Ode to Katy v. 2005

So, I'm super excited today.  Why?  As of this day, July 23rd, 2012 (I started this a couple of weeks ago...), I have now officially lost 100 (yes, 100) pounds from the heaviest I ever was.   This is cause for celebration, y'all.  Do I have more to lose?  Heck yes, but oh is this milestone exciting.

To be honest, I'm not sure when I reached my peak weight, but judging from pictures of the era, it had to have been circa 2004.  I was a big girl.  For most of my life, excepting prior to the age of 10 or so, I've been what Sears used to call "Pretty Plus" (if that's not the most ridiculous moniker...).

I recently dug up some photos of the 2004 era and was surprised at the reminder of what I looked like then.   

(At the Tillamook Cheese factory in Tillamook, Oregon - YUM - hence, the cow I'm standing next to.  I was on a road trip to the Oregon coast with my sister and having a fantastic time.)

(At a summer barbeque with friends.  I can't explain the shirt and what's happening with that business.  No idea.)

I'd like to point out that in both of these pictures, I am genuinely smiling.  I was happy.  I was not depressed, I didn't hate myself, I didn't think that "if I just got skinny, I'd be happy".  At this time, I had just finished my Master's Degree in Speech-Language Pathology, I'd learned how to work with all different kinds of kids and I loved my work.  As I said, I was happy.  

Here I am now, in early July of this summer. With my four siblings.

 I'd like to point out that in this picture, I'm genuinely smiling.  I am happy.  I'm not depressed and I don't hate myself.  I do not think that "if I just get skinny, I'll be happy".  I'm nearing the end of my doctoral program and I'm excited for what lies ahead (I'm comin' for you, Boston...).  I assure you, I am so happy.

And now, my point.  I am significantly bothered by a culture which says that to be fat is to be shameful, unhappy, and (most worrisome) disgusting.  There are a plethora of pins on pinterest dedicated to the reminder that there is little worse in this world than being overweight.  I disagree.  I won't rattle off the various and sundry horrid character traits that I would hope, when push comes to shove, we would all agree would be more devastating to an individual/family/country than being overweight.  My weight is independent of my value as a person.  Being fat does not equal bad.  Why is there confusion about this in our society?  I was happy as a big girl, I am happy as a less big girl.  I wish we could perpetuate this ideal - being a good person is not related to your weight, I promise.

This is not to say that I have not become a huge proponent for health.  What do I love about being 100 pounds lighter than I used to be?  My brain is never occupied by worrying about whether or not I can physically do something.  I am always willing to give it a go.

I can jog for 2, 3, 4 miles, with ease.

I routinely ride my bike to work, on errrands, for fun.

I've kayaked.  Backpacked.  Joined a gym.  Adventured.

There're the seemingly silly things too.  I can cross my legs comfortably at church.  I can sit on the floor for hours, if needed.  I don't hesitate to climb into the backseat of a two-door vehicle.  I take up only my seat on an airplane.  I never worry about fitting into an amusement park ride - it never even crosses my mind that I might not (it used to).  If you've never been overweight, you might be surprised that these are the kind of things "pretty plus" people worry about. (see, what a stupid name..."pretty plus"...)

How did I get here?  Well, that is why this an Ode to Katy v. 2005.  I didn't put those pictures up there to invoke shame or embarrassment at who I was in 2005.  The truth is, I am incredibly proud of that girl.  I owe my current state to the girl who made a decision to just go for a walk every day.  She could not see what lay ahead, how life changing that seemingly small decision would be.

And so it began.  I set a goal to go for A WALK five days a week.  In the beginning, and this was important (I had no idea just how important it was), my self-imposed rule was to go down to the trail along the Columbia river and walk.  At first, sometimes that walk was literally 10 minutes long - 5 minutes down the trail and 5 minutes back.  I'd like to point out that it was not because I couldn't walk further, but I was usually sure that I didn't have any more time in my day than that 10 minutes.  Because I had permission to count 10 minutes as "a walk", I unknowingly established a pattern of exercise in my life.  After awhile, I found that I looked forward to that walk I was taking every day after work.  Pretty soon it morphed into a routine 20-minute walk.  And then I realized that the trail had mile markers and heeeeeeeyyy, look at that, I was walking over a mile every day.

