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.

Summer 2011: In Which I Give Mother Nature a Second and a Third Chance.

When last I blogged, I was fresh off of getting my (now skinny) ass kicked by Mother F'n Nature at Dead Horse Ranch State Park.  (I know how the horse died.)  Whilst getting said ass kicking, an RVer suggested I try Fool's Hollow Lake State Park (it's actually called Fool Hollow Lake, but that's idiotic and I cannot bring myself even to type it) in Show Low, AZ.  Nuff said.  I booked within two days of my brutal Dead Horse experience.  I didn't realize when I booked, that the largest wildfire in AZ history had started just two days earlier.  By the time of my Fool's Hollow reservation, the fire had consumed over 500,000 acres.  But since it was 60 miles to the East and the wind was blowing East....  Plus I was assured by Park staff that all was well at Fool's Hollow.  And they did not lie.


 

So off we went.  Connor dog and car full of necessary camping crap:  check.




Lola dog in copilot seat:  check.  Let's go.

 





We're driving.  And we're driving.  And....three hours later.  Bingo.  Fool's Hollow Lake.

And I have to say, it is really lovely.  Check out the view from my campsite:

 















Not bad for summer in Arizona.  Pine trees.  Shade.  Water.  What more could any camper want?

I must admit, it was super windy and a bit warm in the afternoons.  But having been battered and baked (like some chicken from the 1970s) in the Easy Bake tent every afternoon at Dead Horse, I was READY.  I planned on being outside (ick, usually) and I brought a shade structure to make that possible.  And since I'm kind of reviewing camping equipment now, let me say that I took the Embark (cheapo) shade structure, available at Target and many other places -- I'm sure I Amazoned (I just added that term to my dictionary, thank you) mine.  And while it worked quite well once I had 8 guy lines firmly staking the corners,  there is no way in H E double toothpicks that I could have put this thing up alone.  I fought the BADly-designed EVIL plastic corner connectors (just like the ones that broke on my SUV tent screen room) for about 15 minutes trying to raise this thing in the wind. Easy to put together, yes.  But every time you let go of one leg to put up another, the first leg flops to the ground immediately, because without the guy lines staked, there is nothing to hold it in place.  And I could not get the leg pole pins into the grommets with my puny old muscles.  In the end, it took one guy from Mesa and his two kids to help me put this stupid thing up.  (I must look really sad and desperate when camping.  Not sure what's going on there, but I did appreciate the help.)  Once UP, however, this thing withstood 40 mph winds (more about those winds later) for two days with barely a shudder.  I had to laugh when, sitting under my Embark shade structure later that first evening, I watched the peeps on the other side of my camp trying to force a mangled Easy-Up shade structure into some sort of  pretzel shape small enough to fit into the camp dumpster.  Hah!  Deja vu all over again.  I wonder how many of those pieces of...end up in camp dumpsters?  I hope they recycle.

So my shade is up.  Oh, and while I'm reviewing shade products.  I was able to snag an instant beach shelter from my local Costco for only $26.  They are $60+ on the web site, so I figure I got a deal and who cares if it cracks up in the first breeze.  And it really does go up instantly.  Really.  Instantly.  And I would not have purchased this for my own sake, but I figured it would be good for stashing two annoyingly clingy doggies while trying to set up and take down camp.  It's about 3-4' high and a half dome deal, but it has a built-in floor that was critical to my attraction.  Awesome.  It worked perfectly (needs to be staked or held down with heavy rocks) and kept the doggies comfy and out of my hair while keeping weeds and bugs out of theirs.  

And while I'm praising new products....  The  Coghlans tent stake mallet and puller  I picked up at REI for $4 was worth every penny and then some.  I was an idiot to omit a mallet for the Dead Horse trip -- mallet = good; rocks = bad for putting in tent stakes.

Okay, so we've got doggie shade, people shade and a tent.  Did I forget the tent?  I put that up first, and really, next time, I think maybe I'll do the shade structure first.  But whatever.  The Alps Mountaineering four-man tent I ordered from Sierra Trading Post while the SUV tent was still smoking was really comfy.   Much smaller (I couldn't do yoga inside the tent), but comfy and adequate for myself, a twin cot and two doggies. More importantly, it was a breeze to set up.  No sliding poles through sleeves -- you just clip the tent to the frame.  Sturdy aluminum poles in a space alien configuration that doesn't look like it should work, but does, and a nice rain fly that creates vestibules front and back.   Came with nice aluminum stakes. Very sweet.  And it's an odd shape -- taller at front where you walk in, making it easy to walk in, and then lower in the back.  So you don't get to stand and walk around in there.  But, aside from getting dressed, you don't really need to. So that's good.  I felt secure.  Here's a view of my set up at Camp-Not-Nearly-So-Hot-and-I-Laugh-at-the-Wind:

And I have already learned many camping lessons.  Like bring a freakin' rug for the front of the tent, unless you like dirt, rocks, weeds, and other crud in your tent.  And stake everything securely.  And don't rely on the cheapo stakes they give you with whatever you're putting up.  I made a mistake in leaving behind my new 2 gal water jug with spigot -- I lost all the cool from my cooler by repeatedly opening it to get water.  Oops.  Next time -- take the jug.  I'm already freezing like a 1/2 gallon of water into a huge cube for the water jug.  So I anticipate having ice cold water that will make my teeth chatter after two days on my next trip.  And I thought I'd try a cot to save space instead of the usual full size air mattress.  Um...not bad.  But not great.  I was able to sleep okay on it, but I wouldn't rate it as really comfy.  There's no getting around the narrow frame.  And I'm not even wide.  And by the time you pack the Thermarest-type pad to make the cot work, you might as well just take the air bed -- its takes up the same space, or less, and about the same amount of time.  Forget the cot.  It's going to consignment.

So, enough gear reviews.  Are you bored yet?  (OH!  I forgot the butane stove and the Coghlans wind shield!  Both excellent.  Fire restrictions prohibited wood or charcoal, so it was a good thing I bought a butane burner and enough cans of gas for about ten of my lifetimes of camping trips.  The wind shield was very handy when trying to heat up dinner.  So all good.)  Well here's where we get to the exciting part.  I bought a boat.  Not a big boat.  Some might even say not a real boat.  But a boat nonetheless.  I bought the Intex Seahawk 2 inflatable row boat, because it came with the oars and a pump and everything for only $46.99.  Not kidding, $46.99 delivered.  So how can I go wrong?  I was all excited when I launched it in my swimming pool and took an unenthused Lola for a spin.  In her new pink polka dot life vest.  She's not a real water dog (which is kind of weird, because poodles were originally water hunting dogs from Germany or something), but she tolerated the trip, and she looks pretty cute in the life vest.  So I figured this would be a breeze.  I was swamped by a wave of nostalgia for those old row boats being pulled across the lake by a young man in a striped jacket with a lazy chick (with a parasol, of course) in the other end.  In my scenario, I guess I'm the guy in the striped jacket, and Lola...well, you get the idea.  I even brought an umbrella in case Lola got hot in the sun.  But it was too breezy (yes, here we go) and Lola was fine in one of my sun hats.

Saturday morning, I'm sitting in my shade (yes, lots of nice shade) and thinking that it's so nice at camp, I should stay and read all morning and go boating in the afternoon.  But then I notice that there's already a nice breeze and I remember my Dead Horse beating and the set up of the shade structure the previous afternoon, and I wisely decide to hit the lake first.  By 9 a.m., I'm at the boat ramp being ridiculed while inflating my boat with a hand pump.  And may I say, that while the jackhole that was making smart comments probably thought it was going to be a lot of hard work to inflate Lola's Folly, that pump and my sturdy Intex watercraft worked like a charm and I was ready to launch within 10 minutes.  I give the boat design and construction 5 stars for ease of use, comfort, (I could give them some style pointers), and convenience. Not to mention price. Again, what can possibly go wrong?  Lola's suited up and we launch.  

Lola, ready to launch.

Right away, I'm literally in the weeds, because I really have never rowed a row boat.  If I have, I certainly cannot recall it.  My grandparents had a pond where we used to swim, but I spent most of my time screaming and crying while my brother tried to drown me.  It's so nice to grow up.

It took me a while to get the hang of rowing.  And maybe it was just me, but the dang thing didn't seem to want to go straight -- no matter what I tried, I almost always had to alternate a double stroke with an extra stroke on my left side.  Go figure.  I couldn't.  And while I'm at it, I probably should have looked up the proper way to row a row boat, because you really need a lazy chick in the stern (see how nautical I am?) to tell you where you're going.  Yes, you're supposed to sit in the bow with your back to where you're going and stroke backwards.  You get lots more leverage, which I would need later on.  But I didn't figure that out right away.  I got that information much later in the trip from a nice couple in an inflatable canoe/kayak with their two dogs.  Again, my inexperience must have been highly visible.  But on this first part of the tour, I was going with the wind and the current of the lake and all I really had to do was keep the boat far enough from shore to avoid pissing off the anglers.  The hardest part was really making myself relax -- I mean, the plan was the journey in this case, not the destination, which is unusual in my normal travel experience.  I had to keep telling myself that I wanted to go slow.  Weird.

My plan was to make it around the lake to my camp, walk up and check on Connor (and apply lip gloss, since I had left mine in the car at the boat ramp) and then row back around to the boat ramp.  About an hour in a slow boat later, I located my shade structure, parked the boat (docked?  what do you call it when you pull it up on shore?  I guess, pulling it up on shore.) 

