Breaking the Chains

Food has been a major topic in our house these last few months.  Mainly just between hubby and me, and occasionally with our 14 year old daughter, Mario, who has shown some interest.

Most of it stems from Hubby reading articles on food addiction, and high fructose corn syrup, and corn itself.  Then he shares his wealth of information with me.  I usually listen, nod my head occasionally, because I agree with him, but I rarely add any of my thoughts.  After all, I’ve known most of this to be true, which is why I choose to eat the things I do.

But the main reason I don’t usually respond, is because it’s an overwhelming problem in our society, and in our house, and it scares me.  I feel like I’m a little fish swimming upstream against a school of bigger fish.  And I feel helpless about how to conquer them all.

Years ago, when my kids were little, my life was chaos.  Even after I became a stay-at-home mom, I had difficulty keeping my head above water.  They were so young, and there were so many of them, and they were so much work.  Shopping was difficult.  Going out was difficult.  Staying in was difficult.  So I found ways to make things easier on me.

Easily prepared suppers, packaged meals, pizzas, and fast food made mealtime manageable.  I succumbed quite often to treats, if they behaved in the stores.  These were usually fruit snacks, roll-ups, graham crackers – you know, the “healthy treats”.

Once school started, they were fed a hot lunch with a protein, carb, veggie, and dessert.  Chicken nuggets, tator tots, carrot sticks, and a cookie.   Then they would come home and sometimes have the same thing for dinner.  Thanks to me.

I quickly started seeing the effects of this type of eating on me.  I cringed whenever I saw my ever-growing self in the mirror, and I’d complain often about how tired I was.  So I made a change.  I won’t bore you with that story again, but that change helped me to lose over 50 pounds.

My eating wasn’t really healthy, however.  I cut out quite a bit of fat, even healthy fats, and replaced them with sugary carbs.  It worked to lose the weight, but I was obviously missing an important part of a nutritional diet.  It wasn’t until I had difficulty running, that it became clear to me how important choice of foods is.  That motivated me to cut out the processed, sugary, salty foods that I craved.

But now I need motivation for my young-adult children.  And that is where I feel like the small fish.

I’ve cut back on the amount of processed foods I buy.  And I try to cook and freeze meals for them to heat up.  But their choice is still the foods that have been proven to be addictive.  So if I’m not buying them, they buy them themselves.  And because the schools offer them as a choice, it’s easy pickin’s there as well.

I’ve lectured a few times about how they need to view food as fuel for their body, and if they want to focus better, or feel more energized, or even sleep better, they need to be sure they’re eating right.  As young adults, they hear me as Charlie Brown does his teacher.  Wah wah wah wah wah wah.

And then their addicted little bodies go straight back to the scientifically addicting processed sweets and salts. Seriously, there are scientists out there who use their education to make these foods addictive to consumers.  The idea is to keep them coming back for more.

And this addiction is way more persuasive than I can ever be.

I feel a tremendous amount of guilt for starting them off on the wrong foot while they were young.  I was young too, and really didn’t understand the long term effects of eating these convenient meals and snacks.  Not to mention, they were cheap, and as a single income family for many years, cheap appealed to us.

At my age now, it’s quite clear how detrimental processed, sugary, salty foods can be.  And I’ve been lucky enough to have the will power and determination to break my addiction and avoid these foods (with the exception of ice cream, of course).  But I fear I’ll need society’s help to break my children of these addictions.  And as I see American’s becoming more and more overweight, and I see exciting, colorful advertisements for these products, and I read articles about scientists who use their knowledge to make the foods more addicting, I’m scared.

It makes me want to take my family and run.  Run to a place where food is food, and the naturalness of it makes it delicious, not the additives that are placed in them.  I wish our own country was that place, but at the pace we’re going, it’ll be many years before Americans make the change necessary to break these addictions.

Until then, I guess I’ll keep Wah-Wah-Wah-ing and hope some of it sinks in.

