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.

Is it just me?

Or is this a really slow year for blog posts?  My "year in my life" book is going to be about the size of a Wonder Woman comic book this year.  Only about one tenth as interesting.  If only I had an invisible plane.  And a golden lasso.  And some enormous knockers spilling out of a crazy-tight red white and blue super hero costume with red boots.  THAT'd spice things up.  (And probably also get me banned from Safeway for life.  I wonder if Fresh and Easy would take me?  Definitely not Sprouts.)  Not only do I not feel like working out, but I also do not feel like bloggin' about how I'm not working out.  Even right now as I type this -- I don't feel like typin' this!  Bah!  Humbug!  Where's my plane?  I'm heading to the island of Amazon women.  What a minute -- that doesn't sound right.  Maybe I can go to the island of Amazon.com?  More my speed.  Plus I can wear my jammies.

I'm back to all the excuses for not working out again.  If I'm sick or busy with work, I can't work out.  If I'm neither one of those, then I'm busy with projects around the house.  I've always got an excuse.  Right now, I'm feeling better, I'm not that busy with work (yeah!), but I'm going nuts catching up on stuff at home:  eye appointment, annual well-woman exam, dental appointments, insulation for under the house and in the attic, termite treatments, constructing a bar to cover the pool equipment, cleaning out the garden shed...who has time to work out!  Seriously.  Who has time to work out?

I'ma have to locate a yoga place near my house or do something, to get myself motivated again, because I'm just not doing anything.  I should work out now -- it's 2:30 am and I was wondering why I couldn't sleep.  But then I noticed Connor Dog pacing the hallway and the distinctive odour of dog de poop. Crap.  Yes, crap.  Again.  Does anyone else live this unrelentingly glamorous lifestyle?  Or is it just me.

Hmmmmm. Remember when workouts were on the horizon?

Well, it's a distant freakin' horizon.  I've Skyped yoga with Kathy a couple of times.  And I think I did yoga by myself (me and the Ye) once.  But otherwise?  Pretty sad.  I keep telling myself that I'll work out more and more as I feel better and better.  The health has definitely improved since I stopped the dairy and egg and I avoid wheat and wine at least most of the time (if you don't count yesterday's wine tasting with ten different reds).  I still have freaky skin that has no normal barrier to keep moisture in and allergens out, and I still get itchy and sneezy and have weird bumps and things, but I'm WAY better than I was.  Probably because I can mostly sleep at night now.  That's kinda cool.

Oh!  I just remembered -- I worked out yesterday a little bit.  I rode my Terry road bike down to the market and back.  That's something anyway.  And speaking of something, I learned a little something just this morning.  I learned that I didn't know how to inflate my high-pressure road tires with the presta valves.  Ooops.  I wondered why they just didn't seem to be firming up after all that wrestling with the pump to get them to 105 psi.  I was pumping, and jumping on the pump, and pumping....I probably got more of a workout trying to inflate the damn tires than riding.  And they still looked and felt flabby as my triceps when I was done.  So I Googled.  (WHAT did we ever do before the lovely internet?)  And (drumroll please).......there's a frickin' lock nut that you have to unscrew at the top of the valve to get air in there.  Well Hell.  So I tried it again with the valves OPEN.  Hey!  It works!  So problem solved, thanks to the internet, Wiki, and YouTube.  I will no longer look like an under-inflated moron at the market.  It's a learning curve.  Once I figure out how to ride this bike (still working on shifting all the fancy schmancy gears and stuff), I'ma send it back in for a bright red paint job.  Cuz then it will look better hanging from my dining room ceiling.  Who needs art?

So today, more not working out.  I've got to clean out the guest room closet with the crawl space access and remove the assorted plumbing debris from beneath the house, so that the insulation company can put batting under my 1929 floor boards with no subfloor.  Hopefully, I will not feel the rush of my expensive air conditioning whooshing out from the vents beneath my house this summer.  It only took 21 years for me to do this.  But I figure I'm not going anywhere (they'll probably carry me out of this house feet first), so it's never too late.  They're foaming the attic on Tuesday.  Woohoo!

