Veggie Might

I guess I have a routine when I get dressed and undressed; I just never realized it. This morning, I was out of routine and made the mistake of sitting down with my shirt off. Wow. Yikes. What was all this? I had no idea I looked pregnant. When did this happen? Is this where my 30 lbs has been lurking? My doctor's scales and my gyms scales weren't lying? I decided that I definitely had to start taking this thing seriously.

Tonight, after dinner, I decided that it would be TV time and healthy snacks. I started toying with the idea that maybe I should just eat vegetables for a while until I dropped some weight. I decided to get my Betty Crocker on and settle in to some home cooked vegetables...actually I don't guess it is plural since there was only one vegetable (mashed potatoes). 

As the time and the TV rolled along, and all my shows were over, I had made my way through three cereal bowls full and they were all delicious. I am pretty sure that with this new commitment to veggies that I could feel the fat cells dying off. My stomach actually felt a bit tight (that's how you know it's working). The more I thought about it, if it hadn't been for the turkey sausage at breakfast, the chili at lunch and the chicken portobello at dinner, I would have been a complete vegetarian today. Seriously, I was practically a vegetarian. I identified as one anyway. I think I can get used to this, being a vegetarian thing. All I have to do is add a little meat to it. This weight loss plan just might work.

Warning: Train Wreck Ahead (PG-13)

I had an interesting encounter last night. I was taking one of those continuing education classes last night, zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzfest, and there was a young girl in the class that looked just like girl I went to college with. I knew it was random, but I asked her if it was possible that her mom was my old acquaintance. She told me that her mom had not gone to my college but to a Nazarene college. As a matter of fact, the girl had been raised Nazarene also. Then the conversation went weird and I am not exactly sure what all was said. Let me start by describing this girl. She was in her early twenties and beautiful. She has beautiful skin, big blue eyes and long golden blond hair. She was petite....well, most of her was petite. She kind of reminded me of the pole with warning lights at a train track intersection. Sorry,but that was the overall shape. She also had a nervous bounce to her as she talked, kind of like a nervous tick , a nervous tick with a purpose.

 She announced to me that she had recently moved here from Miami where she had worked in a big, 24 hour strip club. “Yep, all nude, all day...24/7. That's where I worked; I loved it, great money”. Suddenly her “warning-lights-pole-at-a-train-track” alliteration made sense. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know where to look. I have no idea what else she said but fortunately and uncharacteristically, my mouth stayed shut as my mind wondered.

 I don't know why I was suddenly feeling protective of my old friend that wasn't my old friend but all I could think about was what happened to her money while she was dancing. I mean, if she was buck naked and people were tipping her, did she wear a garter to hold the money? Would they just throw money on the stage? If they threw money on the stage and she did some kind of cartwheel or big spin or something and she were to knock some money off of the stage would people steal it? Would they put it back up on the stage and pretend it was their tip? What happened after she was finished? Did she have to grab a broom and a dust pan and sweep all the money up? That wouldn't be attractive. Wouldn't that leave here with dirty money mixed with glitter? That just didn't sound sanitary at all. Did they have somebody do all this for her after her “routine” and did she have to tip them out at the end of the night? Did they sweep up and ever secretly hide some of it and not give it all to her? 

My brain was exhausted trying to figure it all out while blurring out the reality of the profession of the girl standing in front of me talking, bouncing up and down as she talked , wearing a t-shirt so thin that it left about as much to the imagination as a Saran Wrapped Butterball turkey. Then it happened, she stopped talking. I have no idea what she had been saying. She might have just told me where she was now working or that her dog had just died. I had no idea so I didn't know what to say. I just looked at her and said, “So your mom went to a Nazarene college and you....wow... don't guess she saw that coming!” I knew that didn't come out right and might have sounded insulting and as her golden silky hair was catching the sunlight, I said, “ I would love to feel of your hair.” What? Now, remember, I used to be a hair stylist, so I do appreciate a good head of hair. She stepped back and like a reflex, replied, “No touching”. Wow, that sentence popped out of her mouth like it was something she said every day. 

She looked at me like I was some creepy guy old enough to be her dad, asking if I could run my fingers through her hair....oh wait. It was then that I knew my brain wasn't working properly, I was out of my element and that I needed to exit. If I had just kept my mouth shut I would have never known any of this. How do I get myself in these situations? I know there are people out there that have that five minute introductory speech memorized that allows a quick and painless exit in stranger situations and maybe I should work on one, but as for now, I just have awkward moments and bad responses.

