Fifty Days Without...

I have not had a diet soda in 50 days. No big deal, some may say, but for me, it is a very big deal. I have been hooked on diet soda for over three decades. I started out on Tab (remember Tab?) and switched to diet soda in college. It got so bad in college that, just before graduation, I was diagnosed with caffeine addiction.

I had stopped drinking diet soda for a week or so and proceeded to have terrible headaches and lethargy. I literally couldn't get out of bed. It was so bad, my mother had to drive me to school so I could take my finals.

After hearing my diet, the doctor informed me I needed to give up the caffeine.

A sensible person would have given up the diet soda then (emphasis on sensible). What did I do? I switched to caffeine-free diet soda for a few years and continued on with my life.

Eventually, I snuck in a few regular diet sodas and, after children, I switched almost totally to fountain sodas with caffeine. (How else was I supposed to get through those early child-rearing days on four hours of sleep?)

And not just one or two cans of it, but two or three 32-oz cups of the drink. That's right - some days I would consume 96 oz. of diet soda! Healthy - not! But boy, did it keep me going!

Oh yes, I heard the warnings. Friends, family, neighbors and even strangers all told me how bad it was for me. I heard them, but didn't listen to them.

When I went on a diet a few years ago, a 32-oz diet soda was the only thing that got me through the day. If I couldn't eat, at least I could treat myself with a cold fountain soda.

It was addicting, and I knew it, but I convinced myself it wasn't really hurting me.

2012 started with a New Year's resolution (I know, I hate them, but I realized I needed this one) to loose weight and get in shape. My goal was to trim the pounds and then give up diet soda. I knew from experience I would need my daily "hit" of caffeine to help me get through the days, especially the afternoons (and most especially the long, cold winter afternoons!)

Then one Sunday evening, I sat watching television and noticed that my throat was bothering me, again. I thought perhaps I was coming down with a cold, but after some consideration, realized that this scratchy throat came and went, depending on the day; depending on how much diet soda I was drinking.

That scared me.

It scared me enough to say, "Enough - no more diet soda!" It scared me enough to tell my husband that I was giving up diet soda. (For me, telling someone makes it real.) It scared me enough to go 50 days without a drink that I have consumed every day for probably 35 years.

I'm happy to say that this is the only reason I am giving up diet soda. I'm also happy to say that, as of today, there are no ill effects from my years of drinking diet soda. As of today...

Is it easy? No. Honestly, it's been one of the most difficult things I've ever done. (Other than child birth of course!) I struggle with it every day - still - almost two months later. I miss it - I crave it!

As with any addiction, the first week was the hardest. I had no energy and was not the easiest person to be around. (When my daughter heard I was giving up diet soda, her first words to me were "Maybe that isn't the best idea for you!" And my son told my husband he was happy to be five states away!)

But I'm determined to stay the course. Fifty days and counting!

Wish me luck!

"What are you doing for others?"

Marin Luther King, Jr. Day, celebrated on the third Monday in January (and this year, falling on January 16), is a United States federal holiday honoring the birth of one of the great civil rights leaders of our time. People are asked to use their day off to volunteer in some way to honor Dr. King’s memory. We are challenged to make it a day “on” in service to others.

According to Dr. King, “Everybody can be great, because anybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve. You don’t have to make your subject and verb agree to serve… You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love.”

Service is an important word around our house this year. My youngest is receiving Confirmation in a few months and is required to complete ten hours of service. (Not much, I know, but significant enough in a 12–year-old’s world.)

Each time we approach this important milestone in our family (this will be our third Confirmation), I excitedly research service projects in our community. I happily sign them up for anything and everything I can, often accompanying them when able. Through the years, we have cleaned up halls and the outside of lockers at a middle school in Philadelphia, organized and sorted clothing at a children’s non-profit organization, cooked meals for those in need and delivered poinsettias to home-bound parishioners.

On their own, my children have helped coach younger children’s sports teams, joined the Service Club at their school, and babysat (for their siblings and/or neighborhood kids) without pay – all in the spirit of giving something of themselves to make the world in which they live a better place.

This year, for Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, we will be volunteering at our Church, collecting children’s clothing and toys and assembling bags of supplies for refuge children in the United States.

Service to others is always a rewarding experience for our family, and one I consistently vow to continue after Martin Luther King, Jr. Day is over, or my children have completed their service hours for Confirmation.

Unfortunately, while I have good intentions, real life kicks in and side tracks us. Between school, work, homework, sports, activities and family obligations, service is often the first thing forgotten.

When this happens, I am often haunted by Dr. King’s question, “What are you doing for others?”

This year, my goal is to be able to answer that question on a monthly, if not weekly, basis. I hope to think about service not just in January, or when my children receive a sacrament, but on a daily basis. I can offer more than one day a year to serving others. Can you?

My New Year's Wish

I desperately wanted to write something inspiring for my New Year’s post. I wanted to compose something profound that would make people stop what they are doing and declare me brilliant and insightful. (Okay, truth be told, I just wanted people to read it.)

