And so it goes on – winter. The cold and snow can keep you homebound. Gray skies, when they don’t get the memo that enough is enough, can make you gloomy. Christmas is over and sparkly decorations are put away. Every other week it seems some new strain of crud is going around and doing its best to cancel events or make you wish they were canceled.
Then, those post-holiday bills arrive to remind us once again that next year the spending limit ought to be reduced. Boosted by this bit of cheer, you hop online and print out your tax forms. Since you haven’t filled them out yet, you try to bask in a little ray of sunshine with the optimistic thought that perhaps, this time, Uncle Sam may have caught on to the idea that it is more blessed to give than to receive.
Around here, Smuffy has always been the one to see the glass as half empty while I typically view it as half-full. I have to admit, though, that gray days spent with tax forms can take their toll on me. Sometimes, you just need a reminder or a little jolt to alter your outlook. I got one last week.
As is my habit, I watched the Trim Healthy Podcast (affectionately referred to by us THMers as “The Poddy”) on YouTube. Sometimes it’s full of rock-solid science to boost your health and well-being. Sometimes, it’s full of rabbit trails that provide the silliness that you may be lacking in your life and sometimes it provides a level of encouragement that will rock your world.
I love it when there’s science behind encouraging things! Near the beginning of the podcast, Serene shared that studies have shown that in order to create a synapse in the brain where you know a thing – really know it and you’re not going to forget it – it takes 400 repetitions of the information. However, if you are laughing and playing while learning it, the process only requires 12 repetitions! P-L-A-Y is the four-letter word that can change everything. They went on to share many ways their mom incorporated play and ways they feel like they’ve lost their sense of play and want to get it back again.
Just think of it – how many times did you labor over those multiplication tables until they finally got in your head, but then heard some silly TV theme song around that same age only a handful of times, yet you can still sing it word-for-word today? Are you maybe just a bit too grown up for your own good?
Why do you consider cleaning house or preparing meals for your family some type of drudgery when, as a child, you had hours and hours of fun with a toy cooking set and thought it was great when you got your own little broom and dustpan for Christmas or birthday. I think of our Lil’ Snookie and his love affair with all things lawn care. His excitement over toy mowers, leaf blowers and weed eaters knows no bounds and his mommy and daddy will be delighted if this attitude continues for many more years!
Smuffy and I discussed the podcast and agreed that we needed to tackle all the everyday stuff with an attitude of fun and play. It takes a little effort at times. He’s been having his share of issues lately that all seem to revolve around vehicles needing repair and I am in the middle of edits on the first novel in my upcoming series. We’re trying to remind each other that we’re having fun.
Some days you succeed. Some days you don’t. After a mad search through a cupboard the other day that resulted in what sounded like three quarters of the contents landing on the floor, he finally found what he’d been looking for, but looked a bit out of sorts when he came into the room where I sat. I tried to remind him that not only did he find it, but he had fun looking for it. He promptly informed me that he did not have fun looking for it. But we did laugh.
Famous industrial engineer and efficiency expert, Frank Bunker Gilbreath, always thought of innovative ways to help his twelve children learn. The family always rented the same big, old lighthouse for summer vacations and no one really cared whether it was kept pristine. He would write all over the walls in Morse code and tell his children to figure out what the messages said. He would likely have been a frustrated teacher if he had not written such things as, “The candy bar is in the top left desk drawer.” In no time at all his children were challenging themselves to learn the code because they never knew what fun or prize might be in store.
Lil’ Snookie’s presence is a great reminder for us to P-L-A-Y! You can see in the top photo that he’s excited about putting on the apron over his jammies and fixing food for everybody! Give him a watering can and he’ll do his best, even if in reality he’s about a thousand cans short. The middle photo was more of a safari (apologies for quality as I snapped it through the porch screen). He asked if he could go out in the yard because he wanted to find a big stick and look for a lizard hole, after which he would insert the stick and then bend down over the hole and shout, “Hallooooo!” Someday, he may consider that to be frustrating or fruitless, especially if the lizard doesn’t answer, but right now, it’s P-L-A-Y!
I’ve learned to approach cooking healthy meals for my family with a sense of learning, adventure and play. It has made all the difference! Now, I just need to find out how to play with these tax forms.
If it’s snowy, make snow angels or at least watch someone else doing it. Put out some cute decorations for winter or Valentine’s Day, or start making homemade Valentines now. If the day is gloomy, try new soup recipes, play games with the kiddos or watch a funny movie. Call a friend who’s recovering from the crud and spread some cheer. Challenge yourself to cranking out those tax forms with some fun reward when it’s all over.
Now, didn’t that “Help”? Let’s push on with better grammar…
I fully disclose that as a Certified Lifestyle CoachI do, at times, receive monetary compensation as such. See The Fine Print on the “About Me” page of this blog.
I first shared these thoughts a few years ago, but I’ve decided it’s time to revisit this bit of common sense and encouragement.
I first thought to name this page of my blog “Stayin’ Alive!” Love those Bee Gees! Besides, if one doesn’t accomplish at least this much in regards to one’s health, all other attempts are pretty much useless, if you get my drift.
I soon ditched that idea. There’s more to life than stayin’ alive! What’s the point of being here if your quality of life stinks? I decided on “Thrive!”
I got serious about my health during pregnancy. Up until that point, I’d stuck strictly to the See Food Diet. If I saw it, I ate it. Tall and slim, it never seemed to affect me. My dad once told me, as he watched me eat, that someday I’d stop growing up and start growing out and then be sorry about my appetite! I ate three square meals a day – big ones! No one had better leave a box of doughnuts anywhere near me.
