Recipe Review: Cashew Ranch Dressing and Fudgy Black Bean Brownies

I am not a talented cook--but by golly, my reading skills are above average so hopefully I can follow a recipe accurately! I had a great grandmother who never needed a recipe book--she cooked from her heart. Me, I'm a technical writer by trade and need to read the manual! I enjoy getting recipes from all over the Internet and various cook books. However, my favorite two sources are: 

Website: Susan Voisin's FatFree Vegan Kitchen, http://blog.fatfreevegan.com/ Susan blogs from the Deep South and develops yummy vegan recipes. Much of her work falls within Dr. Fuhrman's Eat-to-Live nutritarian diet. Susan gives practical tips for the preparation of each recipe. For example, if you're making the Cashew Ranch Dressing, she advises you soak the cashews for a few hours if you don't have a powerful blender like the Vitamix. Because I am not a divinely talented cook, I appreciate instructions like this!

Dr. Fuhrman's Eat to Live Cookbook. This cookbook contains about 200 recipes from smoothies to salads to main entrees such as stews, soups, and more. I have this fantasy of making a recipe from his book each day and blogging about it--as did that young woman in the movie who blogged about cooking Julia Child's recipes. I'd really like to take a shot at it as it will give me a reason to really stick to the Eat-to-Live regime and get some writing practice in. I don't think there is a movie deal in it for me, but becoming healthier and getting off my pre-diabetes medicine is a good possibility.  

Today's recipe review includes: 

* Cashew Ranch Dressing, from Susan Voisin's FatFree Vegan Kitchen. The main ingredients are cashews and non-dairy milk with seasonings. The surprise ingredient for those unfamiliar with it is chia seeds. These little babies are packed with protein and fiber. The seeds are small and grind up well. You won't taste them. I diverted from Susan's recipe by adding a bit of Mrs. Dash instead of chives. This dressing was cool and creamy on my salad. I don't miss the bottled ranch dressing from the store--fresh, home-made is so much better. Aside from soaking the cashews for four hours, this recipe took less than five minutes to whip up in the blender. Don't worry--you don't need a Vitamix to do this. (I don't have one either.) My good old Osterizer blender worked. 

* Fudgy Black Bean Brownies, from Dr. Fuhrman's Eat to Live Cookbook. I made this in my food processor. I used the S blade and processed the ingredients until they were smooth and were starting to form a heavy ball of dough. The batter had the texture of fudge, heavy fudge, more than it did that of traditional brownie batter. I was skeptical at first because there is no liquid ingredient or oil in the recipe except that of the small amount of almond butter. There's no sugar--dates take the place of that.
      My teenagers refused to try the brownies. My son held up a small pot of dirt next to the brownies. "Hm, there's no difference," he said. I had to laugh. My daughter smiled politely and said she didn't want to try them. My husband took one bite and said with great feeling, "YUCK." I am not sure I will make these again
--I think they'd be nice with walnuts. 

Looks like I'll have those brownies all to myself. Have you made this recipe? And did your family like it?

Reboot Tools for a New Year

It's a new year. A time to make and break resolutions--or to succeed. I've been stalled on my weight loss for several months now. Why? It's a tangled mesh of external factors that challenge me and my own bad choices. Time to start anew. Why do I want to lose weight? Well, I'm past the age of wanting to rock a bikini, so here's what I want to achieve and why: 

• Lose weight to lower my blood sugar and cholesterol and get off metformin forever. 
• Strengthen my core so that my lower back is more stable and pain free (I have degenerative disc disease in my lower back as many of us middle-aged folk do). 
• Increase my cardio endurance to keep my heart healthy and so I can get back to some activities I used to enjoy when I was younger. 
• Advance in yoga so I remain flexible.
• Take up weight-bearing exercises to strengthen my bones. 
• Stay healthy physically so that I can maintain mental clarity.

I want to live a long life, but I want a healthy long life. I want to age "gracefully" and maintain my independence as long as I can. I'd like to enjoy my grand children some day and pursue a useful and meaningful life for as long as I can. 

I'm rebooting. I've assembled some "tools" to help me. Here they are--take a look. Some of them you may find useful. 

Nutrition Tools 

• Dr. Fuhrman's Eat-to-Live books. For those who wish to transition to a vegan, plant-based diet or who just wish to incorporate more plant foods in their eating, these books explain the health benefits of this type of diet. Dr. Fuhrman's "nutritarian" diet as he calls it, incorporates beans, legumes, fruits, vegetables, seeds and nuts. In his food pyramid, there is flexibility for those who still wish to eat meat and diary. He recently published a cookbook. For more information, go to http://www.drfuhrman.com/
• Dr. Michael Gregor, NutritionFacts.org. Dr. Gregor provides free videos several times a week with updates on nutrition and research findings on the impact nutrition has on our health. His quirky sense of humor and the ease with which he explains science will get you hooked. You can find him at http://nutritionfacts.org/. He also has a channel on YouTube.
• MyFitnessPal.com. I use this free online tool to track my eating choices, nutrition, and exercise. It's very educational to see what my eating choices are really worth.
• Vegetarian Society of Hawaii. Even if you don't plan to give up meat and just want to start eating more plants in your diet, this group uploads its once-a-month lectures on Youtube. Search for vhsvideo and subscribe to their channel. Overall, this channel has provided me with solid information from doctors and nutritionists such as Colin Campbell, Joel Furhman, Neal Barnard, and John McDougall. Website: http://www.vsh.org/

Exercise Tools

• Bands and tubes. A few months ago I entered physical therapy to help me strengthen my lower back and manage pain. My physical therapist has taught me how to use bands and tubes to exercise at home. The exercises she gives me both stretch and strengthen my muscles. 
• Yoga. I have been using Alan Finger's yoga DVDs at home. He explains each poise carefully and thoroughly. He has two instructors, one on each side of him, showing the beginning level and the advanced level for each poise.  I also follow Ekhart Yoga on YouTube to find supplemental poises for specific problems I am having. Yoga has given me flexibility and strength; it has also helped me clear up asthma. 
• Horses. When I have access to a horse, riding is such great spirit therapy and exercise.
• The Great Outdoors. Walking outside is great for cardio, your back, and your spirit.

Motivational Tools

• Facebook Groups. I joined some Eat-to-Live and vegan support groups. We truly cheer each other on and celebrate each other's success. If someone falls off the wagon for a day, a week, or month, there is no condemnation or judgement. Tomorrow is another day and a brand new start. I really need this support. I recently joined a Facebook group led by Judi Finneran for Eat-to-Live fans who have  specific weight goals. Judi is very perky and encouraging and posts useful information every day. 
• Friends with Similar Goals. Having a friend you have daily contact with to report to helps immensely. I find this particularly helpful if my family or spouse doesn't want to participate in health goals. 
• Eat-to-Live Yahoo Group. I get a daily email of postings from this group.We share recipes, questions and answers, nutritional information, reviews of cookbooks, advice on cooking appliances and tools, and so forth. I have a learned much from this group.