Then I started walking just a little bit farther.  And a little bit farther.  And then I discovered This American Life podcasts, which are just under an hour long.  I invoked another self-imposed rule:  I could only listen to the podcasts while on a walk.  And then I started getting up to go walking before work and found I could easily do 3 miles in the morning.  And then I decided that I'd do 3 miles in the morning and "finish my walk" after work with another mile.  And then I decided that I'd "finish my walk" after work every day with 2 miles.

And then.

And then.

Little by little, I continued to add challenges for myself.  I added jogging.  I added biking.  I found I liked pushing myself to do and be more.  Through all of this, I paid little to no attention to my weight.  I was proud of being happy with who I was and was unwilling to cling to a number on a scale to validate my happiness.  This past January, after over 300 weeks of exercising (yes, I continue to draw happy little stick figures on my calendar every day I exercise...as I have since I first started those little walks.  If you're curious, this week was Week 331.), I decided to buy a scale to see how changing some food habits would affect my weight.

Since then, I've lost 45 pounds (turns out, there were definitely some things needing some tweaking in my eating habits).  I have not fad-dieted.  I've simply tracked my food intake and worked at eating real food.  Whole grains, fresh produce, meals from scratch.  I still eat sugar/dessert, but I'm careful about when and how much.

So, why do I share all of this?  Perhaps it's because I like to believe that I am living proof that small steps can yield incredible strides forward.  I am 100% positive that anyone can do this.  No personal trainer.  I didn't join a gym until 8 months ago and then it was because I was tired of exercising in the freezing cold and ice.  In 2005, I had no way of knowing what my life would look like in 2012.  Almost having a PhD?  100 pounds lighter?  Jogging for 4 miles?  Living in Nebraska?  No way.

So, Katy v. 2005: props to you, my friend.   You are pretty stinking amazing.

May the awesomeness continue.  Forever and always.  :-)

Two peas

This week my Dad has been building a chicken coop for his 85-year-old father.  Grandma came home with a batch of chickens and so one might think the coop is for her and her chickens, but no.

Grandpa is in charge of fetching the eggs.  Before the chicken house went up, the hens were roosting in the doghouse, in the goat pen, behind a line of chicken wire.  Grandma nor Grandpa seemed to find any issue with Grandpa, at 85, having to crawl on his hands and knees under the wire and chicken poo to get to the eggs.  And so my Dad (and Uncle) built them a fancy chicken coop, with a door and a window, neither of which require army-crawling in the mud in order to gather the eggs.  I assure you, the chicken coop is for Grandpa.

These two have a long history together.  I went to admire the new coop and happened to catch them taking a break on the swings.  

Despite a history which has included a difficult start and a difficult middle, they are two peas in a pod now.  As I grew older and learned some of their history, it was hard for me to reconcile the kind and gentle grandfather I knew with the tumult of his past.  I am grateful for who he has decided to become.

But I think I am more grateful for a father who made a conscious choice (and I believe it was a conscious choice) to not be embittered by an early life that was far less than ideal.  He made a conscious choice (and I believe he succeeded) to create a different experience for his own children.  His is a very powerful example of forgiving and forgetting.  And I do believe he, his father, and we are all the better for it.

(And the picture just makes me smile.)

Midsummer's Day!

Have you ever heard of this book before?

The Twenty-Fourth of June, by Grace S. Richmond.  This was a favorite of my mom's she pulled from her grandfather's bookshelf when she was a girl and she passed along a copy to each of her children in turn.  It is a fantastic little love story with a spunky heroine, cleverly written, and one that I have read repeatedly over the years.  My favorite thing to do is to read it such that I have reached the climax of the book on the literal 24th of June which, if you've read the book, you'll know is none other than Midsummer's Day.  It is a date on which the story hinges.  Delightfully.

I love sharing and asking about others' favorite books of all time.  This is one of mine.  While I find this book charming, funny, and utterly delightful, it has been met with some criticism by those who've borrowed it after learning it was a favorite of mine.  One girl even mockingly reenacted a scene upon its return.  I kind of wanted to snatch the book out of her hands so it couldn't hear her disparaging words.  (Books have feelings, right?)