Here is Lola arriving at camp.  Doesn't she look like a happy camper/boater?  I love this shot.

So Lola and I said "Hey" to sleepy Connor dog, applied lip gloss (oops, did NOT apply lip gloss, because it was in my purse in the car at the boat dock), put on a rash guard shirt (full on sun and I knew the trip back would be more than one hour), and started back.  By this time, it had to be between 10:30 and 11 a.m. and the wind had picked up a bit.  Frankly, I was concerned that I would be able to make any headway at all trying to row against the wind and current.  Really.  Wasn't sure that would happen.  But it did at first.  I was making headway even before I got the tip that I was rowing the boat from the wrong end and going butt-first into the wind.  And once I got the leverage provided by rowing backwards from the bow, I felt pretty powerful.  But then I approached the corner.  The lake takes a 90-degree turn about 2/3rds of the way back to the boat ramp.  And the frickin' wind was blowing around that corner (the lake is basically a canyon of boulders) at a pretty good clip.  (Some people from Mesa who were making a RAPID exit early Sunday morning said that the wind was 40 mph on Saturday -- so it's not just wimpy me.)  So there I am.  Rowing.  And rowing.  And frickin' rowing.  And I make it to the corner where some kids are jumping off of large boulders kind of staring at me while I'm cussing and yelling at Lola to "MOVE" every time I try to stroke without smacking her pointy little poodle head.  And not only am I not gaining ground, but I'm spinning around every 5-6 strokes and cussing more while I try to correct my course while looking frickin' backwards and not hitting the poodle, and I'm being blown to the far side of the lake.  Shit.  The funny part though, is that Lola seems to really be enjoying this part of the ride in particular.  She's sitting there with the wind in her face and her poodle hair blowing in the wind (she's overdue for a cut) with the biggest doggie smile you've ever seen.

I conclude I am not going to make it.  And I'm not a quitter.  I like to think I can do anything.  But at this point, I've been rowing for something like 2-2.5 hours in the sun with no muscles and a poodle in my way.  I'm tired.  I'm beat.  And I'm heading for the boulders.  If I thought I could have made it around the corner closer to the shore line, I would have gone for it, but it wasn't working.  I wound up giving up a few yards  of progress just to get to the shore line, where I managed to stick the Titanic on some rocks.  Which, by the way were covered with slime.  So there I am trying to unstick and port the African Queen and poodle along the shore line of enormous boulders.  This requires walking over slimey boulders on which bare feet could find NO purchase.  I'm talkin' slime.  And when boulders weren't available, it required swimming with one arm while pulling the boat with poodle in the other hand against the wind.  I'd like to say I just clenched the tow rope in my teeth and swam the corner, but I didn't, because I had no tow rope.  Yes, it was ugly.  And another jackhole on one of the boulders kept asking me if I wanted some help.  And "Is the water cold?"  What exactly did he think he was going to do for me?  It's not like he could grab part of the rope and help me walk it around the shore line, since that was impossible -- I was swimming with it at that point and he's sitting on his boulder all dry watching me almost drown while towing a poodle in a row boat with one hand.  Since I was making headway at that point, and my only problem was being annoyed by chatty jackholes on boulders, I declined his offer of help.

In the end, I made it around the corner, where amazingly, the wind was no longer hurricane force, but maybe just a minor gale, and I was able to get back in the boat and continue my struggle to the boat ramp using my very lame-ass rowing "style."  Since it was only about 1p.m. when I made it past the crowds of jeering day-users fishing and swimming off the docks, I could certainly have dropped my handy little boat anchor (this former Girl Scout was prepared, thank you -- well, except for the wind thing) and just lounged and recovered for a while.  But I was done.  I de-flated the SS Minnow ("...a three hour tour....") and chatted with my counterpart (another middle-aged woman with the similar Sevylor inflatable row boat and a yappy dog in an orange life vest and doggie visor) and compared boats and wind stories.  But she brought a husband with a motorized pontoon boat and he drove her boat/dog/largish-ass in.  Cheater.

Naps all around!

I spent the afternoon lying in the shade (okay, I napped -- Naps for everyone!), reading my kindle, and drinking champagne.  The end.  

Not really, of course.  I spent an uneventful night watching a movie on my tent wall with a portable projector.  You can't have enough crap when comfort camping.  That's part of the drill.  I did yoga (again -- I did it Saturday am) Sunday morning, which made the whole trip worth it, since I never would have done yoga twice at home, and then spent an hour or two taking everything down.  I actually might have stayed longer to read (I made a lot of headway on The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo), but the fools at the Hollow kick your butt out at noon.

So that's it.  So long from camp.

I have already ordered an inflatable sit-on-top kayak for my next trip.  July 8-10:  Canyon Woods Lake.  Or is it Woods Canyon Lake?  I can never remember.  Three geographical features in one name.  What could go wrong.

e bottle if you forget the champagne stopper.