Cooking Tools 

• Dr. Fuhrman's Eat-to Live Cookbook. 
• Susan Voisin's blog, "FatFree Vegan Kitchen" at http://blog.fatfreevegan.com/. Susan blogs daily with wonderful, tasty vegan dishes. I hope she does a cookbook someday. 
• Robyn Openshaw, Green Smoothie Girl at http://greensmoothiegirl.com/. This website is packed with nutritional information on green smoothies, with recipes, and with directions on how to implement green smoothies in your diet. 
• Kitchen appliances such as blenders, food processors, and pressure cookers. Our cheap little Ninja blender has helped me use green smoothies to lose weight. Recently, I was given a food processor for Christmas--it makes creating salads and dressings for lunch so much easier. I am now coveting a pressure cooker for my birthday . . . 

Tools for the Spirit

What ever your beliefs are about making yourself a better person and shining light in your corner of the world, draw upon the power of those beliefs to keep you motivated on your journey to better health. It doesn't matter if you are Christian, Buddhist, Wiccan, or atheist! 

This is a lot of information--I've assembled my "toolkit" over the past two years. I'm 30 lbs. down and have several more to go. I hope you'll find some of these tools useful for your health goals. Good luck to all of us! 

Wild Horses in the West Desert

Here it is June and I haven't blogged since March. It's been "one thing after another" as they say. Life has settled down somewhat. Conor graduated from high school and will start at UVU this fall in the Biotech program.  (He says he will NOT clone a new youthful body for me. That's the gratitude I get.) Niamh will be in 10th grade this fall and is enjoying 4H horsemanship classes taught by Shauna Hatch.  I finally got back to my yoga and writing--I want to finish my novel by fall. It's just time. I'm also losing weight again and attempting to eat vegetarian/vegan most of the time.

I had such grand dreams of building a bunch of raised garden beds and enjoying home-grown greens and vegetables. There's always next year I suppose, but it galls me to have a backyard that is so under utilized now that my kids are teenagers. Gardening is good exercise, too!

Yesterday I finally did something I've wanted to do for a very long time--sighted wild horses! Before I got married, I hiked and camped all over this beautiful state. I can't count the times someone would tell me that just a few weeks before or after I'd been camping someplace they'd seen wild horses there. Really?! It seemed I was destined never to see mustangs in Utah--I'd hike down canyons where they were supposed to be, and they eluded me.

A coworker at UVU, Karen Olsen, had her husband, Eldon, contact me. His hobby is photographing wild horses. He was kind enough to offer to take Niamh and I. The look of awe on our faces was his reward I think! Eldon writes a blog about his trips and posts some pretty darn good photos on it. You can see his blog at: www.mustangsofutah/wordpress.com Eldon provided drinks, food, cameras, binoculars--he was really patient and let us stop to take photos anywhere we wanted.

The place he goes to most often is the Cedar Mountains in the desert west of Provo and Orem. In fact, if I recall the journey correctly, we drove through two valleys and mountain ranges. We were 120 miles west of  the Provo/Orem area.  We drove through Lehi, Eagle Mountain, Cedar Fort--this was as far west as I'd ever been in our county. We went through the Ochre Mountains that ring the west side of Utah Lake and our county. On the other side lies another valley which to the north lies Toole and the Salt Lake airport. Over another mountain range (which is nameless to me) and down into another valley, you can see Antelope Island to the north. This was my gauge of how far west we were going.  The last hour of the trip we drove down dirt roads through broad expanses of grass and sage that fold up into mountains odorous with juniper, built of black and brown volcanic rock. Antelope grazed in the grasslands while hawks and large crows circled.

The grass was yellow and light green--flowers still bloomed in scattered patches: purple nettle, Brigham's tea with small yellow blossoms. Eldon said that in spring, when the rains come, the cactus and other plants bloom with brilliant flowers. I'd love to see that. He said if it rains again, everything will bloom again--or else  it will burn to brown.

As we approached an area called Brown's Springs, Eldon pulled over. With binoculars, we scoured the western mountain ridges for horses. The day before, Eldon had seen  a large band here and hoped they'd come again. He said of all the times he's been out looking for wild horses, only once did he not see any. He goes often at all times of the year.  In a few years when he retires, he's thinking of starting a photography and wild mustang tour business. I honestly believe he'd succeed at it.  He knows these nameless roads and trails, knows the names of the BLM horse management areas.

Cedar Mountains at Sunset

Where does this love of wild horses come from for him? It all started with a mustang colt his uncle caught off the range. He was a sorrel with flaxen mane and tail, named Desert Storm. Go to Eldon's blog to see a picture of Desert Storm. He's got a photo posted of a band of horses from the area where Desert Storm was caught--all sorrel with flaxen mane and tail. They must have come from the same blood line. "I marvel at their alertness, their beauty, and their family ties," Eldon writes on his blog.

I also sensed while talking to Eldon on the drive, that he deeply loves Utah, its landscape and history. It's hard not to--I fell in love with Utah when I moved out here and used to hike and camp alot. I have lost touch with that love of wilderness, but  found it again out in the west desert.

Those close to me will know I've been frustrated and less than happy here in Utah for the past few years. I'd forgotten what made me fall in love with this state. This desert outing brought that love for this place back to me.

We stopped in a few places, got out binoculars and scoured the flatlands and mountain ridges. We saw hoof prints and piles of manure called "stud piles." No horses. We drove farther into the Cedar Mountains. The juniper trees grew taller as we ascended into the mountains. Yellow sprigs of Brigham's tea and purple nettle still bloomed. We came to Rydalch Pass and saw a Humane Society truck parked on the side of the road.

Down the road from the truck, we stopped and watched the sides of the pass and farther to the north a place called Brown's Springs where water is pumped out for cattle. The horses find water here. It was now getting close to 5 p.m. Eldon said when it's hot, the horses come down from the canyons out in the open to get water early in the morning and late in the afternoon or early evening.

A young woman name Kayl, turned out to be from the Human Society. She came walking up the road to Eldon's truck. She does research on the effects of the PZP contraceptive drugs being used to control herd numbers. She asked us very politely what our plans were--since we were here, the horses might not come and that interfered with her work. Another truck came down the road and stopped--and older man named David was out looking for mustangs as well. He and Kayla and Eldon swapped information. Kayla said there are about 500 wild horses in the Cedar Mountain HMA.

While I was listening to this conversation, I was still scouring the mountainside for horses. It was as though shadows beneath trees shifted, shimmered, transmuted into horses. They stood quietly--a small herd of mostly paints. And with them--a week-old foal born late in the season. I let the others know and we all started watching. The band of paints moved below our line of sight into a draw or small canyon. A few minutes later they came out of the draw and were close to the road. The white part of their  manes  and coats seemed almost translucent in the desert sun.

First Band Sighted--Mostly paints and what appears to be a cremello.  

One of the paints from the first band sighted. The multi-colored mane is beautiful.

From the first band--I can't tell if it's a palomino or cremello.

The week-old foal in the first band.

Eldon pointed out another band of horses coming around the bend, galloping down the dirt road. First I saw the dust cloud their passing created--then I saw them emerge from the dust that was back-lit by the evening sun. He and David walked down the road and hid behind trees to get as close as possible. He advised us to do the same--so Niamh and I hid behind juniper trees that were barely taller than us and tried to be as unobtrusive as possible.

The Second Band--this group had a few buckskins.

Checking out the homo sapiens from a distance. 