To be fair, I have read the favorite books of others and wondered, "Really??  This Nicholas Sparks book is your all-time favorite book...ever??"  I hope that despite my own opinions, I have not openly mocked the choice of others in their (and their book's) presence.  Everyone is entitled to their own favorite books.  I wonder what your favorite books say about you. It seems that often my favorite books depict characters with traits I aspire to have and/or who I imagine myself to be deep down without the realities of self-doubt and worry getting in the way.  The Blue Castle by L.M. Montgomery, The Anne Series, by L.M. Montgomery, The Harry Potter Series, by J.K. Rowling, The Book Thief, by Marcus Zusak, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, by Jonathan Safran Foer, The Count of Monte Cristo, by Alexandre Dumas, The Hiding Place, by Corrie Ten Boom.  Oh, there are so many more.

I love good books. 

Anyway, today is the 24th of June.  I never fail to think about this particular favorite book of mine on this particular day.  This June, this obnoxious dissertation of mine got in the way of my being able to read it.  When things settle down a bit, perhaps I will go ahead and read it anyhow.  Or, I will wait until next summer when I will, God-willing, have earned this little PhD of mine, presumably have oodles of time on my hands and can enjoy the tale all over again.

If you're interested, check it out.  Please don't judge me too harshly if you find it "ridiculous", "cheesy", or "completely unrealistic" (the words that were used to describe it by the mocker).  I prefer "idyllic", "charming", and "delightful".  

What are your favorites?  Someday (soon, I hope), I will need some new good books to delve into.  I need to start my wish list.

And in the meantime, Happy Midsummer's Day!

On cleaning my mother's bathroom

My mom has multiple sclerosis.  I've learned a lot about MS in the last couple of years since she received her diagnosis.  While the internet has provided a realm of information related to the course of MS, watching her has provided a much more educational witness of its impact.

I have watched as her body begins to withhold its response to her commands.

I have listened to her frustration as her incredible (and infamous) willpower to accomplish anything and everything has no control over a disease that scoffs at determination.

I have marveled as she audibly thanks The Lord every time she drops something on the floor for the privilege of picking it up because, "Thou knowest I would never make myself get down on the floor were it not for picking up this spoon/marble/newspaper."

I have mourned the loss of her meticulous handwriting to a disease that forces wriggles into the loops of her B's and O's.  With every carefully penned note I receive, I can feel the effort it took to override the unforgiving rigidity she faces.

I am trying not to detest this disease that is moving far faster than we had hoped for her. But, so it goes.

For most of my adult life, I have wondered how on earth I could begin to convey the gratitude I feel to her (and my dad) for the teaching/patience/love/time they've so selflessly given to me throughout my life.  I'm not sure I will ever be able to delude myself into thinking I (or anybody) can actually do it.  But, perhaps I've had a glimpse.  Over the holidays, I traveled 1500 miles home to see and be with my family.  My mom has a gift for grit and would be content for us to not know how hard things can be for her.  But, she did not raise stupid children.

My parents have one bathroom in their delightful old house.  It is compact and filled with nooks and corners.  While it is beautiful, quaint and charming, someone with limited mobility and stretch would have difficulty reaching all of its corners.

I spent a morning cleaning that bathroom from top to bottom, just because.  I scrubbed with an intensity I don't often muster in my own household cleaning efforts.  Perhaps it's because I worry about time, not enough of it, in a way I didn't used to.  Perhaps it's because I could see exactly how far back behind the tub/toilet/sink on the linoleum she could reach on her own.  Perhaps it's because I believe that to love is to serve.  I don't know.  All I know is that I would clean 700 bathrooms for her, if I thought she needed it.  I can never repay her for what she has given me.  But, I can clean her bathroom.

(Mom and I, November 2010.  When she nearly gave me a heart attack because she wouldn't take my arm while walking down 100 bleacher steps in the Nebraska football stadium.  Determined, determined woman.  :-)...)

Tidbits

First up.  No, we have not done anything yet with the pile o' mini-propane tanks on our deck.  Well, except add one more propane tank.  We'll figure it out yet...

Secondly, can I just say again, I'm a fan of Pinterest.  I went to a get-together with some friends last weekend and knew I wanted to make this little army of penguins I saw a few weeks back..