But now, I knew that whatever I fed myself, I also fed the baby. Yikes! I spent a lot of time at the library. The baby came (all eight pounds and three ounces of her) along with an epiphany. I needed to keep her healthy till adulthood. And, (DUH!) why feed my child one way and myself another? The adult population seemed to be made up of a bunch of sick people, anyway.
I recently read of an umbilical cord study which showed that a couple of hundred toxins were detected in the cords and the samples were not taken from moms who were addicted to drugs or alcohol or had experienced anything most people would consider hazardous. They were only moms who used foods, shampoos and body products that most in our society walk into stores and buy without batting an eyelash.
Take a look at this photo. Note your first impression.
That’s the image that came to me. We can’t run on bad fuel! Yet, we live in a country where no one seems to grasp the concept. Or, if they do, they don’t care!
Can you imagine? Your friend Gwendolyn tells you that she hates the smell of gasoline, dislikes waiting in line at the service station and once even dribbled gasoline into her brand new shoes. She’s switching. From now on, she’ll run her car on lemonade. She likes lemonade. Tastes better, smells better and isn’t quite so icky between the toes.
You stifle a snort of laughter and get down to business. Somebody’s gotta talk Gwennie out of this madness. Doesn’t she know she’ll ruin a valuable machine with a crazy notion like that?
Gwendolyn won’t listen. Her plan is good for her, she insists. She leaves. You call several friends. After howling with laughter over Gwendolyn’s stupidity, some compassionate soul in the group says, “Listen! Don’t you think we ought to call her mother or somebody? I mean, somebody’s gotta stop her!”
I gave myself a “talkin’ to”. It went something like this: “You are kind to yourself. You are smart enough to learn. You are important to your family and you need to be the best you can be.”
Poor Smuffy went kicking and screaming all the way, suffering through strange herbs drying on the kitchen counter, whole wheat everything and tinctures galore. He told me once that the thing that kept him healthy was positive confession. Each time he’d cough or sniffle, I’d come running with some form of what he termed “stump water” and he’d call out, “I’m okay. I’m OKAY!”
Despite my efforts, I got that call from the doctor nobody wants – a cancer diagnosis. I’d studied various aspects of health, but hadn’t paid much attention to what may open the doors to cancer. I had no family history and besides, I ate good stuff! With my terrific appetite, I ate the good stuff and had room left over for some of the bad stuff.
People told me I was too young for cancer. I asked myself, “How old is old enough?” The answer, I concluded, was NEVER! After surgery, I endured chemo and radiation as “insurance”, more or less, according to the doctors. I’m sure there will be a future blog post on that nasty little interlude.
People like me are called “survivors”. I rejected that term from the beginning. It left me with an image of someone emerging from a jungle – burned, bitten, half-naked and hunted – running for a lifeboat that may or may not spring a leak. By the grace of God, I’m a WINNER! I am kind to myself. I am smart enough to learn. I am important to God and my family! I’m going to thrive!
I’ve learned much over the years, and it has turned my health around. In blog posts here on my Food Freedom page, you’ll be receiving a lot of great health information to chew on so that you can make your own decisions and take charge of your health. I am not your doctor and don’t pretend to be, but only hope to share helpful information. You’re smart enough to do your own research. You may see a few posts with some foods that contain ingredients that I’ve eliminated from my diet as I’ve grown wiser and learned what the real “frankenfoods” are. I’ll be editing those to help you out as much as I can.
So…about your reaction to the photo. Did you want to scream, “Stop, you idiot!”? Yet, we, almost never stop friends when it comes to food. Cars can be replaced. You only get one body. Why treat the finest, most intricately-designed, valuable piece of machinery ever invented – the human body – as though it were disposable?
Since the purpose of Midwest Storyteller is to take you to a better place, I want to share what I did as a first step. I gave up soda. Why pollute my body with a non-food item? A sugary soda has as many calories as a full meal. (Sorry, but I’d rather have food.) Artificially sweetened, it’s dangerous stuff, and I want to thrive! It’s been decades since I’ve had a soda. I don’t miss it. I do enjoy, however, Stayin’ Alive!
Americans have a big problem. Take a look at this aisle in my local grocery store.
That’s an entire aisle! All soda! They don’t devote this much space to bread, meat, cheese, etc. Yes, America has a problem, but you don’t have to. We can’t fuel up on junk because we feel like it or because, like Mount Everest, it’s there. We are as capable of making the right choices with our bodies as we are with our cars.
Okay, enough tough love. I believe in you. You are kind to yourself. You are smart enough to listen to the “real you”. You are important to God and your family.
You are also strong! Here’s the challenge: Choose one thing – just one – and take that step. Stick with it for thirty days. Whether it is to give up soda, lay off the sugar, exercise for 20-30 minutes three times a week or get more sleep, you can do it! (That last one is a personal struggle of mine if you came here for true confessions.)
Since I first shared this idea with you, I’ve been introduced to the common sense, sustainable world of Trim Healthy Mama. After a couple of years reveling in not having to exclude any food groups (except for “frankenfood”), enjoying hearty fat-based meals, satisfying my muscles and hormones with carb-based meals and learning how to make yummy desserts while kicking sugar to the curb, I became a Certified Lifestyle Coach. Ooh, did I mention that I lost that last annoying ten pounds I thought I’d never lose without constantly listening to my tummy growl? The Trim Healthy lifestyle is something you can definitely do all on your own and I’d recommend that you start with the book, The Trim Healthy Mama Plan and begin your journey. It’s written so anyone can understand the science of “why” and without that, we all lose motivation.
If you do decide you’re better off not going it alone, contact me. I’m happy to coach you privately in person or by phone and if you’re within driving distance at our local weekly group sessions.