First attempt to phone blog.

Camping update: turns out pocket knives ARE handy for camping...you can cut down your champagne cork and make it fit back in th

The incredible shrinking me.

106.8

Wow.  I started in October 2009 at 122 lbs.  This morning I am 106.8.  And I haven't exercised regularly, or seriously, in months.  Just some random yoga with the Ye.  I'm still flabby, with no chance of muscles, but I look better in my clothes and the muffin top is gone.  And in the end (my end) it was all diet.  Not "a diet," but diet.  No pills or supplements, nothing crazy, but just eating fruits and vegetables and cutting out dairy, eggs, and most wheat.  And almost all sugar and sweeteners.  Basically vegan with meat.  After reading a few books on nutrition and food allergies, I'm wondering why dairy is even a part of the new My Plate.  (Look!  I learned how to put a link in my blog!  It's about frickin' time, yes?)  Why they persist in pushing the bread.  And why you have to really work to buy anything that doesn't have sugar in it.  I don't see sugar on any part of My Plate.  I think the answer is the dairy and agricultural industries are just that -- industries (watch me link!) working for the bottom line so their executives can stay rich.  But that's me.  After getting educated about what's in my food, I'm kind of pissed off at the corporations that push all the tasty, tasty poison.  Diabetes anyone?  How about a side of myocardial infarction with that?

I'd better go now -- nothing interesting or amusing to write, I just felt like I was overdue for a post.  And I was.  

Up next:  We camp.  Yes, I'm taking the family camping again.  Because I've got new equipment to test and you have to get right back on that horse.  Giddyup!

The Unhappy Camper.

Or how Mother-F'n Nature kicked my ass and sent me home in defeat.  

I arrived home last night at 9:17 p.m. and was never so happy to see my dirty, messy house that contains all the chores and projects that I don't want to do.  I took my bruised and bloodied self and the weed-infested (hope that's all) doggies into the house and was fast asleep in my favorite plaid PJs in my own bed by 10:15 p.m.  Ahhhh.

The Polyethylene Palace, B.W. D. (Before Wind Damage)

Things started out really well -- I was obnoxiously excited to spend a RELAXING spa-like holiday weekend camping in the polyethylene palace [see photo] in the wilderness (okay, a state park with water and electric at my camp site and clean restrooms and hot showers) with just the doggies, a full-size air mattress, an induction cooktop, organic, sulfite-free red, chilled champagne, and a projector with Rodney Ye, 4 seasons of the Tudors and all 5 Resident Evils.  Sounds good, yes?

And it was good for the first night.  I went a day early, because I didn't have lots of work to do, and why sit around my comfortable, air-conditioned, satellite-equipped home, when I could be out in the dirt, right?  So, off I went.  I arrived late afternoon and had very little trouble setting up the polyethylene palace even in  some wind.  I had a lovely evening and all was good.

Doggies trying to avoid EARLY am heat.

The trouble began the next morning.  Really EARLY the next morning.  Who knew the sun comes up at like 5:30 a.m.?  And the Connor dog's auto bark comes on at 5:29.9 a.m.  I had spent the previous night watching the Tudors until about midnight, thinking I'd lay around all morning.  Not so much.  And if the barking dog and the blinding white light shining through the white walls of the polyethylene palace were not annoying enough, right about the time my nose and toes started to warm up (it was cold enough that I was in fetal position by morning), the tent started to get really warm.  Huh.  How is a girl to crawl back into bed for an extended snooze when it is hitting 90ish about 7 am?  Not good.  I tried opening all the windows in the tent and the screen room, but it was no use -- the palace was a spacious Easy Bake oven.

Not to despair.  I passed a Wal-Mart in Cottonwood, a mere 2.7 miles from my camp site.  So I detached the Element from the Easy-Bake palace and took the doggies to a shady spot in the Wal-Mart parking lot.  I got everything I thought I would need to salvage the trip:  9x9 easy-up gazebo for shading the palace, cheap red box fan from China for tent, new ice chest with two bags of ice, tarp and picnic blankies for the doggies to avoid the burrs and foxtails, more batteries for the bug repeller, etc.

Armed with cheap Chinese-manufactured Box Store paraphernalia, I struggle mightily erecting the gazebo, and I think I have solved my problem -- the temperature in the tent goes down about 20 F right away.  Ah -- at last, I'm ready to relax.  Turns out I got an asymmetrical sunburn for nothing.  Because 1.5 hours into the joys of the gazebo shade, and just as I'm wondering if it will hold in the wind (which apparently kicks up in the afternoon -- every afternoon), the ENTIRE GAZEBO goes flying overhead, ripping up its cheap Chinese stakes, and lands like an enormous broken dead bug on the other side of the palace.  [Photo here -- I took this in case Wal-Mart gave me any crap about the return.]

