Barack Obama is announcing his intent for President this morning. Watch it live at BarackObama.com.
Here's my favorite speech from him. He talks about religion and politics and his own faith. It's wonderful because he addresses, in gorgeous yet plain language, how progressives can enter into the conversation on faith.
"Religious people do not have a monopoly on morality..." I find this particularly effective because so much of the debate has been exclusive. There have been the fire and brimstoners and everyone else. And, even though the fire and brimstoners are in the minority in terms of American values, they have had the loudest voices within the public sphere. I believe that is because progressives are too afraid to speak out about faith.
He goes on to point out that the same is true on the flip side when it comes to politicians coming to churches with insincere prayers. Sen. Obama continues, "I'd rather see secularists affirm their morality and ethics without pretending they are something they are not." I agree. Nothing sickens me more than seeing politicians clearly shilling their "beliefs" for votes. Your attendance at a religious institution does not make you "good." How strong are your values when you can turn around and act in an ugly, hateful, and intolerant manner -- behaviors that are outside even the most relaxed moral compasses? (Might I point to the Anderson court ruling in Washington that allows the legislature to "limit marriage to those couples able to have and raise children together." Meaning that my own parents, and the millions of others who cannot naturally conceive, would not be considered legally married. All of this to protect America from the "immorality" of homosexuality. How is that moral?)
From another part of the speech, on how secularists and religious folks are needed in the public debate: "We need Christians, Jews, and Muslims on Capitol Hill. When you have and estate tax with a trillion dollar budget going from social services to a bunch of folks who don't need it and haven't requested it, we need an injection of morality into our political debate." I'm glad he mentioned how important it is that many different voices are needed. I think one reason that progressives don't mention religion is because it does alienate our voting block. I'm extremely faithful, my tenets are guided by my belief in G-d, but I'm not Christian. I'm Jewish, yet I bristle even at my own religion when it is suggested that we hold the only keys to a moral life. I know many, many people that are just as godly with no belief in G-d. Progressives, as a whole, need to acknowledge this and accept this for what it is in order for us to build a foundation to bring in more supporters.
Sen. Obama calls for this as well. He says that we need to build on the “tenuous partnerships of religious and secular people of good will. The tensions and suspicions on each side of the religious divide will have to be squarely addressed and each side will need to accept some ground rules for collaboration."
He suggests that:
Conservative leaders:
"Understand the critical role of the separation of church and state in not just preserving our democracy, but the robustness of our religious practice."
He reminds people that it was originally the forbearers of the evangelicals who were the most effective champions of the first amendment.
He also recommends that:
Progressive leaders:
Don't "ask believers to leave their religion at the door before entering the public square. If we shed some of our bias, we might recognize some overlapping values that religious and secular people share when it comes to the direction of our country."
He goes on to make a number of other salient points, emphasizing the big ones here. His honest discourse is something I've been searching for in politics. Finally, there's a voice that says yes, we need faith; yes, we need tolerance; and yes, we need common sense. To 2008!
10 February 2007
04 February 2007
File: Big Bowl and Big Cookie
01 February 2007
File: Home
File: Art
I recognized the handwriting (I have a signed copy of The House on Mango Street) and started doing little cartwheels in my heart. It's a beautiful letter -- not only did she read my letter, she was affected by it.
My favorite sentence: "In the meantime, I wish you creativity." What a gorgeous statement. She's so polished and beautiful. This makes me want to write.
You can find me walking on sunshine (ooh ooh) for the rest of the day.
File: Family, Holidays, Friends, and Philosophy
Weekend 1/2 of awesome.
The weekend before last, Matt and I went down to Florida for a belated Hanukkah/Christmas/my birthday/dad's birthday/Shane's birthday celebration. It was so much fun. My mom described it as the best Christmas we've ever had. I think she's right. Everything was so relaxed and wonderful. It was just easy to be.
The gift that we thought really kicked some a was this electronic picture frame. It scrolls through your photos, has a remote, and is overall very cool. Knowing their love of photos, it seemed like a slam dunk.
Normally, when we get into my parents' house, there's a light-hearted inspection of what's different. This year was no different. Dad showed us his train set and the entire Christmas village (they had kept it all up in our honor), Mom showed off the tree and the new tv, and they both showed us the new picture frame, beaming with pride at their technological accomplishment. Yes, friends, the very same picture frame we had proudly bought the day after Thanksgiving. Matt, a mischievous imp at heart, began asking questions about this photo frame. I wanted the earth to swallow me because I was so mortified, but Matt stood there gleefully inquiring about every aspect of their purchase, which let the record show, they had bought the very day we arrived. Our luggage didn't arrive until the next day (my fault, more about that later), so this act continued for hours, with me wandering around one of the lower circles of Hades. When they opened their gift (finally), they seemed genuinely excited because they claimed they wanted two anyway. My parents deserve Oscars.
My parents overdid it on everything -- we both have the new Nintendos and a new vacuum cleaner-- but it was great. They even managed to pull off a surprise: Christel, and her husband Steve, joined us for dinner on Saturday night. I had no idea they were coming because sly Christel and my mother lied to me about her whereabouts. (And I was sad that I wouldn't get to see them.) We had a big cake, which we fed to most of the restaurant. I had forgotten how, in Florida, it's okay to talk to strangers. People will feel no inhibitions about joining your conversation, or if you're walking out of a restaurant that caters to the old and very young, to implore you for cake. That makes even a simple jog to the car an adventure.