A few minutes later, I happened to glance over to the east side of the ridge where Brown's Springs is located. A third band had appeared--they had come from the small canyon between the two ridges. They were drinking from the cattle watering trough.

Keeping an eye on the humans while drinking from the water trough. 

This mustang fits one of the images I've always had in my mind.

Niamh took some of these photos--she did a good job! Thanks to Eldon for letting her use his telephoto lenses/digital camera.

Once each band spotted us, they moved away a small distance. Then they stood as still as elk do, watching you, still as trees on a windless day. I was surprised to see how small the bands were--I always assumed that wild herds were large. Perhaps they are elsewhere, I don't know. The horses looked healthy--only one band had a foal, the week-old foal born late in the season. The young woman from the Human Society documents the effectiveness of the contraceptives that are given by injection or dart gun. The contraceptive lasts for a year. It does not affect a fetus if the mare is already pregnant. But here's the problem--Eldon told me he's seen foals born as late as November or December. That's dangerous out in the wilderness. It's not a prime time to be born, to grow and gain strength. If there's a food shortage, I don't know how the mares could provide enough milk for their nursing foals.

I asked Kayla if the contraceptives are successful, would that be a good way to manage the wild horse population and keep them out on the range. She said yes, she thought that could work.

All three bands decided to move off to the west. They galloped down the road and off into the flatlands that tided into  sand flats and dunes off in the west towards Nevada. Dust clouds rose, and the horses seemed to disappear into the dust.

Off they go--they've had enough of us.

Heading west into the sand flats and dunes, towards Nevada and the setting sun.

Raising dust clouds at their passing. 

Sand dunes off in the distance. To the north is the Great Salt Lake. To the west lies Nevada. The horses have disappeared, ghost-like, into dust and sunlight.

There are so many opinions on what should be done with the mustangs. Some view them as an invasive, feral species that should be taken off the range--and there are horse lovers among this segment. Then there are the cattlemen who want to use the BLM land for their cattle. Others feel the mustangs are an important symbol of the history of the American West and should be left free to roam.

At this time there are approximately 30,000 wild horses being kept in feedlots at taxpayer expense. They are fed. They can't all be adopted out. Should they go to slaughter to be used as horse meat in foreign countries and the revenue used to fund programs to help manage the mustangs that are still free? Or should they be taken off the range all together?

Some will say we should all eat a lot less meat, freeing up range land for the mustang and other wildlife. Some will say we should move them off the range forever and stop wasting taxpayer money to round the horses up, feed them, and use contraceptives. Some want them in refuges.

After watching these horses out in the wild, I will say I hope that a place can be made for them to live out in the wild. It's not practical, that hope, is it? I'll admit that. I love domesticated horses--Niamh's passion is riding. I enjoy being around the horses and I'm learning to ride myself. I hope to own a horse one day. The relationship between horse and human can be a very powerful connection--learning to communicate with another species is a humbling experience. (That's a whole other discussion.)  David told me about his horse who'd been a great cow-cutting horse--he had to give him up five years ago when he developed back problems and couldn't ride anymore. Retired, he now goes off into the desert to find and watch mustangs.

There were four of us out there, all of us horse lovers, all of us riders in varying degrees of expertise, all of us close to domesticated horses. And yet, we still wanted to come out here and see the wild ones. Those mustangs I suspect, symbolize something different to each of us. Looking off into the west over the ridges and canyons that eased into  flatlands and sand dunes back-dropped by more mountains blue in the distance, I was overwhelmed by the vastness of this country. The silence around us was sacred--broken only by the crow's call and the soft thunder of hooves off in the distance .

In that regenerative quiet, I truly regretted the years then in which I gave up hiking and taking time to be out in wilderness. The mustangs brought this back to me. I want to return again not only to the Cedar Mountain range and the west desert--but I want to return to other places I have loved out here in Utah--Goblin Valley, the San Raphael Swell, Mt. Timpangoos, Mount Nebo, the Uintas, Kolob Canyon. It ties back to my search to regain my health so I can visit those places again. And a return to health is also a return to my soul, to those things that regenerate it.

Last night, there was lightening in the sky northwest of my home in Provo. I imagined it sparking over the Cedar Mountains and desert, illuminating the faces of mustangs, trees, stones, antelope, and hawk. It gave me peace and an unexplainable comfort to know that all that was still out there--for now.

One last look back at Sunset. We'll come back, my girl and I. 

Slow Awakenings: Spring at the Barn'

The coming of spring is a slow awakening--details unfurl, one at a time, like an opening flower. I live in South Provo--just around the corner from my house, fields and pasture open in to marshland, then the open water of Utah Lake. Migratory birds will grace these shores for a few weeks at a time in spring. In late February as I drive to work, I will see the first calf of spring, standing on wobbly legs, warm air steaming off its little body, wrapped in mist that eases from lake to field. In pagan Celtic society, Imbolc, the holy days of late January and early February, marked the beginning of spring and calving and lambing season. Such birthing was the first hope of spring.

The geese start returning at about this time as well. We see the slow awakening at the barn as well. Mornings    begin a little warmer. The hoses, usually frozen, thaw out a little sooner; the layer of ice on the top of water pails is thinner and more easily broken. Ice turns to mud then firmer earth. When March winds blow down from the canyons and shake the trees at the perimeter of Shauna's farm, the horses are skittish, easily excited. The mares begin to cast longing glances at the stallion.

 If there are pregnant mares, now is the time we look out for the birthing of foals. Niamh and I have never seen a birth--but a few times we've arrived when a foal was about 12 hours old (they always seem to come at night!). We've petted the soft head of one of these babies, watched them stagger around the stall, looking for Mom and nourishment. There's that soft low nicker the mares make that seems to say, "Come and eat. Get warm. Stay close." A quiet hush surrounds foal and mare as the baby suckles hungrily; it always brings me back to nursing my own babies, makes me recall that deep contentment and peace of taking time out from the busy tasks of life to sit still, feed my child, and look into her face. My son came to me during Imbolc as the geese were returning to Utah Lake; my daughter came on the cusp of summer and autumn as the geese were wheeling in formations over the fields, preparing for their journey south.

My daughter and I have been coming to the barn on Sunday mornings for almost a year now. She's been riding at Shauna Hatch's for six years. I used to watch my little 4th-grader lope around the arena or take low jumps with my heart in my throat. Now, she can handle and ride one of the biggest horses in the barn and loves to jump. When  a horse she's riding gets skittish, she can handle the situation. I am convinced this will help her weather "the storms of life."

As I dump out water buckets and refill them, and as I muck stalls, I think of these things, listen to the horses breathing, chomping, snorting, nickering, bugling. They bang their feeding buckets. There's the occasional skirmish. Tasha has taught Niamh to fill the big nets with hay. Niamh is really become proficient at this. She did much of it today because Tasha had tendinitis in her hand. She commented that Niamh worked really hard this morning and how a few weeks ago Niamh's  would have been hurting--but Niamh is stronger and more in shape for this kind of chore than she was just a weeks ago.

I had my own little moment of triumphant as well--in spite of the fact I've not been doing yoga as much lately, I stuck my left leg up in the stir-up, and swung my right leg over with more ease than I have ever done. I was in more control of my body instead of just hurling it up over the poor horse and nearly throwing myself and the saddle off (this happened once!).