Comment, letting me know you’ve chosen one way to live a better life. Or, share something you’ve already done that might encourage others. In thirty days, comment again, letting me know that you’re not only Stayin’ Alive, but determined to Thrive!
SUBSCRIBE, because it won’t be long before I throw myself a little online party, celebrating the twenty-four years that stretch between me and that cancer diagnosis.
All the songs tell us that we should be delirious with happiness right now. All the street lights should look like strings of lights and even the stop lights ought to be reminding us of ornaments as they blink a bright red and green. With people passing and children laughing, we should be meeting smile after smile and every jingle or jangle we hear should be the sweet sound of silver bells.
I love Christmas. My mom loved Christmas. She knew how to make something out of nothing and take joy in what she did have and set aside any thoughts about what she didn’t have. I love surprises and gift giving and if there’s one thing in life right now that has raised the joy in that, it is having our little Snookie. At almost two years old, he’s all wonder and happiness. Together, he and I have been making Christmas cards for him to give to his special people and when he “paints” with his markers, he is purposeful and pleased and understands that he’s making a beautiful thing that will make someone smile.
There are, of course, some of you who are having trouble mustering up a smile. Perhaps it is for good reason. There’s no getting around that for some people Christmas is a reminder of loss or past or present pain. Sometimes it can be fear of loss if illness threatens someone you love. It can also be the absence of someone due to miles or because there’s been a rift that you feel helpless to repair.
Whether you are decorating your heart out and baking mountains of cookies while the carols play or whether you are struggling, an extra smile can’t hurt, so I’d like to share one of our Christmas smiles with you.
When Pookie arrives each day, she asks me how our day went and how things unfolded with lunch, naptime and Snookie’s mood and behavior (which, by the way, is nearly always wonderful). Then on the drive home, she asks questions to get his version of the day. I had decorated for Christmas and placed the Baby Jesus candle in the room where he naps so that we could light it while we snuggle, sing “Away In a Manger” and talk about Jesus. (Do I need a disclaimer here to say that after he falls asleep I blow out the candle before I leave the room?)
The first day we lit the Baby Jesus candle, it was still fresh in his mind on the drive home. The conversation went like this:
Pookie: Did you have a good day?
Snookie: Candle! Pookie: Did Grandma have a candle? Snookie: Light! Pookie: You lit a candle? Snookie: Jesus! Pookie: Oh! You and Grandma lit the Baby Jesus candle? Snookie: I do. (Always his answer when he’s affirming an action or desire.) Pookie: Did you know Christmas is Baby Jesus’ birthday? Snookie: Cake!!! Pookie: Well, maybe we will have cake for Jesus’ birthday. Snookie: Try Mama.
So, now, though we’ve not had the tradition in the past, Pookie is thinking that maybe a birthday cake is in order for Baby Jesus. And, why not? He is the reason for the celebration after all.
Children and their understanding of Christmas can not only bring us laughter, but bring us back to a place of wonder. If you’ve wandered from your wonder into a place of commercialism, cynicism or down-heartedness, maybe it’s time to pray that your childlike joy returns. I’d love to hear your stories of how the children in your life have understood Christmas, so please leave them in the comments. I’d love to write a post filled entirely with those!
One of my favorites is when my niece was discussing the Christmas story with her mommy. They talked their way through it and when they got to the part about the wise men coming to bring gifts to Jesus, she asked what they tripped over. Now, this puzzled my sister and she asked the reason for the question. My niece gave the obvious answer: “Mommy, it says they fell down and worshiped Him. What did they fall over?”
I hope this has given you a smile. I encourage you, like Snookie, to “try”. Pull out your Bible and read through the portions of the book of Isaiah that promise us hope and tell us that the people walking in darkness have seen a great light. The Light is Jesus and it far outshines the candles we use in symbolism. Go to the New Testament and read the story of Jesus’ birth in the Gospels and ask Him to put that same “Peace on Earth and Good Will Toward Men” in your heart. It’s more than just something to be printed on greeting cards. Or, bake Him a cake!
Take the first step by going in search of the Christ-child. Just try!
Leave your comments with your fun Christmas stories, so we can all share Christmas smiles!
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If you’re in need of a case of the out-and-out giggles, take a journey through my “Laugh” page and also the stories about my “Life With Smuffy”.
It snowed here on October 26th – the first snowfall of the season and a bit jarring for someone like me. I hadn’t even made the switch from Daylight Savings Time yet and that plunge into darkness is bad enough. I have a “love fall/hate winter” thing going on and I like to put the snow event off till Christmas Eve. Make that dusk on Christmas Eve with somewhere between two and four inches. However, I do have to admit there’s beauty in a frozen rose.
Today it was once again so beautiful that I put my ‘Lil Snookie in the stroller and we went for a long walk with not so much as a jacket. I’m soaking up as many of these gems as God grants me before the actual Midwest Winter Nasties set in, unpack their frosty bags and refuse to leave until April except for brief episodes of hiding just to tease.
Recently, at my local writers group, we were challenged to write, on the fly, a story focusing on this time of year. I thought I’d share mine with you today. The prompt brought to mind the emotions that, for me, change with the season.
A nip in the air tells me that it’s changing time. It happens every autumn. For me, it comes as a strange mix – something between a child-like ecstasy and PTSD.
Soon the leaves will change and the inner voice tells me, so must I.
For ten minutes or so, I’ll lose myself in a world of cozy sweaters, chunky jewelry, scarves, boots and jeans. Then, then some random distraction jerks me out of my reverie, my eye catches the strappy patent leather sandals I’ve left near my chair and I want to hug them and beg, “Please, don’t go!”
Each new fall sign brings another urge. “Plant mums!” it says. “What’s wrong with you? Why are there no pumpkins on your porch?” Yet, next to the front steps, my hot pink petunias wave and I wave back, “Please, don’t go!”
