VACATION

THE PLANE

Being over-weight causes many extra stresses when traveling. The aisles on a plane are small, narrow, and often crowded. If you are pulling a carry-on bag you must contort yourself into strange configurations in order to keep the wheels rolling smoothly. Then you must contort again to lift this bag above the heads of strangers (praying you do not drop it) into a luggage bin made for wallets not suitcases. Then once you have your bag hammered into place, you must crawl over someone to get to your seat either the center or the window - but most of the time the center. (I usually feel a bit like I committed adultery once seated)

The center is where you end up most of the time when you are overweight because this is where you will cause the most distress in the other passengers. The window passenger undoubtedly the bone thin vegetarian who hates sitting still for longer than 10 minutes at a time because it will alter their metabolism - will silently re-absorb any biological fluids because they know how futile it will be to ask the overweight person to move, causing the aisle person to move, clogging the beverage cart runway, just so they can get up to use the restroom. Both aisle passenger and window passenger refuse liquids to protect themselves from having to disturb the overweight passenger.

I hate having to ask for the extender for my seat belt. But I would die if they just handed it to me. That has never happened, thank God for that! The last time I flew, I just asked for it as discreetly as possible and went about my business like it didn't hurt my pride just shy of bleeding. This time after dropping 70lbs, I wasn't sure if I needed the extension or not.

Getting ready for the airport and for the trip itself has several considerations. Comfortable shoes, seasonally appropriate clothing, boredom prevention, make up, hair, liquid intake monitoring. Then all those considerations are modified in accordance with the TSA regulations to avoid embarrassment at the security check points. This was my first time through the X-ray. My new electronics earned me a personal encounter with a TSA agent. Sheesh. Live and learn - the agent told me how to avoid intimacy the next trip. Hey they are just doing their job, and I am glad they are - but sheesh.

While we were waiting at the gate they made an announcement that there were a few seats in first class available if any one in economy wanted to upgrade. by the time hubby got through the line there was only one seat left so he upgraded my ticket to first class. (Awwww) When I boarded and got in my seat I thought I wonder if the seat belts are different in first class - I tried to fasten it and I was able to just get it connected - but I was pretty sure I wouldn't enjoy the ride. So I asked for the extender. But I was happy to realize I only needed less than 2 inches to give me the comfort I needed. This maybe a small victory but I was excited.

I spent most of the vacation reading during the day, and going out for dinner with my hubby in the evening. The dinners were not lite, or fat free, or even small portions. However, they were delicious and having time with my sweetheart was wonderful.

We had a couple of busy days that included some walking - not much - but enough to make my feet swell and hurt. But mostly the vacation was rest and relaxation for me.

We had a bit of misadventure on the way home. Our flight was cancelled and we had to rebook another flight home. Barely making it on the last flight that day escaping the dreaded sleepover to fly out the next day. But, it was still 8hours in an airport where most of the seating outside the gate were either in restaurants or in front of slot machines. AAGH!

When we finally got aboard the plane, no first class this time, coach. Very coach. I mean there was nothing more "coach" on the plane! We were in seats so coach, they wouldn't lean back! Serving trays locked and seats in the upright position for 2 hours. But of course the row in front of us could put their seats back.

Yeah, you betcha.

But the real question was, "do I need the extender?" I was in the aisle seat - utopia for the overweight and tall people - I reached down to pull the right side of the seat belt up - carefully sliding my left hand down to gather the other end of the seat belt making a point of not obtaining carnal knowledge of the passenger in the center seat next to me. I pull the two pieces together and - VOILA!!!! Snap! together no need for the extender!!!

I don't know as of yet if I gained weight on this vacation, I may have. But what I do know is I did not need the extender on the way home. That means I have changed. I am a new Geri. And I am proud to celebrate changes - no matter how small!

UPDATE: I am excited to report that the scales did not change while I was on vacation enjoying myself. I wegh just what I weighed before I left! Yahoo!!!!

WHAT'S IN A NAME?

I went to a facebook wall titled depression and the feeling of depression overwhelmed me. It reminds me of Philippians 4:8. "And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise". 