What I love most about time down at the barn is working alongside my daughter. And now I'm learning to ride as well--oh, I'll never be as accomplished as that girl is on a horse, but we can now share this--all the mud, the poop, cold feet, sore muscles--it's been worth it to spend time with Niamh. The hawk circling the field, wind shaking the trees, yearlings thundering across the field for the sheer joy of movement, and my daughter moving in her own dance into womanhood--slow awakenings, spring at the barn, freeing me from the fear of aging and death, teaching me to flow gently into what lies ahead.

Climbing Off the Plateau--Stepping up Exercise and Retooling Nutrition

Ah no! I reached 32 pounds of weight loss and am now on that dreaded plateau! I've been sitting here for about two or three weeks. I lose some, go back up some. I've sloughed off a bit with the walking and yoga--I'm sure that has contributed to this plateau. I keep reminding myself that my cholesterol has dropped 22 points--it is one point away from being the "normal range"; I am now taking half of my metaformin dose I have been taking for pre-diabetes; in addition, I have gone down one dress size and no longer have to shop in "women's plus-sizes".

So what am I going to do about this plateau? I really don't want to stay here! The health goals I want to reach are just to important to my quality of life in the long-term.

So here's what I know I need to do:

* Step up the cardio. Walking every other day isn't enough anymore. It is helpful, but I need to go farther. Treadmill, here I come. When the weather warms up, I'll be walking/jogging outside. I don't know how far I can  go into jogging because of my knees. I won't know until I try!

*  Start strength training. Lifting weights--which I've done in the past and enjoyed immensely. Building up muscle tissue will help me burn calories more efficiently. I've got a DVD from the South Beach Diet Recharged that has a weight-lifting routine for those who haven't been physically active for a while. I hope that starting off on yoga first--stretching and loosening my muscles--will prove beneficial as a precursor to weight-lifting.

* Re-examine some of my eating habits. Yup, soda. I don't drink the enormous amounts I used to, but I still have too much of it. I feel better drinking water, teas, and vegetable juices.

* Retool my nutrition. I've been listening to lectures and reading up on nutrition the past two months. Increasingly,  I have come to believe that for me and my particular health issues that eating a primarily plant-based diet with a high portion of raw foods would be best. (I am not saying that everyone should eat this way; this is a highly personal decision.) My best friend told me about a book, Eat to Live, by Dr. Fuhrman. This book makes sense to me and tied up many loose ends in my research.

Dr. Furhman advocates a basically vegan diet--free of  not just meat, but dairy as well. His food pyramid has  meat and sweets at the top, to eaten "rarely." At the base are vegetables, half of which should  be raw. The next layer up is fruits and beans and legumes. Above that are fat sources--seeds, nuts, and avocados, and starches such as potatoes and whole-grains. The top two layers are dairy, meet, poultry, fish, and sweets. Dr. Furhman recommends getting your protein primarily from legumes, beans, nuts, and seeds.

When I follow this nutritional pyramid, I feel better, have more energy, and lose weight. My daily menu will look like this:

Breakfast:  Oatmeal cooked in almond or soy milk, topped with fruit, some nuts, ground flaxseed, a dash of maple syrup and cinnamon. Or, it might be a green smoothie or a bowl of fresh fruit and nuts with a dollop of plain yogurt.

Lunch: A big salad with a homemade vegan dressing made from nuts or a plate of vegetables with homemade dip made with beans.

Dinner: Vegetarian or regular dinner with some meat.

 In his book, Dr. Fuhrman claims that patients who follow his eating plan not only lose weight, but are able to come off medications for diabetes, cholesterol, high blood pressure, and heart disease. I hope to see how I will do following this eating plan. I'd really like to get off my expensive medications and reach a point at which food and exercise is the only medicine I need to keep me safe from diseases. I also found extremely helpful books and YouTube lectures by Dr. John McDougall and Neil D. Barnard. The Vegetarian Society of Hawaii has an excellent YouTube channel of its monthly lectures that I found extremely helpful.

There is a spiritual and environmental benefit to eating primarily plant-based diets as well--but that is a subject for another blog post of by those much better educated in these matters than I am.

The Undiscovered Country

When I was finishing up graduate school at the age of twenty-five, I had a dream about being thirty-two. I had blossomed into a confident, gracious person and all my nerosises and character flaws were gone.

If my fifty-two-year-old self could have a chat with my twenty-five-year-old self, she's say, "Good luck with that, Cara."

Just when I think I've got life figured out, I find myself in a new situation that makes new demands and challenges of me; I have to reach inside myself for skills and gifts that are either underdeveloped or I didn't know I had. Just when I thought my career was going great and that had my life mapped out as a single person, boom, I fell in love and got married. Then I became a mother--talk about having to reach inside yourself for strength and energy you never dreamed you'd need. (I speak of those sleepless baby years.)

Right now I feel like I'm standing in a port with my two teenagers. The wind is picking up, and their ships are going to come for them soon. They'll be setting out towards their own horizons.

There's my horizon, too--the older I get, the bigger my horizons seem to get. Through marriage and work, I've made trips to Europe, worked with people from all over the world. I knew the world was an amazing place when a co-worker from Singapore announced to me on the phone one day that she had been to Iowa years ago visiting her brother who was attending a university there. "Lots of corn. That's what I remember," she teased.

I'm trying figure out what to do with the increased physical and spiritual spaces I have in my life now that my children are getting older. Three years ago I began my first novel. Last spring I became determined to get into better shape and then came the opportunity to take riding lessons. I still have this fantasy of taking up the Celtic harp, too. (Well, you never know!)

For many women, the first half of their lives becomes subsumed by work, the demands of motherhood, the demands of an unequal yolk in marriage. I lost time to write when my children were young--between working full-time and trying to be a good mother, I simply didn't have the energy or time to write. When I finally felt I had the time to do it and I gave myself permission to pursue that which gives me joy, I returned to part of my soul that gives me such joy. Some people see photos or paintings as they walk through the world. Others hear music. I hear words and poetic rythyms. I hear characters talking, feel their longings and pain. I must tell stories in the same way others must sing.

My mother is a gifted musician--surprisingly, she told me once it was over a decade before she sat down to play the piano on a regular basis after she married and started her family. She too was subsumed by the demands a family--the brave lady six of us! After my father's death, my mother played in a Dixieland jazz band for a few years. She got out there, had fun, and her musical abilities expanded. In her 40s, she went back to college and got her degree in music education. I know that education really broadened her mind. In her early 70s, she bought one of those electric piano/synthesizer do-hickies. All those buttons and switches--looked pretty intimidating to me. A year later when I came out to visit her again, she'd figured out how to use the thing--move over  Yanni. I was astonished.

Once her children were older, my mother had the time and space to rediscover her talents--to discover her own unexplored country. My writing, my health, horseback riding, yoga--these are paths to my undiscovered country. I hope to keep exploring until my last breath!

Standing in My Stirrups

For one reason or another I haven't had a riding lesson for several weeks. Today's lesson was a milestone for me for many reasons; these reasons may not seem like a big deal to those younger and fitter than me. However, for me, they signified much progress in my journey to lose weight and become more fit.

