The Signs Were All There

When you get out of bed on Monday morning and head to the kitchen to make coffee and you look out the kitchen window and see a dead armadillo in your driveway you should know that is the First Sign.

So, a couple hours later when you scorch the homemade chili in your very very favorite stock pot, a sensible person would just take some Tylenol PM and go back to bed and pull the covers up over their head and remain there for the rest of the week, right?

Obviously, I am not a person with that much sense so the aforementioned trip back to bed didn't happen.

Maybe I'm a bit stubborn, or maybe I'm an optimist with faith that things won't be bad for that long; and in the grand scheme of things, I guess a dead armadillo (HOW redneck can you get?? LOL!!) in the driveway isn't really earth-shattering - at least in this part of the world.

All of this is before noon. In the afternoon I spent a few hours trying to help a family purchase a headstone from e-bay.

Yes, e-bay.... Anyway, I finally got that task behind me, including doing a bit of photography work the family needed.

Then, the beginning of The Bad Thing happened.

It started innocently enough. A dear friend of mine had come over to sit and drink coffee in front of my big back window. You see, I have a 4 foot by 5 foot picture window that overlooks my back yard and my friend and I often sit here in the back room/pantry/utility room/computer room/Gayla's Cave and watch the birds come to the assortment of bird feeders I have out there.

On this particular Monday, since I had so many other things going on, my bird watching buddy decided to clean the window. She understands my physical limitations and claims me even if I do drift off to sleep once in a while - that, folks, is the sign if a real friend!

Anyway, as Maddy was cleaning the huge window she noticed there was a gap at the top - about a half inch or so between the glass and the wooden frame. Kinda like the window pane had decided to try the new "Pants on the Floor" (POTF) look.

A bit of window history here. When Rick and I first bought this old rock house, there was an addition built on the back that had obviously been intended as a utility room. There was a washer and dryer hook-up and such but the entire back wall had rotted out. The small aluminum-framed window had fallen out of the wall, the wall studs were mostly rotted out and the wall was pretty much ready to fall in.

Shortly after we moved in, I had a yard sale and the neighbor asked if I would mind trying to sell this big window he had. No one bought it and it ended up in a shed in our back yard.

But one morning a group of folks from church descended on us and tore out the rotten wall and built a new one. There was a bit of discussion about a window for the new wall and the big window was put to use. What a wonderful wall! New paneling on the inside, the rest of the room wainscoted with the paneling, wallpaper above. A beautiful, room with lots of light and a view of the back yard with the five mature oaks - birdwatching paradise! A 12-inch wide window sill completed it and I moved in a recliner, a love seat, and my laptop. It was perfect. I could do laundry without walking far, and I had a quiet, relaxing place to watch TV, visit friends and write.

But now the big window had a gap at the top. Maddy showed the gap to Rick and we showed the gap to Steve - our jack-of-all trades friend. Rick and Steve decided they could fix it - but a bit later in the week. So for the moment, we filled the gap with weatherstripping.

Really, the weatherstripping could have stayed there until summer - or at least spring.

But the attempt was made to fix it. Now there was 2 guys with big suction cups tugging at the window and it broke. So now, in middle of January I had a 4 foot by 5 foot hole in the middle of my wall - and it happened in the middle of the Bad Week.

So I decided to do something happy. Doing something happy has to improve this week, right?

Our church collects toys for a local hospital, we wash the stuffed animals and the emergency room then has a warm fuzzy for sick kids who need something to cuddle. That might sound gross to some people, but really, by the time we run them through the washer and dryer, they are probably cleaner than they were when they first came out of the store. But last week we were given a doll with no clothes.

It was a nice doll so it was in a "too good to throw away, not nice enough to give away" category so the Deacon who had brought it in asked if maybe I could find something for the dolly to wear. Since I was in the midst of the Bad Week, I decided to tackle the Naked Dolly issue and I got out my sewing machine.

