I come alive in September. It restores me in so many ways: the humidity and heat of summer are waning and the crisp, cool air of fall enters into my being, invigorating everything in me.
Life on the Connecticut River
I do not do well in summer, with weeks of high humidity. In fact, one summer, I sat poolside for hours with my sun-loving friends, visiting from more overcast sections of the country. This, for me, was a sacrifice of love, because besides the year’s very high humidity, I do not usually enjoy sitting for hours with sun beating down on my head, neck, face and limbs. I could cover myself up more, block the sun, in addition to my SPF 85, but then I remind myself of the grotesque picture of (me) in Dan Greenburg’s (meant to be) hilarious book, How to Be a Jewish Mother, where (his) mother is seated on her chaise at the beach under her umbrella, clothed, hat-ed, and covered-up at a level that clearly cries out: I am not, nor will I ever be, a beach sort of gal. That’s me. But, I try to pretend, so as not to resemble me too much. In any case, I did do the sun thing several days this summer, resulting in what I thought was sun-heat-induced eczema, breaking out all over my neck and scalp. Very depressing.
I looked up skin conditions online and couldn’t diagnos myself. I have a good friend at church who is a dermatologist, and I knew I should be going to him professionally to get the real diagnosis, but I resisted, because I don’t like medication and online it said it would be steroids. So I bought some cortisone cream, which worked somewhat, but what really did well was the concoction my herb-wise friend Linda, who, when I told her I had eczema, put together for me, a salve of olive oil, comfrey and arbor vitae. She’s my herb-mountain lady. She got the recipe from her own herb-wise friend. A few days later, I ran smack into my dermatologist friend at a church barbecue; so what was I to do? Even though I had decided it would be wrong to ask him for a diagnosis outside of his professional office, here he was, right in front of me. I told him about my self-diagnosed eczema; he took a look at the blotches on my neck and informed me it was not eczema. “You have polymorphous light eruption,” he said, with a straight face, which amazed me. I love having a disease no one has ever heard of, if it’s not terminal or lethal. Ha, Ha. He referred me to a dermatological website written by New Zealand doctors, where I read all about my ailment. My doc friend told me women from places like Norway get this skin condition when they holiday at the Mediterranean and sit in the sun and are not used to sun. So, here I got this European woman disease right here in Connecticut, and didn’t even get to go to the Mediterranean. Linda’s salve did work on this, as well, even though we had believed it was for eczema. (Linda also warned that some think arbor vitae can be poisonous, so the recipe is important.) In any case, September rolled around, bringing cooler temperatures, fresh air, lower humidity, and with those, the real cure for my polymorphous light eruption: September. The P.L.E. is gone. Besides better skin, in September, I think better, feel better, walk more, and generally feel energized. I start to believe again, as I do every fall, that I can do almost anything–even live longer. I get more creative, do more for my businesses, feel more inspired. September is my tonic. I love September.
I told you I like to go to the library in our apartment building–both for its “hot spot” wireless offering, and because it’s where you meet people in our residential community.
Bigelow library
The truth is, I really want free Internet. The meeting people part, though I do enjoy the memory of, is somewhat annoying, especially on weekends, when I want to hear the crashing, smashing and complimentary sounds of Bejeweled while I listen to my Internet radio and maybe play another (card) game. I am a great multitasker. No matter that it has been proven that multitasking is a bad thing–inefficient, to say the least. I like it! And, on the day of rest, who cares about efficiency!
So, on this particular Sunday, I was ecstatic to see the other two people, a young father and his young daughter, were on the non-outlet side of the library, so I could plug in, play to my heart’s content, with no danger of battery-drain. One should never make assumptions.
I couldn’t help but hear this dear little girl and her questions to Papa.“Do you want me to read?” she asked.“Uh-huh,” came his distracted reply. He was busy doing something on his laptop, and had evidently allowed her to choose a book from the vast number on the floor to ceiling shelves–all donated by residents, many of them grad students.“I can’t read this,” she added. “OK,” again distracted.“Do you want me to read because you are working? Is this my work?” she asked, searching for logic as she tried again to make out the words.“Um-hmm,” he said.“You mean I should be working if you are working?” she asked.“Um. Sometimes,” he reasoned.“OK. But, I hate to read.”
Children are so in the moment.When can I work with you?”
“You mean you want to go to work with me? he asked, momentarily stunned.“
”Uh-huh.”
“Well, you first have to learn a lot of things–and read,” he triumphed, still unaware of her library selection.
At that comment, I just had to help. I presented myself to the table, asked if it would be okay for her to visit me on the other side of the room (about 15 feet away), separated by a partial wall.
“Sure,” Dad smiled, a bit hesitant at the unexpected stroke of luck.
“What is your name?” I queried.