This morning was cold and clear with a sprinkle of new snow on the ground. We had about 6 inches on the valley floor the day before. I wasn't surprised to find the barnyard muddy and several of the stalls with huge puddles in them. A thin layer of ice floated at the top of most of the water buckets. I was grateful for my Walmart mucking boots and warm work gloves. I come to the barn for fun and relaxation--I don't have to do this for a living. It made me think of all those over the last century and a half who have worked the land  and raised farm animals without all the conveniences we have.

After barn chores were done, Tasha had me saddle up Bitsy. I was able to not only carry the saddle but put it up on Bitsy. I could feel strength in my arms I haven't had for a long time. I still had to use the steps, but swinging myself in the saddle was easier; my body felt lighter. I have only lost about 5 pounds in the last two months, so my guess is that I am more fit and able to lift myself up more easily. All this just from doing yoga and walking.

I focused on just walking Bitsy for a time and practicing turns. Then came the next surprise. Tasha told me to stand in my stirrups. The last time she asked me, it hurt to do it. My muscles burned. This time, I stood up in my stirrups and stayed there while Bitsy walked around the entire arena. Tasha was pleased and frankly, I was thrilled. It didn't hurt at all and I could feel the strength in my core, back, and thighs.

In addition to feeling stronger and more flexible, I experienced two milestones in riding and communication with the horse. At my last lesson, Tasha explained and demonstrated how to nudge a horse to move to the outside of the arena. (Bitsy is smart--she knows that by moving on the inside it's a shorter distance.) Today I finally got the knack of it, by using slight pressure in my thighs and calves to nudge Bitsy to the outside. It made for a nicer ride.

I didn't think I'd be up for  trot, but Tasha coaxed me to try it. I was almost in rhythm, but not quite. Tasha advised me not to rise up so high while posting. I took her advice and did a gentler movement--the rhythm of posting and getting on the correct diagonal finally clicked! Rising up too high in the saddle was making me get off a beat, if that makes sense. I spent more time trotting and posting today than I have ever before--I was thrilled.

I don't think I stopped smiling once after that!

Near the end of my lesson my right knee and both ankles were starting to hurt. Tasha showed me some exercises to try to strengthen ankles and knees. I've had issues with my ankles all my life. In my late 20s I did a lot of cross-country skiing in the back country. I had to work with a personal trainer and special weights to get my ankles strengthened. I definitely have the same issue now on top of being older.

I'm just amazed at the benefits I've gotten already from just doing yoga and leisurely walking.

I was definitely a sight after barn chores and lessons-- my short hair was all messed up and skeewumpus; my clothes were stained with the slime of hay, my boots covered with poop and mud. But I suspect my cheeks were rosy and I had a big grin. I will never be young again; but there's hope I just may age well, be healthy and be able to do some of the things I love again.

Yup, I don't need to throw a javelin from the back of a horse--I'm just thrilled to be standing in my stirrups . . .

Mares Gone Wild

This morning as I turned off State Street in Lindon and headed down the long driveway to the stables, I noticed piles of horse manure all along the drive. This is unusual. I thought perhaps a horse had gotten out. I parked in front of the barn next to Tasha. As Niamh and I got our boots on, we noticed Tasha was stressed out while she spoke on her cell phone.

It turns out my guess about a horse getting out was partially right: all eight of the back paddock horses had escaped. Thank goodness the gate leading out to the street was locked or there might have been horses cruising up and down State Street.

To get them back to the paddock, Tasha told me she loaded up a bucket with grain and the party girls followed her back to the paddock.

I'm really glad she got to the stables first this morning (she usually does)--I'm not sure what Niamh and I would have done besides sit there, puzzled, and making vain attempts to get the horses back to the paddock.

Poor Cash, the resident stallion, was sweaty from pacing back and forth in his stall. Of course, all the escapees were mares--poor Cash--how he must have been filled with longing! I would NOT go into his stall to change his water until he'd been served up his morning hay to distract him. Don't get me wrong--Cash is a sweetheart of a stallion and Shauna has him well trained; however, this morning, the siren call of potential love and sex really had the poor boy longing to get out of his stall.

Niamh and I burst out laughing as we came around the corner of the barn to see the horses in the paddock. I've never see this before. They were all standing in a circle, facing each other. They looked absolutely guilty. Two of them--including Bitsy, the mare I ride--were lying down, just fat and stuffed. They'd gotten into the grain, nibbled on the hay, and we think they got into a bag of apples.

I don't know about you, but all those carbs would make me giddy!

The ground on the side of the barn was covered with hoof prints as was the gravel area we park in. Those girls really did have a party, tearing up the ground, nibbling the sides of the haystacks. 

I'm surprised they didn't T.P. the barn or something.

I was just about done watering when the gate to Bella's stall broke and fell off its hinges. It was a long time in coming, but still, it was inconvienant. Tasha put a new chain on the gate and positioned it so Bella couldn't get out. She thought about it, and decided we'd have to take out that section of fencing (it includes the gate) and replace it with a newer section. Tasha tied up Bella and Dream in the back of their stalls.

Tasha got a mallet and started wacking away, getting the pegs loose out of the brackets that held them. I helped her by pulling and pushing as needed. "If you're ever in a bad mood, just come down here, get this mallet and start pounding the dents out of the fences," she said.

We moved the old section of fencing against the barn wall. Then we went around to the other side of the barn and through a series of manuevers--we had to open the gate of one stall, then another--to get the fence section manuevered around the corner. I think what helped Tasha out was not my strength but pushing my sheer weight into the fence as we struggled to get it into place. Yes, for once being "morbidly obsese" was helpful!

It's times like this it's obvious I am 27 years older than Tasha! She sure is patient with me!

Once we got the fence into place and Tasha untied the horses, it seemed as though we should have had a bottle of wine or  a cake to celebrate! Niamh came out from the arena--she'd been riding Souix. Tasha told Niamh, "Hey, your mom is tougher than she looks."

Niamh gave her a skeptical smile! I have to admit, I felt a bit self-satisfied while knowing full well I'd be sore later. I really think the yoga I've been doing is giving me more flexibility and strength.

Before we left, Niamh and I walked over to the paddock again. Bitsy and Heartbreaker were lying down still. Bitsy slowly stood up--being middle-aged like me, she was a bit stiff.

Yeah, that's what you get for partying like a young filly, Bitsy.

What a day. Niamh and I chuckled all the way home about the party girls in the back paddock.

If I didn't sweat off some weight today, I'll be miffed.

A Halloween Birthday--Three Generations of Mothers

My mother was born on Halloween, seventy-eight years ago. I am blessed to still have her in my life--she has looked after herself and strives to stay healthy and fit. I'm not going to divulge personal things here--but suffice it to say that my mother steered our family through a very tough time when we were young. She came out of it with a peaceful and positive spirit. My brothers and sisters and I came through it knowing she loved us and always would.

I know people who don't have that--it makes me value my mother and her special gifts even more. Mom has also became a dear freind to me in my adulthood. Her advice and support has carried me through many things. Mom is a very talented musician; her love is part of the background music of my life.