 Aren't they adorable?

 I think my favorite part is saving them 'til the end of the meal...they stoically stand guard as I consume morsel after morsel until...finally...I snarf a penguin while the last little penguin watches.  I wonder what he's thinking.

 "Don't eat me.  Take him instead."

Thirdly, I wanted to share this little video I saw this morning.  I love this kid.  And I love his dad, too.  So glad to know this kind of AMAZING creative play is still alive and well in a world full of video games and computers.  Enjoy.

Get the fun pass.  Always.

It was time...

So, here in Nebraska, we've been having AMAZING weather.  

(Eating lunch on a grassy knoll on Friday.  Aaahhh....)

I can't decide if it feels so amazing because it feels as though winter is done for good or if it's simply because it is currently warm in Nebraska without being humid.  The humidity packs a wollop in these here parts and perhaps we're all just basking in the sun on these warm, warm days without the irritation of feeling constantly sticky.  Whatever the case, the weather has been awesome.

And, as we all know, that means barbecue time.

A few years ago, I bought a rinkydink little portable grill.  You know, the kind you have to squat down beside while you check your burger for doneness.  Many a shish kabob, burger, steak, garden burger, pizza, and asparagus spear has been flamed there.  And the people rejoiced.  Always.

With the onset of the beautiful weather, it was time to fire up the old grill.  I slapped that burger on and threw some asparagus on for good measure.  When I attempted to use the tongs to retrieve an asparagus spear that was falling through the grate - something unexpected, and disturbing, happened.

The metal plate fell to pieces, y'all.  Let me repeat.  The metal plate fell to pieces.  I didn't know that was possible.

 (Do you see our predicament there?  That splintered section in the middle?  Yeah, that's supposed to be intact and flat.  Houston, we have a problem.)

Considering it is likely a significant health hazard to be eating food that is being fired from a pile of aluminum, it was time for a new grill.

And this time they had a red one!

Tonight was her inaugural run.  She did awesome.  No flakes of metal in the asparagus or the salmon burger.  YUM.

Please note the pile of empty propane tanks.  We have about 8 now and have no idea what to do with them.  I'm guessing it would be a bad idea to throw them in the dumpster at our apartment complex.  Any suggestions?

Or, we could just forever add to the collection.

Observations

Tonight I have a smattering of observations floating around my mind.  They are unrelated and haphazard, but so is my brain most of the time so it's an accurate rendering of what's going on of late.  That said, let the observations begin!

Observation #1. I recently started my 29th semester of college.  Long about the time I was stressing over yet another Finals week in December, I suddenly wondered how many times I had faced the daunting-ness of proving my knowledge for yet another set of professors.  So, I counted.  Twenty-nine semesters.  I haven't yet decided if I find this revelation disturbing or amazing.  It is a good thing that I enjoy school, 'cause if I didn't - I'd have spent a lot of time doing something I dislike.  And, as we know, life is too short to do that.

Observation #2.  My mom has Nutella in her pantry and in her food storage.  

Oh, Nutella.  Be still, my heart.

While I was home between semesters, I indulged in said Nutella and was reminded why it is on the no-can-buy list at my house.  I love Nutella.  Love. It.  Someone once asked me, "But, what do you put it on?"  Um...a spoon.  YUM.  Incidentally, something else on the no-can-buy list? Mint oreos.  They say that too much of something will make you dislike it.  I have yet to find that threshold with either Nutella or mint oreos.  Hence, the no-can-buy list.

Observation #3. I was recently introduced to a fantastic little BBC Masterpiece Classics series called Downton Abbey.  

 It came highly recommended to me via several reputable sources, including my sister.  From episode 1, I was totally hooked to this story that chronicles the upstairs/downstairs livelihood of a British Manor in the early 1900's.    As I have watched this series, I find that I identify far more with The Help serving the aristocratic family than the Masters and Ladies that lord over all.  It has made me wonder if I am the only one that seems to intuitively know which social class I would likely have been in, were I living out the reality of Downton Abbey.  