So I gathered piles of magazines and read through every “New Year, New You” article I could find (and there were many of them). I scoured the Internet and Facebook, reading countless blogs and friends’ posts, looking for inspiration.

Unfortunately, the more I read, the more anxious I became. Everyone had something to say about the perfect way to start 2012.

I realized that, in the New Year, I needed to:

-Loose weight (and there are no shortage of diets available);
-Wear orange (or tangerine tango, to be more precise, the color of the year);
-Shop small businesses (or I would personally be responsible for the downfall of the local economy);
-Exercise (this could include everything from joining a gym to yoga - or naked yoga, for those adventurous types - to pole dancing);
-Get organized (and not just my closets, but my thoughts, my life and my computer files need de-cluttering as well, I’m told).

I was encouraged to set a reading goal (finally, an idea I can get excited about), cleanse my system with a New Year’s Detox (spoiler alert: it involves avocados) and pick a word/phrase that I wanted to describe the year ahead for me. (“Who knows; who cares; why bother?” came to mind, but that may be a bit morose.)

One woman posted her 2012 resolutions on a Facebook site for all to see:

“Make my own almond milk; cook all my own beans; recycle more; add 5 corporate yoga teaching gigs and 5 more private yoga clients to my weekly calendar and book an international vacation this year.”

Really? That makes my initial resolution (wear matching socks) seem almost foolish, doesn’t it?

The problem with all these resolutions is that by the time we are finished with them, while we may be a better person, we will be too stressed out and exhausted to enjoy our new lives.

So, while it may not be profound or awe-inspiring, I’ve come up with one resolution for myself, and one wish for everyone: peace.

Peace, according to The Merriam-Webster Dictionary, is “a state of calm and quiet.” That is my word of the year, my New Year’s resolution, and my motto. (It is also my tattoo, but that’s a different blog.)

I wish everyone peace in every area of their lives, for 2012 and the years to come. It may not be as impressive as other resolutions out there, but it works for me, and I hope for you as well. (Besides, how does one go about making almond milk anyway?)

New Year's Mania

I admit it. I am a sucker for the whole “New Year” hype that surrounds January 1.

I make resolutions each year, believing that THIS year I will (pick one): loose weight; exercise more; save money; simplify my life; write more; etc, etc, etc.

For a few years, I made my family write down three resolutions and place them in their stockings as we packed up our decorations on New Year’s Day. The plan was to read our notes the following Christmas, when we pulled out the stockings, and see if we had accomplished our goals. (The kids actually enjoyed this at first, but then, when they hit their teen years, it became “lame,” along with pretty much everything else I suggested!)

I look forward to spending the week between Christmas and New Year’s on my couch, wrapped in a blanket, watching the countless year-in-review programs on TV, while reading the numerous “New Year, New You” articles in magazines, pondering how I too will improve myself.

I can’t wait to sit down at the kitchen table on December 26 with my new “At-a-Glance” calendar I receive for Christmas every year (yes, I still use a wall calendar!) and fill in the empty blocks with kid’s schedules, family birthdays and various appointments for the next year.

This task often takes me a few hours, as I flip through the previous 11 calendar pages and reflect on the various events and milestones that occurred in our lives.

I can often be heard muttering such phrases as “Remember when…” or “That was just last year?” or “Can you believe…” to anyone who happens to wander by.

I am not a big fan of New Year’s Eve however for many reasons (not the least of which is that we never really have any plans). I tend to become a bit teary-eyed and nostalgic, waxing poetic to anyone who will listen about another year having gone by in my life that I will never get back (and that’s before I hit the champagne).

I then move on to the year ahead, and contemplate how my life will change and who may or may not be here next December 31 (myself included).

(It just occurred to me why we may never have any plans on New Year’s Eve. I am a bundle of fun, aren’t I?)

January 1 is the start of a new year, whether you celebrate it with a list of resolutions, a blank calendar or simply a hangover. Wishing all a year of good health, peace and contentment.

The Story of the Blue Lights

Once upon a time, in a neighborhood not far from yours, lived a beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl who loved to laugh and play with her sisters. She went to school, played dress-up with her friends, and ran around the neighborhood like any other little girl.

One sad day, this precious little girl was diagnosed with a terrible disease that slowly robbed her of her ability to walk, to talk, and to see, but it never robbed her, or her family, of the sparkle in those pretty blue eyes or her sweet smile.

Unfortunately, on a warm, sunny, summer day, this beautiful angel was taken from her friends and family. God, it was decided, needed a new angel in Heaven.

Just a few months later, while wandering the neighborhood, a boy came upon the father of this new angel. The father was putting up blue Christmas lights on his house.

“Why blue?” asked the curious boy.

“Well,” explained the Dad, “Blue was our angel’s favorite color, so I’m putting these lights up so that when she looks down from Heaven, she’ll know we’re thinking of her.”

Now, most boys would smile and nod, and run off to play, putting this family, and the blue lights out of their mind, but not this thoughtful little boy. He decided to take his allowance and buy blue lights for not only his family, but a few other families in the neighborhood as well. He wanted to make sure that our angel knew that the whole neighborhood was thinking of her.