I make huge lists. I need to stock up! How squirrels do this without pen, paper and a phone app or two – I have no idea. Herbs, spices, flours, broths, sauces and a bulk bag of chocolate (lest a blizzard set in) are all put on the list. Three or four stores and two or three days later, the shelves are loaded, the checkbook’s been unloaded and I’m starting to calm as I take my tour of the estate and breathe the air that is now crisp. I might be ready for colored leaves now. That is, until my eyes fall upon the rows of pots clustered in the southern flower bed. I feel an only too familiar pang at the sight of basil, parsley, sage, lemongrass and all the others and I stifle the urge to beg them, “Please! Don’t go!”
How can this glory and this vibrancy bring this sadness? Years of experience have proved that winter will pass, but it will pass slowly.
It seems my moods in autumn vary as much as do the many-colored leaves.
How about you, Dear Reader? Do you make a smooth transition into winter or do you curl up and feel as encrusted and weighed down as a rose that droops beneath the weight of unwelcome change?
Science tells us, most unromantically, that it’s merely the chlorophyll’s exit that enables us to see the sugar in the leaves that up until now it’s kept hidden from view. Perhaps that should serve as a great reminder to us to savor the sweetness of each beautiful autumn day and thrive in this beautiful season.
How do you savor your autumn days? Long walks? Special events? Scenic drives? Leave a comment and share your favorite fall activities.
Perhaps you’ve been wondering if Midwest Storyteller has fallen off a cliff or something – but no, what I have been doing is falling in love.
I’ve been a little too preoccupied to think about blogging for the last few weeks because we’ve started off the new year oh, so right!
This 9 pound, 9 ounce bundle of love managed to squeak in at the tail end of 2019, leaving Smuffy and me changed forever. We can’t get enough of staring at that fresh, sweet face and twiddling those precious fingers and toes. And the squeaky little noises and the smiles – don’t be telling us that’s just gas – every one is meant just for us.
We’re new at this grand-parenting thing, but we’re convinced that we’ll have no trouble falling into the groove. This boy is a miracle and his mommy and daddy are amazing us with the the natural way they take to parenting. We knew they had it in them all along!
Look for more at Midwest Storyteller in the days ahead – just as soon as I can tear myself away from the nuzzling and the head kissing.
If your 2020 is as blessed as mine, your world is going to be fabulous!
May you be blessed in each and every day that lies ahead!
That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it. It’s late in the day for me to be saying “Hey there!” to all my readers, but this day has been doubly special and I wanted to share.
For those of you who may not be close enough to hear me shouting from the rooftops for the last five months, I am pleased as punch to announce that I am soon going to be a grandma for the first time! I spent the afternoon at a lovely baby shower for my radiant daughter, watching family and friends bless her and welcome our new little one.
Is that exciting, or WHAT!?
The thing that makes it doubly sweet is that today is also an anniversary for me. No, it’s not the day I married Smuffy.
Twenty years ago, I got that call from the doctor that no one wants. When you hear, “The biopsy does show cancer”, everything shifts. Life is different. I was young. My daughter was not yet fifteen. I was homeschooling and to me it was a calling. Up until then, when I overheard people with health problems saying, “Well, you know, I just take one day at a time”, I thought it was canned conversation – something you say when you don’t know what else to say. Over the next several months, I learned what it meant to take one day at a time – to do what I could when I could and let everything else go.
The world calls us cancer survivors. I refused to adopt that term for myself. In my mind, it forms a picture somewhat similar to someone who has been rescued from months lost in a jungle after a plane crash and crawled back to civilization on their belly and elbows – someone who will never be the same again. By the grace of God and carried on the prayers of family and friends, I came through not as someone battered, scarred and fearful, but as a winner! The enemy that attacked me is defeated and the trophy is mine!
You’ve probably heard it said that the best revenge is a life well lived. What better revenge can I have than to mentor other people with their health and help them to thrive? If I can help someone avoid the path leading to failing health, then I am a success.
Two decades later, I got to glory in this shower welcoming my grandchild rather than…well, you know…the alternative.
So, I sent myself a card because…why shouldn’t I? I couldn’t let this day close without inviting you all to join me in wishing myself a “Happy 20th Healthyversary!”
May you learn, grow and thrive in body mind and spirit! God is good and I am blessed!
You can find more of my story on my Thrive! page and lots of healthy recipes and great healthy tips are always being added to my Food Freedom page.
Today I want to
take a moment to make a confession. I
have fallen in love.
After decades of self-study in the area of health in order to understand my own issues and do the best I can for my family, I have, at last, found a resource that seems to be custom designed for me.
I’ve never struggled with obesity. In fact, aside from a couple of photos of me as a chubby toddler, I spent most of my life in the string bean category. Well, maybe a string bean with hips. That is, until I went through something that is just about the biggest hormone screwer-upper ever – chemotherapy. You can find more about that part of my story here.
As I sat in the
chemo room listening to the others chat, I heard women saying that they’d
gained as much as forty-five pounds during treatments. Forty-five
pounds! The patients and their
care-givers blamed it on the steroid anti-nausea drugs. At that point, I didn’t care as much about
the cause as I did the result. The idea
of that type of weight gain stayed in the forefront of my mind and at the top
of my prayer list for the next four months.
Well, I didn’t
gain forty-five pounds, but I did gain fifteen and in the following years, that
fifteen has tried it’s best to turn into twenty. As is my body’s tendency, it wanted to pack
itself disproportionately below the waist, which may have paid off if I’d lived
during the Renaissance and cared little for my modesty. In those days, there was a demand for those
who would, at artists’ requests, recline on couches with a bunch of grapes in
one hand and a dove perched upon the other.
