Health – kellementology

My Particular Brand of Menopause.

I’m a bit under the weather today with what seems to be a fairly nasty head cold compounded by a lack of sleep caused by the cold. It’s a two-fold cold: that of being sick, and that which is caused by our window which has to be open lest one of us sweat to death in the night. Being under said weather puts me in a less than joyful mood and left to consider all the more pleasant aspects of my life — like menopause.

Just seeing the word on the page can cause a number of reactions depending on one’s particular set of circumstances:

You’re female and under 30 so menopause can’t possibly have anything to do with you. In fact, the concept of one grey hair or chin whisker may have recently sent you to near hysteria;
You’re male, and anything having to do with the female body that isn’t about cleavage, thighs, or hot sex may as well be written in a language unknown to man. That would be a male, and not mankind in general;
You’re a menopausal woman and because you’re on a first name basis with menopause, reading about it most likely isn’t the first item of the day with your usual Venti Soy Decaf Latte, thank you very much; or
You’re married to a menopausal woman and unlike awaiting the bouncing bundle of joy which is the result of a healthy pregnancy, you suspect absolutely nothing that cute could possibly come of this.

From time to time, I Google menopause just to see what comes up and it’s dismal. I suppose this behavior makes me Glutton for Punishment’s poster child, but it seems to be part of my two-year and counting adjustment to aging. Most of the initial hits are for sites selling or promoting HRT drugs. The others are large medical sites like the Mayo Clinic and WebMD and although basic information can be found on all of these sites, they essentially say the same thing: hot flashes are normal; we’re at greater risk for joint pain and osteoporosis; our skin will become more dry and less elastic; our midsections will increase in size; our muscles begin to disappear, our hair will thin in some places and grow in others less desirable; we will have difficulty with our teeth and gums; and most importantly — we will be at far greater risk for heart disease.

The good news is that regular exercise, improved diet, and reduced stress can lessen the effects of all of the above. By all means, let the happy dancing begin.

(more…)

March 5, 2009

Is it Christmas yet?

As I think of the weeks that lie ahead, many things cross my mind. Yes, Christmas is upon us again, but it hasn’t quite descended upon our home life yet. I know it will in a week or so, and have spent much of today feeling the beginnings of worry I’ve grown accustomed to over the years related to “getting ready.” But I’m thinking I need to get rid of the worries, and know that everything always works out.

I head outside for my nightly visit with the sky and am surprised by the wind. The palm fronds are tapping insistently against one another, and I inhale, expecting the slightest scent of the ocean, but instead, it’s someone’s late night dryer load filling the air, making me think of the laundry I didn’t do today. The sky is a ceiling of clouds tonight, so there will be no gazing or counting of lucky stars. The air is lovely, and not what you might expect on an early December night — even here.

That means the windows will be open again tonight, and at some point, one of us will get up to silence the clacking the blinds make against the window sill.

It probably won’t be me.

.

December 7, 2008

I should make a list.

It’s official. I’ve finally gotten to the point in my life sans former profession where I feel like I need an additional six hours a day added to my clock. I’m happy to say that in contrast to my former need for six hours extra *delete rant that was to have been inserted here…*, I’m happily feeling that I not only need to get all that I have to get done…done…I want to.

It does not mean, nor will it ever, that I am perky, however.

It does mean that I just may have to blow the dust off my calendar, or more realistically, use my cyber calendar more effectively. The way I feel right now, I could become a compulsive list maker with the very first order of the day being, make a list, which has never made much sense to me.

My very non-perky giddiness is being fueled by so many different aspects of life right now — and it’s an interesting one to me, if no one else.

With the election just around the corner, I’m successfully undistracted by everything the media has to say about Palin, or Ayers, or the Dewey effect, or just about anything that’s coming out of their mouths right now. They’re on overdrive and have me wondering what in Hell they’ll talk about after it’s all over. I feel like I need to organize a party for election night. When Obama crosses that goal line, we should be able to jump out of our seats and scream just like we do when any of our sports teams win. Yes, I said when — not if.