—————————————————————-

“The chains of addiction are too light to be felt until they are too heavy to be broken.” – Warren Buffett

 

Giving up the Reign

I often tease my husband – “I can’t wait til you’re rich and I can be a princess.”

He always responds – “You ARE my princess.”

And he does spoil me, and make me feel like a princess. And I even got some Princess perfume so I can smell like a princess.

But the truth is…. I don’t really want to be a princess.  I’d just be happy if someone would clean my bathrooms once in a while.

When I met my new trainee today, I was reminded of why I don’t want to be a princess. She’s been with us for a few weeks now, but has worked the evening shift.  This week she was to work the morning shift with me, to see what we do.

I expected her at 6 am yesterday, along with my even newer trainee, but she never showed.  That afternoon she called to tell me she had forgotten she was scheduled to work the early shift.  I connected her with a manager.

So this morning, I knew that she knew she was supposed to start at 6 am. At 7:15 I get a call.  She overslept and she’s not sure why, ’cause she set her alarm, but it didn’t go off, and she’s up now and will be in soon.

She arrived a little after 8, long after all the checklist work had been completed.  “I don’t know you guys do it!” she said.  “I even went to bed early last night.  11:30 pm!”  and “I set my alarm for 5, but I swear my phone turns itself off. I’m surprised I even woke up at 7!”

okay then.

I smiled understandingly and explained it takes some getting used to.  And I joked about how I am in bed by 9 pm at the latest, and that’s how I’m able to get up.  (Of course, I get up at 3 am.)

I spent the rest of the day trying to keep her focused on learning.  She spent the day focused on herself.  I learned that now that she’s 20, her mom’s begging her for a grandchild.  The other day she thought she was pregnant and her mom came over so she could take the test with her.  I think I managed to keep my jaw off the floor as I wondered why a parent would be encouraging an unmarried, unschooled, and barely employed daughter to have children.

I patiently paused my teaching while she yawned, stretched, checked herself in the mirror, clicked her extremely manicured nails on the keyboard, and questioned what she was going to order for lunch.

I gave up thinking I could teach her anything today.  I hope it was due to her being tired, and that today wasn’t a true indication of how she will be at work. They’re not high hopes.

She came across as a bit spoiled. A bit self-centered.  A bit “princess-y”.

And if that’s what a princess is like, I don’t wanna be one.

But I will continue to wear the perfume…and let my hubby think I am.

 

Today I Was the Tortoise

Two hours.

TWO hours.

TWO HOURS!

Two hours of shaking legs, a nervous stomach, and clenched hands.

Two hours of blasting heat, a steaming face and unblinking eyes.

Two hours of driving through the treacherous storm that has passed through much of the country it seems.

BUT.

I made it.  And I’ve never been more proud of my rear wheel, sucky-on-snow-and-ice but fast any other time Mustang.  I’m even a little proud of it’s driver.

The snow and ice had been coming down for about 3 hours when I finally got off work.  I was offered a free night’s stay at the hotel multiple times, but since I didn’t have to work the next day, I declined.  I was determined to take it slow and easy, and be able to enjoy my evening at home.

When the exit gate of the garage opened, and I saw a Mustang directly across from me spinning its wheels as it tried to get up the hill, I took it as a bad sign. But I wasn’t giving up already.

I turned onto that same street and drove about 10 feet before getting stuck in my own rut.  I backed up a little (easy to do since it’s downhill) and tried again.  Nothing but spinning wheels.  Backed up.  Spun.  Backed up.  Spun.  I had just about given up when a heroic snow plow came by.  I backed up onto the cleared path and finally was able to make it up the hill.

My relief didn’t last long, however. The entrance ramp onto the bridge crossing the Mississippi was backed up.  Some cars were spinning wheels, others were able to get around.  Not wanting to lose momentum, I went around them too, only to fish tail my way across the bridge.  The bridge normally has four lanes, but no one knew where they were, so we all just kinda clumped together.  Scary for me, since my car is known to spin out.