Masked Identity

Hannibal Lecter has joined my gym. Seriously, I'm pretty sure it's him. I was just in the locker room minding my own business, and I looked over and the guy beside me was putting on a gas mask....a gas mask. Did he know something that I didn't know? What was in his gym bag? Was this Jihad Joe? I tried not to stare but I mean, come on. All I knew was that I was going to keep my eye on that guy and if he suddenly left the gym, I was following him. I also was watching to see if he tried to whisper something into someone's ear. I didn't trust that guy.

I considered the possibility that it was some kind of high end device for elite athletes but no...this was no triathlete, this was not a navy seal, no, this was someone that had just gotten up off the couch from playing Atari and grabbed his latest Amazon purchase and headed to the gym....or he was Hannibal Lecter, Jihad Joe, or Harry Halitosis.

I watched him like a hawk, waiting to see if he would drop some kind of smoking bomb and run for the door or motion somebody over to whisper something and leave me to watch the blood spatter. How would I get over that? I watched and waited and blame him for my lack of feeling the burn that day. He didn't do anything suspicious....other than workout in a gas mask. He just worked out in his gas mask and went home.

I'm sorry but ...no, just no. If you look around and you are the only person in the gym wearing a gas mask, wouldn't you second guess your decision? I mean, come on...come on. On the other hand, maybe it is a brilliant plan. After I get used to seeing Hannibal/Jihad/Halitosis, I'll quit watching so closely and then one day , when I least expect it, bazinga! I don't need this kind of drama. I'm just going to start doing isometrics and thigh master at the office .

Weathering The Storm ( a serious note)

In the town I live in, it seems that about every 10 years a tornado comes through and causes some serious devastation. I know the sigh of relief that comes when the weather channels and local news stations show that the storm has passed and how you can finally relax as  you can hear the shredding winds subside. I have driven out to the neighborhoods where the tornado has touched down and seen what is left behind. It looks like a war zone. The overall feeling that most have, is that the worst is over. For those untouched, it is over, but for those who lived through it, who were in the clutches of the storm and lived through the war zone, it isn’t over at all.

They are left to pick up the pieces of their lives that have gotten scattered about and torn apart. Some are left to also grieve someone who might have literally been pulled from their hands. There are stories here of women and children who were pulled by the tornado right out of each other’s hands. No matter how hard they tried to hang on, the storm was stronger. I can’t imagine that.

So many times, this reminds me of dealing with Alzheimer’s. No matter how hard we try to hang on to our loved ones who have this disease, they are going to be pulled out of our hands. Once our loved one has passed, in some ways the worst if over. Yet, at the same time, it is not over at all. We are left to grieve with the one we lost, but must also start to pick up the scatter remnants of what is left behind. Some of these things are physical and some are emotional.

We must pick back up the life we put on hold and pull together finances that may have been overturned. We go through belongings and figure out what to keep and what to throw away. We try to salvage anything good that we can after surviving the storm but all the while knowing that some things that are damaged, can never be fixed or fully replaced.

Alzheimer’s is the thing that PTSD is made of. It leaves us shell shocked and numb. We pull ourselves out of the storm, out of the war zone, and realized that a few years have passed us by while we were waiting out the storm or while we were in the trenches fighting the hardest battle of our lives. We walk out of it with our heads spinning wondering what just happened. We feel the need to want to go back and see what we could have done differently while at the same time not wanting to revisit any of the memories at all.

Some of you are in the trenches right now. Some of you are picking up the pieces after the storm has passed. Just know that this is how it is. This is how you handle it and this is what is normal. No matter how isolated you feel, you are not alone. You will make it through the storm and you will salvage what you can. You will find that you cherish bits and pieces of your life that might not have seemed as important as they were while you were experiencing them. You will deal with the horrors that you saw, the frustration of not being able to do more, the sadness of your loss and of decisions that you made. You will be exhausted from fighting a battle that you knew you couldn’t win or out maneuver, and you will be exhausted from fighting a beast that knows no defeat. You will be scarred; that’s ok. You will have scars that you can perfectly locate, even with your eyes closed.