We hung out with my aunt and cousins on our last day. I was grateful because my aunt moved around a party to be with us. Brunch, which was actually lunch because my aunt arrived an hour late, was a surreal experience. They've always been really involved with the Special Olympics. This year, they performed in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. They're even having a documentary filmed about them and Cindi Lauper is doing a benefit to raise money for their cause. This is really exciting stuff, but it eclipsed the visit. My aunt is a different person now. She was always driven, something I loved, admired and imitated, but now it's on another level, almost to the point of an obsession where she's unable to see outside herself. I hope I'm off on this, maybe only catching her for one specific moment in time, but it made me really blue.
When I leave and come home, I expect things to be just as I've left them. It saddens me to see big changes because it reminds me that I'm far away and don't get to see them as they gradually occur. There's something calming about going home because, for the most part, my parents don't change drastically. There are things that are new: the diet and fitness plan, a retirees' complete lack of schedule, their increased mobility. These are all good changes, ones I've rallied for. Even my friends don't really change -- it was wonderful to see Christel and Steve as they are. I feel we don't really change either. Yes, exciting things are happening around us and to us and that we're doing, but it seems to happen seamlessly, instead of in jerky stop-motion capture.
I was able to talk about this with my parents and that's what made the weekend so special. I feel like we've finally accepted each other for who we are. More than that, we're celebrating each other for it. It was so wonderful to really listen and really be listened to this belated Christmas. And that's what makes it the best one ever.
The weekend before last, Matt and I went down to Florida for a belated Hanukkah/Christmas/my birthday/dad's birthday/Shane's birthday celebration. It was so much fun. My mom described it as the best Christmas we've ever had. I think she's right. Everything was so relaxed and wonderful. It was just easy to be.
The gift that we thought really kicked some a was this electronic picture frame. It scrolls through your photos, has a remote, and is overall very cool. Knowing their love of photos, it seemed like a slam dunk.
Normally, when we get into my parents' house, there's a light-hearted inspection of what's different. This year was no different. Dad showed us his train set and the entire Christmas village (they had kept it all up in our honor), Mom showed off the tree and the new tv, and they both showed us the new picture frame, beaming with pride at their technological accomplishment. Yes, friends, the very same picture frame we had proudly bought the day after Thanksgiving. Matt, a mischievous imp at heart, began asking questions about this photo frame. I wanted the earth to swallow me because I was so mortified, but Matt stood there gleefully inquiring about every aspect of their purchase, which let the record show, they had bought the very day we arrived. Our luggage didn't arrive until the next day (my fault, more about that later), so this act continued for hours, with me wandering around one of the lower circles of Hades. When they opened their gift (finally), they seemed genuinely excited because they claimed they wanted two anyway. My parents deserve Oscars.
My parents overdid it on everything -- we both have the new Nintendos and a new vacuum cleaner-- but it was great. They even managed to pull off a surprise: Christel, and her husband Steve, joined us for dinner on Saturday night. I had no idea they were coming because sly Christel and my mother lied to me about her whereabouts. (And I was sad that I wouldn't get to see them.) We had a big cake, which we fed to most of the restaurant. I had forgotten how, in Florida, it's okay to talk to strangers. People will feel no inhibitions about joining your conversation, or if you're walking out of a restaurant that caters to the old and very young, to implore you for cake. That makes even a simple jog to the car an adventure.
We hung out with my aunt and cousins on our last day. I was grateful because my aunt moved around a party to be with us. Brunch, which was actually lunch because my aunt arrived an hour late, was a surreal experience. They've always been really involved with the Special Olympics. This year, they performed in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. They're even having a documentary filmed about them and Cindi Lauper is doing a benefit to raise money for their cause. This is really exciting stuff, but it eclipsed the visit. My aunt is a different person now. She was always driven, something I loved, admired and imitated, but now it's on another level, almost to the point of an obsession where she's unable to see outside herself. I hope I'm off on this, maybe only catching her for one specific moment in time, but it made me really blue.
When I leave and come home, I expect things to be just as I've left them. It saddens me to see big changes because it reminds me that I'm far away and don't get to see them as they gradually occur. There's something calming about going home because, for the most part, my parents don't change drastically. There are things that are new: the diet and fitness plan, a retirees' complete lack of schedule, their increased mobility. These are all good changes, ones I've rallied for. Even my friends don't really change -- it was wonderful to see Christel and Steve as they are. I feel we don't really change either. Yes, exciting things are happening around us and to us and that we're doing, but it seems to happen seamlessly, instead of in jerky stop-motion capture.
I was able to talk about this with my parents and that's what made the weekend so special. I feel like we've finally accepted each other for who we are. More than that, we're celebrating each other for it. It was so wonderful to really listen and really be listened to this belated Christmas. And that's what makes it the best one ever.
16 January 2007
File: The Library Project, Shelf 1/216
I was in the library last week trying to find something to read (the book I wanted was in transit from another branch), when I had that familiar tinge of embarrassment I feel every time I walk into the library. I have this daydream about reading all of the books. It's more than just a daydream: it's one of my life goals.
If you know me, you'd smile knowingly if I told you that reading every book in the library is what I consider the pinnacle of living. You might be kind enough to point out that the library is a dynamic creature, as books are constantly added to its shelves. You might even tell me that it can't be done or chock it up to me being me.
I recognize this is a very big task for a girl to accomplish in just one lifetime, but it doesn't stop me. I have a strange tenacity (and audacity) to dream that I could do it. Paradoxically, this dream also makes me feel sad and powerless because part of me thinks that it is probably impossible. I don't want it to be out of reach. It would break my heart, I think.
So, I decided that day was as good as any day. I would begin with a practice run. Hence, the more-loosely-structured-than-its-name-but-still-has- crazy-amounts-of-structure-because-I-thought-of-it library project. My plan is to read at least one book from every shelf in fiction.
The relaxed rules: I would begin in my local library because it's close, the collection is smaller than the main branch, and most importantly, I was there when I conceived this plan. I would start with A and work my way through Z, one shelf at a time. I could read as many books that interested me on a shelf, but I had to read at least one. As this could be a longish project, I could read non library project books as well, just to keep myself entertained. Ideally, I will document the library project, because, well, it's me and I like to document things.