I stayed in first gear all the way across the bridge, trying to stay in other car’s tracks.  I could sense the people behind me getting antsy, but I knew my car’s limitations, and wasn’t risking speeding up.  Once into Illinois, I shifted to second gear, and there I stayed for a good hour.

The fast lane appeared a little cleaner, but I wasn’t willing to go fast.  So I kept my 20mph pace in the slow lane, while others zoomed around me at a good 30mph.

It seemed any time I let up on my concentration, I would fishtail, so I remained hands clenched, eyes peeled and mind focused.  A few times I felt comfortable enough to shift to third gear, but then something would happen and I’d pull it back to second.

Meanwhile, the sleet and freezing rain continued, and my windshield  iced over quickly.  To avoid this, I blasted the heat on defrost.  This worked well, but my face was on fire.  Anytime I lowered the heat, however, the ice would start to form again.  I figured seeing clearly had more priority than a cool face, so I continued to blast the heat.

When I pulled into my drive over two hours later. I almost felt like weeping.  Never had I been so happy to be home, and so relieved to be safe.

Even after all this, I’m glad I chose to come home, but I hope never to have to drive in this stuff again.

Unless I have these:

Or better yet, this:

 

When Life Gives You Lemons (or Limes)

Bake with them.

That’s what I do.

It makes everything seem a little better.

I started with the limes first.

Look at my new juicer! Thanks TLI! This is so much easier!

Key Lime Cookies dipped in White Chocolate

This recipe is awesome!  It calls for graham crackers in the cookie dough, and then it’s rolled in graham crackers before baking, making them taste just like Key Lime Pie.  I dipped mine in melted white chocolate.  Just. Because.

I’ve also had some lemons in my fridge for some time now, and when I saw Terri’s Grandma’s Lemon Bar recipe, I knew what I had to do.  Terri assured me I could use Illinois lemons.  I’d rather have had fresh Arizona ones picked right off the tree, but my Illinois ones sufficed.

I made a few assumptions along the way.  I softened the butter.  I didn’t double the recipe.  And I used an 8×8 inch pan.  I don’t think they turned out as good as Grandma’s, but they were delicious just the same!  And better yet – I’m proud to have made a dessert that’s been passed down through the Terri Family generations!

My life’s lemons seem a little sweeter now… Even these:

Link had a major setback with his contacts this last week, and by yesterday he couldn’t even open his eyes.  Any amount of light was extremely bright to him – including his computer screen.  I took him to the doc today, and she is ordering some new contacts that will be a little looser on his eyes.  The thought is the contacts were too tight causing his eyes to be irritated which made even the light hurt him.  I hope the new contacts are the answer.  It seems to be the consensus among all keratoconics that patience is the key to finding the right treatment.  So we’ll be patient.

I’ve also been patient about the supervisor position at work.  I should find out more tomorrow, and hopefully will be able to get off the edge of my seat.  If necessary, I’ll bring out the big guns – my Key Lime Cookies.  They wouldn’t dare risk losing baked goodies over this.

 

 

 

 

On the Edge of _______

Yesterday I was asked to evaluate an employee from a different property who happens to be vying for the same position as I.

In other words, I was supposed to let management know if I thought she had the necessary skills, the motivation, and the right fit to be a front desk supervisor.

What the heck.

Really?

You’re asking me to evaluate her when I want the job myself?

Some things I just don’t get.

Hubby thinks I’ve been patient long enough with the backwoods way our management has of doing things.  I tend to be a little more accepting of the procedures and let faith determine whether I should be promoted or not.

Not that I’m not trying. Ever since Ms. Know-It-All (I mean that in a good way) moved on to a *yawn* boring 9-5 Monday thru Friday job, I have become the go-to person.  She spent her last few weeks training me to be the Ms. Know-It-All.  After her departure, I stepped into her role of managing the front office, handling the billing, and setting up groups and buses.  Along with that, I have been training new employees, and continuing with my regular duties as a Guest Service Agent.  I have accepted my new responsibilities with much enthusiasm, and have a renewed love for my job.