The soft silver underbelly of the cheap box store gazebo.

Argh.  All that work and $50 for nothing.  And NOW I have to try to put it back into the little bag and return it to Wal-Mart.  Because it is clearly not fixable -- broken and bent limbs are so numerous there is no point in examining it.  My kindly RV neighbor (who helped me with the  rain fly when it was too windy for me to throw it over the top of the palace) came over and helped me to take apart the ridiculous giant white dead bug and then hauled it to the trash for me.  Argh.

So I'm back to hot, sweaty, and pissed.  And if I'm hot without fur, imagine the collie and the poodle.  Not good.  And, now I have to force-brush Connor, who is covered in foxtails and burrs, because he tried to get out of the car when I was setting up the gazebo, fell onto a concrete parking block on his head, and then landed in a pile of chopped weeds.  So after all the sheet with the flying Gazebo, I have to try to get a million stickers out of long, thick, collie fur.  This was NOT a good afternoon, and I was NOT happy.  But I must have reached a breaking point (like the POWs?), because I just gave up and decided to "enjoy" the misery.  So I took Kathy's advice and made Connor a Ziploc ice pillow.  (Look how cute he looks!)

Connor enjoys ice bag pillow.  Lola just happy to be alive.

And since Lola wanted to sit on my lap every time I sat down, I made another ice bag for my lap.  And just started drinking.  There is not much so bad that it can't be made less painful by buckets of champagne.  By the time it was less hot and windy, it was dark and I was shitfaced.  Shitfaced with a wet crotch, because the Ziploc I made for Lola and my lap leaked.  Of course.

The good news (explained later) is that I was so pissed after the gazebo blew over, that I started packing up everything on Friday afternoon, less than 24-hours into my camping gig.  But I was reluctant to just quit, particularly the day before I was supposed to meet friends in Jerome for shopping, dining, and relaxing.  So I stick it out.  And when I arise at 5:30 the next morning, I am prepared for the Easy Bake, and I make adjustments (no point in letting ANY sun into the tent) and take the doggies outside in the shade of the Element, and we have a tolerable morning.  I even start reading a book on my Kindle, which, unfortunately, keeps rebooting about every fifth page.  Why am I not surprised.

So all is good again and I take a nice shower and the doggies and I motor into Jerome, a pleasant 18-minute drive away.  And here is the best part of the trip -- not camping, but shopping and dining and drinking in Jerome.  We had an excellent lunch, shopped, drank at a local winery, and hit a vegan cafe in Sedona, which is only 40 minutes from Jerome.  All good.

But then I go back to my tent in the windiest frickin' Hell-hole of a desert imaginable.  (Did I mention I selected this site for its advertised "shade?"  Yes, it had a pine tree that I couldn't get close to, because they decided to park the one-ton picnic table there.)  My plan: if the tent is still standing, I'll stay another night (oh, I am supposed to stay two more nights).  I have to approach in a large circle to get to the Easy-Bake palace.  And I'm looking at it as I approach, and something is not right.   

The palace walls have been breached.  Destroyed, really, by the insane winds blowing across ONLY my camping site, because all the other tents around are doing just fine.  The screen room is busted up bad and is on the ground.  It is not salvageable -- cannot even be reassembled with the broken pole and connector.  (I'm sorry there's no photo.  It's hard to think about fighting off a crazy poodle to get to the camera phone when you're looking at disassembling and packing up a dirty, destroyed, Easy Bake Palace.)  And here's where it's good that I packed up most of the stuff out there the day before -- fewer things got buried under the screen-room rubble and covered in dirt.  NO problem, I'll just zip off the screen room and I can still use the tent.

But even at 6:00 p.m. the STINKING wind is still blowing, so that my home is more of a leaning tower than a palace, and I have to brace it up with my whole body to keep it from falling over completely.  The palace walls are just too high and were not going to make it.  And neither was I.  I could have stayed home and poked myself in the eye, well both eyes, with a really sharp stick and had more fun and relaxation.  That was it.  I'm not sure when I decided - whether it was when I discovered all the screen room parts were broken, or maybe when I tripped over the doorway in a gust of FRICKIN wind and landed hard on the rocks with both knees and one hand, or maybe it was when I had to put my back into the tent to keep it upright, but my decision to fold my tent and go home was not difficult at that point.

I spent an additional 1.5 expletive-filled hours (sorry family campers) packing up the palace and accessories (VERY tempting to just drive away and leave the wreckage), feeding and walking the Doggies Who Are Not Good at Camping, and then I was GONE.  And there you have it.  Lesson learned.  

What lesson?  Well, I guess (1) bigger is NOT always better (2) Jerome is a pleasant day trip from Phoenix, where my house doesn't usually blow away when I go out, and (3) maybe I'm not a natural born camper.