The Rogers Park Library has 216 shelves of fiction. On Tuesday night, I started with shelf one. I took down all of the books and evaluated each one, mostly based on the covers (take that folk wisdom) and other random criteria that I'll describe below. Books in green were put to the side to consider more closely.
Shelf 1 Contents, Books 1-22
Public Radio and How to Read and Why were fun books. Fun books are allowed.
I've got some reading to do. A lot of reading to do. This will keep me busy for the next couple of years. I'm psyched.
If you know me, you'd smile knowingly if I told you that reading every book in the library is what I consider the pinnacle of living. You might be kind enough to point out that the library is a dynamic creature, as books are constantly added to its shelves. You might even tell me that it can't be done or chock it up to me being me.
I recognize this is a very big task for a girl to accomplish in just one lifetime, but it doesn't stop me. I have a strange tenacity (and audacity) to dream that I could do it. Paradoxically, this dream also makes me feel sad and powerless because part of me thinks that it is probably impossible. I don't want it to be out of reach. It would break my heart, I think.
So, I decided that day was as good as any day. I would begin with a practice run. Hence, the more-loosely-structured-than-its-name-but-still-has- crazy-amounts-of-structure-because-I-thought-of-it library project. My plan is to read at least one book from every shelf in fiction.
The relaxed rules: I would begin in my local library because it's close, the collection is smaller than the main branch, and most importantly, I was there when I conceived this plan. I would start with A and work my way through Z, one shelf at a time. I could read as many books that interested me on a shelf, but I had to read at least one. As this could be a longish project, I could read non library project books as well, just to keep myself entertained. Ideally, I will document the library project, because, well, it's me and I like to document things.
The Rogers Park Library has 216 shelves of fiction. On Tuesday night, I started with shelf one. I took down all of the books and evaluated each one, mostly based on the covers (take that folk wisdom) and other random criteria that I'll describe below. Books in green were put to the side to consider more closely.
Shelf 1 Contents, Books 1-22
- Edward Abbey. The Fool's Progress in hardcover. Judged by cover.
- Jeff Abbott. Panic in drug store paperback. Also judged by cover.
- Keith Ablow. Compulsion in hardcover. No interest.
- Keith Ablow. Murder Suicide in hardcover. Not my genre.
- Peter Abrahams. Crying Wolf in hardcover. Pass.
- Diana Abu-Jaber. Crescent in hardcover. I like the pretty cover. It looks newish, which means that it probably doesn't have roaches. It got good reviews for first book from the New Yorker and the New York Times. Hmm, suspicious -- no good reviews on this one. I read half a page and it did pass the infamous page turner test. Definite maybe.
- Chinua Achebe. No Longer At Ease in paperback. I like him. I loved Things Fall Apart. This cover is an awful purple (my least favorite color), but goes in the like pile simply by strength of author. Which is I guess what it should be in the first place. Feh, book marketing.
- Kathy Acker. Great Expectations in hardcover. No -- it looks like it just came out of an AOL book application. And, the title has been done. And done well.
- Peter Ackroyd. The Lambs of London in hardcover. Maybe -- good Publisher's Weekly review, but not thrilled with the idea of historical fiction. Wait! I just opened it. It has Scooby-Doo stickers. Definite second look.
- Karl Ackerman. The Patron Saint of Unmarried Women in hardcover. No -- I hate the cover and the title.
- Alice Adams. After the War in hardcover. It has an appealing cover with a sweet picture of her on the back. Wow, she won a bunch of awards. I will come back to this book -- it picks up where A Southern Exposure ended. This sounds great, but I must read the first one first.
- Alice Adams. Almost Perfect in hardcover. I will mark for later.
- Richard Adams Tales from Watership Down in drug store paperback. While I enjoyed the first one this just sounds like a blantant appeal for money, like the Lion King 2. I will not fall for it. Maybe I should buy it for Matt -- then I can read it too.
- Richard Adams. Watership Down in paperback. I own it. It's a great read.
- Kim Addouizio. Little Beauties in hardcover. Pretty cover but it screams chic lit, which I might consider, but with at least three books already on the table -- no dice.
- Elizabeth Adler. All or Nothing in hardcover. No -- it looks like bad 80's glitz. Yuck.
- Elizabeth Adler. Sooner or Later in hardcover. No, see above.
- Elizabeth Adler. The House in Amalfi in hardcover. Updated cover and photo but still too suspicious.
- Elizabeth Adler. In a Heartbeat in hardcover. Still no.
- Elizabeth Adler. Invitation to Provence in hardcover. My G-d, she has a lot of books.
- Elizabeth Adler. The Last Time I Saw Paris in hardcover. Ok, she has worn me down. I will take this one. It seems to be the shortest. It's about France. Publisher's Weekly and Booklist liked it. Fine.
- Elizabeth Adler. The Rich Shall Inherit in hardcover. Boo -- we are back to the 1980's smarm and another book! (Watch her turn out to be my favorite author.)
| Achebe, Chinua. | No longer at ease | ||
| Bloom, Harold. | How to read and why | ||
| Adler, Elizabeth | The last time I saw Paris | ||
| Abu-Jaber, Diana. | Crescent | ||
| Phillips, Lisa A. | Public radio : behind the voices | ||
| Ackroyd, Peter, 1949 | The Lambs of London : a novel |
Public Radio and How to Read and Why were fun books. Fun books are allowed.
I've got some reading to do. A lot of reading to do. This will keep me busy for the next couple of years. I'm psyched.
15 January 2007
File: Home, Family, Dadfest '07
Let's Here it for the Dads!