One by one, blue lights began popping up on neighbors’ homes, wrapped around tree branches and porch columns, and hanging from light posts and decorative ornaments.

It’s been quite a few years since this angel went to Heaven, and the little boy is now a young man in college, yet the blue lights continue. New families have moved into the neighborhood, and while they’ve never had the pleasure of meeting the blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl, they do know the family she left behind. And in her memory, and in support of this brave, courageous family, they too hang blue lights.

So this Christmas season, as you drive around with your family looking at holiday decorations, when you see blue lights, remember our angel, and say a prayer for her, and her family.

And be thankful for the angels in your life.

Coming to terms with the "M" word

I’ve had a middle-age crisis recently – actually middle-age crises (don’t ask me how long it took to figure out the plural of crisis).

Anyway, the end result of it all is that I think I’ve actually come to terms with the fact that I am, perhaps, approaching Middle Age.

When this horrible thought first raised it’s unsettling head a few months ago, I was aghast: someone with whom I graduated high school, (and therefore was the same age), mentioned on Facebook that he was still in pretty good shape, considering he was middle-aged.

I read that comment and was immediately taken aback. I wasn’t middle-aged, was I? Middle-aged, to me, was a graying, heavy-set woman wearing Mom jeans and glasses with kids in college and a mortgage to pay. I’m a blonde! (And I’m sticking with that statement, no matter what my hairdresser says!)

Could I really be middle-aged? Of course my family was no help. And I quote my husband here, “What, you think you’re going to live to be 100? Of course you’re middle aged!”

According to Wikipedia, middle age is the period of age “beyond young adulthood but before the onset of old age; usually considered to occur between the ages of 40 and 60.” No help there.

They go further by explaining what middle age looks like: “Middle-aged adults often show visible signs of aging such as loss of skin elasticity and graying of the hair. Physical fitness usually wanes, with a 10-20 lb accumulation of body fat; strength and flexibility also decrease.”

Sounds fun, doesn’t it? Is it any wonder I am in denial?

Just to drill the nail into the coffin, I had a conversation with my sister the other night that I can clearly remember my Grandmother having with her sister.

“How did you make out today with your Doctor’s appointments?”

Really, we’re discussing doctor’s appointments?

I take full responsibility for this. Recently, I have decided to take better care of my health (remember that whole yoga kick I was on) and I made a few appointments with various doctor’s for some over-due check-ups.

In the past, I breezed through these and was on my way with barely a backward glance. Imagine my surprise when this time, I received not one but two callbacks saying they wanted to do some further tests, “just to be safe.”

Thankfully, everything came back okay, but it has been a stressful few weeks. I have spent more time in waiting rooms and doctor’s offices getting poked, pinched and prodded than I care to anytime in the near future.

Hence, the previously mentioned phone call!

What have I learned from all this? Wear suntan lotion on all parts of your body; stay up-to-date with your mammograms, and never look up the word “middle age” on Wikipedia!

So yes, I guess I am middle-aged. There, I said it. (And I mean it, I think!)

But that doesn’t mean I’m still not aiming for 100!

Anti-E-Book

I am Anti-E-Book, and proud of it!

Perhaps that makes me old-fashioned, but hey, I was that already so I don’t really care.

If I had to choose between a book and a computer, I would always take the book. I like the feel of a book in my hands as I turn the pages. I like to see how thick/thin a book is and wonder at its size. I like the feeling of accomplishment I get when I glance at the book on my nightstand and see my bookmark nestled in the pages. I love the smell of a new book, and the musty smell of old book stores and libraries.

Oh I know the arguments: the Kindle is lighter, the Nook is easier to carry/pack on trips; the e-books are less expensive.

I say hogwash. I will not to be brainwashed.

Why? You can’t collect e-books and display them on your bookshelves. You can’t get them autographed by the author.

Books don’t require batteries – one of the few items left in today’s world that don’t need to be charged, updated or plugged in.

I recently took my Girl Scout Troop on a camping trip. I told them they weren’t allowed to bring any electronics with them. I mentioned they could bring balls, playing cards and a book. Imagine my surprise when the first question I got was, “What about my Kindle?”

Really? What do I say to that? Doesn’t that seem to defeat the purpose of “getting back to nature”? (By the way, I told them “No Kindles” – find a good old-fashioned book!)

And what about our babies? One of my favorite pastimes with my children when they were younger was to sit them on my lap in their rocking chair in their rooms and read to them. Do parents today whip out their Kindle to read Good Night Moon? How exactly does a picture book translate onto an I-Pad? No wait, I don’t want to know.

You can’t cuddle up with a Kindle.

I-Pad? I don’t think so!

Just say “NO” to the Nook.

And I’m not alone. I recently joined the “Official Anti-Kindle Group” on Facebook. And YouTube has an Anti-E-Book Campaign (www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0rC925ubGw).

I’ll say it again: I am Anti-E-book, and proud of it! Won’t you join me?