What was I thinking?

P.S.  At least I got to watch the Top Gear marathon in bed in my PJs when I came home.  And am considering a new teepee-shaped tent to avoid future wind/sun problems.

Tune in next week for teepee adventures.

It must be the gear.  (Hey!  Have just had brilliant idea for an American version of Top Gear, only instead of cars, we test camping gear!  That could be excellent!  Just think of the many possibilities for testing, say, bear repellant!  I'm in.  And, remember, I thought of it first -- I call copyright!)

Vegan + meat = 108.4

For two days now, I've been parked firmly at 108.4.  Not a fluke.  The veggies and no-dairy, no-eggy diet (I like to call it vegan with meat) with limited wheat is working.  And I've done yoga three times in the last 5 days.  So we're making progress here!  It's just a shame that the price was not being able to eat every-frickin-thing-that-I-love (mac 'n cheese).  I'd really love to have a doughnut every once in a while.  And I might kill someone for a Micky D's cheeseburger and fries.  But I can have a regular hamburger and fries if I want, and in 3 months, I can even have a cheeseburger maybe once a week.  (Having watched Food Inc., however, I might have to make my own burgers in future.)

Oh, and I tried quinoa (pronounced keen-wah for all the Safeway employees who had no idea what I was talking about last weekend).  And it is good!  I like it even better than rice and will be making it lots in future.  Made some with my own apricots (yeah -- the trees are finally paying off!) and almonds.  I've got to develop some favorite recipes, but so far, so good.

Surprises so far:

Tofu is tasty.  Yes, I said it.  I was always terrified of this strange and crazy health food called tofu and figured it would be awful.  Growing up in Kansas, if it wasn't beef with my beloved taters, I didn't know it and I didn't want to know it.  (Don't get me started on seafood, most of which I still won't touch.  And you can forget sushi -- why would I want to eat it raw, if I won't eat it cooked?)  But I've been making a Greek salad with firm tofu that is delicious.  You just marinate the tofu in some oil, vinegar and spices and, voila, tasty chunks of tofu that might as well be feta cheese or egg or whatever.  I think I'll try a tofu omelet in the near future.  I'm missing my eggs.

Earth Balance faux butter.  Works and tastes just like butter, but without the dairy/saturated animal fat.  I just didn't know.  This has been VERY educational.

Toffutti cream cheese.  Yep.  looks and tastes like regular cream cheese.  (Don't get the Tofutti sour cream unless you're cool with some transfat, but the cream cheese doesn't have any transfats.)  If I could eat wheat more, I'd have bagels with this cream cheese on them every day.

There are a few restaurants in town where I can eat out and have options.  Friend Steve recommended Pita Jungle the other day for dining pre-Chelsea Handler tour.  And it was excellent.  Hardly any cheese or dairy, beyond some yogurt in sauces, so it was healthy and I could actually eat a lot of it.  And I'm going to try a popular vegetarian, dairy-free restaurant in Sedona over Memorial Day weekend -- the Chocolate Tree Cafe.  It's supposed to be good -- will let you know how it goes.

Post Script having nothing to do with above:

Holy swimming-pool-features-I-didn't-know-I-had, Batman!  I just had the pool guys out to look at the Red Clay Sea next to the deep end of my pool.  Now this pool was here LONG before I moved in 21 years ago, and I thought I knew all there was to know about it -- it has expensive in-pool filters that need to be replaced about once every ten weeks,  a separate ugly sand filter, a diving board, and a light at the deep end.  That's it, right?  Wrong.  While planting a queen palm poolside last weekend, I encountered serious red slime that used to be desert clay next to the pool.  So I called my pool guys, who just left.  Turns out that the pipe that was leaking into my soil and using up all my pool water was once part of a solar water hearing system.  WTF?  I didn't know I ever had that.  But wait there's more.  On the other side of the pool, we have another tube that was, at one distant and unknown time in the past, used as a self-leveler.  NOW, how much would you pay?  But my very favorite part?  I HAVE A FOUNTAIN SPRAYER FEATURE!  Holy cool sprayer feature!  And it's a quick, easy fix (because the valve that hasn't been used for 21 years is frozen -- shocker)!!!  I'ma be sprayin' up a decorative and refreshing storm at my pool this summer.  I frickin' can't believe it -- I have a fountain built into my pool and didn't even know it.  I could've been spraying for the last 21 years.

Well, the 12th of Never may have arrived.

Dare I say it?  Dare I fly the proud MISSION ACCOMPLISHED banner and don my fake military flight suit?  At the risk of being mocked for all eternity (and I'd say it's a safe bet that that's happening anyway), I'ma suggest that maybe I have lost my 10 pounds of mid-life squidge for good.  Or at least for now.  How about that?  I've lost it for now.  