So when I saw the posting for a Guest Service Supervisor, I was thrilled.  Perhaps this will be the chance for me to get the title and the pay I deserve for all the extra work and responsibility.  And knowing that I’m pretty well the only one at our hotel that would qualify, I feel like I’m a shoo-in.   I let HR know immediately that I was interested, and she assured me she would pass it along to my direct manager.

Two days later, Kelly (pfft) was observing me and the front desk operations.  I, very considerately and even eagerly, explained how our hotel works, and how it’s quite different from our smaller properties.  While I answered all of her questions, I continued to answer my trainee’s questions, resolved a few bill disputes, handled a complaint, and helped out the rest of the agents.

“So… you’re not a supevisor?” she asked.

“No,” I replied.  “I’m interviewing for it as well.” (So there. hmph.)

I’m not really concerned about her beating me out for the position.  She’s only been with the company a year, and the hotel where she works is nothing like ours – other than the procedures and software system.

But, I am concerned that they released the position to the other hotels.  I want to ask why, but I don’t want to appear whiny.  I wonder if they still have concerns that I can’t handle it (whatever.), or perhaps they want to hire more than one.  I’ve been told from the beginning they would like to have 3 supervisors over the front desk, so maybe that’s it.  Either way, I’m a little disheartened.  Only time will tell.

As far as my evaluation of her?  Well, my heart wanted to mark all NO’s, but my brain was reminding me that this itself could be a test.  I chose not to act child-like, and instead marked all “Definitely’s”.  In my comments I was honest about what I thought of her, I expressed my concerns about her adjusting to the busyness of our property, but followed up with “in time, I feel she would adjust well and be a good fit for our team.”

And then I quickly turned it in.

sigh

I’m definitely on the edge…

of my seat.

of glory (if things go well).

but mainly,  just on edge.

 

The F Word Revisited

I spent the last day of my “weekend” preparing for Valentine’s Day.

For other people.

I made chocolate covered strawberries for a co-worker.

Somewhat successful!

Then I made chocolate cookie hearts for my favorite Valentines.

Time consuming, but successful!

And right before bed I finished the ChocoFLAN Cake for Amp.

He needed a Mexican dish once again, and even though flan is my nemesis, I went for it.

After all, my sweet blog friend, TLI, promised me it would be easy and delicious.  And I promised her I would try one more time.

So I did.

And this time,I didn’t dump anything into the trash, and I only got mad once….. As the caramel seeped through the bottom of the only bundt pan I own.  A springform one.

And I knew the flan probably would too.  But I put the pan in the water anyway, shoved it in the oven, and didn’t look at it for the next two hours.

When I pulled the cake and pan of water out of the oven, I cringed as I saw boiled flan floating in the water.

I left it covered and pouted for the next 15 minutes.

Finally I decided to just take the foil off and look.

It almost looked like hers.

And then I flipped it over.

And the caramel drizzled out just like she said it would…..  but only down one side.

And the flan…. well what was left of it sat nicely on top.

Just like hers…….

 

 

Or not.

Amp eagerly tried a piece, thinking it looked awesome!

Then he tried another.

“It’s delicious!”  He declared.

Shew.

Maybe I’ll get an A.  HE!   Maybe HE will get an A.

Either way, I’m sitting here on Valentine’s Night, with my bowl of frozen carbs, missing my hubby down in Tennessee,but feeling pretty good,

Because I almost made flan.

 

Sad to be Weight Free

I’ve had this pain in my elbow for, oh maybe, 2 or 3 years now.  I’d gotten quite used to it, but lately it seems to be getting worse.

I figured it was time to see the doc.  Dr. WebMD that is.