“Janella,” she said. (Names have been changed to protect the innocent as JW would say.)
“OK, Janella, that is a very pretty name. All the kids call me Auntie M,”I told her. Her father smiled. How harmful could Auntie M be, he must have thought.
“Why don’t we go over to my table for a minute,” I said, and we walked hand in hand, her pigtails bouncing and her smile widening.“I think maybe you like to read if you find the right book,” I told her, hoping to turn around this dangerous curve in her learning road.
“Let me see what you have been reading,” I asked for the book her father had grabbed down from the library shelf: Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka.
Good grief.I’m pretty sure this Czech-Austrian author’s works haven’t made it to the second grade reading list–even these short stories.
“Oh my. I wonder if your dad even realizes what you are reading,” I laughed. So let’s find something more to your liking–and maybe more on your reading level. You did say second grade, right?”
“First there was first, and then second. Going into second.”
“OK then. Do you like stories about animals? People?”
“Not animals. People,” she affirmed
“I think I have just the thing in my room,” I said.
Her father preferred for her to stay with him. I scurried down the hall, found a third grade primer I had hanging around on the shelf in my living room, and hurried back.
“I think this is a good one,” I said, handing Three Friends to her. My son read this one in elementary school.
“Is it a long book?” she asked, I imagine with new fears of long books all looking like Kafka.
“It has chapters,” I said, “but it isn’t that long.”She plowed right into the story of the kids visiting a farm. No hesitation at all. “You can read aloud if you like,” I told her, thinking I should be sure she was having no trouble reading it.“Wow,” I said. “You are quite the reader.”
“I told you I was in second grade,” she beamed.
Realizing that now I was stuck, listening to a third grade book read by a second grader, and no longer free to play cards, Bejeweled, or even listen to my radio, I had to chuckle at myself.
Once a woman in my church asked me if I would like to be Mrs. Santa for the Christmas event.“I hate children,” I told her.
Being the literal type, not prone to hyperbole, she said, “Oh, but you’re so good with you daughter.”
“Oh, I don’t hate my children,” I assured.When I related this to my oldest daughter, she laughed. She knows me.
“Well, as I recall, it was Santa who spent the time with the children,” she assured. “Mrs. Santa, I believe, ran the toy shop, which you could do.
”This is simply to tell you that being confined with six three-year-olds during a nursery duty at church, is my idea of torture. I spend the whole time looking at my watch, hoping it will soon be over.I know. How awful a person am I! You don’t have to lay on any further guilt. I mean what kind of woman doesn’t dote on three-year-olds?Anyway, seven-year-olds are a bit better. At least they can carry on a reasonably interesting conversation. But that really has its limits.So here I was, listening to her, wondering when her father would call her back over, torn between my need to make sure she grows up loving books, and my need for Bejeweledclicking, crashing and complimenting. Quite a struggle really.Then she began to show me her missing and loose teeth. This wasn’t going to be a short visit. She was truly charming. It is I who am the curmudgeon. (Never actually heard that word describe a woman before.)“Do you do the tooth fairy at your house?” I asked.“Uh-huh, but look. I am showing you my teeth.” An earnest little lass.“I see. OK. Do you like the book?”
“Yes. Look, I finished the first chapter.”
She showed the Chapter Two heading.
“Have they gotten to the farm?” I asked.“No, they are still in the car,” she laughed at me.Not too much later, her father got on the phone, arranging dinner. I think he requested it in the library. I groaned. But, the answer appears to have been negative. A few minutes later, he told Janella they had to go to dinner.“Are you hungry?” he asked her.She hesitated.“You may take the book,” I encouraged.Big smile, “OK. Look Daddy, I have a book!”“I am not sure you or I could read Kafka either,” I chided him. “Probably a good idea to check out what she is reading.”That was probably unnecessary, unless you realize that she had skipped from first grade to the summer of 2010 to Kafka’s short stories with the erroneous generalization that she hated reading, and that it was work (Kafka) comparable to her daddy’s daily toil. I mean who wouldn’t have drawn that conclusion? Second grader or no. I like to think I rescued her before it was too late. I like to think one little hour of skipping Bejeweled has its rewards.
I do occasionally spout off about hating Facebook. But what I really mean by that, is I hate the invasiveness, the Messenger device that send message, supposedly from me to my entire friend and/or contact list, and the heavy-handedness of telling us what we should or shouldn’t believe, like blocking our posts if it isn’t a liberal, progressive, or whatever they ar calling themselves these days, agendized opinion.
That said, there are some really good things about Facebook. I mean, where else can I instantly connect with friends from all of the states I have lived in, and even the countries I have visited.
And, some people are really lonely, so for them, a Happy Birthday, or I’m sorry your dog died, or how cute is that new cat!, or, so you have an adorable grand baby, is really, really important.
