fool's Hollow?  And I think the new kayak would be less susceptible to the wind than the inflatable row boat.) before heading back to join Julie and Molly for lunch.  

And then our friend Mary J. came by for a glass of wine and a long walk BACK to the lake (it's right around the corner by car, but is a decent hike on foot), so we got some exercise in before it began to rain.  The afternoon was just a light rain (with excellent lightning and thunder) and we were all dry under the tri-awning.  Mary headed back to Phoenix, Julie went back to her camp, and the doggies and I ate, and walked and read, etc. until marshmallow roasting time (there was a break in the rain just at the right time, so we burned the rest of our firewood).  And then the wind ushered in the serious rain, and it was time to head to the tents.  My new tent and awning got their first test by rain and passed with flying colors.  I couldn't even hear my ipod with all the rain noise!  Very nice.

Connor trying to get me up for his breakfast.

Lola and I trying NOT to get up.

I meant to yoga with the Ye again on Sunday morning, but stayed up too late reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (still didn't finish the frickin' thing), so I was tired when the Connor dog went off at 5 am and demanded a walk (which he got, but then I went back to bed and TRIED to sleep).  I finally gave up at 6:30 am and dragged Connor into bed with us in an attempt to shut off his continuous autobark feature. 

I didn't think we'd get any more kayaking in, but Julie was actually up for it on Sunday and she took Molly out and then I took Lola out for a spin on the lake before we packed it in and packed it up.

Here's Julie kayaking with Molly:

Molly seems to be more of a sea dog than Lola!

So that was it.  Or so I thought.  The last bit of excitement happened at literally the moment of my departure.  I was walking Connor to the car and couldn't figure out why he was walking kind of diagonally.  Until he collapsed, had a few seizures, and passed out.  HOLY SHEE-ITE!  I thought my beloved Connor Dog was dead.  Really and truly dead.  He was completely limp, he was not breathing, nothing.  I grabbed Connor and put him into the back of the car (had to throw Crazy Butt back into her front seat to get her out of the way, but she knew I wasn't messing around) and didn't know what to do other than give him mouth-to-muzzle.  And I don't know if the M-T-M worked, or if he would have come around anyway, but after what seemed like a long time (and was really probably 30-60 seconds), Connor came around, put his head up, and had a few more seizures, but at least wasn't dead!  Thank GOD.  The seizures stopped after maybe another minute.  I gave Connor's head a wet down to make sure he was cool, gave him a big bowl of water, which he did start drinking, and he was fine.  Connor was back home and trying to eat his own poop within a couple of hours.  Tragedy averted.  Man, that would have been a bad camping result.  I thought maybe he had a stroke, but my sister said it was probably low blood pressure combined with the altitude.  Makes sense -- I also have low blood pressure and was dizzy myself while de-camping with all the bending over and then standing up.

Anyhoo, that's it from kind-of-damp camp. 

And what up with the squidge, you ask?  Well, the squidge is disappearing at an alarming and highly-pleasing rate.  Since I stopped eating dairy, eggs and wheat (the V + M diet) and eating almost nothing but fruit, vegetables, and some meat, all the fat has just melted away and I'm down to 105.6.  Yep.  My fighting weight from the late 20s before I got all squidgy.  Wow.  How cool is that?  Only downside so far is I have to get new bras!  (As my GP told me years ago when I asked why my boobs were getting bigger: "Well, they're all fat, you know."  Thanks.  Beeotch.)  But, since I got rid of my eczema, rhinitis, weird skin issues and other food-allergen reactions, I started focusing on other things, and it turns out I have a chronic strep and gardnerella infection and maybe that accounts for my chronic fatigue.  Anyway, I decided that in light of those continuing issues, I would cave in and do what Dr. Braly (the food allergist who wrote the book that saved my life:  Hidden Food Allergies) recommends, which is to STOP drinking all alcohol for three months and use probiotics to heal my gut.  So instead of taking a bottle of champagne (I specifically bought a cooler tall enough to house a bottle or two), I drank my green tea and Emergen-C over the weekend.  In fact, I kicked off Alcohol Abstinence on July 5 (the 4th was out of the question).  I've already gone one week with no alcohol -- only three days short of my personal best  So I'm hoping that my immune system will come back to life and kick some bad bacteria ass.  Wish me luck.  Cuz I don't think it's going to be easy.  I mean really, my last and only vice?  Dang it.