I tried various diets and joined the well-known support group that counts points. Since points were much simpler to count than calories, this worked for me. In fact, it worked for me two or three times. There seemed to be two issues. They declared that “points are points” and we could consume them in any combination. After a while, I learned that some foods’ points stuck to me like glue while others slipped off effortlessly after a period of over-indulgence. The other issue – and this one bothered me most – was that while this farm girl had been taken off the farm, the farm appetite hadn’t been taken out of the girl. I wanted more food, dagnabbit!
After a prolonged period of stress, Stage 3 Adrenal Fatigue showed up, stayed much longer than I preferred, juggled my hormones even further and, if I may cling to that comparison, dropped all the balls. My holistic M.D., along with treatment, advised a diet that would go easier on the glands and I gave up sugar and most grains.
A couple of years later, a long-time friend of mine lost around thirty pounds. I had to admit that she maintained more joy than anyone I’d ever known on any type of “diet”. She absolutely glowed and was enjoying herself. I asked about it and she told me about Trim Healthy Mama.
Further inquiries
led me to understand that the food on the THM plan was nearly identical to the
recommendations of my doctor. The only thing
– and it seemed such a logical thing – that they recommended to people who wanted
to trim away the pounds would be to separate carbohydrate fuels from fat fuels
at mealtimes.
After toying with
the idea and reading bits and pieces of their plan for a while as I was coming
out of the adrenal struggle, I took their plan and began stepping into it at
the beginning of this year, studying it and putting it into practice one day at
a time. Finally, I have enough food to
eat! I promised to grant myself grace to
go off plan from time to time and to feel no guilt should I decide to go ahead
and use up some off-plan ingredients along the way instead of throwing them
out. I think they’re all gone now (if
you don’t count Smuffy’s cheat stash).
I needed to make friends with a few new special ingredients to help me in separating fuels, being kind to blood sugars and getting the extra protein I needed in my diet. I’ve embraced a lot of new ingredients over the years, so it didn’t rock my world much.
I now have their plan books and cookbooks and since I have a big yard with lots of weeds to pull, have listened to over 130 Trim Healthy Podcasts (or, as we call it in THM Land, “The Poddy”) as of this date. I feel like I’ve completed a crash course in getting to know the authors, Serene and Pearl.
I have lost several
pounds and as my hormones steady themselves further, I’m sure the number on the scale will continue to drop as I
feast on real food and avoid even some of the healthy ones that are known to
spike blood sugars and set off hormonal chain reactions.
In case you haven’t had the realization yet – hormones are everything! Messin’ with those will make you ugly inside and out, if you get my drift.
The best part, or
what is referred to as a “non scale victory”, is that I feel good and do not
feel the slightest hint of deprivation.
In fact, “junk” tastes like junk and I know that’s hard to believe if you’re
still addicted to the SAD. What a
perfect name for the “standard American diet”!
I’ll post more about my journey with Trim Healthy Mama in the future, but today I wanted to share with you some of the great meals and treats I’ve discovered on this plan and give an honest review.
Today, for lunch, I made “Mama’s Famous Meatloaf” (page 157 of the Trim Healthy Cookbook) and topped it with a sauce made from “Trim Healthy Ketchup” (page 482). It had great texture and was moist with good flavor, just as you’d expect from an old-fashioned meatloaf like Grandma used to make. However, we tend to like things with a bit more “zip”, so next time, I’ll probably make it my own by adding a bit more spice. I’m not sure why the topping is more orange than red as I did follow directions, but it was tasty!
The ketchup recipe
can be called a tomatoey sauce, but it is not ketchup to me. However, I had already developed my own
recipe without any refined sugars and it tastes just like Heinz. As soon as
I take the THM one and marry it to mine by having one of my kitchen lab
brainstorms, I’ll post it here on the blog.
What is meat loaf
without mashed potatoes? Well, it’s
fabulous if you serve up “Mashed Fotatoes” (page 264 of the Trim Healthy Table
Cookbook). Who needs all those starches
and carbs? Not me! I’ll never be sorry I left white potatoes
behind after seeing how easy it was to whip of this cauliflower version in the
food processor in a matter of seconds.
I found them
heavenly. Smuffy requests that they have
a little less garlic next time.
Smuffy’s been
growing okra in his garden, so I served it up alongside just the way we like
it. I stir together my own “baking
blend” with equal parts almond flour, golden flax meal and coconut flour. After slicing the okra into half-inch pieces,
I tossed it in about three tablespoons of this mixture and stir fried it in a
skillet I had pre-heated on medium-high heat with a tablespoon of refined
coconut oil and a tablespoon of real butter.
It’s browned and beautiful in no time at all.
All this made a
delicious Satisfying meal. (The THM plan defines “S” meals.)
I struggled with whether to assign this post to my “Thrive!” page because of the health benefits of Trim Healthy Mama, to my “Feed Me” page because it is good food or to my “Reviews” page because I can’t say enough good things about Trim Healthy Mama.
I have tried many recipes from their books and have only found a couple that I considered “duds”. Pearl and Serene, I don’t know what you were thinking. Perhaps they are a hit in Aussie culture, but “Slender Slaw” (page 266, Trim Healthy Table) and “Tzatziki Cucumber Salad” (page 266, Trim Healthy Table) are both odd. Not horrible – just odd – and not a hit at our house.
To give a completely honest review, I must make one negative comment on the cookbooks. Pearl and Serene, I love you, but whomever is compiling your indexes needs to be assigned to a new job. You’ll notice how many flags are protruding from the books in the first photo. That’s because, once you find a recipe, you’re going to have a dickens of a time finding it again, and I know how to use an index. Recipes need to be listed by under categories, by actual name and by featured ingredients. Just sayin’.