This past weekend we had Dadfest 2007. Matt and I took Friday off to welcome my dad and Matt's dad into town. It was awesome. (I promise to post pictures.)
We started off Friday by picking up my dad at the airport, late. (Sorry!) We drove back here and he looked at our new home. He liked it. Rio and Patrick were in full cute overload and once again charmed him with their mad meowing and fetching skills. Rio followed my dad around all weekend -- I don't think she'll ever be the same.
We walked down to the Devon Market and made some smart food choices. (I'm so proud of my dad for eating right.) We celebrated my dad's birthday with winter gear and singing.
Then, we went to the airport and picked up Matt's dad, also late. (Sorry!) The plan was to rent the truck and head to IKEA, but Matt's dad (whom we call Pop) wanted to see our place. We drove back up here and we broke out the graph paper. A couple of hours and a few drawings later, we were ready.
The drive to IKEA was excruciating. It took an hour and a half, thus cutting it too close to actually buy anything (yes, there were tears). After a mere twenty minutes in the store, we were back in the car, with the promise to return the next morning. The dads and I then went out to dinner at Soupbox. My dad learned the value of a scarf when he found out that the Windy City is actually, um, windy.
Matt had a ComedySportz show and brought the funny. They sang the birthday song to my dad; he was sort of embarrassed by this, especially when we (okay, I) made him stand up and say his name. (He was so cute and shy, despite whispering suggestions into my ear all night.) Matt's dad got into the act too when Matt asked for a question from the audience and he replied, "What do I tell my son who insists on spending his Friday evenings on the stage in Chicago?" Matt's response, as an imprisoned felon, was funny because he played back. It was a good time. I love seeing the pride the dads had to watch Matt. I love watching him, too. A funny guy, my husband. There was a nice moment for me as well because a couple of people came up and complimented me on my performance in the theatre a few weeks ago (I had done a student show). The best part: within earshot of my dad. Yeehaw!
We got up uber-early on Saturday and the dads were already hatching a plan. We drove to IKEA, which my father described as a wonderland, and actually had time to shop. Perhaps we had too much time -- it was past noon when we left and everyone was getting a little antsy. We stopped at Home Depot, bought more stuff, and came home. We unloaded and returned the truck. The real reasons the dads were in town began in earnest.
Matt's dad came to build us French Doors and a desk. He brought with him awesome tools (which he let us keep, so generous and amazing). He taught Matt how to use a table saw, how to miter, how to hang doors. Matt is well on the way towards earning his stripes and becoming quite the carpenter.
My dad came in town to teach me how to fix everything. And to actually fix everything. I had problems with the washing machine, the dryer, the doors, the toilet, the shower, the lights, the plumbing. I know this makes our new place sound like the money pit, but it's really not -- there were just a bunch of little things, but I didn't know how to do any of them and couldn't have figured them out if he wasn't here. My dad and I also put together our new furniture.
Both dad efforts were a raving success. We have French doors. We have a guest room door that closes and no longer has bright gold doorknobs. We have a ten foot desk, which was a collaborative effort from all parties (even the cats, we have pictures). And, we have a toilet that no longer has a childproof flusher.
The best part about Dadfest was spending time with our dads and our dads acknowledging us as grown-ups. I always had that vision in mind about what family is or could be. This weekend, it was everything I ever wanted. Thank you, dads, for it all.
This past weekend we had Dadfest 2007. Matt and I took Friday off to welcome my dad and Matt's dad into town. It was awesome. (I promise to post pictures.)
We started off Friday by picking up my dad at the airport, late. (Sorry!) We drove back here and he looked at our new home. He liked it. Rio and Patrick were in full cute overload and once again charmed him with their mad meowing and fetching skills. Rio followed my dad around all weekend -- I don't think she'll ever be the same.
We walked down to the Devon Market and made some smart food choices. (I'm so proud of my dad for eating right.) We celebrated my dad's birthday with winter gear and singing.
Then, we went to the airport and picked up Matt's dad, also late. (Sorry!) The plan was to rent the truck and head to IKEA, but Matt's dad (whom we call Pop) wanted to see our place. We drove back up here and we broke out the graph paper. A couple of hours and a few drawings later, we were ready.
The drive to IKEA was excruciating. It took an hour and a half, thus cutting it too close to actually buy anything (yes, there were tears). After a mere twenty minutes in the store, we were back in the car, with the promise to return the next morning. The dads and I then went out to dinner at Soupbox. My dad learned the value of a scarf when he found out that the Windy City is actually, um, windy.
Matt had a ComedySportz show and brought the funny. They sang the birthday song to my dad; he was sort of embarrassed by this, especially when we (okay, I) made him stand up and say his name. (He was so cute and shy, despite whispering suggestions into my ear all night.) Matt's dad got into the act too when Matt asked for a question from the audience and he replied, "What do I tell my son who insists on spending his Friday evenings on the stage in Chicago?" Matt's response, as an imprisoned felon, was funny because he played back. It was a good time. I love seeing the pride the dads had to watch Matt. I love watching him, too. A funny guy, my husband. There was a nice moment for me as well because a couple of people came up and complimented me on my performance in the theatre a few weeks ago (I had done a student show). The best part: within earshot of my dad. Yeehaw!
We got up uber-early on Saturday and the dads were already hatching a plan. We drove to IKEA, which my father described as a wonderland, and actually had time to shop. Perhaps we had too much time -- it was past noon when we left and everyone was getting a little antsy. We stopped at Home Depot, bought more stuff, and came home. We unloaded and returned the truck. The real reasons the dads were in town began in earnest.
Matt's dad came to build us French Doors and a desk. He brought with him awesome tools (which he let us keep, so generous and amazing). He taught Matt how to use a table saw, how to miter, how to hang doors. Matt is well on the way towards earning his stripes and becoming quite the carpenter.
