Being Thankful

Tomorrow, 23 November 2017 is Thanksgiving Day.  Turkey everywhere.  Except here.  I bought a small rotisserie chicken - cooked and ready to carve tomorrow night for that late night sandwich.

I'll be dining out with a son and a grandchild and friends.  Same place as last year and I'll enjoy it because I have nothing else to do.  But enjoy it, I mean.  No shopping, cooking, cleaning pre- and post-.

On Saturday, following a tradition I started many years ago, my youngest and his family will have a turkey dinner for me.  Well, not JUST for me but for them and for me.  Son will be working on The Day and his family will go to his in-laws.  I'll get a lovely dinner and a couple of hours entertainment from the kids.  And then it's done until next year.

And for that, I'm thankful.

How Long has This Been Going On?

Seems like a long time since I posted here.   But like that bad penny...  Made it to 81 and in just a little over four months, I'll be yet another year older.

And it's recital time again.  Last week was ballet and both the little girls are on pointe.  The older one for her fourth year and the younger for her first.  They both performed well and I'm happy that I'm still able to attend.  This weekend is the Jazz/Tap/hip-hop recital and I look forward to it because it seems to carry excitement with it.

I've had a couple of hospitalizations since I was here last.  In 2016, I was in for two weeks with a heart that didn't want to settle back into a normal rhythm.  Eventually it did and the beat goes on.
My COPD has ben acting up for the last eight months and I've been a guest of the Forty Fort ambulance several times.  It always ends up the same way.  To the ER.  I hate waking up in the niddle of the night gasping for air.  Christmas Eve was especially bad and I have now taken the reins of my own maintenance.  Doctor said he wanted me on oxygen.  I took the test, passed, was approved.  I only HAVE to use it at night.  But having flares every few weeks was not how I wanted to spend my waning days so since Prednisone seems to help in the short term, I suggested it might be beneficial to be on a low maintenance dose and Doctor readily agreed.  Whatever side effects may occur, I haven't had a flare since January.  Yay!

My #2 son has committed to lawn maintenance every week since last Summer, the first year I've been unable to handle it myself.  Bonus: He brings Kaiser Rolls and tea biscuits from National Bakery.
#5 remains my medical consultant and monitor.  #4 shows up when I call and stands ready to serve without question.  So there is help when I need it but for the most part, I'm still able to drive, shop, cook, take care of my ADL's.  Not bad for 81.

Miss Me?

No, I'm not dead...yet.  I must admit to a bit of discomfort at how close I'm getting to the finality of it all.  Made it to 80.  Years old.  Yes, years old.  So don't mess with me, I've got very little to lose.

This year, we got a new baby.  Gavin was born on June 22 and a beauty of a boy.  He dipped his little toes in the ocean when he was only eight weeks old.  He smiles at everyone he meets and has even photobombed a family reunion.

Stacey and her family opened an ice cream stand.  Not sure how profitable it will be but if it satisfies the desire that she and her sister have had since they were teens, all well and good.

Mia and Tanner graduated from high school.  Mia is a freshman at Penn State, main campus.  Tanner isn't sure where he'll be next.

Emily moved to the Windy City for an internship which will pay off her only student loan.  She's already been offered a job if she chooses to stay, although she has always expressed an interest in post-grad studies.

Anna returned to IUP as a sophomore.  Looks like they (she and her sister) still don't take checks.

Maddie broke her arm the week-end of the dance recital and had to forego her appearance in favor of medical attention.

Brenna broke her fifth metatarsal and is wearing a boot.  Not permitted to dance but goes to class
to observe so that when she's allowed to participate, she'll not be totally unfamiliar with the moves.

Gianna is four years old OMG! and in the "Guess what?" stage.  She likes croissants, Stanley the Duck and getting mail.  A girl after my own heart.

Trevor.  What can I say?  He can put up a good front when called upon, but his melancholy side is dominant.

So another year down the drain, up the spout, over the falls.  Stay tuned.

The Hostess With the Mostess...

I have a confession.  Don't be shocked.  Here goes - I have never eaten a Twinkie.  Never, ever, in my entire life.  Being a Philadelphia-born citizen, my lunch cake of choice was Tastykake.   And I'm old enough to remember when they cost a nickel!  There were three-packs of chocolate cupcakes iced with chocolate frosting.  There were Chocolate Juniors - an oblong of two-layer yellow spongecake frosted with a milky chocolate frosting; and Coconut Juniors - the same oblong except frosted with a white icing topped with coconut.  Jelly Krimpets - a three-pack of yellow sponge with jelly in the center of each cake.  There were pies: apple, lemon and maybe a couple of others.  But my all-time fave was the Butterscotch Krimpet.  Once again, a three-pack of the yellow sponge frosted with somebody's idea of butterscotch frosting.  I loved 'em.  Later on, the price increased; the sizes of the cakes decreased; and some new flavors were added to the repertoire, namely, Tandytakes.  Yes, that's what I said. Tandytakes.  They were small single-layer circles of yellow sponge, some with peanut butter and milk chocolate frosting and some with a creamy white layer coated with dark chocolate.  After a time, wiser heads prevailed and the name was changed from the baby-talky Tandytake to KandyKake.   And along with a more adult name came a more adult price.  Talk about inflation.  While unable to afford the treats as often as I'd have liked, partly because of the price and partly because of the added avoirdupois, I still remained loyal to Tastykake.  After all, "Nobody bakes a cake as tasty as a Tastykake", or so the old jingle said.