I will always be cautious–like I don’t publish my birthday, and yes, no one remembers, but my ID is protected more than if I did publish it.
Please use caution when using any social media. But, also encourage your friends and family. And don’t forget face time with those with whom you can have that old-fashioned satisfaction.
Jay and I decided it was time to explore some more New England history for our long Thanksgiving weekend. So we decided on Sturbridge Village.
Well, actually, we didn’t exactly decide it that way. I had a Groupon for a hotel in Sturbridge, which I remembered as Stockbridge (I do get these easily confused). So after explaining to Jay that we would be staying at the Red Lion Hotel, then go to Norman Rockwell (which frankly we have done enough that there’s not much left for us to see there), he agreed. Then I looked at the Groupon, the address, and the MAP (which I had earlier claimed to be an expert at), I realized it was NOT Stockbridge or the Norman Rockwell area at all. Whew. That prevented spending another $300 at the Lee Outlets too. It was Sturbridge, in the Sturbridge Village area, which we have never been to. The hotel was not the Red Lion of dim memory (mine) at all, but the Sturbridge Host Hotel and Conference Center. A good deal all around with discounted tickets to the historic village. But, it wasn’t until we were walking around the rustic, historic Massachusetts site that we realized why we felt so at home there: we both have ancestors from Massachusetts. Jay’s more famous relative is Willy Dawes,
the one who got through the lines to warn that “the British are coming.” Family lore has it that Longfellow knew it was Dawes, not Revere who made it through, but that Paul Revere sounded better in a poem. Hmm. Also the family says Willy pretended to be drunk, so got through–but that he probably didn’t really need to pretend. Jay’s Granny Mac, recently died at 101, and was the oldest living Dawes, of the William Dawes Who Rode legacy. Quite a family history, Dawes is, including the VP under Coolidge, Charles Dawes.
Charles Dawes
Anyway, that is Jay’s Willy.Mine, who may or may not have as illustrious a claim to fame, was Willy Russell, a Massachusetts farmer from Cambridge, born in the 17th century, who lived in Concord, and decided to go to medical school and become a doctor. He was a handsome chap, the family says, and the women in the town would feign illnesses so they could get in to see the tall, dark doc. He ended up saying this was a lot of hooey, and went back to farming. So we have Willy’s from Massachusetts, and felt that explained our at home feeling when we are in a historic Mass. locale. We enjoyed many facts of our visit, including standing to watch the Shooting Match with those flint muskets, with costumed men shooting at targets for prizes of sheep and such. I was standing next to Mike, from Torrington, and we had a lively conversation about his being a practicing Puritan. Fun.
We had our pork loin with apples and pomegranate at the OxHead Tavern, on the hotel premises, a homey establishment with an illustrious history of its own. We loved the crackling fireplace, good service, good values and friendly people there, including a table visit by the manager, the aproned-Giuseppe Fasulo, who couldn’t have been more cordial. The Sturbridge Coffee House (The Fireside Inn) in Fiskdale, up the road on Main Street, was also a real treat. Though perhaps not historic in its current form, we loved the coffee and treats, and had two breakfast there, wishing they were closer to us in CT. All in all, we felt like we had returned to our history, and atThanksgiving, the perfect time to visit Mass. as descendants of the Mass. SOR (Sons of the Revolution) Willys.
I’ll start right out with the disclaimer that I do respect doctors, nurses, medical personnel and health care workers of all kinds–if they have the heart to help. When you really need them, they are wonderful.
The problem is, even with good hearts, bad teaching and vested interests sometimes get in the way of people even when they have the intention to help. I guess we all help with a bias, hopefully a bias created from truly believing in something. Okay, so what am I talking about? Well, when you are over 60, and deem it necessary to walk into the medical system, you should know they have a bias. It’s medicine. They believe in medicine. They have been taught to believe medicine is the answer. It is a rare doctor, or even nurse (most of my friends have been nurses, and the others are usually in health care of some kind), who can see other options. Of course, chiropractors and naturopathic health people do not believe in medicine. But, the medical people write these people off as quacks and ignorant do-gooders. So when my very, I say very, very goodhearted ophthalmologist suggested I may be developing glaucoma in my right eye, he proceeded to give me three options for treatment–if it did, indeed turn out to be glaucoma. The three options are: eye drops, which he says would have to be used every day for the rest of my life. I hate the statement: you have to do this every day for the rest of your life. I think to myself, Well, what if God heals me? How will I know if I am lowering my eye-pressure with eye drops? Treatment two is laser surgery, which they say only lasts about three years before having to be repeated. So I figure that would maybe work out if it bought me time for them to perfect and legalize medical marijuana, which would really be my first choice.