You will slowly start to take off the armor that has helped you in the battle and helped you keep your chin up. You will soon notice that being on constant high alert took a greater toll than you realized. You will once again breathe, welcome conversation and happy moments back into your life. You will not be the same. You will know that the Boogie Man is real and that there are worse things in life than death. You will have survived and for a while, maybe that will be all that you feel. You won’t forget the trauma of it all but try to. The visitation and funeral are actually one of the first steps that allow you to remember the good moments. Loved ones will flood you with things you had forgotten about. It helps. Remember the one you loved and lost. Think of what they would tell you and want for you. That is real. Give them something to smile about from beyond the grave. Have stories to tell them for when you see them again. Go back and regain life and enrich the lives of those around you. And when, for no reason, you feel the tears well up in your eyes, remember that it’s ok. Love never dies and the loss is always going to be there. Miss them, cherish them and allow them to live through you by sharing your life with others. You will heal but only if you let yourself…make yourself. There is something calming about realizing that you didn’t lose it; you weren’t going crazy…you weren’t just unable to handling it correctly. The fact is, you went through or are going through a traumatic experience. When the dust has settled and you have picked up the pieces to start again, realize the mountain you just climbed. Give yourself some credit; give yourself some time and then start back into life. Make your loved one proud.

I Feel Like a Dip

So….I went to Kroger hungry. I know better. All I needed was a loaf of bread for my toast the next morning but my grilled chicken salad that I had had for dinner was a bit small and I had been running errands and a few hours had passed . I was hongry ! I walked into Kroger with the best of intentions and did my usual fast-walk to the nearest restroom. On the way, I passed the cauliflower, which for some reason, was calling my name. I didn’t even know cauliflower knew my name. I had a flashback of seeing roasted parmesan cauliflower bites on some Facebook unsolicited ad. It’s all I could think about, other than getting to the restroom.

Well, I went back and grabbed that cauliflower and made my way over to the bread aisle. On the way, I passed the international section and a can of fat free refried beans called out for me to buy it, Hey amigo!” I had a flashback from two years ago when I made bean dip and decided it was time to give it another go. As I rounded the next corner, I noticed a sale display in an end unit freezer. I stopped, growing hungrier by the aisle, and ended up wondering down the aisle beside it that was featuring frozen breakfast sandwiches. That still sounds gross, even just typing it, but they were made my Lean Cuisine , so I was basically investing in a weight loss plan for better health, in one purchase. I got two boxes. I was so excited about my new healthy fast food find inside a grocery store, that I went ahead and got in line to pay. I completely forgot about the bread. I walked out of Kroger with two boxes of healthy, frozen turkey sausage/egg white sliders, a giant head of cauliflower and a can of fat free refried beans. I am a power shopper.

I got home and immediately attacked the cauliflower, no recipe needed, and cooked it . It smelled heavenly. Twenty minutes later, I was watching The Walking Dead and eating cauliflower…not the best combo in the world. Before I knew it, I was viewing the final scene, watching one of my favorite characters look as if he was being eating alive by zombies (those zombies don’t know it but they are going to be hungry again in an hour) and all my cauliflower was gone. How did I fit an entire head of cauliflower inside of me? I mean seriously. I had just twenty minutes earlier been holding it in my hands. It was deeelish but, I’m not going to be craving cauliflower for a while.

The next morning, after eating my rubber breakfast sandwich, I went ahead and made the bean dip in a large Pyrex bowl, to save for later that night. Well that night, I got all fired up to try it and got it out of the fridge. I sat the large Pyrex bowl down on the counter and got out a cereal bowl to dish a little out. I sat there and looked at that Pyrex bowl, then looked at the cereal bowl, then back at the Pyrex bowl and I had to just stop and ask myself, “Who am I kidding?” I put the cereal bowl away stuck the entire Pyrex bowl in the microwave. I grabbed the piping hot casserole dish of bean dip, a bag of Tostitos scoops and settled down in front of the TV. I had somehow accidentally recorded Dancing with the Stars, and before I knew it, someone was being voted off and the bean dip was gone…it was delicious.

I have got to stop these after dinner ….dinners. What is the deal? Is it the cold weather? Also, when will I learn not to go to Kroger after dinner on an empty ….with a hungry brain (they say it takes 20 minutes for the stomach to tell the brain it’s full)? All I know is that if I kept my pantry stocked and knew how to cook, I would be in trouble.

Exotic or Expired?

It all started with the desire to eat healthy. I went out to eat last night with the distinct plan of ordering a salad. I didn’t order a salad but I was still “good”. I ordered something called a “skinny burger”. How could I go wrong, right? It was actually a grilled turkey burger and even though there was cheddar involved, it was still a turkey burger. “Have you ever seen a fat turkey?” I asked myself as sort of positive confirmation on my decision. Then it hit me, yes, yes I have seen a fat turkey. Every turkey I have ever seen in my entire life has been fat….as a matter of fact, I think that is where the term “butterball” came from. Entire holiday feasts center around a big overstuffed fat turkey. Anyway, it was delicious and huge and I left there feeling a bit like a butterball turkey…still, it was a skinny burger.