My dad came in town to teach me how to fix everything. And to actually fix everything. I had problems with the washing machine, the dryer, the doors, the toilet, the shower, the lights, the plumbing. I know this makes our new place sound like the money pit, but it's really not -- there were just a bunch of little things, but I didn't know how to do any of them and couldn't have figured them out if he wasn't here. My dad and I also put together our new furniture.
Both dad efforts were a raving success. We have French doors. We have a guest room door that closes and no longer has bright gold doorknobs. We have a ten foot desk, which was a collaborative effort from all parties (even the cats, we have pictures). And, we have a toilet that no longer has a childproof flusher.
The best part about Dadfest was spending time with our dads and our dads acknowledging us as grown-ups. I always had that vision in mind about what family is or could be. This weekend, it was everything I ever wanted. Thank you, dads, for it all.
08 January 2007
File: Sports
41. 14.
Let's go Gators!
I don't bleed orange and blue, but a National Championship is a National Championship. (And I just won lunch.) Yay!
Let's go Gators!
I don't bleed orange and blue, but a National Championship is a National Championship. (And I just won lunch.) Yay!
06 January 2007
File: Book Review
Book: YOU: On a Diet
Authors: Dr. Mike Roisen and Dr. Mehmet Oz
Publisher: Free Press
Pages: 384
Version: Hardcover
Release: October, 2006
Matt and I watched a special on 20/20 talking about the brain and weight loss. It used fear for one team (their overweight bikini pictures shown on the baseball stadium's big screen if they didn't hit their goal) and praise for the second (positive reinforcement team approach).
We liked this idea of a challenge, as we both are not completely satisfied with our bodies (who knew that driving added pounds and flab?). We're still young and optimistic -- our goal is that in two months our waistlines/eating and fitness habits will change for the better. If not, there is a two-week moratorium on driving the car.
Knowing we needed guidance, I went to the bookstore. The You book was exactly what I wanted. I was familiar with the other You titles (YOU: The Owner's Manual and YOU: The Smart Patient) because I had checked them out of the library. They immediately became books I wanted to own (and write in).
The series is written by doctors who believe that if we know about our biology, we can retrain ourselves to avoid some of the largest health problems in our society: heart disease/attacks, diabetes, obesity, etc. So, they go to great lengths to make the content easy to digest (bad pun intended) and fun to read.
I think they go a little overboard in this respect. There are all of these "Youreka" tips that let you know when they've hit upon the gold nugget idea. While the tips are helpful, the shout-out is annoying. The drawings are clear, but cutesy in a charming way. For example, it's kind of fun to imagine little elves with spackle running around in your arteries trying to deal with the bad kind of cholesterol.
The authors also do a good job painting word pictures. According to them, the omentum, which is your body's parking lot for fat, looks like a pair of stockings hanging off of the stomach. As you gain more fat, the omentum continues to grow, pushing aside your other organs (and your waist line) while grabbing up all of the glucose, which your brain and other parts need to function. This is why the beer belly is especially unhealthy.
The book is just comprehensive enough to allow me to explain what the omentum is and does without being so comprehensive that I felt overwhelmed. It is logically laid out, leading you through the biology of food vs. your body to the emotional aspects behind why we eat (and why diets fail). Then, it explains what you can do to change your eating and exercise habits.
The exercise is a good addition. The premise is that, no excuses, you walk for thirty minutes a day, every day. You can break it up into three ten-minute segments, but you must do it. Once you conquer that, you can go on to additional strength and cardiovascular exercise that is supposed to help work and tone your muscles.
Part of the program is that you dump your cabinets of everything bad for you. We did this. I was surprised to see how many foods have high fructose corn syrup (a big no-no because your body uses it quickly and then sends messages to the brain that you need to eat again, even if you're not hungry).
The book also includes information on how to eat, instructions for the first two weeks, and a shopping list and menu with recipes. The shopping list is a bit difficult. What grocery store carries 100% whole wheat pizza dough? Also, there are some items that weren't listed (ground turkey is needed for one of the recipes, but you're never told to buy it).
The promise is that once you learn how to eat, you will retrain your body to want exercise and good foods and leave cravings behind you like yesterday's socks. I'm not sure if this is true or not, but the book was well-written, the doctors were likable, and the plan felt so doable and authoritative, that I'm willing to give it a try.
If it does work, I'll buy this book for everyone I know. If it doesn't, it was a good read anyway.
Authors: Dr. Mike Roisen and Dr. Mehmet Oz
Publisher: Free Press
Pages: 384
Version: Hardcover
Release: October, 2006
Matt and I watched a special on 20/20 talking about the brain and weight loss. It used fear for one team (their overweight bikini pictures shown on the baseball stadium's big screen if they didn't hit their goal) and praise for the second (positive reinforcement team approach).
We liked this idea of a challenge, as we both are not completely satisfied with our bodies (who knew that driving added pounds and flab?). We're still young and optimistic -- our goal is that in two months our waistlines/eating and fitness habits will change for the better. If not, there is a two-week moratorium on driving the car.
Knowing we needed guidance, I went to the bookstore. The You book was exactly what I wanted. I was familiar with the other You titles (YOU: The Owner's Manual and YOU: The Smart Patient) because I had checked them out of the library. They immediately became books I wanted to own (and write in).
The series is written by doctors who believe that if we know about our biology, we can retrain ourselves to avoid some of the largest health problems in our society: heart disease/attacks, diabetes, obesity, etc. So, they go to great lengths to make the content easy to digest (bad pun intended) and fun to read.