I have never, never in my life made a doll dress - and I had no pattern. So I laid the doll down and marked off a couple of dimensions and cut out a trial dress top - sewed it together and tried it on. Too small, so as I was cutting out the second attempt Maddy arrived and after pouring herself a cup of coffee, she was offering moral support. I though I was doing pretty well considering everything and I had to show off the burgundy apron I had already assembled. Soon I had a dress made. Well, almost made. There was a bit of trial-and error through this whole process and since my fine motor skills are fading a bit I was thankful for the help getting Dolly dressed and undressed with each new fitting. I gathered up some hook and eye fasteners and a bit of lace and some of those pearls-by-the-foot they sell in the craft section at Wal-Mart and by the time all was said and done, I have to say, Dolly made the week improve when I saw her all finished wearing her tan calico dress with the full skirt and the print burgundy roses all over it. She had a burgundy apron and a nice lace collar that was topped with a row of pearls sewn all the way around.

So, I still have no window - but hopefully, someday, a little girl will have a doll with a pretty dress, and inside the dress, at the back, she will find a label that says "Made With Love and Kisses". She won't know I was having a terrible week, but maybe her week will be good.

The Big Squeeze

You probably already know I am not a big fan of buffets. Hubby loves them and I go along because in most places I can order something off of the menu. I end up taking half of it home with me anyway.

But there is another angle. Most of you have already read my rant about restaurant booths being too small; well, news flash - in many restaurants the tables are entirely too close together.

I always try to guide our party to a table around the edge of the seating area so when I try to slide my chair out I will be sliding into the aisle, rather than being packed in back-to-back with someone at the table behind me; especially if we are at a buffet-only place.

Then there is another aspect - for me, at least. Hubby is right-handed; I am a lefty. He always wants to seat us where we won't be "bumping elbows", even though, in the 10 years or so I've been eating with him, I can't remember us ever bumping elbows. If we are eating at a buffet place and land in a booth, if anyone is dining with us I always get shoved to the "wall" side of the booth, then have to try to scrunch up as much as possible to fit my purse on the seat beside me and leave room for Hubby to sit since he makes many trips to the buffet - and I can't exactly say this makes for a relaxing experience.

We have a few restaurants in our town that have non-crowded seating, places where I actually "fit" and I can have a nice relaxing meal. Needless to say, I tip better in the places where I am more comfortable.

So I will say, IF you are one of the folks I have (through no fault of my own) been placed back-to-back with in a restaurant, and I have bumped your chair trying to get in or out of my seat, I am truly sorry. Now, come complain to the management with me!

Not Much for a Big Woman

11 or 12 years ago, Hubby and I were on our first date. We had gone to a Chinese buffet because he loves (I have since found out) buffets.

We both went and got a plate of food. I slowly ate and we talked and he went and got a second plate of food.

He finished that second plate and headed out for the third plate full. I meandered over toward the dessert section and got a couple coconut macaroons and a small dish of soft serve chocolate ice cream.

I was slowly eating my dessert and he finished his 3rd plate then went to the desserts himself. I finished my cookies and ice cream and pushed my plate back.

"You can go get more - you can eat as much as you want" he informed me.

"Yes, I know. I'm full"

He looked amazed. "Really?? You're kidding! You don't eat much for a big woman!"

There it was. I sat in stunned silence - there was about 75 pounds less of me than there is now days - and I wasn't quite sure how to respond.

I was fully aware of his plane crash and the resulting injuries, and I was aware of the personality changes that can result. But then, I hadn't known him before the crash so I had no yardstick with which to measure.

So I sat back and thought this through before answering. Do I reach across the table and smack him them run out? Or say something snide?

Well, I am (even then) a Big Woman so I decided I would just own it. After all - he was being honest and if there was one big thing missing from my past relationships, honesty would have to lead the list.

"Yeah, I guess maybe I don't eat much for a big woman. Just imagine how big I would be if I ate a lot!" Then I laughed and he laughed too.

I have never regretted the decision to handle it that way - he's a great guy.

But past experience had demonstrated to me I don't eat much. I can gain weight on 1200 calories a day - I know, I've tried. 1000 calories and I will just maintain.

Increase my activity? At that time I was a nurse in a very busy clinic - on my feet walking 8 - 9 hours a day.