Hooray for bunions!

Yes, this morning my doctor told me I have bunions.  SHIT.  Bunions?  Here I am feeling fine for the first time in four years and I have bunions?  I woke up all energetic today (after four days of no dairy, no eggy), and I haven't been itchy since I got the magical ceramide-filled cream for my skin.  So I was feeling really, really good.  And then WHAM -- bunions!

Honestly, I thought my feet were totally normal.  But my doc took one look and went "Oh!  You have bunions!"  I was previously blissfully unaware that my feet were hideously deformed (I thought they looked pretty cute with the right pedicure) until this morning.  And now that I now, I can hardly stand to look at my ugly-ass feet.  But they don't hurt, they aren't bothering me, and there's really nothing that can be done (until I'm ready to have the surgery where they break the bone and scrape off the extra bone and inflamed tissue and what not), so I'm just not going to worry about my stupid ugly bunions.

And really, if that's the worst thing I have to worry about right now (and it is), then I'm good.

Work outs are on the horizon.

The rug-scooch wake up call and related events.

After Connor the insanely-furry-collie woke me at 6:30 am with rug scooching (NEVER a good thing in any doggie), I did the dreaded butt exam (also NEVER a good thing, and even worse at 6:30 in the morning while mostly asleep and all cranky).  Yup.  Backlog of collie poop in the collie butt fur.  Uuuuuuuuuuuuuugghh.  There is no waiting around when dealing with a mobile dog with poop stuck in his butt fur in a house full of wool rugs.

Tell me this ain't a good look.

So, I did what any good mommie would do: I suited up and dealt with it.

Don't I look happy?  Yeah.  The long green mad-scientist, crazy-cleaning-lady gloves are because the last time I washed him, my arms looked like I'd lost a fight with a cat or something -- red spots all over, because I'm allergic to the dog's dander and all the grass pollen and assorted other crapola he gets on his ridiculous fur.  (Maybe it's time for a military collie cut?)

I am happy to report, that the doggie is all clean now (he was overdue anyway), the crazy green gloves worked great (especially in repellent poopy areas), my rugs have been vacuumed (just in case), and I'm all wide awake and thinking the rest of the day can only be better.

P.S.  Still no time to work out.  Except I did Skype yoga with the sis yesterday.  So that counts for something.

P.P.S.  109.2!  I'm starting to suspect my New Digital is messed up!  But then the flab does weigh less than that pesky muscle.  Maybe it was 30 minutes of yoga yesterday.  Or maybe not.  I still feel really pudgy and my gut feels way bigger than 109.2 right now.  But I'm optimistic.  I found out this week that my food sensitivity is all things dairy and egg, rather than the wheat gluten that I was suspecting for the last two-three years.  (I may have mentioned how helpful the regular docs have been with my skin rashes and problems, and my suspicion of some food issue contributing to my illness.  So I did a blood test with a Florida lab for IgG-mediated food sensitivities and finally found out what foods I need to avoid.)  I've been off dairy and eggs for 2.5 days now, and my skin is already improving.  So, like I said, I'm optimistic that my health will improve, I won't be tired all the frickin' time, and I'll start working out again.  It's that simple.  I'll be better soon.

P.P.P.S. After washing the poopy-butted dog, watering my plants, walking the dogs, killing the grass in my backyard, and exploring my options as a temporary vegan-that-eats-meat, I put together the new camping cot.  Holy mother of frickin' baby Jee Zus.  I worked up quite a sweat and there were several moments where I just didn't think I had the muscle required to get the little aluminum legs in the little aluminum side rails.  I think I'ma leave it up for a few days to break it in and get it used to the pain of being set up  (I'm kind of pissed at it).  Plus I'm afraid to try to take it apart.  I could lose an eye or something.

Finding time to work out, Part 2: instead of sleeping.