NO! I have never used it, not even without inhaling. But it is a natural, plant-based treatment, which seems better to me. But then my doctor told me he wouldn’t prescribe it because using it would entail being “stoned” 24/7 or it wouldn’t work. *sigh.* Then he added another layer of confusing choices. It seems that having glaucoma in only one eye is extremely rare, and so he thought it would be a good idea if I just had a brain scan, “just to be sure nothing else is going on,” AND a second opinion from a glaucoma specialist. Also, I seem to have convinced my doctor that when the med books say that in 97% of cases blah, blah, blah, but in a rare 3%, blah blah, I am ALWAYS in the rare 3%. Always have been. So he believes me and thus the second opinion thing.
Well, sorry to make this long story even longer, but then, how are you going to really understand the dilemma unless you have these details, right? So, I thought, probably I will get the second opinion before I have the brain scan. No sense dabbling around the brain if the specialist says absolutely you do have glaucoma in one eye. I called her office, and they reacted strangely. They first ask your birthday–before any other questions. So the secretary says, “Oh so you’re on Medicare, right?” “No,” I say. That seemed to throw her even when I told her I would pay cash up front. “Well, I will have to ask the doctor. I don’t know how she wants to handle this,” she said. “What’s to handle?” say I. “I am paying cash.” She seemed very, very irritated at me. I received a pre-invoice for $1200, which I am sure raised both my eye pressure and my blood pressure. Oh, did I tell you I have been monitoring my blood pressure and it has been mildly to moderately high some of the time. So, I stewed about this whole dilemma for a few weeks. In the beginning of October I called my own eye doctor’s office to tell them about my bad reception at the second opinion doctor, and about their invoice, which I have a hard time imagining is the “self-pay” cost for what my own doctor does for half that. My sweet Whitney at Dr. E’s office sympathized and said she would call them to see what was what. In the meantime, I had read about and ordered Hawthorne tea to see if it would reduce my blood pressure. It did, along with my walking two miles a day and drinking more water. The blood pressure is now completely normal 120/80 when I do all three, which is almost daily. When I don’t do all three–skip the walk, the water or the tea–it goes back to about 140/89, which isn’t probably life-threatening, but I want it lower. I called Whitney back after a couple of weeks of this treatment and said, “So do you think I will die of my brain tumor or go blind before January?” She laughed at me. They get me there. No runaround. No huge combat experience because I am not on medicare. She said, “Marjorie I don’t think you have a brain tumor, and I think if the doc thought it was urgent, he would be pushing harder.” “‘Cause I want to save up my HSA deductible for once, and if I spend $1200 for a second opinion, $1200 for a brain scan, and $1200 for laser surgery (which I was still considering), I will never get this saved up. And,” I told her, I am also seeing my blood pressure back to normal with my Hawthorne tea, and I am thinking, maybe it is also lowering my eye pressure. NOTE: eye pressure is supposed to be 10-20 somethings, and mine is smack in the middle, 14, making my “possible” one-eyed glaucoma what they call “Normal Pressure Glaucoma.” Then I was listening to a health station on my Internet radio and the guy was talking about HEMP HEARTS! HMM. I Wondered if hemp hearts could possibly do what marijuana does without the “being stoned 24/7” effect. So I ordered hemp hearts from Amazon with my order of Hawthorne tea.
So I am also thinking that between the hemp hearts (which have only recently become legal in the U.S. because they were so much like pot, they were outlawed) and the tea and the walking and the water, I just may get my eye pressure down to 12 and impress Dr. E. Whitney said that would be okay and to call in January or February. (Don’t you all think that from July to November–and then to February–I would have some brain tumor symptoms if that were a problem?) I am asking. Your input is welcome. Okay, so I am gambling a bit with my life. But, I ask you, if I can bring my blood pressure down 20 to 40 points with tea, why would I take gnarly blood pressure meds with really bad side effects? And, if I could have lowered my eye pressure with natural, non-stoning plant-based solutions, why would I take eye-drops or have surgery?
The only reason I can think of is that we have somehow deified the medical route beyond all reason.
Yes, it may be a gamble, But so are those medicine side-effects. Whitney assured me that if these natural methods do, indeed, reduce my pressure the same way eye drops would, Dr. E. will count that. He just wants the best for me, which I really do believe. And, the heart of the matter is, I found a doctor who listens to his patient and considers what I have to say.
PS. My natural method did not lower my eye pressure, and I am taking drops, one a day per eye to lower the pressure. No worries. It works.