I. Can’t. Wait.

In other news, my mother has a boyfriend. She’s 70, you know. But there’s something wrong with calling a man who’s well into his sixties a boy, and man friend sounds strange. Man cake? She says they giggle about silly things, email back and forth, and go to the kareoke sessions at their complex together. Sounds like camp doesn’t it? She also just garnered one of the coveted garden spots, inheriting some established rose bushes and will no doubt have it transformed into a veritable botanical nirvana before spring. What does this translate to? The guilt I’ve been carrying around not spending more time with her has eased up a bit, and I’m right in line to have her tell me she’s too busy the next time I ask her if she wants to go shopping or something — which happens once every blue moon or so.

You go Mom. What does he call you? Blue Eyes? Oh, my.

And then, of course, there’s the remodel the economy tried to squash, but couldn’t. In fact we started the process yesterday and now I’m feeling like I need to pinch myself over it all and then snap out of it. There’s so much to do. Do you have any idea just how many bathroom vanities, pedistal sinks, vessel sinks, over mount, under mount, wall mount, porcelain, stone, hammered copper, wooden, antique, modern possibilities there are? It’s sort of Heaven and Hell all at once.

Like hot flashes. Raging heat, then freezing cold. Okay, so maybe not. *looks at watch wondering just how long menopause actually lasts when one has no equipment left*

Then there’s my food blog which has begun to feel like a business. That’s a good thing, but I’m a bit slow on the uptake and need to sit down and think about it all while I’m not in front of my Mac which is beyond distracting. I know I’m the only person on the planet who feels that way, of course. Or better said, the only person who has no resolve, no will power, no stick-to-itiveness. Actually, I’m great at all those things as long as they’re connected to my Mac. I finally decided to take on my own domain with my food blog and having my memory refreshed about the process is less than thrilling. But I’m relentlessly persistent and will figure it out…

…after I’ve sucked it up and decided I can no longer put off creating a weekly baking schedule and menu plan. Gina is a pro at this and posts it like clockwork. Impressive.

But what about world peace you say? Well, there has never been a time that I haven’t realized my freedom to have the quality of life I enjoy isn’t something to be taken for granted. I know this. I know there are people who haven’t had the opportunites I’ve had, or the health and food we enjoy. I know there are people who have to deal with war every single day. No, I can’t imagine. The peace I enjoy is not something they understand…What did Cat Stevens sing about all those years ago? Something about a Peace Train…

**start copy**

Join The Revolution

Here are the rules and the story.

(1) Copy this into a post (2) ADD YOUR NAME to the bottom of the tag list
(3) Tag at as many people as you’d like.

The Peace Globe project began in the fall of 2006 with a simple post from one blog, Mimi Writes. The post ignited a flame in the blogosphere. The flame became a passion. The passion became a movement. It amazingly traveled from blog to blog to blog across the globe. Bloggers wrote passionate articles on what peace means to them, along with the promise of three Latin words scribbled on a globe – Dona Nobis Pacem (Grant Us Peace) – branded with the integrity of their names or blog names. It was positively inspiring to watch. And it began to happen all over the world – from Singapore to China to Afghanistan to Brooklyn.

It was simple. And powerful.

In less than three weeks bloggers from all across the globe will blog for peace.
We will speak with one voice. One subject. One day.
Won’t you join us?
November 6, 2008

How To Get Your Peace Globe In 4 easy steps!

1. Right CLICK and SAVE the peace globe below or choose from other designs here.
2. Sign the globe using Paint, Photoshop or a similar graphics tool. Decorate the globe anyway you wish. You can even include the name of your blog. Click here for hundreds of inspiring examples from previous BlogBlasts.
3. Return the peace globe to me via email ~ mimiwrites2005 at yahoo.com – Let me know your blog’s name and url by leaving a comment here and signing the Mr. Linky. Your submission will be numbered and dated in the official gallery . Your globe and post will be listed on the Official BlogBlast For Peace website and The Peace Globe Posts page.

Here’s the most important part.
4. On November 6, 2008 DISPLAY YOUR GLOBE IN A POST. Title your post “Dona Nobis Pacem”. This is important. The goal is for all blog post titles to say the same thing on the same day. Write about peace or simply fly your globe.

Go HERE for the other 3 globe template choices!)

If you’d like to help spread the word, take this button to your site. The code is in my sidebar.

I, Mimi Queen of Memes, hereby royally tag the following…….

(Before you copy this list on your blogs, ADD YOUR OWN NAME to the bottom of the list. )

………………………………………………………………………………………………YOUR NAME HERE.

YOU DO NOT HAVE TO BE TAGGED TO PLAY.