Well, I have located the time to research how to find time to work out.  It was right here in my bed.  When I should be fast asleep (now = 2:46 am), I am actually wide awake with little prospect of sleep in the very near future.  I have been through all my unread catalogs, Intervention, Heavy (x2), Time Life's Singer Songwriter's collection, Jillian Michael's new DVD, and about 4 trips to the bathroom, not to mention a Benadryl and lots of water (hence the 4 trips to the bathroom), all to no avail.  I forgot to mention that I've also done some more skin research and bought two music CDs from Amazon.  Da-ang.  I think it must be the green tea.  I have been drinking delicious water instead of tea during my elimination diet.  But since my diet came to a screeching screw up last weekend, I gave up and had the green tea, which gave me a stomach ache and insomnia.  I thought that stuff was supposed to be good for you?

So, I'm off to research "finding the time to work out," or maybe "work out motivation."  Well, that made me sleepy, so I'll have to finish this later.

Finding time to work out Part 1: watch a movie.

Well, I have been pondering my inability to make myself work out.  No matter what my intentions may be at the beginning, middle, and end of the day, I never seem to find 20 minutes to yoga with the Ye, or even watch TV on the Elliptical Clothes Rack.  How?  Why?  WTF?  So I decided to look up ideas for "finding the time to work out," because I know there are a million bullet-point happy, sunshiney articles out there ("1. Make it part of your daily routine.  2.  Even 10 minutes is better than nothing...."), but, guess what?  I haven't found the frickin' time to look up how to make the time to work out.

So, I'ma just give you a movie review instead.  Today,  The Tourist: over-hyped snooze of a vehicle to show off Angelina Jolie's cartoon-like fish lips and Jessica Rabbit figure.  Well, I'm done.  Because that was the whole stinkin' movie.  Really?  This is what got all the Oscar buzz?  I didn't even like Johnny Depp in there.  And I LIKE Johnny Depp.  Lots.  But he was clownish -- he phoned it in from the Caribbean.  And Angelina was basically just walking very slowly through Venice in ridiculous FMPs and long gloves with her hair professionally done three different ways each day and with a convenient ball thrown in so she could wear a really spectacular gown and JD could put on a white tux.  The most "acting" that happened was when Angelina had to make a face like "Oh, no!  The bad guys might really kill me.  WHAT will I do?"  How about some more make up and fake eyelashes?  That never hurts when you're about to be killed.  Ugh.  Snooze.  Fest.

Note to self.  Don't watch ANY more Angelina Jolie movies.

How glad are you that I'm done venting?

Sorry you had to read about my health issues in that last post -- after four years of itching instead of sleeping, I had to vent.  But the Magical Cream (Nobody doesn't like CeraVe!) is working.  Yes, it is.  Frickin' lipids.  So, I will be focusing on that weight loss thing again.  Hopefully.

And in the spirit of getting-back-to-losing-weight, I'm already starting to work out again -- I did 30 minutes of yoga with the Ye yesterday (okay, the day before, but I can still feel it).  And Mariel Hemingway.  I'm not sure what Mariel added to the mix -- I like my Ye straight, but that's me.  I'm so flabby and unmuscled that 30 minutes of baby yoga made my whole upper body sore.  I'm planning on making my lower body sore today or tomorrow.

But how is it that I can never find 20 or 30 minutes to work out?  What up with that?  I'll be running around the house doing little annoying shit, like moving one piece of clutter to a different spot (sometimes even in the same room) for a couple of hours, and then I suddenly am late for something (or it's happy hour) and I can't work out.

Huh.  Or Hmmmm, as C+C MF would say.  Or lip sync.

My drug of choice? Amazon Prime.

Yes, I've been mainlining AP since New Year's.  Need a yogurt thermometer?  AP.  How about a new baster for that turkey I might cook someday?  AP.  Cool mist humidifier?  AP.  When I'm up at 2 am, because I'm stressed and unhappy from working long hours and not-sleeping with the Itchy Rash, I like to buy stuff to make myself feel better, both physically and emotionally.  Last week it was the aforementioned yogurt thermometer, baster, and humidifier.  But Sunday afternoon I bought something magical and life-changing.  I bought a moisturizer with lipids.  And lo it is good.  Here's the story:

    I’d like to shoot at least 3 doctors and a PA right now.  I’d settle for slapping my GP, because atopic dermatitis is not really her area.  But one dermatologist, one dermatology PA, one allergist, and one doctor who is both an allergist AND dermatologist, should have known about research regarding atopic dermatitis that has been available for several years.  In fact, every single practitioner, except the last one, could not even diagnose the condition.  Even when I specifically relayed the history of hay fever and the sudden onset of the itchy rash on my legs after a day of intense allergen exposure on March 11, 2007 (a day that lives in infamy in my own mind).  They all said “only kids get that.”  I knew within the first few months of sleepless midnight research, based on readily-available literature, that what I had had to be atopic dermatitis and was not limited to children.  Unfortunately all MY experts were disagreeing with me and I did not get a confirming diagnosis of atopic dermatitis until I spoon fed it to the allergist/dermatologist two years into my itchy nightmare.

    But worse than the failure to diagnose the problem, was the failure to care about the cause of the problem.  Every one of these medical experts was treating my symptoms.  Without exception they offered steroids (creams, pills, shots) and antihistamines (I was taking five different antihistamines per day with no relief at one point).  Beyond that they recommended I moisturize and had buckets of Eucerin samples from the Big Drug Company in their offices.  Even after I finally got the allergist/dermatologist to agree that I had atopic dermatitis...steroids and antihistamines.  And, oh yeah, you should moisturize. 
   
    In my initial ignorance, I took the steroids several times until I realized that they were just killing my immune system for 1-2 weeks and as soon as that was over my rash would rebound worse than ever.  The only difference was that at the end of 10 days I’d be fat, depressed AND itchy.  I went through every anti-itch cream known to mankind and Walgreen’s – hydrocortisone, Benadryl, menthol – nothing could touch this itchy rash.  I was awake night after night in itchy agony and spent hundreds of hours researching in an effort to determine the cause of my itchy rash.  In desperation and disgust with the inability of western medicine to even diagnose the condition, I went to a Chinese medical college and got acupuncture.  I drank a noxious tea of Chinese herbs and bug shells (no kidding it had cicada shells in it).  I tried everything, because I was in Hell.  I couldn’t sleep.  I couldn’t focus at work.  I couldn’t wear shorts or skirts.  I couldn’t go out in the sun.  And not one doctor was able to tell me why or even fix the symptoms.  The allergist was particularly unsympathetic when I told him about the dermagraphia and other symptoms and he seemed to think I was a whiner.  He finally said he could only treat my allergies with shots and we gave up on each other.

    I wound up treating myself with various supplements for my skin like evening primrose oil, flax seed oil, and meds for my allergies like Zyrtec.  The nasal symptoms were controllable with Zyrtec, 7 air purifiers in my 1200 square-foot home (really), a bed wedge so that my head wouldn’t clog with mucus while sleeping, and liberal use of a neti pot.  I made my own natural moisturizers out of beeswax and oils.  At one point I stopped eating wheat for 11 months, thinking it might be Celiac disease (which can be accompanied by atopic dermatitis).  But no matter what I did, I still had the rash.  (And a swollen lymph node, but who cares about that, right?)  I might get better for a few weeks at a time (especially when I went on trips out of the country), but it never went away for long. 

    In the spring of 2010, I had a crisis when I was exposed to scabies.  I treated the scabies at the first sign and thought I had been successful.  But when more treatment was necessary, I used sulfur topically and internally, not realizing that I would have an allergic reaction.  It burned my skin and gave me hives and anaphylaxis on top of the scabies.  And by then I had developed Grover’s disease on top of everything else!  I was in – what’s worse than Hell?  Is there a 7th Circle of Hell?  I don’t know, but I was There.  I lost a month of work and life wandering my house between loads of laundry and vacuuming and steaming the floors, exhausted, swollen, itchy, red, and absolutely miserable.  I eventually got over the scabies and the allergic reactions and the Grover’s – I was actually HAPPY to take the steroids during that episode – but my itchy rash did not go away.  It continued to recur, particularly on my forearms and my shins.  I had to go back to the allergist/dermatologist (the only one that even recognized that I have atopic dermatitis) and get another prescription of Protopic (tacrolimus), because that was the only non-steroid that would tame the itch.  But at $65 for a greasy (imagine light, fluffy, collie fur stuck to petroleum covered arms and legs) 30-gram tube that lasts for about one week, the immuno-suppressant was hardly an acceptable solution.  And it didn’t get rid of the problem – it just stopped the itching.

