Monthly Archives: October 2016

Social Issues, Uncategorized

Extra-Medium and Proud of It

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Many years ago, I worked with a man named Ray who was one of those quiet people who is also quietly hilarious – you just had to pay attention. Anyway, Ray was just an average sized guy. When we ordered new uniform shirts or whatever, Ray’s response to the size he needed was always, “extra-medium.” All the other sizes got special treatment; so, why shouldn’t medium?

Oddly enough, I think about Ray often when I’m out ordering coffee. It seems that “medium” has become something of a personna non grata these days, or, I suppose a verbo non grata (verbo non grato? Ms Rogers would be appalled at how little Latin I remember.) Anyway, don’t nobody call nothing medium anymore.coffee-sizes

It’s like the concept of medium indicates some kind of indecision, some kind of commitment failure on the part of the person ordering. In fact, this morning, I was out for coffee and the barista asked me twice if I really wanted a medium. If I had ordered a small, she might have thought that I was watching my girlish (guffaw) figure. If I had ordered a large, she might have thought that I really loved coffee. But, I did neither. I ordered a medium. What’s she supposed to do with that?! How is she supposed to know what kind of person I am if I order stuff that middle of the road?!

But, you know what? I am often a middle-of-the-road kind of person. I really do believe in live and let live, for the most part – you know, as long as no one person is harming another. And that attitude gets me more sidelong glances than I think it should.

For instance, I was recently involved in a political discussion (something I generally try to avoid) in which, I pointed out the utter ridiculousness of a comment made by a supporter of a particular candidate – a supporter, mind you, not the candidate themselves. The comment was taking President Obama to task for being at a party during the 9/11 attacks and for staying at the party even after he heard about them. Ummmmm. Clearly, the comment was made in ignorance. There’s just no way to defend that.

However, someone did. He responded like I had attacked his candidate and like if he were to agree with me that the comment was ignorant, he would be being disloyal to his candidate. He seemed to think that he had to support every facet of his candidate and his candidate’s other supporters or he was against them.

And I believe that is dangerous – regardless of which candidate you support.

If we believe in anyone or anything to the point that we are afraid to question it, I believe that is dangerous – even when it comes to religious beliefs. If you can’t question a belief of any kind, then how can you truly defend it? And if you can’t defend it, then do you really understand your “belief” enough to say that you actively believe it or is your “belief’ more of a habit or an heirloom?

To truly know that we believe something, I think that we have to be able to acknowledge its weaknesses or, if it’s a religion and cannot have weaknesses, then its tenets that may be perceived to be weaknesses. For example, I grew up Presbyterian and was once debating the Calvinist theology with a Buddhist friend. She was shocked when my speech was peppered with, “I can see how you would disagree with me; but, I believe because….” I understood my belief system and chose to believe it, not by default, but by active choice.

Still, there were (and are) those who would see my stance as being very middle-of-the-road and uncommitted – very extra-medium, if you will.

Well, in that case, extra-medium fits me just fine.

General Health, Thought Patterns

Child’s Play

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I grew up in Brookhaven, MS, about two hours south of where my maternal grandparents lived in Winona and about four hours south of where my paternal grandparents lived near Memphis. Christmas day at our house began REALLY early, with my sister waking first (always), sending me into the living room to see if Santa had been there, then both of us charging into our parents’ room to bring them the glad tidings that loot abounded down the hall! (Mother told me years later that, often, she and Dad had just gotten back into bed when they would hear our feet hit the floor.) After playing with our new treasures and having a little breakfast, we would pack up into the car heading for Mamaw and Papaw’s first, then to Nannie and Pop’s. Each of us were allowed to bring one new toy for the trip.

red-tricycleFor my second or third Christmas, I got a red tricycle. It was fabulous and it was the obvious choice to make the trip north. It stayed in the car for our stop at Mamaw’s, but, because we spent several days with Nannie and Pop, it came out of the car at their farm. (It had been a farm when they bought the place; so, even though they didn’t grow crops or raise livestock, it remained The Farm.) Anyway, although this shiny new three-wheeler came out of the car, Mother said that I was not allowed to ride it inside the converted barn that was my grandparents’ house.

However, in our family, like all families, there was a hierarchy where grandfathers trump mothers. And Pop said I could ride it in the house. I still remember Mother fussing at me and me taking her to Pop so that she could hear for herself that he had given the green light to my ankle-biter grand prix.

Oh! The glory of being able to ride my tricycle inside! In spite of having Pop’s permission, I felt like I was getting away with something.