Please passing this meme through the blogosphere. Peace + Power
This is Mimi Pencil Skirt reporting from the lovely land of the Peace Globes.
Memeing the Movement.

**End Copy**

I’m officially tagging (and I NEVER do this…) Scott, Gina, Jerry, Ben, Meleah, Ritzy, Francis, paisley, ladybanana, Phil, Mike who are all lovely people and will probably think, OMG, what is she doing? By all means, consider yourself tagged if you’re in the mood. Maybe even try to write a better post that I have about world peace…

October 23, 2008

Alive, Exercising, and So Not on Main Street

Well, hello. Remember me? I’m the one who used to write here quite regularly. I’m never quite sure how it gets to be Tuesday after it seems that Thursday was just yesterday, but that’s how it goes.

I think I’ve figured out that if I had a way to hang on to my thoughts while I was out walking, or putzing around during the day, I’d have no problem sitting here and downloading them. But the time passes, and then whatever I thought was so pithy has evaporated. You know, kind of like that bailout the House was trying to get passed?

I could spend all kinds of time writing about that, but everyone else seems to be handling that quite well. I’m sure my opinions aren’t needed.

I did notice on my walk this morning, that everyone seems to be sharing theirs, however. No matter whom I passed, I heard comments regarding “credit,” or “Wall St.” and the beyond annoying “Main St.” reference that is supposed to be us, I guess. You know. Average Joes? This isn’t Kansas, and I don’t live on Main Street. In fact, does anyone any longer? I just want to yell, “Snapoutofit!” to all the talking heads. Ugh.

What a train wreck.

Instead of getting up at the crack of dawn to walk this week, I’ve been trying to think about wondering if I might possibly consider attempting to somewhat establish a new routine. The old routine, walking with my VBF, has been an excellent one that has lasted fairly well for more than two years now. But she’s quite the busy person, and her appointments have been getting earlier and earlier. How sad is that?

Although neither one of us is too thrilled with the idea of getting up to exercise that early, it gets it over with and I know I feel good about that. Plus, I can have bed head hair and clothes that I wouldn’t be caught dead in at any other time of day, unless you count that I leave them on the rest of the day. Let’s call it conserving water, shall we?

So today, after I dropped my carpool charges off at school, I continued down the street to park and try my routine near the beach. Sounds motivational, doesn’t it? The goal here would be to do this twice a week so I wouldn’t have to think about it. I’m in the car already, so why not?

It goes something like this:

I park at the beginning of my route, walk about 20 minutes in one direction, then turn around and go back. Allowing for issues such as feet that ache, a shin that stings, and a butt muscle that is mysteriously aching, the entire effort takes 40 minutes — about the time it takes my friend and I to complete our route.

I can’t figure out what the aches were all about today, because I haven’t had those problems for quite some time. Walking by myself has never been a thrill a minute, so who knows. Maybe I wasn’t walking as fast as my friend and I walk. Her dog usually drags her on the leash, and that keeps us hopping. But, we do have some hills that have me gasping for breath and I didn’t have to deal with anything like that today. Maybe I just feel like complaining. Wonder of all wonders.

The nice part about this route is the beauty. The sun still hadn’t made it over Mt. Soledad, so the beach was cast in shadows. Here and there, as the sun rose, the light shot through the side streets, coloring the water as it pushed up onto the sand. Very nice. It looked like there would be blue skies forever today — so different from yesterday’s unusual thunder and pathetic sprinkle of rain.

A thrill a minute, everyone.

Totally.

Now, I only have about five more days of the week to fill with exercise. I can’t tell you how unexcited I am by this prospect.

It challenges watching dirt cover the ground.

September 30, 2008

You, too can enjoy life past 30

Today is my birthday. And as much as I can say that many women my age choose not to admit their age, I’m proud of mine.

I’m 52 years old. Not 52 years young, or 52 years better. It doesn’t need to be made into something other than what it is.

Fifty-two.

The year I was born, The Platters recorded “The Great Pretender,” Elvis made it to U.S. hit charts for the first time, and Doris Day’s serenade of “Que Sera, Sera” let all who listened know that the future was not for us to decide.

I beg to differ.

Carousel was playing in theaters, and The Edge of Night could be seen on television. Jackson Pollock died in a car crash, Eisenhower was re-elected President, and IBM invented the “Hard Disk Drive.”