    After three mysterious and increasingly worse episodes of anaphylaxis in 2010, I started thinking that perhaps my rash was caused by something I was ingesting.  So I started researching food allergies and began an elimination diet (basically you can’t eat anything tasty – just vegetables, fruit, and meat) to track down my issues.  Finally, on the 4th anniversary of the Itchy Rash, at 1 am on March 11, 2011, I found it.  It was an article on DermNetNZ (the kiwis have a much better dermatological website than about anything I’ve found here).  And the article said that recent research indicates that atopic dermatitis is caused by the deficient production of filaggrin (a filament aggregating protein) on the skin’s surface.  The filaggrin deficiency results in damage to the skin’s protective barrier – it doesn’t keep water in or allergens out.  For atopic individuals, who are already allergic to various items (grass, trees, cats, dogs, mold, dust mites, etc. for me and many other sufferers), the lack of a proper protective barrier results in an allergic reaction on contact with allergens (like petting my dogs and cats, or doing yard work).  Atopic individuals may also react to foods.  So in addition to allergic rhinitis or asthma (atopic individuals by definition should have hay fever, asthma, or a family history of one or both) caused by inhaling allergens, atopic individuals may also react to contact with the allergens and/or to ingestion of various foods to which they are sensitive.  Wow.  This explained everything.  Finally, I knew what I was fighting.  But how to fix it?

    Turns out all I need are lipids.  There are apparently three main lipids involved in the skin’s protective barrier, and I’ve been missing them, because I’m defective.  A little more research over the weekend led me to one prescription cream and one OTC cream.  While waiting to fax the allergist/derm on Monday, I ordered the OTC cream from Amazon (God bless you Amazon Prime) on Sunday and had it in my hands by Monday afternoon – long before I heard from the doctor in response to my Monday-morning fax about the prescription cream.  My arms and legs felt better immediately when I tried this cream.  And last night, I slept ALL NIGHT.  Yes, I spent 7 hours in my bed SLEEPING instead of rolling and scratching and periodically getting up to apply Protopic or maybe heat my arms and legs with my blow dryer to the point of burning just to release the histamines and get a couple of hours of relief before they could build up again.  And this morning, I petted my cat in bed.  Dangerous and itchy behavior, but I did it.  And I feel good.  I’m pissed at all the doctors who didn’t keep up with developments over the last four years (or at least failed to mention them to me), but I feel good.

    Each and all of the allergists/dermatologists that I saw over the last four years should have been aware of research that has been available since 2007 showing that atopic dermatitis is, in many or most, if not all cases, caused by this defective/deficient production of filaggrin and the resulting break down of the skin’s protective barrier.  I needed to know what I was fighting in order to defend myself.  If I hadn’t spent hundreds of midnight hours on line researching on my own, I would NEVER have tracked down the cause of my rashes, which in the end were probably just the result of petting my dander-producing four-legged furry fomites – my two dogs and a cat.  So thanks for nothing, all you experts who didn’t keep up.  I’m getting well without your help.

AND PS:  The allergist/dermatologist just called and said, "Oh, yeah, it's a defect in the gene and there are lots of products out there with lipids that will help."  W.  T.  F.  Seriously?  You could have frickin mentioned this before, instead of saying that I should not use harsh soaps and I should moisturize.  Jeez Us.

Weight loss tip #129: fat weighs less than muscle -- stop working out.

109.8.  Is that a record?  I'd have to go back and check.  But it's pretty low.   And yet, I remain a squidge-meister.  Best I can tell, it's just because I haven't worked out in months and sit on my squidgy ass in my home office day after day, and I'm lucky if I walk the dogs a block every once in a while.