I did a search for my symptoms:

Pain in the outside part of my elbow.  Sensitive to the touch.  Hurts to scoop ice cream.  Hurts to drink coffee.  Hurts to open the fridge. Hurts to lift my purse.  Hurts to pick up my laptop.  Hurts to… well, it hurts to do ANYTHING.

Diagnosis:  Tennis Elbow.

Hmm.. that makes sense.  I’ve played tennis for, let me think, NEVER!  But I have bowled for a gazillion years so maybe that’s how it started.  Except that I haven’t bowled for almost a year now and the pain has only gotten worse.

The only other thing I think could be causing it is my free weights.  There’s one move in particular that is very painful to do, but my usual stubborn self just pushes through it. Now I can’t even pick up the weight without pain in my elbow.  And since it’s affecting my ice cream scooping ability, I’ve decided I’ll have to forego the weights for a while.  All arm work will have to be in the form of push-ups and car washing til I can scoop pain free again.

In other health and fitness news:   I ran 11.41 miles today! A new record for me.  According to the lady on my favorite App EVER,  I averaged a pace of 7:55 min per mile which continues to surprise me.  My first mile or two starts out the slowest, but as I go, I build up speed without even realizing it.  It feels like I’m lumbering along, especially towards the end, so it’s nice to know I’m running faster than I think.  It still boggles my mind that I can run like I have been when only a year ago I was contemplating quitting.   From past experience, I plan to enjoy my triumphs while they last!

Now I’m off to make chocolate covered strawberries.  This is NOT my thing, but for whatever reason, my coworkers think I’m a whiz in the kitchen and can do ANYthing.  So I agreed to try.  I have a feeling, though,  that I’ll need to take some lessons from Abby about Just Saying No.

I’ll let you know how it goes.

 

Old and Improved

Lots of things improve with age.  Wine.  Cheese.  Chili.

And I’m almost daring enough to say ME.

Almost, because I still lack confidence,  and almost, because I’m afraid of the misconceptions you all might be having, that I’m a little egotistical.  After all, my blogs are mostly about myself, and I usually just share the good things.

But the truth is, I think most of us improve with age.

When I was in my 20s, I was hot.  Hot headed, I mean.    At that time, I felt the need to be in control of everything, and when I couldn’t be, and goodness knows with four young kids I rarely was, I’d lose my patience and have to sit myself in time-out.

The kids generously kept practicing my patience, until eventually, I got pretty darn good at it.

I’ve also improved at not sweatin’ the small stuff.  Spilled milk on my newly cleaned floor?  Pshaw – the dog’ll clean it up.   Clean clothes still in the basket?  Well, at least our closets look cleaner.  The dishwasher didn’t run the night before?  YAY!  I don’t have to unload them!

I’m also more accepting of others and their differences, and believe me, I come in contact with a lot of people who are different.  My co-workers will often criticize our night auditor for his compulsive lying.  But I understand it’s just who he is.  He can’t help telling people he’s the most popular piano player at the local dueling piano bar, or that he runs a marathon daily, or that he’s the manager of the hotel.    While all this makes me smile inside, and sometimes cringe when a guest believes his stories,  I am just as polite and respectful of him as I am of everyone else I work with.

My biggest improvement, however, has been dealing with the hand that’s dealt me.   There’s still room for improvement here, but more often than not, I find myself saying “It is what it is”.  Of course, if I were to get hurt right now and not be able to run, “It is what it is” would  NOT be the words I utter.  But for the most part, if I’m stuck in traffic and my hour commute turns in to an hour and a half,  no worries. I crank up the music and enjoy the extra time I get with my car.  Or if my work schedule keeps me from running as many miles as I would like, I come up with other ways to prep – like tackle Holy Hill right after work.  Before I realize I’m tired. Basically, if it’s not something I can control, I don’t dwell on it, and instead, learn to work with it.

Now you know…. I’m leaving out the things I’m still bad at, but when I look back at how uptight and stressed and tense I used to be, I’m really liking the more laid back and positive me.