I headed straight to Kroger to stock up on skinny food and diet green tea. That was the plan and I was determined to stick to it. I left Kroger with a five pound pork loin, a bag of potatoes and a dream. I had a dream of waking up the next morning in a house filled with the aroma of having someone who knows how to cook, living there. I had no recipe, or back knowledge, just a dream and raw materials.

I fired up Crockzilla, who got way too much sleep this winter, and corralled my “fixins”. I lined Crockzilla with some olive oil and a little water. Next were lots of green beans, red skin potatoes cut into big chunks, some chicken bouillon, and a sprinkling of French onion soup mix. Next I lowered the pork loin on top off all this, like a sacrifice, cut it open down the middle, stuffed it with garlic cloves, Dijon mustard, honey butter, black pepper and garlic salt. I covered everything with mushrooms cut into big chunks and gave everything another sprinkle of pepper and garlic salt. Then I slept.

I woke up this morning to a great smelling house. I loved it. They should make home cooking scented candles…dibs!....I call dibs on this idea…it’s in writing and I have witnesses. Anyway, I didn’t have time to try it until I ran back home tonight and grabbed a quick bite before having to leave again and I am not sure what the heck I created. The meat was very tender. It was kind of good…in a way. It tasted like something between a dish you would get at an foreign restaurant that had that one exotic spice that you just couldn’t quite put your finger on but you were sure it was an acquired taste and that you should probably like it , and between something, that if you were served that dish at the Cracker Barrel, you would send it back and say, “Honey, something in this dish has gone bad.” Do you know what I mean? That flavor that is riding that fine line between exotic and expired? That flavor was the overall taste of the entire Crockzilla creation.

I will go home and try it again over brown rice. Rice is the peacemaker of many an over-seasoned/exotic dish. I think it will be fine and maybe even delicious, once I calm it down with brown rice. I am not sure how all this plays into my new idea of eating healthy but at least it was ‘ho-made. That’s a start. If you are trying to reach me tonight, forget about it; I’m busy. I’ve got some candles to make!

Tingle

I never know what I am going to run into at work. There is a guy who has come out here several times now and has told me he has divorced parents that don’t realize they are 80 and need homes with no upstairs. Well he came back in the other day with his mom. He had mentioned before that she was a force of nature ….and he was right.

At first glance, she was a sweet little lady with short gray hair and a nice big smile. Well, it didn’t take long to realize that her engine was running hot and she was fueled by some boundless source of energy. She never stopped moving. She was full of it. She was very friendly and animated and I kept feeling guilty for thinking that she was occasionally giving me “that look”. Shame on me! She’s was just a friendly little “Nana”, trying to be nice and my brain was trying to make something suggestive out of her kindness and smiles….and glances…and stares.

After looking around for a while and talking for about an hour on every subject you can imagine (all the while her energy level never dropped) her son asked his mom, “So do you like this?”. The mom walked over to me, stood by my side and slipped her arm into mine. It was that arm hold that you use when you escort someone down the aisle at a wedding; that arm hold. She looked at her son and said, “I’ve found what I like right here” and looked up and gave me a big smile. Her son got a bit embarrassed and said to me, “Oh yeah, my mom has a thing for younger men.” She looked up at me and said, “Yes I do! Oh yes, I certainly do.”  Then she looked up at me again, gave me a big smile, followed by a serious look (time stood still) and then another big smile. 

Wow! I was just called a “younger man”! I could have adopted her son right then and there! What a great guy. He was awesome. Anyway, once that compliment wore off and I was back to reality, still in “wedding arm hold”, I felt myself start to squirm a bit and before I knew it I was the cat in the Pepe’ Le Pew cartoon and I had slithered out from “Nana’s” talons.

I tried to laugh it off and get back to business. We sat at my desk talking shop, and she just kept giving me that “look”. I felt like a steak in the display case at the Chop House. It wasn’t long before she has worked her way around my side of the desk and was standing beside my chair. She started showing me pictures of her home. It was a really big home and beautiful. Her son said, “You should see her bedroom; it’s huge!” That was pure octane to his mom’s ever running engine and she quickly added with a coy smirk, “You should come over after you get off of work. I’ll show you everything.” (Accentuate that last word).

...--… 

Oh my word, on the outside I was calm but on the inside I was screaming, “I don’t want to see everything!!!!” Geez oh Pete and holy Moses, where is a good rapture when you need one? I was ready to go!

How do you respond to that? I mean really. I have no idea what I said or more importantly what my face said. All I know is that I didn’t take her up on her offer to “see everything” and she left. She left without her son. I was hoping they drove separately (they did) and then he stayed for about another hour talking “family dynamics”.