SO I'm a big woman. I will be the first to admit it.

Will ever weigh 120 again? I doubt it. In my early-mid 20's I got down to 120 and kept it off for a few years. I ate breakfast then drank coffee for the rest of the day. I went those years never having a candy bar or ice cream. Is life really worth living if you can't have a Snickers or a Turtle sundae? Not really, to me at least.

One day I decided I was hungry so I started eating. oh, glorious FOOD! Baked potatoes, Snickers bars, M&M's, Hershey's with almonds, Hot Fudge Brownie Delights from DQ (back in the days when I fit in their booths!) and all of the other goodies I had missed.

Even when I started "eating" again, I didn't overdo it - I just don't want much food at a time. I refuse to be guilty about leaving food on my plate if someone else has served it to me. In a restaurant I will often order 1/2 of my meal put into a to go container before it even makes it to the table.

Yes, my thyroid has been checked. All is normal.

I just don't eat much for a big woman. Get over it.

Is it KIDDING???

I had been thinking I really needed - in the worst way - to be healthier.

This was somewhat influenced by my recent trip to AZ to visit Sis. With the new direct flights between Springfield and Phoenix-Mesa, we are now only 2 hours apart.

That's great but with the recent controversies about obese passengers on planes I was a bit apprehensive. So I searched the subject and found.... Not much specific info. Well, except for the fact there is a certain percentage of the population who doesn't think obese passengers should fly at all.

They should, at this time, adjourn to the celery stick bar and not bother to read the rest of this.

All I could find was this: If you weigh over 250 pounds and cannot fit into a seat - using a seat belt extender - and/or cannot put both armrests down, you should buy 2 seats. It seems, if there is room on the flight, most airlines will seat you in a double seat for no additional charge, and some - again, according to space available - will refund the price of the second seat.

I could find no specifics about the airline we were using (Allegiant) so I just prayed it would be okay.

At 290 pounds, I was a tad skeptical. After all, the last several times I had flown I had been able to just get the seat belt around me with no extender so here I go.....

The outbound flight we were assigned seats on the side of the plane where there were 2 seats. I got my belt snapped without an extender - and I put down the armrest with no problems.

Coming home, I was really worried... After all, not only had I eaten a Thanksgiving dinner, but also ate more than I usually did overall. (But, oh! Was it good!!) But again, I fit into the seat belt. Phew!!!

With the exception of the seats not reclining on either flight it was a great. But then, those airplane seats don't really recline anyway so that minor detail was no loss.

However.... Before we left I had ordered a scale that analyzes body fat percentage and hydration levels along with weight. It was waiting at the post office when we returned.

So I unpacked it, put in batteries, read the instructions and tried it out.

Bear in mind... The last time I had stepped on one of these I was working as a temp in the office of a bariatric doctor and at that time I weighed around 200 pounds and according to their scale I was 58% body fat. So this time I was expecting a reading of 80 or 90%. Maybe even more.

I got my weight - 289 pounds, then "Err3". Hmmm...... I looked up "Err3" and it said my "body fat percentage was outside readable levels". It didn't give me a hydration level. Back to the book. After all, I had to be something less than 100%, right?? (Yeah, I know - but not by much - LOL!!)

As I was scouring the book looking for the problem Hubby came through the kitchen and his eyes lit on a new gadget.

"Here," I said "take off your shoes and try this."

"Do I HAVE to take off my shoes?" Now, before you all accuse me of husband abuse - he was wearing house slippers...

"Yes, you have to take off your shoes and socks and stand on here barefoot or it can't do a reading".

After just a bit of whining he took off shoes and socks and (after I played with the settings) stepped on the scale.172.4 pounds, 78% body fat, 48% water.

So, okay. This told me the scale does, indeed, work.

Here I was, proud of finally working myself up to 2 minutes a day (from 15 seconds!) and I find out my body fat percentage is "above readable levels".

I took hubby's advice. I made us some chocolate malts and we sat and watched TV a while to think it over.

Now my goal is to get to the point where my body fat is down to "readable" levels. Then I'll work on the rest of it.

Good (EARLY!) Morning!