My husband and I finally worked out our decision to replace our T-Mobile serviced- non-Internet touch phones with AT&T service for the iPhone. This was a huge decision really, because we are of an age group that still thinks a phone is a phone, and that paying more than $150 per month, not to mention hundreds for the phone itself, is just not within the realm of practicality. I have many friends who brag that they are not on Facebook, not using the Internet except for an occasional email, and not spending their time in technology. They read, they garden, they visit grandchildren, they travel, they watch television, and they talk on their land-line phones. I, on the other hand, am not such an anti-tech-y. I actually pride myself on thinking young, keeping up with technology relatively speaking, and enjoying the benefits of international communication, free calls to Spain through SKYPE, Face-timing my L.A. daughter, syncing my MacBookPro, my iPad and my new iPhone. But I do confess, even with my somewhat savvy approach, I was hit with a blow to the gut, when the AT&T salesperson, Oliver, suggested 1G would not be enough to share with two phones, and also that I could actually save money by including my iPad in the data plan we were purchasing, which would only add $50 a month. The iPad data plan by itself would cost $30 for every month in which we were traveling and wanting 3G of data capacity. Whereas including it with the phones would only add $10 per month and with the 4G for the 3 devices, should be adequate, since we don’t use our phones for movies, TV shows or other data rich media. I am considering, however, podcasting from my iPad, and that might change the game radically. For now though, we email pictures, use GPS app maps, and browse the Web for news, travel info and other practicalities when we travel. The rest of the time we are on Wi-Fi. (Anybody lost yet?) Oliver made a throwaway statement, when I balked at spending more than $150 for a phone bill, that maybe we all need to change our “reality.” That got me thinking. Truly, I am willing to examine my reality. I depend on technology. I used my old phone for calls, message texting, viewing the date and time, setting an alarm now and then, maybe using the tools (calculator and stopwatch) and not much else. But with an iPhone, things have, in reality, changed dramatically. Now my phone is synced to my MacBookPro and my iPad, and I can quickly get a message, check weather (more extensively with an app than with just seeing the daily temperatures on my old, non-Internet, phone). I can show my FB pictures to friends without having to load in my iPhotos, I can listen to music, I can have retailers scan purchases, I can Face-time my daughter and others, and on and on and on. If I wish to, which I don’t at present, I can watch a movie or a TV show, I can purchase things, read my Kindle, my Nook, my eReader, I can sync my calendars and appointments, and on and on.
So my new reality: this is not a phone. This is a mobile media center. Yes, so is my iPad, and in some ways they are redundant. But, having that choice of screen size is also a benefit. I can travel with both, and use whichever is more convenient. For instance, the iPad was really handy in viewing maps on the GPS app as we traveled from Princeton, N.J. to Connecticut on a route that was altered from our original plan, for which we had printed maps. Using the GPS on the larger screen, that turned to a black screen with lighted maps for night driving, was amazing. I don’t want a GPS that is stuck to the windshield with adhesive, partly because it is a common cause of auto break-ins and theft. This GPS goes with me not my car. If I want to get a list of local restaurants when we travel, the smaller iPhone screen in just fine. If I want to get on a plane, my iPhone has my boarding pass, so no more paper. I can load my Starbucks card, I can transfer funds from bank to bank, and I can take really good pictures and email them to my laptop. As I adapt my life around new technology, I have to think that perhaps the money I am saving from the new way of living, equals if not surpasses the increase in my phone bill. For instance, I seldom use my printer, when I have a screen to view, which saves on printer toner and paper. I no longer need to buy checks, because I only use bill pay. This has the added advantage of my not having to shred bank statements, etc. constantly, because I am on paperless systems. I seldom mail a letter, because my friends mostly seem to enjoy texting, emailing, and calling. Really even emailing is becoming far less common, since texting is shorter and faster. That distresses my two or three friends who like the snail mail thing, but I try to accommodate them, even though my letters and notes are far fewer than if they would allow for technology. OK, so what is the point here? I am changing my reality. I am going to enjoy the benefits of iPhone and not feel bad about paying for it. I will readjust our budget to accommodate more than doubling our phone bill. In the end, I actually expect to save money. I will not be buying paper books, CD music, or software for most things. I will use my free Kindle books, the occasional Kindle or Nook purchase, the library, and use Pandora and my vast collection of already purchased iTunes and CDs. I will not be purchasing any DVD’s, since Netflix, Amazon Instant Video, You Tube and other streaming sources fill that need just fine. Those things alone will save hundreds per year over what we used to spend. (We can’t find those diamond needles for the stereo anymore.) I can compare purchasing many things–for instance the Amazon screen shields, which are incredibly cheaper than those at the AT&T store. I had instant confirmation of that online and so could easily pass up impulse buying of a screen shield at $25 instead of $6. Two day free shipping makes the Amazon purchase very convenient. I also noticed my new MacBookPro does not have an internal DVD/CD drive. I found that curious at first until I realized the rationale. It is thin and the drive takes up space. And, I have not had much reason to insert a CD or DVD lately, since most of my viewing and listening is from streaming, as mentioned above, and most software is downloadable from the Internet. Life is changing. We must decide whether to go with it, even stay ahead of it a little on the cutting edge, or to dig in our heels and insist on the “good old days,” which, frankly, weren’t always so good. That reality shift actually began some time ago, without my realizing it, and is why I started this blog. I am a journalist. Newspapers are dying. I don’t want to die with them. Thanks for reading. As usual, would love your comments on your realities concerning the new world of technology.