Not that long ago, but at the same time, several lifetimes ago.

I have fond memories of growing up in the latter years of that decade and the earliest of the next, but would love to forget many of the years following, until high school was nearly half over. Yes, there were good things about those years, but I’d never live them again if given the opportunity.

Um, no thanks.

I’ve learned quite a bit in all this time, so indulge me, and I’ll give you the short version:

Be an optimist. It’s more efficient. But Murphy does exist, so if you acknowledge that and prepare yourself, things actually work out.
Really bad things can happen to you and you will get over them, but may always struggle to find even a thread of patience with those who insist upon wallowing in self pity. Try anyway.
You can find beauty in just about anything with little or no effort. People who can’t see it aren’t looking close enough.

Be generous with yourself. It makes no sense to wait around for someone else to do it.
Absolutely nothing horrible happens when you leave dishes in the sink at night, or your bed unmade in the morning.
Acknowledge and work on your own shortcomings and you’ll be so busy you won’t have time to criticize others for theirs.
It is more than possible to enjoy your own kids as teenagers. I’ve done it three times, and wouldn’t trade those years for toddlerhood if you paid me.
Life is too short to eat packaged food made with highly processed ingredients. Learn how to cook with fresh ingredients. Yes, you have time. You’re welcome.

The concept of Family is not something to be taken lightly. A bottle of wine can help.
Quiet times during the day are the best, even if they’re only five minutes long and in a dark closet.
It isn’t possible to watch Pride and Prejudice too many times no matter how much my son rolls his eyes.
It’s important to pay attention to what’s going on in the world. It doesn’t always make sense, but ignoring it makes even less sense.
Good friends are priceless.
Deep and lasting love is about Learning, Appreciation, and Compromise. Being silly frequently doesn’t hurt, either.
It is more than possible to appreciate the way your body looks, even though it’s rounder and more soft than it used to be, and lined and marked where it used to be smooth. Well, mine is.

So, Happy 52nd Birthday to me! Since most of the Bloggosphere seems to be made up of twenty and thirty somethings with very young children and who often write about aging, I hope this helps you know that life is good after 39 — in fact, better. It’s all about attitude.

And and occasional masque using French clay and lots of moisturizer.

September 3, 2008

Effin’ Tuesday’s Poetic Crapulence

The Unrelenting Scale

so much depends

upon

the callous silver

scale

lying about my

virtues

every effing

Tuesday.

Everyone…It’s… weigh-in day! And since you’ve all been so pleasant about my hysterical rantings each week, I’ve decided to recognize that another week has bitten the dust and celebrate National Poetry Month all at once! A special thanks to one of my favorite poets, William Carlos Williams, whose fine work has made it easy to express my dissatisfaction with being a member and victim of a numbers fixated society. Er, or something like that. (more…)

April 10, 2007

Weigh-In Methodology: 101

Well, it was weigh-in Tuesday this morning and I’ll confess to being open minded about the results Thinner had for me. And while I’m on my knees, I have another confession to make. I always weigh on Monday morning so that I’m prepared for Tuesday. How ridiculous is that? You know, like, I might be less morose or on the verge 24 hours later or something.

Take into consideration the shenanigans that go on with my weighing-in methodology:

Before beginning, remove heavy items of bed time attire: (slippers, pajama bottoms and sweatshirt)

1) Gingerly step onto the scale making sure there is no jolt up to the serious hefty range thereby keeping you from finding out that’s how much you really weigh.

2) Hold onto the bathroom counter or door frame and then gently release after you’ve stepped onto the scale, thereby easing UP to your real weight. Repeat: Lift…and release — like kegels.

3) Squat on the scale (so you can see it without having to get your glasses) and try to balance long enough to see which line you are on before falling backwards onto the tile.

4) After getting back on the scale, do a few little knee bends in rapid succession to jiggle the scale and see if it gets stuck on a lower number.

5) Take a flying leap onto the scale to see if it can be shocked into submission.

6) Record the final products of all of the above, add them, and divide by five.