And it’s great to know that there is something good about growing older.

Well, at least until I reach the age when I’ll become a Grumpy Old…um… Gal.

 

 

I’m Geeky and I Know It

I began running about 10 years ago in an effort to lose the baby fat I had accrued over my back to back (to back to back) pregnancies.  It was a great way to burn calories, and I was able to lose the weight pretty quickly.

I kept running once the weight was off – one, because I liked the challenge and two, because I. love. food.  Lots of food.  Particularly junk food.

So I ran to eat.

This worked for many years.  I could eat bowls of Honeycomb cereal. Scoops of ice cream.  Blow Pops.  Candy Corn. Jelly Beans.   Mmm mmm mmm.  And I never gained weight.

Then one day, I got old, and my muscles began to hurt.  Not the good hurt, where your muscles are sore from a workout, but hurt hurt.

They hurt while I ran.  They hurt while I bowled.  They hurt while I sat.

Thinking it was because I was running daily, I made a decision to cut back my running to just 3 days a week, and use my elliptical trainer on the off days.

I still hurt.

I changed shoes.

I still hurt.

Not willing to give up running entirely, I did some research on the internet.

Turns out, ingesting a bunch of sugary foods wasn’t giving my muscles the nourishment they needed to recover from runs.  They needed protein.  Healthy fats.  Healthy carbs.  Healthy food.

*sigh*

But running was important enough to me that I knew what I had to do. I began replacing most of the sugary foods I ate with natural peanut butter, whole wheat bagels, oatmeal, Greek yogurt, spinach salads, almonds, chicken, steamed veggies, but I still had a big bowl of ice cream at night.

Not only did I start eating better, but I purchased my beloved foam roller, and my miraculous shoes, and suddenly….

I didn’t hurt!

I’m now training for a half-marathon.  in case some of you forgot.  And I want to keep my muscles strong, and keep their energy up, so I’ve been reading about what kinds of foods I should eat.

And I love this!  I love learning!  I love experimenting!  Just like years ago, I’m keeping track of what I eat, but this time I’m looking at the grams of carbohydrates and protein instead of calories. And I’m learning that it’s a good idea to start overloading on carbs a week or so before the big run.

Today I ran 10.6 miles.  I wanted to see if my increase in carbs the last few days had any effect.  Hard to tell, really, but I think it did.  I ran a comfortable 7:59 pace and although I still was ready to quit by the end, my legs weren’t cramping up like they usually do.

And I’m learning what NOT to eat before a big run.  Like fiber, artificial sweeteners, gum, and ice cream.  (woe is me).  But I’ll give it up the night before my big day, if it avoids an embarrassing turnout…

So while I started my running career running to eat, I now find myself

Eating to Run.

 

Kismet

Sometimes you’re just forced to do the right thing.

At the hotel today, we had a guest come down to check out a day early.  For whatever reason, we hadn’t taken payment from her at check-in, (a big no-no, but some desk agents are a little lazy about some things).  So when Cory let her know he needed payment from her, she claimed that she had paid already.  Cory allowed her into our business center to check her balance online, but after a few minutes she just left the hotel.

He came back to where I was working and let me know that she’d skipped out on her bill.  We discussed how it happened, and reiterated the fact that payment wasn’t taken right away, and shook our heads over how we try to get everyone to follow procedures, but sometimes they’re like kids and forget easily.

Since we couldn’t balance the folio, we left the room checked-in while we decided what we were going to do.

I went back to my admin work, he went back to supervise the desk.

It wasn’t long before he came back again.

“She left her wallet in the room”, he gloated.

“How do you know?” I responded.

“Because she came back and told me she had.  And I told her that I couldn’t let her back up there until she paid her balance.”

We high-fived and celebrated our good luck.

The manager brought her up to the room, because of course she couldn’t pay without her wallet, and then he escorted her back down and straight to the desk.

Funny how things work out sometimes.