I drove home rethinking my day with the mixed sensations of the tingle from being called a young man and the tingle of my skin crawling from being hit on by someone my mom’s age. That’s a lot of tingle. That was an awesome house though…really awesome. I got home, went to my room, and dusted off my bucket list. I didn’t add to it, I erased something. I erased “talk to a financial advisor”. I have a whole new retirement plan.

# trophyhusband

# cougartown

You Don't Know Jack

Last night the International Folk Festival had a going away party for all the groups. I had only met a few of the people but wanted to go and enjoy the comradery. I found out it was going to be way out in the country at a type of gathering place/community center but no one I knew had ever been there so I cranked up the GPS and headed out for a great adventure. The friend of mine that had “invited” me called to ask if I could stop and grab a bottle of Jack Daniels for one of the groups. They like to take these groups to the distillery for a tour and Jack Daniels becomes of favorite “local brew” every year.

I stopped and got a big ol’ bottle and headed to the country. As I got further into unknown territory, I had to keep a close eye and ear on my GPS. The radio was off, it was raining and I was focused. .6 miles…, .4 miles,….. .2 miles….and there it was. It was sitting off the road, a large non-descript off white building with a parking lot in front of it. The lot was only about half full and I was pretty sure I was just a bit early and had beaten my friends there. I had the hardest time getting up the nerve to go on in by myself but I am just not always ready to wing it in social situations. I decided to go ahead though, as nature was calling, so with one hand holding my umbrella and the other hand holding a bottle of Jack Daniels, I walked up to the front door. The large, plain double doors had tall skinny transom type windows on each side, giving me a glimpse of lots twenty somethings (probably the Germans) standing in the foyer. I opened the door and got my umbrella situated and looked up as everyone was looking back at the newest arrival. I let out a big Jerry Seinfeld “hellooOOOooo”. They responded with a normal “hello” and then there was about a second of silence. It hit me that maybe “hello” was the extent of the group’s English so I held up my bottle and said, “I’ve got Jack Daniels!!!” I was anticipating cheers but instead I got crickets…silence…deafening silence. Everyone went to “dead pan face” and they all just looked at each other and then back to me. Someone emerged from the back of the crowd and parted them like Moses did the Red Sea. It was a man in full length black robe priest gear sporting a large gold cross around his neck. “May we help you?” he asked.

Oh jeez, oh jeez, my brain was firing on all pistons trying to figure out what was happening and how to get out of it all at the same time. Nature quit calling and hung up and phone. All systems except brain function, were put on hold. I could hear my brain mapping out the crime scene and trying to do an investigation, damage control, hostage negotiation, media spin and  form an escape route all at the same time. In my meekest voice I asked a question that I already was afraid I knew the answer to, “Is this where the Folk Festival party is?” The black robed man informed me that I was incorrect and that I had just walked into the entrance of an Orthodox church and that vespers were getting ready to start! “Houston we have a problem………ground control to Major Tom….Jesus take the wheel”, said my head, but I was momentarily silent. I lowered my growing bottle of Jack Daniels and said, “I am so sorry, I am in the wrong place. I’ll just take this (shaking my bottle) and go. Sorry. Nice to meet you; have a good night”…I couldn’t shut up and they couldn’t stop staring at the crazy man that walked in waving a bottle of hooch in a church. I did everything but moonwalk out of that place.

A lady walked out with me and informed me that their church sign had blown down some time back and that they had not replaced it yet. She then invited me to come back if I was needing a church home. I thanked her quickly popped open my umbrella and headed to my car in the rain, gripping that Jack Daniels bottle like I was trying to strangle it.

Yes, I found the right location; it was about 200 yards away and we all had a good time. I have no idea where that bottle ended up last night. It’s possibly on foreign soil by now. I wish I was. I’ve never taken Jack Daniels to church before much less shaken in it up in the air for all to see. I can’t imagine what they were thinking as we stood there during our “moment of silence”. Heathen….I was a heathen, I felt like a heathen and I am pretty sure that’s what the sermon that night turned into, “Heathens in our Midst”. I’ll bet they burned all kinds of incense in that place to cleanse it after I left.

How do I get myself into these messes? Better yet, how do prevent them and/or get myself out of them? It’s really like cold water to the face for the brain. It definitely woke me up and blew the rust off of a few more synapse. What can you do? I mean really, what can you do? Funny, when I pulled into the correct facility, my GPS said, “You have arrived at your destination”. Note to self, always wait for that validation from GPS. If you don’t know where you are going then you can’t assume you are there just because you feel like it.