109.2  The not-so-new-now digital scale says that I'm 109.2.  And that's AFTER I got dressed and had a spaghetti with marinara and spinach breakfast.  So it's not just a morning lightness of being.  That's a long way from the 120-122 where I started in October 2009.  I look and feel lots thinner.  My only issue now is that I've got more flab on the bones than muscle.  So the quest for motivation to actually work out continues.  And now that I'm feeling more like my old pre-eczema self, I might get back to working out again soon.  

It's funny, when I started this gig 1.5 years ago, I was firmly in the You Can Eat Anything You Want As Long as You Don't Eat Too Much of It camp.  I really didn't think it mattered WHAT you ate, so long as you burned more calories than you took in.  And there is still some truth to that basic caloric model.  But it turns out that I definitely CANNOT eat whatever I want, because my allergies to dairy, egg and wheat were making me sick, swollen, and fat.  And the more I read about food, especially sugar, dairy and meat, and our food industry and what is actually in even "healthy" food in the average grocery store, the more amazed and dismayed I have become.  I can't believe more people aren't sick -- oh wait a minute, they are!!!  Obesity, diabetes, osteoporosis, asthma, rhinitis, eczema, arthritis, (bunions!)....  Anyway, I don't have time to lecture here, but suffice it to say that this little detour into my health issues has been quite the eye opener, and I will forever be a convert to vegetables -- organic vegetables (now that I know how many of our non-organic veggies are filled with pesticides).  I had Brussels sprouts and home-made salsa yesterday.  And they were both good.  Who knew?  Frickin' fruit and vegetables really are the answer to everything.  Dammit.

Now that I KNOW I have bunions...they're KILLING me!

Yep.  When I didn't KNOW they were bunions, I just thought my dogs were barkin' (you know, my feet were tired).  But now that I have "bunions," hell, those things are KILLIN' me.  So I went in search of a cure.  Because the internet has everything, right?  Um.  Well, you can certainly find some ugly-a$$ shoes that will be "comfortable."  And cute torture instruments abound.  But combining STYLISH with healthy?  Insane!  Unheard of!  REEE-DICULOUS!

Really, I don't understand why these two concepts cannot be brought together -- why can't Blahnik make some comfy stilletos that don't freak out my toes?  And why are all those orthopedically-perfect shoes all freakin' hideous?  It's as if the two sides are at war and unwilling to give an inch lest the "other guys" win!  Obviously I can no longer wear the high, high heels -- those days are gone forever.  So that means I can't wear any of the currently-stylish platform stilletos.  Dress shoes gone.  Check.  And my beloved POINTY toes?  Not so much.  Dang.  It.  I love me some pointy toes.  But MUST I wear friggin' Earth shoes?  Or those cloggy-looking things that every comfy shoe manufacturer makes "stylish" by slappin' a Mary Jane strap onto it?  PEE-YUKE.  Ugh (And don't get me started on the Ugly Ugg.)  

Well, I have searched high and low (meaning everywhere Google and Amazon will take me) and I have found a very few shoes that look decent and don't FU your feet.  Let me share my experience. 