I got up at 3 am because I woke up about 2 am and couldn't get back to sleep. Partly because I am hurting and partly because my heart rate decided to hang out around 190 and I could hear the "thump-thump-thump-thump" in my ears no matter which way I turned so I knew I would have to get up and sit a while to distract myself from it.

This morning I go to Springfield for a pacemaker check - this is the yearly one where they download it and check buttery level and such. This particular visit adds further to my frustration with the whole situation. I only have the pacemaker check this time - the doctor visit has now been pushed to April. I remember the frustrating months leading up to my diagnosis, thinking that when I had a diagnosis I could be treated and resume my life. I was wrong.

We will make our trip to Springfield this morning, probably eat lunch somewhere down there then come home and collapse and watch TV.

In our shape, we love satellite TV and DVR's.

But I'd still love to see a magic pill.

Oh, What a Bargain!

Hubby was out and about a couple days ago and he came home with great news - he had found an elliptical exercise machine at a yard sale - the tag on it said "make offer" but he figured it would still be more than we could afford so he started to walk away when the lady yelled, "How about $5?" So, of course, he returned with a larger vehicle and we brought it home.

The thing weighs - according to the online info he found - 125 pounds. So it was a bit of a struggle getting it in and out of the car, but once we did the little wheels on the front were great! We managed to wrestle the thing to the kitchen.

In the meantime, Hector the cat escaped to the Great Outdoors.

We discovered it an elliptical trainer takes up roughly the same floor footprint as a kitchen island. (I threw in that tidbit just in case you are considering installing one of these in your kitchen)

So Hubby stepped on it and did... 20 seconds! Whew! What a workout! I lasted 10.

By later that afternoon, Hubby had found an online owner's manual to our new Weslo 710 Elliptical Trainer - we now could use the pulse counting feature on this machine... Which really did not do me much good since I apparently couldn't stay ON the machine long enough for the pulse counter to kick in.

So Monday morning, as my coffee was brewing I again stepped on the machine with a goal in mind. 20 seconds... I managed to do 15. But it was long enough to watch my pulse track - I went from 64 resting to 147 to 192.

Okay - I expected this, after all, I have Sick Sinus Syndrome. No, it doesn't mean my nose is stopped up.

The Sino-Atrial node is a bundle of nerves in the middle of your heart - the "coordination center" if you will... Kind of like a 4-way traffic light. It tells each chamber of your heart when to beat to keep things in rhythm. Mine does not work properly - in other words, I have "electrical problems".

I know from several multi-day heart monitors my heart rate frequently runs up into the 190's several times a day without the activity of the shiny new elliptical trainer.
Just think, a lot of people pay money for someone to help them exercise to raise their heart rate. I can do it just sitting and reading.

But I know I still need the physical activity - and this morning? I did a whole minute on the elliptical!

Oh - we turned the machine around where we can now watch the living room TV while exercising.

Maybe having an elliptical in the kitchen will become a style - is there a better way to remind us to watch what we eat?

BTW - the 2 pounds I put back on this week? I'm certain it is newly-gained muscle weight from all the exercise!

Size Matters

The neighbor came knocking on the door a few days ago. He needed me to take digital photos of a booth he was building for a local pizza place.

I took the photos then he asked "Would you sit there and eat pizza?"

"No".... Then I tried to fit into the booth - it was a tight squeeze. "I'm not the largest person around."

Somehow, in his calculations, he had forgotten that not everyone is the same size he is. Fortunately, he had constructed the booth in such a way it was easily dismantled and adjusted.

I just spent most of a week traveling with my sisters, we stayed at 3 different motels, 3 different chains. Only the last one, Super 8, had chairs that comfortably fit me.

Even doctor's offices have a lack of seating that will comfortable fit a plus-size person. I'm well aware the decorators that purchase the furniture are not connected to the doctors, but they need to be more aware of this issue.

Okay, I realize that earlier in this blog I went off on Dairy Queen.... Now I'm picking on motels and doctors offices. But the problem is everywhere.

Maybe we need a "Be Kind To The Fluffy" week to raise awareness?