You all know I am into green smoothies, organics, antioxidants and the like. But when I began reading about how to do the pH thing, I was overwhelmed. Learning all about the balance of alkaline and acid for the body seemed foreign to think about.
I dabbled with the idea, but really had no idea what to actually eat. The whole idea of it reminded me of the chemicals we used to clean our swimming pool (when we lived in California).But, I began to do more than dabble when my “California girl” daughter texted me a picture of her sore throat, gross as it was, and told me she thought she was getting strep. Rather than rush to the urgent care center, she decided to completely change her food for a couple of days to alkaline foods. The throat redness left, her fever left, and she was well in three days. Wow! This got my attention, big time.So when I started to feel some flu-like symptoms, I did the same thing and it all went away. Health.I read up on what foods are alkaline. I started making sure my daily 8 to 10 glasses of water all had a squeeze of lemon. My daughter was buying alkaline bottled waters and was concerned with the expense. I told her to go to Costco for a bag of lemons, and make her own. Much cheaper, tasty and easy to do. You can get 8 wedges from one large lemon, which does the daily dosage for both alkaline food and water. I mean, really. If drinking lemon water can give me a flu-free season, why wouldn’t I do this.
The research tells me that, although lemons and other citrus are acidic, they become alkaline when ingested.On the other hand, animal protein becomes acidic to the body, So, next I cut down dramatically on how much animal protein I consume.Greens, ala green smoothies, are also alkaline.I have to say, that barring having all the overwhelming reading to do, these three simple steps–lemon water, less animal protein, more greens–have gotten me through flu season with no symptoms of flu and a really robust health, even with our extreme winter.The pH people claim that it is the acidic diet that most Americans eat that increases inflammation in the body and they say inflammation is what leads to disease–and not just flu, but disease like cancer and other gnarly stuff. The toxins and waste that accumulates in our bodies because of our high-acid producing diets are also the culprits in decreasing energy and even speeding up the effects of aging.Getting myself to learn how to maintain the ideal pH of 7.4 is more of a challenge, since it requires me to learn way more. But, the benefits claimed seem to warrant at least considering doing this.If it is this simple, why not try it? It is easier and cheaper than medication, and has the benefit of not only warding off disease, but creating health. Rather than a cure, why not go for the preventive?
The answer for why most of us don’t attempt this seems to be tied to the whole idea of the modern American eater. I am sure our grandparents weren’t dealing with the problem of trusting food companies and restaurants, because they didn’t eat packaged foods and seldom went “out” to eat. They didn’t have the soft drinks daily, if at all, and they weren’t eating snacks we think of as normal (donuts, candy bars, giant sugary drinks). They had gardens, they canned veggies and fruits for winter. So when this seems like going to a lot of trouble to eat more like they did, it is true. It is a lot of trouble changing over to the former ways. But, did they have the health problems we think of as normal? Were they generally obese?I am still in process on this, still reading, thinking, changing my diet. But, I will now hunker down and really read the book that claims miracle powers of a balanced pH eating plan, and I will begin to make permanent changes where it just makes sense to do so.Let me know what you think about this, please.
It’s amazing how huge changes in our behavior sneak up in small steps. When I look at even the vocabulary I use today, I realize that even as recent as a couple of decades ago words like mouse, desktop, icons, footprint, kindle, application, tablet, and so many more, meant something completely different than they do now.
I no longer have a home phone. I don’t subscribe to cable TV. I have no print. I rarely buy a hard copy or paperback book. I don’t collect coupons, or print coupons and loyalty cards are now on my keychain.I do not have a GPS device on my windshield and rarely use paper maps. Why would I when that helpful woman’s voice, sometimes irritating, tells me where to turn and gets me, usually, to my destination.
I listen to news on a tablet in the morning or on the Internet radio station available on my Apple TV, and I don’t have to be sitting in front of a TV to do this. A tablet is quite portable.In the early ‘60s I read a TV guide article about the future. I was excited about tall tales of being able to get any movie you want on demand through some touch screen. I couldn’t wait to have an audio greeting telling me I have messages, or reminding me to shop or call someone. Now I am frustrated if the movie I want isn’t yet available on Netflix or Amazon Prime. If it isn’t there now, though, it will be soon, I am confident.Jeff Bezos stated in an interview that it is his intention to have (almost) every book every published available on Kindle. That is quite an ambition. I expect he will soon say the same thing about movies on Amazon Prime.