1. Crocs patent leather wedges.  (I'll look up the name in a minute.  Okay, I couldn't find the name.)  I found these on PiperLime a couple of years ago and they are awesome.  First, they are cute -- I never fail to get compliments on these plastic shoes.  They are not flat, they are not fugly-toed, and they are not Mary Janed.  They are a soft, cushy, comfy wedge of foam with attractive strappery on top (patent pleather that you can wear right into the Mediterranean sea), and so comfy that you can walk around Santorini all day long and then hike down the 600-step donkey trail to your cruise ship.  Yes, you can, because I've done it.  They aren't the BEST shoes for the donkey trail (it's covered in straw and donkey poop), but they will get the job done and you won't trip (unless you're a clutz) and they won't hurt your feet.  They don't have MY black patent Crocs with the criss-cross straps in their current Croc line up, but the "Leigh" wedge is close.  It comes in all black and then some stupid colors with an ugly tan rubber wedge that no one will buy.  Here's a picture of Leigh in black -- I can't get the photo to go where I want it, so look around.  In fact, I like the Leigh so much, I may just go buy a pair.  Excuse me a minute.
2. Dr. Scholl's "dance."  Yes, more plastic shoes.  I can't believe that I like these things, but I do.  I fell in love with my first (and still favorite) pair at Macy's many years ago.  And I noticed just yesterday that they have them back in stock at Zappos.  These things are fun, they are comfy, and they go everywhere from picking up dog poop in the backyard, to shopping in the rain or snow.  I wouldn't wear them someplace dressy -- have some sense -- there are rules.  And this is my only Mary Jane exception -- they've got a strap, but the rest of the shoe does not fit the Mary Jane mold, so I'm okay with it.  I'll try to insert a photo -- I'm not good with the photos.  Here we go: 
3. Vibram's Five-Fingers "shoes."  These are really heavy-duty toe socks with rubber soles.  Okay, these things are a long way from attractive, and I would say they're really hideous.  BUT, they're hideous in kind of a cool, freaky, "What the Hell are those?," modern, good, kind of way.  I admit that I have not yet tried these.  I am going to REI today to see if I can find a pair in my size to wear around the house.  Otherwise, I'ma be stuck wearing yoga slippers with those toe separator things. So here is a photo of the Vibram thingies.  They come in other colors, thankfully, but you'll see that the still-uncreative bastards have even Mary Janed up a few of these things. 
4. Nike Air Rift.  Ena and I think they should just call them Nike Air Bunions and get it over with.  And honestly, I think they'd get a good following if they billed them that way.  But you know Nike --"What!  No one would buy a 'bunion' shoe!"  It has to have a cool name.  So "Rift" it is.  It's based on a tabi, which is what the Ninjas and geishas wear.  And what this Japanese guy wore when he won the Boston marathon in 1951 (http://zero-drop.com/?tag=boston-marathon) -- shoes with a separation between your big toe, and your lesser toes.  And the Rift has a devoted following.  Sadly, this shoe is in the Ugly Ass category, because apparently no one at Nike has any sense.  Nasty neon colors, black or purple lace (puke), unnecessarily chunky soles, and, on some models, a nice swath of black rubber right at the cloven front, so you look like you should bust out with a "MOO" at any moment.  Gee-zus Nike, what were you thinkin'?  Seriously, I want to smack someone at Nike.  How about just a really cool modern shoe with some style -- a nice tatoo-inspired design,  cool, high-contrast black AND white, or a swirly pattern that looks like you go fast in your weird shoes?  Anything but purple lace, chunky soles and Moo.  But, there it is.  I am on the verge of buying a pair anyway.  I'm trying to decide whether to get last year's model (because this year's crop is hideous) in black with a silver pattern on the fabric part (I hate black sneakers, but it's kind of the best of the badness), or in a nasty bright pink with some ruching of the fabric -- at least it's interesting.  So far the pink is in the lead. 

Please, someone from the design team at Puma save me from these ugly-ass shoes.

Post Script:  I found some Rifts in silver on Ebay for $60 plus shipping.  So I bought them.  Only for you guys do I do this.

Post post script:  It is mid-afternoon now, and there have been several developments since this morning's post.

One.  You saw the crazy silver shoes -- I couldn't resist.  Two.  I went to REI and tried on the Vibram Five Fingers thingies.  The jury is still out.  They are comfortable, but weird, and a little tough to put on.  Why not just wear some toe socks and slippers?  And these foot gloves are about $85 (and up) plus tax.  Toe socks and slippers it is.

Three. I tried on some Keens while at REI and decided I needed some Whisper Slides, which they didn't have in my size there.  Never fear, Sierra Trading Post always has some Keens, and they gave me 35% off of their already reduced price. Nectarine/drizzle Keen Whisper slides won out over the Vibram freaky feeet.  See slides at right.

Fourth, and finally:  TJMaxx was RIGHT by REI.  Duh.  So I left Lumber Jack City and headed to T-t-t-t, T-t-t-t, T J Maxx!  Which, hello, I love.  My bunions and I bought several items, many of which are not important or relevant right now.  But pertinent to this post, my bunions and I selected 3 pair of shoes that seemed to be both attractive and comfortable for the bunions.  Because it is not possible to be a lawyer or have gay friends if you wear nothing but Keens and clogs and Crocs (indeed, you take your life into your hands at certain cocktail events), it is necessary to have some shoes that are (1) feminine, (2) trendy, and (3) not flat.  So here's what we brought home:

We've got some Nine Wests for work -- adorable peep toes that are not as tall as they look because of the platform front.  The Aerosoles in the middle are WAY cuter than they look in the photo, plus they're so comfy I've already done yard work in them.  And the MIAs on the right (which don't show up at all in this photo) are totally trendy and higher than the bunions might normally allow, BUT, they have flexible rubber soles. Uh-huh!  You'd never know it, but these shoes are all relatively comfortable, with the Aerosoles winning by a nose in the comfort category.

It's early days yet -- they all feel fine in the store.  But maybe I was a bit hasty when I jumped on the "cute shoes cannot be comfortable" train this morning.  I may just have to adjust my idea of "cute" and "comfortable" and meet somewhere between stilts and granola. 

Update:  Thursday, Cinco de Mayo:

The Silver Air Rifts arrived today.  And while I detest the Mary Jane strap on these, they REALLY are very comfortable.  Without socks -- can't wear the socks with these, but they are quite comfy.