I think they go a little overboard in this respect. There are all of these "Youreka" tips that let you know when they've hit upon the gold nugget idea. While the tips are helpful, the shout-out is annoying. The drawings are clear, but cutesy in a charming way. For example, it's kind of fun to imagine little elves with spackle running around in your arteries trying to deal with the bad kind of cholesterol.
The authors also do a good job painting word pictures. According to them, the omentum, which is your body's parking lot for fat, looks like a pair of stockings hanging off of the stomach. As you gain more fat, the omentum continues to grow, pushing aside your other organs (and your waist line) while grabbing up all of the glucose, which your brain and other parts need to function. This is why the beer belly is especially unhealthy.
The book is just comprehensive enough to allow me to explain what the omentum is and does without being so comprehensive that I felt overwhelmed. It is logically laid out, leading you through the biology of food vs. your body to the emotional aspects behind why we eat (and why diets fail). Then, it explains what you can do to change your eating and exercise habits.
The exercise is a good addition. The premise is that, no excuses, you walk for thirty minutes a day, every day. You can break it up into three ten-minute segments, but you must do it. Once you conquer that, you can go on to additional strength and cardiovascular exercise that is supposed to help work and tone your muscles.
Part of the program is that you dump your cabinets of everything bad for you. We did this. I was surprised to see how many foods have high fructose corn syrup (a big no-no because your body uses it quickly and then sends messages to the brain that you need to eat again, even if you're not hungry).
The book also includes information on how to eat, instructions for the first two weeks, and a shopping list and menu with recipes. The shopping list is a bit difficult. What grocery store carries 100% whole wheat pizza dough? Also, there are some items that weren't listed (ground turkey is needed for one of the recipes, but you're never told to buy it).
The promise is that once you learn how to eat, you will retrain your body to want exercise and good foods and leave cravings behind you like yesterday's socks. I'm not sure if this is true or not, but the book was well-written, the doctors were likable, and the plan felt so doable and authoritative, that I'm willing to give it a try.
If it does work, I'll buy this book for everyone I know. If it doesn't, it was a good read anyway.
02 January 2007
31 December 2006
File: Home, Holidays
17 December 2006
File: Holidays
12 December 2006
File: Holiday Zombie Attack Gingerbread House
We bought the gingerbread making kit from Costco and started decorating last night. Matt's twisted mind came up with the Zombie-Attack Gingerbread House. I'm pretty proud of how it looks. (I should say looked. Matt already ate part of it.)
The front.
The poor gingerbread people attempted to signal for back-up. It never came.
The other side. It reads "No Z." Perhaps they thought they'd let the zombies know they weren't wanted. Unfortunately, zombies cannot read.
The back. Note that windows and doors are boarded up, in a futile attempt to prevent the zombies.
Close-up of fallen gingerbread men.
Oh, the horror. Mmm...brains.
The front.
The poor gingerbread people attempted to signal for back-up. It never came.
The other side. It reads "No Z." Perhaps they thought they'd let the zombies know they weren't wanted. Unfortunately, zombies cannot read.
The back. Note that windows and doors are boarded up, in a futile attempt to prevent the zombies.
Close-up of fallen gingerbread men.
Oh, the horror. Mmm...brains.
11 December 2006
File: Holidays
Both were delicious.
We also made a zombie attack gingerbread house. I'll post pictures of that one shortly.
09 December 2006
File: Oops!
I giftwrapped the template (about the only thing I'm giftwrapping around here) to reflect a certain December mood. Hooray for green, red, blue, and yellow.
So, this has been the week of parking woes. Last Saturday eve, Matt's mom came into town to help us with the new home. We decided to meet Matt's Aunt Pat for dinner near her condo in Evanston. It had been snowing pretty hard the day before -- some of my colleagues couldn't even get into work. So, we felt pretty lucky when we found a dug-out on-street parking space. We parked the car and continued down the street for dinner.
After eating a pretty good Asian feast, we were walking back down the street. My dad called to see how things were going, and I was chatting with him as we walked. Let me put you in the moment (and change tenses mid-paragraph): At the front of street, we see a bunch of tow trucks. Oh, I think to myself, what a shame. Some idiot parked in the wrong place. Then, I look down the street. There are tow trucks and police cars lining the street.
Alert to the idea that something may be wrong, I look beside me to see a blur of color racing past. A second or two later, I realize that blur of color was my spouse, yelling expletives. I put tow and tow together* and get that they are about to tow our car. Yikes. I hang up on my dad, and start running down the street behind Matt. (Note: this is an icy street.)
By the time I make it to the center of the flashing orange lights, Pip, our beloved Scion XA, is up on the towing doohick. Matt has successful convinced the traffic official to release the car. The guy was pretty nice about it, but ticketed us anyway, as a warning not to park on the street when the city declares a snow emergency. (A snow what?)
Cut to Wednesday evening. I'm due at the HowStuffWorks Christmas party at a downtown bowling alley called 10Pin. Deciding that I'm way too smart to park in the $30 garage below the House of Blues, I find a meter on Kinzie. I'm a little weirded out because it does say "No Parking - Tow Zone," but I figure, there's a meter. I had once gotten a ticket when I parked on Halsted for a similar offense. I contested the ticket and won because the meter and the sign were conflicting. I figured that surely the city had learned its lesson. Besides, I thought, there are guys valeting cars to this very section. A valet wouldn't put a car in a tow area, right?
I never got to find out. The abridged version: Matt attempts to find the car. He is unsuccessful. He arrives at the party to find out where I parked it. I give him directions. He arrives forty minutes later, very cold and pretty hot under the collar. He couldn't find the car. My group had effectively closed down the party and were ready to leave.
I had previously offered to take Alex, my co-worker, home. Ken, my boss, offers to walk us to the car. (A man with experience, he must have known that the car would be nowhere in sight.) The four of us leave and go to where I parked the car. In place of Pip is a silver VW Rabbit, as if Pip had taken the blue pill from Alice in Wonderland and shrunk.