My mother in turn had a very caring and loving mother. I was in my early 40s when Grandpa died. She and my grandfather were like a second set of parents in some ways. When you spent the day with them, they made you feel as though you were the only child on earth. I have so many memories of going fishing, eating Christmas dinner at their house, standing next to Grandpa during mass, calling them almost every Sunday when I was away at college. One of my most cherished memories is when I was older, in my 20s, I'd try to stay overnight with Grandma and Grandpa for old times's sake. We'd sit in the kitchen in a contented silence--I read my scriptures; Grandpa silently went through his rosary, and Grandma would crochet or knit. It was a silence of utter acceptance and contentment--it must be what heaven feels like.

I remember often going with my grandmother to my great-grandmother's house and the great aunts' house--Grandma would clean house and help them with whatever they needed. Grandma, too, like my mother, served her family with great love and loyalty. A few years ago on our family website, my sister Erin asked us and our cousins, of all who had passed on, who did we miss the most? All of us, every single one of us, said we missed Grandma and Grandpa the most.

Grandma's mother, my great-grandma, was a sweet lady. She made lovely mints that were always to be found on a sideboard. Her kitchen always smelled nice with the yeasty scent of homemade rolls. My best memory of her is sitting on her porch swing, chatting with her. She, too, had the gift of making you feel as though you were the only child on earth.

I come from an amazing web of loving women. I watch my sisters and my sisters-in-law with their children. This web will continue to grow. I hope I have and will foster the tradition for future generations.

Thank you, Mom, for all you've given me. Now, off to do my yoga (how's your yoga going?)

Goddesses of the Dark Days

Yup--I rarely come back from the stables without a poem of some sort. Here's the latest--there are no horses in it, but those who love autumn and Celtic mythology will like this. Hope you enjoy it:

Goddesses of the Dark Days

Mountains burn with the last pale flames of autumn—

Burnished red, smoked orange, antiqued yellow.

Boreas, bringer of winter and the cold north wind, has breathed

Upon the utmost peaks the first snow, the first blessing of spring water.

Persephone is gone to the Lord of death—the last of the burgeoning pumpkins

Slowly waken to Demeter’s grief. Dry leaves whisper against stone and fence,

Whisper of the Dark Mother who walks among the dry forest.

A circlet of oak leaves crowns her nutmeg hair; she fingers the acorns in her hands.

The other women come: silver-haired and gray-eyed Beira, haq queen of the dark days

Between Samhain and Beltaine; doe-eyed Brighid who tends the hearth and cattle;

Blue-eyed Ceridwen who sings poetry and music into the hearts of men;

And dark, quiet Boann, the mother of rivers. They have all come, singing, chanting,

Walking through groves of pine and the aspen with yellow leaves bright

Against the first mountain snow. Into my garden I will go under a full moon,

Fill a silver chalice with water and watch the goddesses breathe runes across

The pooled surface in ripples and in laced, wind-driven shadows across pumpkins.

 

Sunset Down at the Barn

It never ceases to amaze me how when I'm outside doing manual work--mucking stalls, mowing my lawn, weeding, walking the dogs--how details emerge from the hub bub of life, gemlike, speaking of poetry that is their own. 

There's plenty of it in this beautiful valley--the granite peaks turning red and gold at sunset, the moon rising over the mountains, strands of fog caught in the rushes and marsh grasses in early morning.

This evening Niamh and I were down at the stables at sunset.  A flock of geese flew overhead, their bodies black against the dimming sky. Darkness flowed down from mountain and canyon, spreading over the fields towards us. The horses seemed wild, moving through the dark, nickering to each other before they came over to see what we were doing. My daughter's long hair gleamed gold in the lamplight as she knelt and coaxed Alice, the shy yearling, over for a pet.
 
I started helping out with barn chores one day a week in order to help Niamh earn some riding time--soon I was doing it even when she didn't go. I just wanted to be there among the horses, the fields, and the folks down there.  Barn chores are a good way to get exercise, too! I think the place reminds me of Iowa just a little bit in some ways as well--in the middle of Lindon you feel like you're out in the country.

Tasha has said this to me more than once--that caring for your horse yourself really helps you bond with the animal. I don't have my own horse right now--but every week it I get to know the horses better.

There's Souix, the big bay gelding who Niamh loves--he'll try to get out of his stall if you give him a chance so he can go socialize with the horses on his side of the barn. When you discipline him, he gets this hurt look on his face. He tolerates me, but I think he's genuinely fond of Niamh.  And Dream, Tasha's mare, is amazing. She's in her happy place when speeding around barrels. You can just feel the joy of movement and speed when you watch her. PC makes me laugh. He's so curious and wants to be around people. Shy Alice, the yearling, is just sweet. I don't know what draws me to her. Then there is the magnificent stallion, Cash--he's not tall, but he's beautifully muscled, has a great personality (Shauna has worked with him a lot), and he's gentle.

Some of these horses I was able to see when they were not even a day old yet and have watched them grow up. It's amazing to watch. If you spend enough time down at the barn, you get to know what spooks each horse, whether they are affectionate or not, what they are lazy about, what their strengths and weaknesses are.

I've watched Niamh become attached to certain horses through the years as well. She's likely to end up being a fairly tall woman and I think she'll always go for tall horses. I would imagine if I keep on riding and get close to a few horses, that I'll come to really understand how different horses and riders pair up well. Niamh has gained much confidence through riding--I believe if she's able to, she'll always have horses in her adult life somehow. As for me--well, from a young age I drew horses, drew picture books, then wrote stories about them. I read Margurite Henry's books about the ponies of Chincateague; I blazed through Walter Farley's series about the Black Stallion, sobbed my way through Flicka. Two of my sisters have had access to horses or have owned them; currently, one of my brothers has horses on his farm in Iowa. Learning to ride is something I've wanted to do for a long time and it's fun that I can share this with Niamh.

I've written several poems now over the past four years inspired by horses, the barn, and Niamh. Who'd have thought to find such poetry and peace among horse manure, hay, and dust? Works for me.

Throwing a Javelin on Horseback: The Language of Horses and Aging

I had my third riding lesson today; I realized I am learning a new language. Perhaps even two new languages. First, I'm learning to communicate with a horse, to send clear signals about what I want the horse to do. Second, I'm learning how to read my aging body properly. Let me explain briefly what I mean by this.

The Language of Aging

It's pretty clear to most of us that as we age, we won't be as fast, as strong, as sturdy as we once were. When I was in my late 20s, I could cross-country ski in the back country for hours and not feel a thing the next day. Fast forward to today--I'm 52, struggling to lose weight and get into shape. I really have to warm up to activity slowly.

This morning down at the barn, I had to empty out nearly all the water buckets. I had to heave them from side to side to get them to turn over, with a "ho-ya!" exclamation. I'm sure I'm slower than the teenage girls who do most of the feedings during the week. Tasha is 25 and is certainly faster than I am--but bless her for being patient with me. I am also certain it takes me longer to muck stalls than a younger person--but I seem to still have mental endurance that pushes me.

Once the barn chores were done, Tasha gave me a one-hour riding lesson. During this lesson I stopped every so often to take my feet out of the stirrups and stretch. Later in the afternoon my husband and I drove up to Sundance and walked up a trail aways. We didn't find the one we wanted--and I knew even if we found the trail I could only do so much--no way was I going to walk up the mountain again.