I still sometimes prefer the feel of a paper book in my hands, but for travel, there is no question of Kindle’s convenience over lugging heavy books on a trip where we are now so limited by airlines on cost of baggage.Modern life is ever changing, and APPLE, Amazon and Netflix have truly changed our behavior on a large scale. How many people have PC’s but still have the Apple products for phones, tablets and Apple TV? Right?It’s getting as though you have to think twice before you purchase almost anything—DVD’s of TV series that are free online make purchasing DVD series so unnecessary. And at this point, if the season I want on a series I am following isn’t out yet, I switch to a different series until it is. The selection is so vast, I wouldn’t have time to see everything anyway. And, unless I need to watch a live sports game, I have no idea why I would pay $100 a month for cable or Dish.I just heard that the stats on people giving up a home phone have risen dramatically. We gave ours up ten years ago. The only people who ever called it were telemarketers and long, lost relatives, who if we wanted to talk to, would know our cell numbers.
Technology is so amazing that it connect over generations, gender, and even people with vastly different interests. Where but on Facebook, for instance, can you instantly find out which of your friends has a new grandchild, or a birthday, or needs prayer, or wants you to Like some cause they believe in–even if they are thousands of miles away. I don’t always act on everything there, but I am glad it is there.The down side of all this is obvious. Privacy and quiet time are rare. I was unnerved to see my photos are waiting to upload to Twitter and Google Circles. I don’t remembering setting that up and don’t want to.But, when I want to share photos, like asking my contractor friend to look at an inspection report on a house, it was amazing to be able to discuss that with him, having instant pictures and the report and being able to go over it line by line. No down time. At Christmas, I wanted to give my son-in-law a picture of a train that my daughter took. It took my son and his girlfriend about a half hour to help me get it to CVS in Los Angeles, so it would be awaiting me at the store by the time we arrived there the next day. Then I could buy a frame and have it ready for Christmas, rather than the old days of film, developing, waiting, printing, paying for copies, etc. This was amazing to me.
For all it’s downside, I love technology, and am so happy to have the efficiency of digital copy and paste, scanning, digital bank deposits, Amazon grocery delivery and countless other conveniences I never realized have crept into my life as normal, everyday activities. They say a million dollar idea is one that changes behavior. I can’t wait to see which one I can come up with, but for now, I will enjoy paying for or accepting for free the myriad of ideas that have changed mine–mostly for the better.
I have to tell you, if I hear one more tax-payer funded government PSA on throwing out butter as “bad” and using Canola oil as a “heart-healthy, good oil” I think I will scream.
If you do your research, which I have, you will find the hisotry of Canola is not a pretty picture. For one thing, it stands for Canadian Oil, whereas everyone I know believes they are eating a corn oil.
Dr. Axe, who I highly regard as a watchdog for health, says in big, bold letters:. Why?
Well, for one thing he says: “Canola oil was first created in the early 1970s as a natural oil, but in 1995, Monsanto created a genetically modified version of canola oil.” He goes on to explain that the harmful poisins in the oil have to be killed with high heat, which makes this oil a hydrogenated oil. It is suspected to cause damage to kidneys, liver and neural systems.
Dr. Mitchell Gaynor, an onocologist who wrote The Gene Therapy, also warns of the dangers of this really bad oil.
So why does the government use OUR money to tell people to use it? One word: Monsanto. Do you know how powerful food lobbies are? They are able to get our lawmakers to back many really harmful produts. But, this one, Canola oil, is one of the worst.
So, please! Swtich back at least to butter–preferalby organic or Irish or French versions, and use high smoke-point coconut or avocado for cooking, and oilive oil for raw foods.
I have, so far, influenced two smart restauranteurs to change their oils to non-gmo Sustain sunflower oil from Stratus Foods. Trying to save lives, one restaurant at a time. It costs them more, and I suggest raising their prices $.10 per menu item to defray the costs. Who wouldn’t pay $.10 more to have a healthier liver or kidneys?
Help me with this campaign y’all. When you go out to eat, ask them what kind of oil they are frying their food in. Most will assume you are concerned with tree nuts. When they hear you mean Canola, they are shocked. Why? Monsanto. Government backing. Suggest they look into Sustain sunflower oil. And tell them you will Yelp them with a great review if they change. They really do care about Yelp reviews.