But things are looking up.  I finished an agonizing deadline this morning and may have something resembling a normal work week next week.  Yippee!  That will give me time to open all those Amazon boxes of sh!t I ordered.  ;-)

Must nap -- am going outside to suck allergens up my nose later.

Plan for the weekend:  Golf and irresponsible partying Friday night.  Bike to Melrose street fair Saturday morning.  Clean house and bathe dogs Sat. night.  (Dream big.)  Clean patio (ugh -- big job) for potluck on Sunday night.  Visit mom somewhere in there.

Sorry -- had to write it down for my own reference.

Critical mass.

I've been so bummed about being crazy busy and crazy distracted by my frickin' allergies (which are in full swing, BTW -- it's the beginning of about a 3-month-long pollen season here in Phoenix), that I just have not felt like blogging.  For future reference, I have been working...let's see, and working.  Oh, and I went to Durango for a ski vacation, but wound up...working.  And working more and earning more is kind of pointless, because I just spend the extra cash on stuff I don't need, because I'm so unhappy because I can't do anything but work.  But hey, I've got a new jewelry cabinet, some leather chairs, and a couple of storage benches.  Not to mention a cool new ski jacket.  So it wan't a total loss.

 So, here goes -- I'ma weigh the post-holiday-I've-been-sick squidge.  110.6.  Hey!  That's actually good.  I guess the elimination diet and the forced consumption of fruits and veggies (I had broccoli and Brussels sprouts for dinner on Friday night.  Oh yum.) has kept my squidgie mass at a non-critical level.  If I keep it up, I may waste away to nothing.  I just FEEL fat, because I am covered in a pudgy layer of soft squidge and my joints are falling apart from lack of exercise.  Exercise?  I have a vague recollection of something resembling exercise from last November.  Or was it October?

Who knows.  Not-so-New Year's resolution:  Get back into habit of regular exercise.  I'll have to ease myself back in.  Like with arm lifts.  And BRING that champagne to the lips.  And down.  Breathe.  Good job.

It's the Oscars tonight.  Who will look crazy?  Who will act crazy?  Can't wait.

'monna get me some pajama jeans.

Is it wrong to want some Pajama Jeans when I hate the Snuggie so much?

They are, after all, very different viral As Seen on TV products.  One is a giant, ugly-ass blanket/monk robe freak-of-not-nature in offensive synthetic fleece animal patterns that has no business being alive.  The other is a pair of sweet stretchy comfort pants masquerading as....JEANS!  No one will ever know.  Unless you're in the same room.  I think I could totally walk the dogs in these things and wave and smile and the neighbors would not know that I'm wearing my dirty secret Pajama Jeans.

And I could wear my PJs while using my new eliptical trainer that I swore I would never get.  Yes, I got another in a long line of under-utilized pieces of exercise equipment.  How do I love to buy thee?  Let me count the ways.  1.  treadmill.  2.  Gazelle.  3.  bike.  4.  stepper.  5. rocker.  6.  old-school aerobic step with stacking pieces.  7.  The Firm butt lifter step.  8.  The Firm weight stick.  9.  Everlast twister.... And I'm sure that ain't the half of them.  So far I've used it twice.  And I started to throw a piece of clothing over the handles yesterday.  Oops. 

Still not weighing in.  Have been struggling with my atopic dermatitis and have been very busy with work, so haven't been working out.  And the holidays killed me with goodies (I may have mentioned.)  So now I'm fatigued all the time, cranky and pudgy.  Hence the absence of blog entries.  But things should get better.  I'm on an elimination diet (eliminates all foods to which I may be allergic, including wheat, dairy, eggs....yes, it's killing me) to figure out if there is a food component to my allergies.  I hope there is, because it's easier to avoid food than air.  Anyway, once I get better, I'll get back to getting back in shape.

Think about those Pajama Jeans.

I've come just far enough to make the perfect cherry bomb. Cuz I'm a woman.

