|As I Was Saying
By Opal Toney
Well, I’m looking forward for spring, but when I woke up this morning and
opened the door to go feed the cats and give Son #2’s dog food, whose name
is “Bounce a Little,” but it takes quite a lot to feed him. I have to watch,
or the cats wouldn’t get a bite!
I enjoy fall and winter when Santa comes, but spring is my favorite.
The Last Word: I enjoy them all! – O.T.
View From Here
By Katherine Veno
A box of
trinkets to help us focus
Is time moving fast or is it just me? I always thought retirement would be
endless lazy days. I was wrong. Some of my retired friends tell me they are
busier than when they worked full time.
I have to have trinkets to remind me I am not alone in this. The first one
is the famous “no” symbol. It is a familiar red circle with a slash through
it. It reminds me to just say no. Though many good opportunities may present
themselves, I must stay focused. I try to think before I answer. I only say
yes to the best.
Next, in the box of junk is a smiley face. It is a cheerful yellow reminder
that even the most frustrating events in the day-to-day art of living can
become a source of happiness. I remind myself to let go of building tensions
when I feel them rising.
Then, there is a pretty dried leaf. Some days I feel scattered as fall
leaves. I don’t know which way to go, and don’t really remember why I am
headed in any particular direction. Rather than drifting about, I must
become a new green leaf and be more secure.
My love of night lights started at a young age. The glow of a night light
reminds me I do not have to fear the dark or anything else for that matter.
A worry stone is kept in the pocket and rubbed to release nervous tensions.
It can have a calming effect. I love rocks and gemstones, and bought some
beautiful ones on my Colorado vacation. Turquoise feels so cool and the
tiger eye stone in the shape of a heart is a favorite.
Not wanting to be a hermit, I will not allow myself to become a recluse as I
lead a quiet life. I get outside and share some of the day with others even
if it is just a trip to the library.
Among old things I have collected is a turtle earring that belonged to my
mother. It is carved of black coral, but it reminds me that I need to keep
plodding away. Even though my progress may seem slow, I can hang in there.
Most of my days are filled with tasks I just have to redo again and again. I
wash dishes only to wash those same dishes again at my next meal. I launder
the same clothes over and over. I re-vacuum rooms, re-mow the grass &
re-dust the room. I re-shampoo my hair & re-apply lipstick. Sometimes I wish
the things I did would stay done.
When the mundane things get in the way of my being able to live in the
moment, I stop and not do so many things at once. I have always rushed
because I was afraid I would run out of time. Now I want to savor time as it
runs out not out-run it.
I do not want to hurry through the day trying to get it all done. I look
back and realize that I rushed through so many years that I lost something.
I don’t want to do that now.
So, when things seem too much for me, I open the box and pull out a trinket
to remind me to savor and breathe. I want to do more than just live. I want
to do enough to flap my wings a little before I hit the ground. Then I want
to get up once again and see my life in focus. I realize it is the little
things in life that matter the most, and I have but a few hours to enjoy
By Emily Gail Lundy
Self-control and moderation
“Overkill” makes me think of all the programs, books, TV shows,
announcements, surveys, etc. that discuss the healthy way to eat. Some
information contradicts; others make good sense, then comes something
better. I’m fatter on too many ways to eat.
You probably know the latest. It has to do with the ubiquitous “pot-belly”
of men or the multiple stomachs of a woman.
For men, at the beginning of the 1900s, a pot belly meant prosperity and
success; in tougher times came the biscuit belly; next, the beer belly, and
the newest is the wheat belly. Also in the early 1900s, fewer pictures are
found of fat people which tells me something frightening. Many get to
trusting the food we buy to eat. Some have genes that absorb more, and this
turns medical in a way that it must have a pill to cure. A box of that
years’ past dieting aid, Ayds, was not the “pill” needed.
For years I tried to convince my husband to buy whole wheat, brown bread. It
was supposed to be better than the cardboard white. Now my husband buys the
brown bread, and I read that this kind is only 2 percent healthier for us
than the other. Then a friend lent me a book called WHEAT BELLY.
I began researching “wheat” on labels of foodstuff I frequently buy. Wheat
has inundated out daily diet.
The wheatless bread is in health stores, sells for more, and I’m sure no one
will like it, those who frequent my table.
It makes sense that vegetables and fruits are our best choices, whether
we’re fat and old, slender and young. Note how small ingredients are printed
and how unknowns to people like me are listed in what I’ve been eating.
With all the advice given, moderation makes the most sense for health.
Before that, one needs a course in self-control. But I have finally written
a list of the best foods for me: blackberries, blueberries, fresh apples,
oranges (not the juice), salmon, avocados, almonds, walnuts, spinach, green
beans, beets, and sweet potatoes. Steak isn’t mentioned because
health-concentrators eat chicken. Beef, well done, is suggested briefly by
very few health gurus.
It is quite interesting how food appearances somehow relate to part of the
body it helps: an onion helps the skin; carrots sliced look like eyes and
help vision; beets help the blood; kidney beans help, well, the kidneys;
broccoli, like small trees, helps us grow stronger; tomatoes are for the
heart (cut a slice and look carefully); mostly all things green are good for
us as “going green” in life can help the environment. And I cannot think of
the rest. There is something good to eat for memory, but I don’t recall. It
is probably brussell sprouts, about the only food I don’t like.
After years of indoctrination, I turned my husband into a fan of two percent
milk. We are heavy milk drinkers. Now I’ve heard this reduced percent of fat
is not that much different from regular milk. But I know when I’m drinking
whole milk. It swallows heavily in the body. One percent is close to good
I’ve given up donuts, the nearest to pure sugar we’ll ever eat, but if
Mexican Creme Cheese Rolls hold dozens of violations in food, do not feel
free to tell me.
I’ve taken enough abuse from buying fat-free condensed milk, the sweet goo
that makes ice-box lemon pies.
I’ll repent after eating any dessert by drinking more water and eating more
Some eaters have stopped “cold turkey” on all sugar and anything edible with
preservatives. Incredible people. They are my new heroes.