While the government has never been good at protecting health, from their wacko food pyramid to their lobby-back big food profit-making. But we are the voter. We can make a difference. Tell me how the government had companies stop putting trans fats into foods, but highly supports Canola–one of the worst trans fats out there? Oh, I remember. Monsanto. Big money. Our taxes at work. It make me want to cry. Instead, I will keep fighting the good fight.
I’ve always been into chopping. But, what I am chopping these days has become life changing.
I owe a great debt to Victoria Boutenko and her book, Green for Life. It’s rare that a book truly changes lives–thinking, beliefs, behavior, which of course is always changed by beliefs and thinking.
Victoria starts by explaining that greens and vegetables are not synonymous. I know this it seems obvious, but getting my 5-7 servings of fruits and vegetables a day, the prescription for health, was not mostly greens up until now, and very difficult to achieve. I would get a head of lettuce and see it as three or four salad sides to accompany larger portions of meat and starch.
Now I see a head of lettuce and wonder whether I will need a second one to make my breakfast and lunch quart+ for a green smoothie, along with cucumber, berries, wheat grass, flax seeds, coconut water (I recently saw a TV show where the guy was drinking coconut water and rum, but that’s a whole different post lol), lemon (with rind) and maybe mint and ginger.
And, that’s just Monday.
I vary the greens, as Victoria suggests, sometimes adding a whole apple, orange (with rind) or a whole pear instead of berries–making green smoothies more green than purple.
Wheat grass. OK, how many of you say to your friends, I need some wheat grass, then find them scurrying back to their kitchens to get you wheat berries and potting soil they have hanging around, so you can grow your own? I have friends like that.
I did tell you in my Feng Shui post that I tend to kill green things. This time I killed dirt! This is not easy. It was one of those muggy days, when I thought I was literally dying. My heart was skipping beats; I was listless, drained. My husband came home and suggested maybe I turn on the air conditioning. I said, “You think that could be it?” It was.
I didn’t die, but the dirt my friend gave me, in plastic containers with lids, did. Humidity created awful mold, so I had to throw the soil out and start again. I’m happy to report my wheat grass is growing, however timidly, and isn’t dead yet.
My friend also introduced me to sorrel, French breakfast radishes, with their greens, and bloody baron with golden beets. These exotic greens add wonderful flavor and color to smoothies, and sometimes I just enjoy them by themselves with some citrus and balsamic dressing, red onions, and tomatoes.
In addition to being grateful to Barb, I’m grateful to Linda and Rainbow. They’ve known about the healing properties of greens way longer than I have. I did have to back off the spirulina Linda gave me, because in my usual zeal for new discoveries, I put a heaping tablespoon of the really, really green stuff, into my blender and that was not wise. Work up to this friends.
I broke out in a horrible eczema. The consensus is that I created a giant detox, which, along with my pound plus of greens, my body reacted to suddenly. So caution: go easy at first.
I realize I’m not sounding like an advertisement for the green smoothie life, but really, I am completely sold on it. My body now craves greens, as though I had not been giving her enough of this “live” food. My cravings for other foods–chips, bread, potatoes, meat, has seriously diminished. Unless I begin to eat these items, I don’t want them. It’s as though my body literally cries out for real food with a desperation that warns me never to return to my old food desert ways.
I am losing weight, I am feeling healthy, my skin is glowing and I am sleeping through the night most of the time–all because I have turned over breakfast and lunch to the greens. I usually eat a regular dinner with my husband, but my portions are less, because I’m just not hungry.
I know we all age and die eventually, but we can stem some of the worst effects of aging with nutrients that our bodies need to fight off free radicals, oxidation, and other environmental enemies of living a ripe old age with robust health. (Have you seen the YouTube Salsa video of Ginger Rogers dancing, at 92, with her grandson? I’ll bet she did the greens.)
As a testimony to my enthusiasm, other friends are trying green smoothies, and liking them. Some need their smoothies colder, some more reddish or purple, and one claimed she does better if her glass isn’t clear, so she won’t see the green. One of them lowerd her blood pressure and got of diabetes medication and blood pressure meds. Wow. If greens in abundance can heal asthma and allergies, why not life-threatening diseases? I will feel so happy to have had an influence.
This lifestyle isn’t simple. Unless you’re in California or Manhattan, you’re not likely to find wheat grass-, flax seed-supplemented green smoothies on the menu when you’re out of your own kitchen.
The minute I leave for two days, go back to the highly salted, oiled and processed foods out there, I gain weight back. The good news, and I believe a testimony to the power of greens, when I return to a quart of smoothie per day, I lose it again, quickly.
It took 15 years to break the weight barrier I’ve now pushed through in four weeks. I love these smoothies, delicious and filling. With their miraculous healing power–who wouldn’t want them?
Hey, don’t knock ‘em until you’ve tried ‘em!
Life in New England…Quirky ramblings from a new arrival
. Why?