It looks like I can only claim a total six pound loss at this point. It’s hard to tell with my stupid scale. That means I’m still in the two pounds a week range, which is what I’m shooting for on the Phoodplan. Nothing exhilarating–just satisfying. I know some of you are still saying, “Why bother?” and I’m remembering that old tale about the Tortoise and the Hare. I’ll get there slowly but surely and pay attention to the non-numerical benefits of weight loss I’m learning:

Large cotton unmentionables fit a bit better in stretchy jeans now;

My knees don’t ache as much climbing the stairs to the office;

When pounding the streets, my shins no longer burn in agony;

Four miles + 45 minutes = sweat like a hog

I have duped myself into thinking that 3 orange or cherry-flavored prunes are candy and savor their juicy sweetness nightly;

A 2 oz. shot of red wine in lime-flavored mineral water tastes absolutely disgusting; and

If you add orange juice to this, the taste improves, but what’s the point because the whole concept is pathetic. And yes, I drank the whole glass.

Have I strayed from the Phoodplan? Not too badly. I have walked an average of five days each week (not seven) and have walked about 40 miles in three weeks!

I drink two cups of coffee (not one) and I’m feeling that caffeine buzz daily as I merrily update my blogs.

Portion control is going well, but it’s challenging to fit all that pasta in that small bowl unless I mash it with the back of a wooden spoon.

Wine on the weekends has been more than two 4 oz. glasses on two days — but not horrifically more (we haven’t resorted to straws in bottles again, yet).

And there will be more partying in Paradise this weekend for Easter. I haven’t figured out what Jesus has to do with parties and drinking wine…Oh, wait…“Bless me Jesus for I have sinned…” but know that it will be consumed, making it easier to filter out the crying baby and howling toddlers in our extended family. “Help me, Je-sus, Help me!”

Trick.

April 3, 2007

Getting Fit

The diet gods heard my roar yesterday. All of them. No, it isn’t miraculous — just simple logic. Stupid scale + stupid glasses (sensible food + 6 days of exercise) = respectable 3-4 lb. loss. I can live with that as long as that black skinny line on Thinner keeps nudging down the dial each Tuesday when I weigh in. Why Tuesday? Because I had to have a better attitude today than I did yesterday, or else. Now, I’ll settle in and look forward to two (count them carefully or you might miss them) TWO practical lbs. each week until June 1st which seems like it’s at the end of a very long yawn — mostly because of the wine deprivation. However, I still have endless horizons in the food department to keep me interested. Are you feeling sorry for the Master of the House (MOH) and RT? They’ll survive and eat well also. No shriveled up taste buds in this hacienda.

In the godforsaken department of being perky about of this, here is my list of good things about my food plan:
I will have fewer hot flashes at night (more exercise, no hardly any wine, reduced caffeine) and I’ll believe this when Hell freezes over.
I will lose weight.
I will no longer have a hitch in my giddy up when climbing my stairs.
The MOH’s car won’t scrape on the speed bump near our community gate when RT and I are sitting on the same side of the car.
I will be able to fit into last spring/summer clothes better than I did last spring/summer or the one before that, or…
I will effectively deprive the neighbors of knowing and strike fear in their hearts, that I no longer have the recycler with the loudest clanking (two weeks of wine bottles) in the cul-de-sac as the recycling truck dumps it from a high altitude–or, from its mechanical arm, suspended above its large metallic bin.
My body will be drunk on nutrients and slap happy on phytochemicals like beta-sitosterol and carotenoids or chlorogenic acid.
My refrigerator’s veggie drawer will no longer have that science experiment gone awry look to it, lacking peppers growing fur, and cucumbers reduced to bottom sludge.
I will look great.

Yesterday when the sun finally decided to come out and warm things up to a modest 66 degrees, I diligently went for my walk. Since I don’t have one of those pedometers, I took the time to get in my car after returning from my walk to measure the distance. Yes, gasoline is well over three dollars a gallon, but I was going to the store anyway, so that counts as multi-tasking. My walking route is 2.8 miles! Go figure. And I achieved my goal of spending 50 instead of 30 minutes walking. Unfortunately, I’m still having cramps in my lower legs and it is annoying. Is it my shoes? Am I walking too fast? Is it the inclines, my stride, all of the above?

I overcame this trauma by taking along my handy little camera, feigning ignorance when I noticed a few suburbanites who had paused while retrieving their trash cans wondering, “What is that thing in her hand? Why would she be taking pictures? Is there a law suit at hand? Who’s her attorney?” The camera was a pleasant diversion, so I’ll have to take it more often.

March 20, 2007

Category: Health