--Um, buddy, I say. I think they towed the car.
--Are you sure you parked it here?
--Oh yeah.
We continued walking to Ken's house, and he was nice enough to drive all three of us home, despite living two blocks away from the fiesta. I expected Matt to more angry than he was. He really should have chewed me out, but didn't, really. He wasn't upset (that much) that I did a stupid and got the car towed. It was walking around in the cold that got him.
Oops. I have learned my lesson on that one. Sorry, honey.
I was able to retrieve the car the next day, again another nice thing that my wonderful boss did for me, as he insisted on driving me to what we found was the underbelly of the city. A lot of seedy workings from the city that works. My favorite episode: the website said that it would cost $100 to retrieve my car. When I called to make sure that my car was actually at the impound lot they said it would be at, the guy told me that I needed to bring $170. I replied that the website said it would be less. His pithy retort: "Your car isn't in a website."
Oh, how I love this city. And will be more protective about where I place Pip. In downtown Chicago, a $30 valeted parking garage is a steal.
*deliberate bad pun
So, this has been the week of parking woes. Last Saturday eve, Matt's mom came into town to help us with the new home. We decided to meet Matt's Aunt Pat for dinner near her condo in Evanston. It had been snowing pretty hard the day before -- some of my colleagues couldn't even get into work. So, we felt pretty lucky when we found a dug-out on-street parking space. We parked the car and continued down the street for dinner.
After eating a pretty good Asian feast, we were walking back down the street. My dad called to see how things were going, and I was chatting with him as we walked. Let me put you in the moment (and change tenses mid-paragraph): At the front of street, we see a bunch of tow trucks. Oh, I think to myself, what a shame. Some idiot parked in the wrong place. Then, I look down the street. There are tow trucks and police cars lining the street.
Alert to the idea that something may be wrong, I look beside me to see a blur of color racing past. A second or two later, I realize that blur of color was my spouse, yelling expletives. I put tow and tow together* and get that they are about to tow our car. Yikes. I hang up on my dad, and start running down the street behind Matt. (Note: this is an icy street.)
By the time I make it to the center of the flashing orange lights, Pip, our beloved Scion XA, is up on the towing doohick. Matt has successful convinced the traffic official to release the car. The guy was pretty nice about it, but ticketed us anyway, as a warning not to park on the street when the city declares a snow emergency. (A snow what?)
Cut to Wednesday evening. I'm due at the HowStuffWorks Christmas party at a downtown bowling alley called 10Pin. Deciding that I'm way too smart to park in the $30 garage below the House of Blues, I find a meter on Kinzie. I'm a little weirded out because it does say "No Parking - Tow Zone," but I figure, there's a meter. I had once gotten a ticket when I parked on Halsted for a similar offense. I contested the ticket and won because the meter and the sign were conflicting. I figured that surely the city had learned its lesson. Besides, I thought, there are guys valeting cars to this very section. A valet wouldn't put a car in a tow area, right?
I never got to find out. The abridged version: Matt attempts to find the car. He is unsuccessful. He arrives at the party to find out where I parked it. I give him directions. He arrives forty minutes later, very cold and pretty hot under the collar. He couldn't find the car. My group had effectively closed down the party and were ready to leave.
I had previously offered to take Alex, my co-worker, home. Ken, my boss, offers to walk us to the car. (A man with experience, he must have known that the car would be nowhere in sight.) The four of us leave and go to where I parked the car. In place of Pip is a silver VW Rabbit, as if Pip had taken the blue pill from Alice in Wonderland and shrunk.
--Um, buddy, I say. I think they towed the car.
--Are you sure you parked it here?
--Oh yeah.
We continued walking to Ken's house, and he was nice enough to drive all three of us home, despite living two blocks away from the fiesta. I expected Matt to more angry than he was. He really should have chewed me out, but didn't, really. He wasn't upset (that much) that I did a stupid and got the car towed. It was walking around in the cold that got him.
Oops. I have learned my lesson on that one. Sorry, honey.
I was able to retrieve the car the next day, again another nice thing that my wonderful boss did for me, as he insisted on driving me to what we found was the underbelly of the city. A lot of seedy workings from the city that works. My favorite episode: the website said that it would cost $100 to retrieve my car. When I called to make sure that my car was actually at the impound lot they said it would be at, the guy told me that I needed to bring $170. I replied that the website said it would be less. His pithy retort: "Your car isn't in a website."
Oh, how I love this city. And will be more protective about where I place Pip. In downtown Chicago, a $30 valeted parking garage is a steal.
*deliberate bad pun
08 December 2006
File: Home
Progress. Here I am in our bathroom. The wall above me is the last bastion of white. Matt's mom and I started painting this place lavendar last weekend. I finished it tonight. Hooray!
File: Holidays
I'm sitting in our new condo, waiting for food to arrive, as I contemplate the Christmas tree. I am a happy being.
I love going to Matt's folks in Ohio for Christmas. There's something magical about having Christmas morning at Nanny and Papa's. Nanny has so much joy for the day. It's great fun to have the whole gang troop over, gather in a large circle in the basement, and let the present-opening begin. But I know when I'm in Ohio, I'm not in Florida with my parents. There's over a dozen of us that gathers in Columbus. My folks just have us. (Okay, that's not entirely true, as my aunt and cousins come over too. My aunt's parents, who have been like grandparents to me, attend. Often, my friend Travis joins us for the festivities as well.)
I'm not saying what I want to say well. What I'm trying to say is that the holidays are now happy-sad, to use a Cabbage Patch Kids term. I wish I could split myself in two, three, or four (that's really what's needed: one of me with my folks, one with Matt's mom's folks, one with Matt's dad's folks, and one of me soaking in the Jacuzzi tub).