I hope next year I can do some really good hikes; I also hope I might be jogging and doing some sort of weightlifting by then. I have to listen carefully to my body though--particularly that right knee that has some arthritis in it and my lower back. It's a new dialog between my mind and my aging body. It is certainly a different conversation than when I was 29 and hired a personal trainer to help me strengthen my ankles for back-country skiing; it is a different conversation yet again from when I was in my 30s, listening to my body for signs of fertility, then pregnancy. This season of my life feels like early autumn with bursts of intense color on the side of the mountain. I hope it will be a long, crisp autumn.

The Language of Horse and Rider

Today I choose to concentrate on riding posture, walking, turning, and one-rein stops with Bitsy. I had one small triumph today--I was able to mount the horse without using the steps. Tasha held on to the saddle for me, but I got up on my own power. This also means I'm becoming a bit more flexible.

Tasha set up poles around the arena and I practiced turns around them. The one-rein stop wasn't going too well at first. Tasha pointed out that while I was moving my legs and feet away from the horse's body to indicate a stop, I was bending my legs up behind me  and the toes of my boots were touching Bitsy. Being an obedient horse, she interpreted this to mean I wanted her to keep going!

So I had think through what I was doing, motion by motion. Tasha talked to me about what different gestures and touches, the lean of a leg or foot, can mean to a horse. If you say "whoa" to Bitsy, she calmly comes to a stop. If you say "whoa" to Cash, the resident stallion of the barn, he stops with such force it could send you flying.

Not only must I learn the standard signals to give to a horse, but I will also need to learn how each horse will behave and respond. To demonstrate some commands to me, Tasha got up on Bitsy. As she showed me different things, I wondered, for how many centuries have we used some of these commands? Some could literally be at least 2,000 years old! Athenian historian and soldier Xenophon (c. 430 – 354 BC) wrote two treatises on the selection, care and training of horses and on the duties of a cavalry commander.

Now I don't have to worry about throwing a javelin from horseback--but I do have to worry about safety and communication with the horse. I envy people who have a chance to spend every day with one horse and really get to know it. I am convinced that these animals, if they spend enough time with us, also learn to read us. Recently, my daughter was feeling very sad and upset about a few things. The big bay she loves, Souix, nuzzled her gently in the crook of her neck. He did this repeatedly until she calmed down.

I have to give that horse some credit. My nickname for him is the "Big Beastie" because he can be SUCH a stinker. He showed an innate emotional intelligence with Niamh in that moment; he seemed to know exactly what she needed. He was like a big old dog. It was sweet--but always in the back of my mind and Niamh's is the fact this is a huge animal with a mind of his own.

I've a lot to learn about horses from observation and experience. And you know--I still have a lot to learn about myself as well. I'm aging as my kids grow from teens into adults. They are finding out more about themselves and their capabilities. I still am at my age. I hope this learning thing is eternal.

First Breath of Winter

This morning held the first breath of winter here in our valley. Mt. Timpanogoos on the north end of our valley was hidden by low-slung, dark blue clouds. The mountains to the east were been swathed in white clouds backlit by the morning sun. These clouds poured out of the canyons as though they were the exhaled breath of the mountains. The peaks were covered with a dusting of snow--which I hope means we'll have a good winter for water and that our drought here may be ending. The mountains to the south were bare of clouds, covered by sunlight. It's days like this when I remember how I lost my heart to the landscape of the American West.

Tonight I found more pears laying in the wet grass under the tree. What is the tipping point? The point at which the fruit is soft enough, the sugar content at the right sweetness, the density of the fruit--what is it, short of wind, that makes the fruit drop on a calm day from the tree? Is that a mystery that Persephone knows?

When does she cross over into the world of the dead to join her husband? Is it on the night of Samhain--Halloween--when the veil between the dead and the living thins, even parts? Or does she linger among the pines, with holly in her hair?

I feel like I'm waking up from the long dry hot summer to the changing of autumn--it's the seasonal changes that have me observing details again as a writer and poet needs to. I've been in a numb, writer's block state this summer, on a treadmill with my novel. Things are moving again.

I have been surprised at how blind I'd become. Sunday down at the barn, Tasha asked me to help her tie together two sections of the metal corral. "The paddock horses are not where they are supposed to be," she said.

I looked out beyond the row of stalls to the paddock. I saw a few horses. Nothing looked out of place. "What do you mean?" I asked.

Tasha looked at me funny. "Look over there right in front of you," she said.

When I'd looked out into the paddock, I'd ignored the scene right in front of me. The corral segment that separated a stall from the paddock had been knocked open. Someone had bitten through the twine that kept the segments tied together. So in this stall stood most of the paddock horses, milling around the little old white Welsh pony who was boarding for just a few days. They wanted to pick on him. Tasha shooed the herd away, and gently coaxed the pony back into the stall. I helped her move the segments back together and then she tied them up with new twine.

Later I chatted with her as she sprayed fly repellent on her mare, Dream. I commented that the flies seemed worse than usual this week. Tasha said, "The barn swallows have gone south. They're not around to pick off the flies."

It was then I noticed how quiet the barn was. No bird song. No chittering. No swallows darting among the eaves of the barn. They have flown to Mexico or South America.

I decided in that moment I needed to awaken. Monday morning I waited in the turning lane on University Parkway for a red light to turn green so I could drive into UVU campus. In a few seconds, the rim of the sun appeared over Y Mount. It seemed to burst over the peaks as the earth turned, casting a pink glow onto cliffs. Joy and awe warmed through my blood.

When I was young, I could hike among those cliffs and watch sunrise, watch clouds roll in below me. Perhaps next year I'll be able to do that again. Who wants to come with me?

Growing Old with Persephone in the Autumn

(Update: As of today, 17 pounds lost.)

We have one peach tree and one Bartlett pear tree in our backyard. They're small even though we've had them for years. The peach tree gave us enough this year for a peach crumble, a few peaches to snack on, and a tray of slices to freeze. The peaches were small and came on early in the withering heat of this summer. Still, they were beautiful with that rosy blush overlaid  a sunny yellow--it's as though in ripening, nature distilled the color of sunsets and sunrises, sweetened it with the taste of early morning coolness and moisture. When I pulled the last of the peaches from the burgeoning tree, it seemed that Persephone was there, watching from the shadows of our juniper trees, with dark green eyes and nutmeg hair.

For me, there has always been a distinctly feminine feel in the air of spring and autumn. Some might call it Gia, the spirit of Mother Earth; others might say it is a female goddess. I don't know--but in a corner of my mind I feel as though I should leave out a bowl of wine for the moon to reflect in and a plate of vegetables and fruit from our small garden as an offering.

Our pears are really coming on this week. Every day more fall to the ground than did the day before. The pear tree is leaning over like a heavily pregnant woman about to give birth. The first batch of pears were ripe, but mushy on the inside. The ones we're harvesting now are beautiful through and through with a smooth, mellow taste. I love pears with almonds or walnuts in yogurt or oatmeal with just a dash of cinnamon and maple syrup. Each fruit that is dropped upon the ground seems a small divine gift. Persephone's soft breath is in the hissing of dry leaves against the fence, the barely audible plop of fruit falling from branch to ground.