Well, it's about damn time I post something for 2011 (Happy New Year, BTW) and fess up to the three pounds of fat that I got myself for Christmas.  At least three pounds -- that's what I'm admitting and I'm not gonna weigh myself right now, in case I'm fooling no one but myself.  So that's it -- I was very busy with the holidays from about November 1 through January 1, and then I was busy with the work that I didn't get done earlier from January 1 on.  During which time, I was also all frickin' itchy, and a trip to the allergist/derm confirmed that it's NOT Grover's this winter, it's my old friend Atopic Dermatitis.  Sigh.  And now it's January 28, almost February, and I haven't worked out in like two months, I itch eternally despite the magical ointment that  helps with the worst of it, and I'm back to my pre-blog squidge, just on a slightly smaller, less-squidgy scale.

So here's what I want to discuss today:  (1)   cherry bombs, and (2) how Enjoli and Virginia Slims sold all us chicks a bill of goods in the 80s.  Not necessarily in that order.

First up for angry-middle-aged-lady ridicule:  Enjoli.  "I can bring home the bacon.  (da, da, da da)  Fry it up in a pan.  (da, da, da, da) [So far, she's working full time, AND she's doing all the cooking.]  And never, ever let you forget YOU'RE the man...."  Okay, it's been a good 30 years since 1980 and I'm older and wiser and no longer distracted from reality by a catchy jingle.  Seriously?  We have to work a full time job, come home and do all the cooking and housework, AND act all submissive and stupid to make some man doing half as much feel superior?  Makes me want to scream.  But I'm a WO-O-O-MAN, who lives alone, so I don't have to do all that shit for some guy and be annoyed about it, so I won't scream.  Not right now, anyway.

And then there was the Virginia Slims "You've come a long way, baby." campaign.  Remember these? 

Yeah, we've come so far that now we have to work outside the home in addition to doing all the same shit AT home.  And we get paid less to do the same work as our male counterparts.  And get treated like "the help" or patronized while doing it.  I remember one secretary at my first job as a young lawyer saying "Well, I'm not going to get her coffee."  Ouch.  I hadn't even asked anyone to bring me coffee.  Plus they'd GET the coffee for the male lawyers.  So why not me?  Am I not a lawyer?  Nope, just a chick.  So we really haven't come all that far, Baby.  Which is why I prefer to work from my home, where I don't usually have to deal with the BS.  My male law partners, ALL have wives at home that do not work outside the home and who make sure that their homes are clean, repairs happen, the fridge is full, meals are cooked, errands are run, parties are planned, gifts are purchased, trips are scheduled, pets are fed, walked, taken to the vet, etc. -- you know, everything in life outside of work.  So they don't understand at all when I get pissy about working nights and weekends for more than a week -- after all, what else could I possibly have to do, but sit around eating bon bons?  Or maybe smoking a cigarette in my Annie Hall outfit and manly smoking jacket.  Frickin' Virginia Slims.

What the Hell were Enjoli and Virginia Slims trying to do to us, ladies?  And what bunch of old white men thought it was a great idea?  Where was Gloria Steinem when we needed her.  I know.  I'm not knockin' Gloria -- she's done some fine work.  But we aren't helping ourselves out much these days,with all the boob jobs and cosmetic surgery and reality shows that glorify gorgeous idiocy.  It's like we've given up and just want to be sex objects again.  Well, at least that would be easier than bringing home the bacon and fryin' it up in a pan on TOP of never letting you forget YOU'RE the man.

On to issue number two.  I LOVE me some bing cherries.  And they must be in season, because my Safeway has had them on sale for a few weeks now.  Yu-um.  So I bring home my 1.16 pounds of dark red deliciousness and rinse them (thank God I don't have to fry them up in a pan) and set them on the counter in my locally-hand-made berry colander.  And lo, they are some good cherries.  So I'm eating cherries.  And I'm eating cherries.  And...you get the idea.  I ate ALL the stupid cherries in like an hour or two.  1.16 pounds.  And I'm thinkin', "No big deal.  These are fruit -- they're good for me, right?  Fiber, vitamins...."  Well, you can imagine my surprise when I spent the next 24 hours offending my two dogs and even my feral cat with random noxious explosions of pretty serious size and scent.  Who knew?  Well, now we all know.  Word to the wise for 2011:  Don't eat them cherries all at once on an empty stomach.  No matter how good they are.