I am especially contemplative because we don't have any real traditions and I'd like to create them. Other than the putting the spinning dreidel on the roof (I'll try and post video as Hanukkah approaches), and the nine-foot menorah on the lawn (the one pictured below was the first incarnation and is only a six-footer), we mostly spent the holidays lighting the menorah and opening presents each night.
Christmas was spent celebrating my birthday, normally with my mom serving a baked ziti. It was great. Now, it's spent in a whole different way. My birthday, which is always remembered by Matt, is often an afterthought by the rest of the gang who are busy and stressed and just trying to make it through Christmas. (I can't really blame them, but I always miss a cake with my name on it and actual birthday paper. I realize it's awkward timing, a tradition I began at birth and continue to this day, but birthdays do get a little lonely for me.)
Hanukkah, too, isn't really mentioned, (not for any real reason, I think) but when I'm away and I don't light the menorah, I feel sad and like I'm not being true to my traditions. (Although last year, at Matt's dad's celebration, we lit the menorah. It was sort of awkward because we did it during the day, but also really cool that he thought of it.) The first few nights of Hanukkah fall while we're in Cleveland next weekend, celebrating an early Christmas. Maybe we can talk to Matt's dad about lighting the menorah again. That would help, I think.
It's ironic, because here I am blogging about the circumstances around an interfaith holiday, but the first thing I thought to do when it turned December was put the tree up. Our tree is beautiful, even though we phoned it in this year, and didn't put on all of the ornaments. It does have a string of Hanukkah lights as garland. I think our electric menorah finally gave up last year (it had been lit for as long as I can remember), so we'll have to get another one this year and place it next to the tree. I love how the menorah and the Christmas tree look together. It reminds me how special and lucky we are to have each other -- and each other's traditions.
I was reading URJ's magazine Reform Judaism, and they talked about how interfaith couples "do" the holidays. One couple asked their family to wrap their stuff in Hanukkah paper. Another family still did the big Christmas shindig, but also hosted a Hanukkah party for the family with potato latkes, dreidels, and much singing. We don't have anything like that yet.
I'm really looking forward to making our own traditions. We have one: the special ornament tradition. Every year since we started dating, we give each other an ornament. It's the last ornament we put on the tree. I can't wait until we spend more time together and create additional traditions that we can pass onto the next generation. (Is that little feet I hear?) And, maybe, one year, we'll just stay home for the holidays. My fourth self really loves the idea of that jacuzzi.
I love going to Matt's folks in Ohio for Christmas. There's something magical about having Christmas morning at Nanny and Papa's. Nanny has so much joy for the day. It's great fun to have the whole gang troop over, gather in a large circle in the basement, and let the present-opening begin. But I know when I'm in Ohio, I'm not in Florida with my parents. There's over a dozen of us that gathers in Columbus. My folks just have us. (Okay, that's not entirely true, as my aunt and cousins come over too. My aunt's parents, who have been like grandparents to me, attend. Often, my friend Travis joins us for the festivities as well.)
I'm not saying what I want to say well. What I'm trying to say is that the holidays are now happy-sad, to use a Cabbage Patch Kids term. I wish I could split myself in two, three, or four (that's really what's needed: one of me with my folks, one with Matt's mom's folks, one with Matt's dad's folks, and one of me soaking in the Jacuzzi tub).
I am especially contemplative because we don't have any real traditions and I'd like to create them. Other than the putting the spinning dreidel on the roof (I'll try and post video as Hanukkah approaches), and the nine-foot menorah on the lawn (the one pictured below was the first incarnation and is only a six-footer), we mostly spent the holidays lighting the menorah and opening presents each night.
Christmas was spent celebrating my birthday, normally with my mom serving a baked ziti. It was great. Now, it's spent in a whole different way. My birthday, which is always remembered by Matt, is often an afterthought by the rest of the gang who are busy and stressed and just trying to make it through Christmas. (I can't really blame them, but I always miss a cake with my name on it and actual birthday paper. I realize it's awkward timing, a tradition I began at birth and continue to this day, but birthdays do get a little lonely for me.)
Hanukkah, too, isn't really mentioned, (not for any real reason, I think) but when I'm away and I don't light the menorah, I feel sad and like I'm not being true to my traditions. (Although last year, at Matt's dad's celebration, we lit the menorah. It was sort of awkward because we did it during the day, but also really cool that he thought of it.) The first few nights of Hanukkah fall while we're in Cleveland next weekend, celebrating an early Christmas. Maybe we can talk to Matt's dad about lighting the menorah again. That would help, I think.
It's ironic, because here I am blogging about the circumstances around an interfaith holiday, but the first thing I thought to do when it turned December was put the tree up. Our tree is beautiful, even though we phoned it in this year, and didn't put on all of the ornaments. It does have a string of Hanukkah lights as garland. I think our electric menorah finally gave up last year (it had been lit for as long as I can remember), so we'll have to get another one this year and place it next to the tree. I love how the menorah and the Christmas tree look together. It reminds me how special and lucky we are to have each other -- and each other's traditions.
I was reading URJ's magazine Reform Judaism, and they talked about how interfaith couples "do" the holidays. One couple asked their family to wrap their stuff in Hanukkah paper. Another family still did the big Christmas shindig, but also hosted a Hanukkah party for the family with potato latkes, dreidels, and much singing. We don't have anything like that yet.
I'm really looking forward to making our own traditions. We have one: the special ornament tradition. Every year since we started dating, we give each other an ornament. It's the last ornament we put on the tree. I can't wait until we spend more time together and create additional traditions that we can pass onto the next generation. (Is that little feet I hear?) And, maybe, one year, we'll just stay home for the holidays. My fourth self really loves the idea of that jacuzzi.
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