I’m loving “Wonder Wraps” (page 251, Trim Healthy Table) and the first recipe I made from this cookbook, “Creamy Garlic Spinach Spaghetti Squash Bake (page 135). That one got me off to a good start and I couldn’t wait to share it with friends. However, the day I attempted to do so tried my soul and you might want to brace yourself before reading about it here.
I have only two
words to say as I prepare to go downstairs and sneak a couple out of the
refrigerator – “Superfood Mounds”, people!
Forget about those candy bars we grew up with. Stir up a batch of these (page 424, Trim
Healthy Table) in a saucepan and get ready for awesomeness! Another super-easy treat is “Two Minute
Truffles” (page 422, Trim Healthy Table).
I’d make extra if I were you and skip dusting them. They are better when smooth.
In case you
haven’t met them, Serene Allison and Pearl Barrett are sisters from “down
under” who have ended up in the hills of Tennessee along with their husbands,
children and extended family. After
writing a book to share with friends and acquaintances who asked them for the
science and “how-to” on how they stay so trim and healthy, they found
themselves on the best-seller list! Now
their sensible, scientific and doable approach is available to us all.
Thanks, Serene and Pearl!
Are you aTrim Healthy Mama? Are you toying with the idea? Never even heard of it? I’d love to chat about it so leave a comment!
What’s all the fuss about eating healthy? We shouldn’t just survive, we should thrive! Check out my Thrive! page. My Feed Me! page offers recipes with free printables. Not every recipe there is THM compatible, but most can be altered to work and I’ll try to make edits in the future to help you with that.
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has something new.
As winter lifts her white robes and moves around the
stage prior to her big exit, the audience here in the Midwest is waving the
back of its hand at her to shoo her behind the curtain and out the stage door
before they give way to applause.
Nevertheless, we cannot deny her beauty at times. She does put on some stunning performances to help us tolerate the bleak tragedies that seem to play out day after frozen, cold day.
When a heavy snow falls, creating an etching from the usual blur of the woods behind our house, we do have to stop and view it as a winter paradise.
Branches laden with heavy snow droop down to display their beauty right at eye level, begging us to take a few moments to notice that they’ve turned to lace.
I hate winter. My preference would be to have beautiful fall colors and jacket weather right up until dusk on Christmas Eve, at which time around two inches of snowfall would blanket the earth, bringing a respectful hush over all creation. Then, just to be fair, I’d allow it to do it’s thing right up until January 2nd and then we’d all go back to sunshine and jackets again.
Though we long for outdoor activities and that roasty-toasty feeling of the sun warming our backs as we bend over new growth in flower beds, our last round of snow reminded us that we will be waiting a little while for those joys.
It’s difficult for me to feel like I’m thriving in
winter. At times, it takes its
toll. There are only so many gray days I
can take in a row before a gloomy mood sets in.
Phoebe June’s antics keep me cheery, along with outings for lunch with
friends or Smuffy on decent days and a stack of giggle-inducing P. G. Wodehouse
books.
There have been winters that left me feeling like I’ve taken a hit – a bit like our big pine tree is feeling right now.
Like the tree, I suppose it might do me good to have some weak areas fall away to allow light and air enter and new growth to fill in the empty places when spring arrives.
Even now, as I conclude these observations, I realize what a terrific writer I must be, because if I can romanticize this awful stuff, I can romanticize anything! I’ve spent this afternoon writing, ignoring the fact that there is an ice storm warning going on out there!
Upon hearing Smuffy’s truck in the driveway just now, I left my lair to greet him. He entered the back door, telling me he’d just had a bit of excitement. He’d parked the truck at the top of our driveway’s hill in hopes of being able to leave for work in the morning and while moving the car out of range of an ice-laden tree limb that made him a little nervous, he heard a scrunching sound.
We’re blessed that he’d parked the truck with the wheels turned, because it missed the car, three trees and Smuffy as it slid all the way down the driveway and into the neighbors’ yard. If a fallen limb left over from the last round of nasty weather hadn’t stopped it, who knows where it might have ended up! I could use another chapter of Wodehouse after that.
My little afternoon romantic fling with winter’s beauty
is over now. It’s lost its appeal again
and it’s time for a break-up! It’s time
for SPRING!
To all my readers who live in winter’s grip – hang in
there! Try to think of March as only
days away.
To all my hyacinths – you should have listened last week when I told you to pull your heads back below ground because those two sixty degree days were just a cruel joke!
Need a spring preview to chase away the gray? Take a tour through my garden in full bloomhere!
If the gloom requires a good laugh, make a cup of tea and settle down with the stories on my “Life With Smuffy” page. You’ll feel better in no time. He isn’t the only one who’s here to entertain – the “Laugh” page has more!
Questions? Comments? Click on “Leave a comment”. I’d love to hear your thoughts on winter, wherever you live!
Praying that each of you have many opportunities to enjoy the glories of the season! The trees will soon be singing!
“…let the fields be jubilant, and everything in them. Then all the trees of the forest will sing for joy;” -Psalm 96:12
I took this photo in my yard last fall. A free printable of the word art above is available upon request to subscribers. Click here to subscribe and send me an email or leave a comment with your request.
Last time, we discussed how much our lives have changed over the centuries and took a fun, but realistic, look at a day in the life of pioneer women in the 1800’s. If you missed it, you may want to check it out here. We’ve acquired many modern conveniences and long with them a sense of guilt that haunts us if we aren’t constantly on the job or flitting to or from one.
While we long for the simplicity that comes with our ancestors’ uncomplicated lifestyle, few of us would return to it once we considered the hardships that went hand-in-hand with that simplicity.