On a semi-related note, I don't ever remember pretending to be a Princess or a Queen when I was a little girl.  My pretend play consisted almost exclusively of scenarios that involved me, as an orphan usually, in some dire situation that may or may not have included the hard-knock orphanage life, having to fend for myself in the wilderness with my siblings, or a really strict boarding school (I was kind of a strange little kid, I fear...). Is there a relationship between who I identify with in an aristocratic society and my constantly pretending to be an orphan as a child? Who knows, but as a scientist-in-training, I can't help but feel the need to draw connections between things.  Forgive me.

Mr. Bates and Anna - fabulous characters...

Observation #4.  Speaking of princesses, have you ever played the game Pretty, Pretty Princess?  The whole objective of the game is to earn jewelry and a crown to wear so that you, too, can dress like a princess.  I have a 3-year-old niece who is totally into Princesses and, let's just say, this game truly made all of her dreams come true. 

One very pretty, pretty princess.

On New Year's Eve, we played this game together no less than 37 times and she was thrilled every. single. time.  It was, in short, a fabulous New Year's Eve.

Observation #5.  Speaking of dreams coming true - I know they actually do.  Let me tell you of my evidence of this.  For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to be in and/or direct a whistling choir.  It just sounds like so much fun!  This Christmas, it happened.  Behold, the evidence. 

Note that none of us are looking at each other.  This is intentional.  Because when you look at each other, it is very difficult not to laugh.  And laughing and whistling cannot happen at the same time.  Just sayin'.

It was everything I imagined it to be which is, to say, AWESOME.  I can't wait to do it again.

Observation #6. I mentioned once upon a time that I love going to festivals.  While I have been privileged to play outsider at a number of festivals with people who were not my people (The International Accordion Festival, Renaissance Faires, etc), over the holidays I had the amazing experience of going to a "festival" where I  was one of the in-crowd: The Sound of Music Singalong.  While it wasn't a formal festival per se, it was a place where I, in my shameless knowledge of all things Sound of Music, was celebrated.  I felt such camaraderie with 2,000 of my closest friends who love The Sound of Music as much as I do as we sang to our hearts content, hissed at the Baroness Von Schraeder, and "ahhhhhh'd" everytime Gretl said anything. It was incredible.  I would go again, in a heartbeat.

Observation #7.  A couple of months ago, I joined a gym for the first time ever.  I have long had a general repulsion to exercising with people (I just don't like public displays of pseudo-athleticism) and have much preferred my steady habit of solo trail-walking/jogging that I have maintained for several years.  Perhaps the sub-zero Nebraska winters are finally getting to me and/or perhaps it was the bruised ribs I suffered after falling on the ice two winters ago, but something finally nudged me into coming up with an alternative to my trail-walking/jogging exercise program when the weather does not cooperate.  So, I joined a gym.  A rinky-dink $10/month gym that has a smattering of treadmills, ellipticals, bikes, and weights.  I could never have predicted that I would actually enjoy it.  Wonders never cease, my friends.  I don't even know who I am anymore.

Observation #8.  I got a Sonicare toothbrush as a gift last summer from my parents.  Every once in awhile, I forget to charge it back up and the battery runs out and I have to use a regular toothbrush.  It is always a sad day.  My teeth just do not feel as clean. 

Observation #9.  I have shared an apartment with my current roommate for two and a half years now.  When the holidays rolled around for the first time after we moved in, we hung Christmas lights all around the living room.  It was very festive and very Christmas-y.

Christmas-y.

We have never taken them down.  Sometime over this past summer, half the lights went out and no amount of bulb-checking could revive them.  When Christmas rolled around, we replaced the lights.  Two days ago, the other half of the lights went out.  Sheesh.

Observation #10.  A week before I left to fly home for the holidays in December, I began to notice something was awry with my left ear.  To make a very long story short, three visits to the campus health center later with no diagnosis followed by a burst eardrum, I headed home.  With continued pain and loss of hearing in that ear, I saw an ear doctor at home and learned I had a fungus in my ear, y'all.  Two rounds of ear drops later, all was well.  But, I cannot deny that even now, I'll feel a tingling in my ear and get the heebiejeebies all over again.  I had a fungus IN MY EAR.  Still totally grosses me out.  

(I googled "ear fungus" pictures to have a visual aid, but opted to forego the image so that you will all be able to sleep at night.  You're welcome.)

End of observations.