I am glad that even though my time of fertility is past, that I still feel that mysterious female presence of the Earth at this time of year. I felt it mostly keenly when pregnant with my daughter. She was due in September, but came in late August. I remember sitting on my front porch in the cooler evenings of late August, resting my hands on my swollen belly, feeling my daughter move. Geese flew in formation, practicing for their autumn migration. It seemed right that I should be giving birth during the season of harvest.

Two years later, we had an incredible harvest moon one evening in late autumn. The moon was huge and it was green! I scooped up my two-year-old daughter and walked out into the humming night. I thought of how the moon had been worshipped as a female goddess in centuries past.The moon, looming as close as it would get that year, had a spiritual presence I cannot give words to. I pointed out the moon to my daughter. I wish I could remember whether she said anything--but she was awestruck, then snuggled in close to me, wrapping her arms around my neck. It was wordless thanks and recognition that the two of us, both women, felt a tie to one another and to the feminine side of nature.

As I slipped into middle-age and left the child-bearing years behind, I felt a deep sadness at first--there would be no more babies growing inside me, no more feeling the butterfly movement beneath my skin, no more quiet moments nursing. I had always dreamed of four children--but when you marry and have children in your mid- and late thirties, you have to recalibrate your expectations. I focused on the two great kids I have.

They're both in high school now--one is a senior and the other a freshman. They still need me, but not as constantly as they did when they were little. I have emotional and physical space for the things I need to do for myself--to pursue my creative writing, to develop my career, and to get into good shape so I can enter old age as healthy and fit within whatever parameters are in my control.

I wrote in an earlier post that at times my mind thinks I'm still a young woman who can still do things that my body is no longer up to. I think that by getting into shape and becoming healthier, the disparity between my mind and body will go away. I will become in tune physically and mentally with the woman I am becoming. Yes, I'm aging--but I am, you are, all of us, are works in progress until the day we take our last breath. And then who knows what journey is beyond that? Living fully is surely preparation for that unknown flight.

On a Journey with my Daughter

My fourteen-year-old daughter joined her high school's color guard this fall. In August, she survived almost two weeks of band camp, nine hours a day, with an hour lunch for break. Every week, she has three afternoons of practice after school; on top of this she has a gym class, a modern dance class (at school), has an English jumping lesson once a week and rides another day of the week after she does barn chores. My daughter has always been at a good weight and she's a beautiful girl. Yes, I'm her mother, deal with it--but others will tell you she's very pretty as well. :-)

She's noticed after a month of doing all this that she's starting to get really toned up and finds it easier and easier to stretch, dance, and march for hours. In addition, all that dance exercise has made her stronger for her English jumping class. Anyone who has ridden in an English saddle knows what a workout that type of riding is for your butt, thighs, and calves. My daughter is more confident, "more comfortable in her skin," it seems. She really has become even more radiant with all this exercise.

She's been very supportive and encouraging of my efforts to lose weight and to take up riding lessons. She'll give me advice on how to handle the horse, how to post a trot, etc.

She's got good taste in clothes, too, which is coming in handy because as I lose weight, I am having to weed out my wardrobe and acquire new pieces. I'm almost out of the dress size I started my weight loss in--I'd say another 10 or 15 lbs. and I'll be down to the next dress size. As I modify my wardrobe accordingly, I consult with my daughter on various outfit combinations. She's been enthusiastic and helpful. I think she's been surprised at times that I may have some fashion sense. (I can just hear her snickering as she reads this.)

When I lost 50 lbs. six years ago, I became interested in clothes again, in styling my hair differently, in wearing jewelry. Now I realize I'm 52--but ladies, I ain't dead yet and neither are you! I get so frustrated by the rather matronly clothes out in the stores for those of us who are "plus-sized." I certainly don't intend to wear a leather mini-skirt and thigh-high boots (I can hear my daughter snickering once again), but would it be possible to have a little style?!

Yesterday when I went grocery shopping at Walmart, I browsed through the Misses clothing section. There was a slate blue sweater for just $22 that would go with two pairs of dress pants I own. I decided when I drop down into the next dress size, I'll treat myself to that sweater. I also have a deal on with a dear friend at work--she's in her mid-40s and is just a stunningly beautiful woman. She has stayed fit; one of her favorite things to do is hit the resale shops in the wealthier parts of Salt Lake City and buy gently used designer clothes at less than Walmart prices. Our deal: when I reach my weight goal, we're gonna fight over the skirts at Deseret Industries.

About a month ago I bought a used dress at Savers. It's one of those gauzy maxi dresses and looks rather "artsy." It's in the next size down for me and I only paid $4 for it. The day I can slip that dress on, I'll know I've reached a very important milestone for health and fitness.

I'm almost over my bronchitis--when I am ready in a few days, I'll break out that yoga DVD and start the yoga challenge my mother issued me. No way am I gonna let a 78-year-old woman show me up--well, she already does. Guess I'll just be catching up to her!

Calories and Carbs, Oh My!

If you've tried to diet in the past, did you feel overwhelmed with trying to track calories, carbs, fats, and so on? It can be very tedious and frustrating. Seems like the best approach is for each person to find out what system works best for them. A few years ago the South Beach Diet worked really well for me. I'm sure it would again, but I'm not up to doing the restrictive Phase 1 right now.

So how does one take the fear and tediousness out of this dieting thing? "Keep it simple, stupid," is what works best for me. I suspect it works  best for most of us! Because I'm pre-diabetic, I have to count garbs as well as watch my fat and calorie intake. Tracking what I eat each day using the "My Health Tracker" feature at prevention.com makes me aware of what I'm eating and what the nutritional content of each food is. Many of us are probably overeating in ways we don't realize until we start to track what we eat. Another spiffy feature of the "My Health Tracker" is that you can track your physical activity and how many calories you burned and you can log your weight and measurements. It's very motivating to see those numbers changing over time.

I read a great little article recently over at eatingwell.com that makes calculating the calories you need to maintain or lose weight very simple.  (Eating Well is a magazine that I like very much--it emphasizes cooking with fresh, seasonal ingredients.) The article contains link to sample menus to give you some ideas to make a lower-calorie diet tasty and interesting.

As of today I've lost 16 pounds over three months. This week, co-workers commented that I looked thinner and asked what I've been doing. There is no magic pill here--the tea regimen I'm on is helping, but I've tried to be more active and to be mindful of what I eat.

I've taken a slow start--first I implemented the tea regimen. Then I started tracking what I ate. Slowly I began to add more and more physical activity. I cannot emphasize how important it has been for me to stretch every morning and evening. Am I consistent? Usually--I'll miss a day here and there and when I do I know it. A talented chiropractor I went to for my back problems taught me some simple stretches that keep me free of back pain. I can do yard work and barn chores and not wake up in pain the next day.

Because I am older, out of shape, and now have a back problem that will never go away, I have to pace myself.  Just two years ago I could work all day in the yard--I could mow, then prune bushes, weed flowerbeds. Now I have to decide what I'll be doing that day--do I need to mow? Or do  I need to weed? I can't do both anymore.  I have to pace myself. Maybe next year when I'm in better shape I can run a marathon, mow, and weed in one day. (I can dream, can't I?)

If anyone wants more information on the tea regimen I'm following, please leave a comment below with your request and I'll devote a post to it.

Remember, you are worth taking care of! If you don't take care of yourself, you'll have nothing left to give to your family, friends, co-workers, or anyone else in your life.