We came home the other day from a writers’ conference to discover that our central air conditioning had gone out. It’s August. Though we did receive a refreshing rain and the weather cooled down, fixing the A/C moved to the top of our priority list. Another modern convenience, the weather app, tells us it will be 97 degrees this weekend. No pioneering spirit here, folks!
My faith governs my life and my world-view. I know that as a human being, I am designed for Garden of Eden living. That means that I am not wired for stress. Yet, due to the gift of free will, “stuff” happens. Just living on this earth means we need a break. We need restoration! People are imperfect – doggonit – and they’re everywhere! Situations, as science confirms, go from order to chaos – not the other way around. I’m not going to notice, for instance, that although I haven’t mopped the floor in weeks, my floors just keep getting cleaner and shinier. A farmer isn’t going to drive by his long-neglected field and discover that time has turned the tangled mass of weeds into neat rows of corn. Again – doggonit!
So, with everything cascading into a mess all around us and folks misbehaving left and right, it’s no wonder we need restorative rest.
In my last post, I suggested that each time you feel guilty for being “so far behind”, that you grab the timer and see just how long your tasks really take to complete. Did you discover that they all take longer than the few minutes you’ve allotted them in your mind?
I feel it’s necessary to mention the fellas as we look at how life has changed. Along with awareness that domestic chores have become much easier over the centuries, we must also acknowledge that men do help out more than ever before. The first time I saw a daddy wearing a cuddle sack with his tiny infant snuggled against his chest, going about his business like it was an easy-breezy part of life, my heart melted. I remember the day when such a thing would have been unheard of.
More and more men are involved with household chores and caring for their children’s basic needs without falling apart at the seams with a bad case of martyr syndrome because someone asked them for a little help. It’s a change that’s been a long time coming and, I believe, has not come about by any natural evolutionary processes, guilty consciences or increased introspection and self-awareness on their part. It took push and I’m proud of every woman who pushed.
My advice to all of you who are frustrated, stressed out and guilt-ridden was to fire yourself, re-hire yourself and give yourself a break! Emily Post gave me some perspective on this and I hope it helps you as much as it did me.
I know what you’re thinking. You’ve immediately lumped Emily into the same domestic category as Martha Stewart, Mary Poppins and June Cleaver. Believe it or not, I’ve had friends good-naturedly call me all those names over the years. I’m one of those people who likes to make everything “special”. Surprisingly, Emily helped to ease the strain because “special” takes time, effort and lots of clean-up.
I stumbled across an old volume of Emily Post’s “Etiquette” (1942, to be exact) at a yard sale, took it home and dove in. After all, inquiring minds want to know if they’re doing everything wrong. Right? Smuffy looked over at me one evening as we both reclined in bed with our books and said, “I’d be willing to bet money that right now, in this entire town, there is not one other person curled up in bed reading a two-inch thick 1942 Emily Post book of etiquette.” It probably would have been a safe bet.
What can I say?
I found it fascinating. Emily will teach you how to do everything. You’ll learn how to meet government officials (foreign and domestic), how to deal with your child’s clothing choices, how to set a perfect table, and write the proper invitations and other correspondence. Though you may not need the section on “Do’s and Don’ts for Debutantes”, you will learn how to teach your children not to be…well…mannerless, awkward clods.
The wonderful thing about it? It all made sense. She designs a world in which you make other people feel comfortable in any situation.
Hoity-toity, you say? Only in spots. Emily understands. She had a name for those of us who don’t have minions at our beck and call or a stack of engraved invitations waiting for our RSVP. She refers us as “Mrs. Three-in-One”. She acknowledges that this means most of us. Like it or not, most of us are cook, maid and hostess.
I fantasized my way through her chapter on “The Well-Appointed House”, giving myself a tongue-in-cheek reminder that I mustn’t forget “What the Butler Wears”. When I came to the section on the “House Run by One Maid”, I gave it a little more attention due to the fact that my house has one maid and I am she. That’s when I fired myself. Or did I quit? Anyhow, I knew it was time to start over with a new set of expectations.
I decided that, as Mrs. Three-in-One, I needed to re-hire the maid (me) using Emily’s job description. I surrendered all guilt, knowing that it would be unreasonable to expect more of myself than I would of the hired help.
This maid’s work “must be adjusted not only to the needs of the particular family by whom she is employed, but also to her own capability”. Understanding and flexibility are built into that statement. I realized that when I can’t – I can’t.
Emily states that, allowing for sleeping and eating, the maid has a remaining fourteen hours left in her day, “out of which she must find the time for recreation as well as for work”. Don’t be a tyrant, Mrs. Three-in-One! Do a little recreating.
The maid’s hours for housework should run from ten to twelve hours a day, perhaps more on special occasions. “From these hours there must, however be taken certain regular hours of time out.” Regular hours of time out during her ten to twelve hour day! Are you starting to think you’ve been a little hard on yourself? Career women, you can’t do it all. Stay-at-home moms, you might do it all, but you still need a cup of tea and time to put your feet up!
Then, Emily really starts speaking my language. “Normally every maid has her specified afternoons and evenings out.” Let me get my hat and coat! She goes on to say that if household requirements are unusually hard or confining, compensate for this as best you can. Women have used their creativity in dealing with this for centuries. I imagine this is how quilting bees came about.
The next section in the book provided a “Working Schedule for a One-Maid House”. I studied it, asking myself if I should expect any more of myself than I would of this woman I’d hired. Hypothetically, she is in charge of a seven-room house which includes a living room, dining room, porch, kitchen, maid’s room and bath, three bedrooms and two baths.
I balked at the first item, which suggested that I wash and dress at 6:45 a.m. OK, I’m open to it.