Fast forward 47 years and I have my first cast. For at least a month I will be sporting this giant pink thing on my left foot. My first days on crutches were just miserable. I flailed around. I fell. And they hurt my ribs. I was miserable and not reluctant to say so. My cousin Jeanna recommended that I get a knee scooter. She said that it had made all the difference when her son Drew was recovering from ankle surgery. So, I rented one.

Oh! The glory of being able to ride my scooter inside!

I took it with me to run some errands and, in no time, I was zipping around Home Depot, Kroger, the library, and Lowe’s, where a man told me to be sure to obey the speed limit and where (like the consummate adult that I am) I stuck my tongue out at a jealous toddler.

Of course, I would rather have a healthy foot and, if the doctor is right, in a few weeks I will have one; but, for now, I have choices to make. Am I irritated because I have a 47 pound cast or am I grateful that I’m not in constant pain? Am I angry that I cannot work or do I take this time of forced inactivity to learn something new? Am I annoyed that getting around is much more difficult than usual or do I find ways to enjoy being able to get around at all?

Naturally, I’m doing my usual Pollyanna Glad Game thing! I’m thrilled that I’m not in constant pain and I’m learning how to make Excel do some neat things that I need it to do. I’m generally healthy. I have a good job and, truly, I have nothing to complain about. So, I’m going to take these weeks to do some self-improvement.

But first, I’m going to take my scooter back to Lowe’s and take a spin around the plumbing department!

 

 

 

 

Food

It Was There All Along

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Actual exchange with a coworker in September:

Him: It was in the last place you looked, wasn’t it?

Me: Of course it was, why would I keep looking after I found it?

Duh.

When you lay it out like that, it sounds kind of ridiculous – why would you keep looking for something once you’ve found it? You wouldn’t.

Except that we do.

key-in-the-sandWe do it all the time – in jobs and often even in mates. The grass is always greener, right? During the Great Reduction, I found a formula that worked for me. It was the same old formula that good doctors have been espousing for decades – make healthful food choices and get at least moderate exercise.

So why am I still tempted by all those get-thin-quick schemes?!

Because I want someone else to do the work for me, of course!

Folks, we’ve established (or at least I have) that it just doesn’t work that way. If I want the rewards, I have to do the work and, make no mistake, making big lifestyle changes is work. Although I tend to be a hard worker, I can also be quite the Tom Sawyer, looking for easier ways or for others to do the work for me – looking for greener pastures.

Well, friends, when it comes to making healthful choices, the only greener pastures that will get me where I want to go are in the produce section, right where they’ve been all along.

Food

Stracciatella Myself No

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As I said on Friday, I watched the movie Fat to Finish Line on Thursday night. In addition to reminding me that it is really all about getting up after you’ve fallen, the movie reminded me that lifestyle changes don’t have to happen all at once. It’s not an all or nothing thing.

I  knew this…..once. But I’d forgotten.

Last week was my first on a medical leave of absence that will continue for at least the next three weeks. I can’t even tell you the last time I had a full week off; so, I treated last week like a vacation – well, a staycation. A for-real staycation, like I stayed inside my house almost the whole time. I napped. I watched movies. I fussed about being cooped up. I complained about trying to walk with crutches. Then, because I got tired of my own cranky self, I napped some more. I didn’t try to eat right and I exercised only a little.

This week, vacation is over.

I went to the library and got books to teach myself to become an Excel wizard. My friend Sean has come up with an exercise routine for me that keeps me off my foot. For the next three weeks, my job is to learn and get stronger. To help me do both of those things, I must eat better.

That doesn’t mean that I’m going to eat nothing but salads, twigs and bark, though. I can’t do that. If I go completely off like that, I’ll lose what is left of my mind. I’m beginning with baby steps regarding my food changes. The step for this week is to eat no more ice cream – no more frozen desserts of any kind.

Although my system has always rejected cow’s milk, I truly love ice cream. And when I say that no one understands disappointment as well as Ben and Jerry do, I’m only half kidding – maybe not even half. If I ever own a chocolate lab, I’m naming it Häagen-Dazs. One of the first words I learned when visiting Italy was stracciatella (the gelato pictured temptingly above). Unless you offer me mint chocolate chip, I will eat any ice cream flavor you have – including red bean. (Hush. I had it at a Japanese restaurant once and it’s better than it sounds.) I love ice cream.

But, I’ve got to start somewhere; so, that’s it. Until Thanksgiving day, no more ice cream for me. I’m taking control again – one little thing at a time.

…….pay no attention to the whimpering.