Once, I remember eating a Devil Dog, which was so dry I nearly choked to death.  BUT, I never ate a Twinkie.  The only Hostess cake I ever ate was the Snowball.  Chocolate cake mounded around an unidentifiable crème filling and covered with white coconut frosting.  A long time ago, it was.   And then, Hostess closed up shop and the world seemed to have a period of grief over the loss of the beloved Twinkie.  Eulogies were delivered bemoaning the passing of a lunch-box icon.

And then, and then, some enterprise bought the bakery.  The name was revived and the Twinkie was once again on shelves in stores everywhere.  And still, I never ate a Twinkie.

But in the local dollar parlor, I happened upon a small display of Snowballs.  Two to a package, same as of yore.  Emblazoned with the words "The sweetest comeback in the history of Ever!"  Even though I've been limiting my intake of most sugars and carbs and calorie-laden "stuff", I decided I had to try once again that long-forgotten treat.  And what was a buck?  I ate one and put the other away in the cupboard, only to discover it a week later.  The original wrapper was torn from the first foray into the package but the remaining Snowball wasn't stale.  Not even a little.  So I ate it.  And on careful examination, I discovered that the package was missing something.  What was missing was a "Best by -" date.  I suppose it's safe to assume that there is no date beyond which the Snowball will no longer be edible.

With that being said, I have had a Twinkie in my cupboard for almost 14 years, given to me by a person who felt sad that I had never, ever tasted this delight.  It's somewhere behind the bag of rice and the Karo syrup.  Do you think it's safe to eat?  Or should I just toss it and keep my record intact?

It's Working...

Remember when I told you I was going to try to be a loser?  Of course you do - it was only six weeks ago.  In any case, it does seem to be happening.

On June 17, when I began obeying the command of my P.T., I stopped eating my every-morning bagel with cream cheese.  Now this is not just an ordinary bagel.  No, sir.  This is a B-I-G bagel and the cream cheese is applied liberally.  Liberally, I tell you.  And this was my morning routine every single day.  I bought bagels at a local supermarket and when they were "buy 6, get 6 free", I brought them home, sliced them and put them in a freezer bag.  Each morning, I would take a bagel out of the freezer and by the time I had finished my first cup of coffee, the bagel was thawed and I put it in the toaster oven to warm.  Lots of cream cheese and my second cuppa and life was a joy.  But, nay, nay to the carb-loaded goodness.

Second thing I gave up was Pepsi Max.  Now this is a diet Pepsi without the bitter aftertaste of most diet drinks.  But I quit it and substituted with water and decaf Iced Tea.

I'm eating lots of grains and fruit and chicken.  White bread is a uh-uh.  I eat a Wegman's loaf of Ancient Grains with cranberries.  Very nice.

We were on vaca last week and my P.T. told me that I could have a bagel or two since this was a vacation.  MOF, he actually went and bought fresh bagels and cr.ch.  I indulged, but it wasn't the same.  Nothing especial.  Not even a treat.  Nor was the ice cream cone I had on a boardwalk night.

I'm thinking that my previous cravings are leaving my brain - after all, eight weeks makes a habit, right?  Am I right?  Okay, except for Herr's Honey Barbecue Potato Chips.  That one's taking a little longer to break.

The upshot of this is that despite having an intractable Plantar Fasciitis (two injections; ice packs; stretching exercises; rolling a ball with my foot, haven't worked) that has severely limited my ability to walk for exercise, I have managed to lose nine pounds in seven and a half weeks.  If I can find someone who can fix this foot without surgery, I'll be moving well enough to take off another nine in even less time. 

Even with a bag of chips in my hand.

Doin' It...

A series of unfortunate incidences caused me to put on some weight due to medication and inactivity. Now, my Personal Trainer has suggested I might begin again to do what I did three years ago and "get the lead out - and the lard off!"

Eating right has not been a priority, although I don't seem to eat more than any other person and a lot less than some. So, it all comes down to inactivity. I'm cutting out sweets and trying to get at least 10-15 minutes of walking a day (for starters) and water, water, water. Chair Squats and Shoulder Presses are part of the regimen.

So, plenty of protein, fresh veggies and fruits, nuts, grains, water. As much exercise as I can handle, and gradually increasing as tolerated.

I'm not fat. I'm only doing this because I don't have many clothes left that fit and they seem to be making Mediums much skimpier lately. Besides, shopping in the "Plus Size" department doesn't sound like a place I care to be seen.

Do-Over

I was getting ready to write a post about last evening's Ballet Danse, the recital in which my two little dancing granddaughters danced in Jack and the Beanstalk. The older girl, nearing 13, has been dancing for nine years, and this was her first year on pointe. She danced the part of a cloud as three girls, dancing as birds, danced as if in the sky. Our girl was graceful and smiling and very confident in her ability on pointe.

The Little Sister, almost nine, has been dancing for six years. She was a Court Performer in the giant's castle, and was quite proficient in her one-handed cartwheels, her walk-overs, and her "coffee grinders". She's a bundle of energy on stage and a joy to watch.

Anyway, to get back to the first sentence of this post, when I read last year's post, it was almost the same. Except this year, the Big Girl was also dancing in the Senior section and her dance was a tribute to the Boston Red Sox. As the shortest, she got a lot of front row time and Lordy! can she dance!

So, just as I told you last year at this time, there will be another recital next weekend for Jazz, Tap, and Hip-Hop. They both dance all three of those disciplines so back to the flower shop for more tribute bouquets.

I suppose I could just skip the annual Dance Report, but then I wouldn't get to brag about the Tiny Dancers.