The second item felt more like my usual routine, which is to be downstairs by 7:00 a.m. to put the kettle on, start cereal and set the breakfast table. I’ve seen my mother “start cereal”. It involved the stove, a pan and such. For me, starting cereal consists of putting the box on the counter and parking a gallon of milk next to it. The “breakfast table”? My family has never known the table to be in any way connected with breakfast and I’m not letting the cat out of the bag at this stage of the game.
At 7:30 a.m., the maid is to cook breakfast, then eat her own breakfast. I’m just fine with the second half of that. Cooking breakfast is a term reserved for Saturdays only when, and if, all parties and circumstances are aligned and in agreement.
The family is to be served breakfast at 8:00 a.m. I can’t remember the last time this happened, but there may have been a high chair involved. Everyone around here is capable. That gives this maid a little more time to linger over her own breakfast and cup of tea.
At 8:30 a.m., the job description calls for the maid to clear the table, wash the dishes, pick up the living room, sweep the dining room, kitchen and halls. The mistress (also me) is to plan meals for the day and “order marketing”. There is an hour and a half allotted for this. I’d have no problem with this if I had gotten washed and dressed at 6:45 as directed, but…
Heading upstairs at 10:00, the maid makes beds, cleans bathrooms, sweeps, dusts and empties wastebaskets. Apparently this does not include the bedrooms. (See daily schedule below.)
Special work for the day is done at 11:00 and takes and hour and a half. One room from the list below is cleaned thoroughly. If it doesn’t take that long, the maid is to do whatever else needs to be done such as polish silver, make a cake or dessert or dinner or prepare vegetables. I can see a lot of us dispensing with that first item., though I do pull out all the stops when I’m feeling “fancy”.
At 12:30, Luncheon is prepared and the table is set so that lunch can be served at 1:00. This sounds like a real time crunch for someone as slow as my maid, if you get my drift.
I’m sure Emily is counting on luncheon being a very simple meal and these people saving their appetites for a more elaborate evening meal, for she suggests clearing the table at 1:30 and washing the dishes, I suppose whether they have finished eating or not.
After this, the maid has free time until 3:00 p.m. Yes, indeed, plum spang in the middle of the day, there she is, doing nothing. Well, it does suggest that she rest, bathe and change her dress.
Back on duty at 3:00, apparently all she does is hang around the kitchen as she is “on duty” there and be ready to answer the door. I don’t know who answered up until now. Perhaps there is a section on how it is rude to go visiting before 3:00 p.m.?
At 5:00 p.m., she rolls up her sleeves and prepares meat, vegetables, etc., for dinner. Of course, she sets a nice table.
Now, with the prep work done, the maid is ready to cook, which she does at 5:30.
At 6:30 p.m., dinner is served.
Apparently, this family doesn’t linger long, for at 7:00, she is washing dishes, putting the dining room and kitchen in order for the night.
By 8:00, this maid is finished. Nothing more to be done. Her plans for the evening “will be adapted to the household needs.” This is where it gets scary, don’t you think?
I’m sure you’re still wondering about that “Special Work for the Day” that occurs at 11:00 a.m. Here it is:
Monday – Clean the three bedrooms.
Tuesday – Clean dining room and polish silver.
Wednesday – Clean sun porch and do extra baking.
Thursday – Clean kitchen and maid’s room.
Friday – Clean living room.
Saturday – Polish brass, silver, furniture, etc. Bake cake for Sunday.
I don’t know about you, but this cleaning schedule doesn’t sound half bad. Clean the bedrooms – no problem. Not many of us are polishing silver anymore, so cleaning the dining room or area shouldn’t be overwhelming. Having a sun porch to clean is on my bucket list! With clean eating going on, the only extra baking involves some sourdough bread or maybe a lasagna to freeze. There is no maid’s room to clean, so I’m off the hook there. The living room always needs a going over. That leaves Saturdays to do something more interesting (unless I do decide to clean the furniture) because I rarely polish brash and I don’t bake cakes for Sunday.
Now let’s all pause and breathe! Are you like me? When I studied this job description, all I could think was, “I’m not sure I could do all this even if I got paid for it!” Yet, I saw that this maid got time off in the middle of the day, plus specified afternoons and evenings out. I’d been expecting myself to get all these things done and more.
I needed to be at Smuffy’s beck and call because his constant immersion in some project (or body of water). I needed to be sure my mom got to the store and to her appointments and got out and had a little fun. Nowhere on the list of maid’s duties did I find any mention of children and their schoolwork, scraped knees or need to play. Laundry didn’t seem to enter into this maid’s duties at all! I didn’t see any time allotted for being a good neighbor, volunteering at church, helping with community projects or taking the cat to the vet. I love making handmade gifts. Where’s the time for that? I’ve written three novels and have a blog to keep up with! All this and we, as women, are supposed make time to exercise and keep fit as well?
If I added all these things to the paid maid’s schedule, I wouldn’t even get to sleep! It’s tempting to give up.
Emily Post has set me free! I now know that I can’t do it all. I have to pick from the list and put things off until I can get around to them. You’ll have to do that, too, if you don’t want to lose your marbles, drain your body of cortisol and put your family through the ordeal of living with someone who is on stress overload. It’s true what they say, “If mama ain’t happy…”
We thrive when we live a balanced life. Honey, fire yourself! Re-hire yourself and give yourself a break! Let’s all make peace with the fact that we are Mrs. Three-in-One. That lady needs love, understanding and a nap!
Emily Post is not a thing of the past. She’s still got us covered. She answers all your questions about navigating life in today’s world with the lost arts – consideration, respect, honesty and etiquette atemilypost.com
If you’d like an “oldie” like mine and don’t want to cruise yard sales waiting for one, you might try Amazon here.
Need a gratitude adjustment, click here. Find 50 ways to make next year a better one here.