It also reminded me of Proverbs 23:7 "As a man thinketh in his heart so is he"  

I wonder if depression begets depression? And likewise if thinking about things which are excellent begets happiness? 

During the journey of cancer a patients thoughts can be friends or foes. And the decision is our own and must be made each day which of the two our thoughts become. And I know that even non-cancer journeys prove that this is true. Our thoughts are in so many ways: who we are, who we become, and to what our environment responds.

I am trying to allow God to take my weak mind, and my stubborn will and convert them to someone who is strong and teachable, yet not tossed "to and fro" by every wind of doctrine. (I said, "I am trying".)

I find myself over and over saying, "I don't know anything, and I never did".

I am a grandmother now. Going on three years. I love being "Gigi". That's what my qualifier calls me. My granddaughter, Andi. This picture was her first time out with a spoon - over two years ago. "Do it myself" written all over her face. See it there under the bananas?  

Because of the movie GIGI I was named Geri G. Gilstrap. Because of my initials, GG, my friends called me "Gigi". (That was over two years ago, too.)
I guess somewhere around adolescence I went by mainly Geri, but that really wasn't because of any request from me, it just happened. Oh, Mom hung in there, and most of my siblings, but friends and a special cousin put in the effort to call me the much more mature "Geri". Think of it as the people who started calling Cassius Clay by his new name: Muhammad Ali. (Except there was no religious event as a precursor to the change.)


What's the connection between depression - our names - and our thought life? Simple: Who we are, who we think we are, & what we call ourselves all can contribute to who we become. This isn't an idea I came up with, so don't throw me out with the bath water! Or maybe I am the bath water . . .


If you read through the Bible you will see several times when names are changed when God does a work in a life.


Abram became Abraham. That changed his name from great father to father of many nations. So every time he heard his new name he was reminded of God's promise that his descendants would out number the stars.


Jacob becomes Israel. Jacob means supplanter because he grabbed Esau's ankle and made his way out of the womb first. Israel means prince with God,or power with God meaning he prevailed - not a real big difference between supplanting and prevailing but a big difference when it's with GOD.

So I am seeing, depression, or more personal: depressed, as a name. (Maybe a "label" is easier to understand, but for the sake of the bible references let's go with name.). If your name has been Depressed, what would be a more excellent name? A more honorable, more lovely and admirable name?

Encourager.  Fighter.

Scholar.  Praise - er.

Hope-er. Blessed. 

And one of my favorites, Believer. 

Post a new name in comments.

Thanks for reading,

                      New Geri

Juice

Hubby received a juice extractor for his birthday. So.....

First I got a whole lot of fresh vegetables. While I was at the store I was taking note of all the great juice options there are today, and wrote down the price of the healthier ones. Also, the cost of the fruits and vegetables that looked the best.

ThenI got overwhelmed looking at the full fridge, wondering how to make juice we would like the first time we tried it so I wouldn't be wasting anything because of some strange combination I thought would be delicious. After reading a friends post on facebook about juicing, with a link to Amazon.com and books on juicing I went click click click and I bought a kindle book on juicing.

Then after I read the book on juicing, I wondered why the author hadn't mentioned anything about the leftover pulp. Previously, I thought I could use it in recipes but there was no mention of it - so I went online to find out ideas on how to use the pulp.

The first things I saw suggested for using pulp had to do with pet treats and composting piles - NOT exactly what I was thinking. But as I read further there were ideas for using the pulp in recipes. Actually one of the uses was to add the pulp to the juice - just not all of it - to boost the fiber content. Another one was to add it to smoothies, again to boost the fiber content.

One of my main concerns was whether I needed to cook the pulp prior to adding it to baking recipes - what was suggested was just to add the pulp as is into the recipe, however, I would suggest just being careful to NOT allow large pieces of vegetables such as carrots to make it into the quick baking recipes(30min or less). They just won't get soft enough in short periods of time.

THE JUICER

I took it out of the box today. Yes it was his present. But HIS birthday was 3/31. It was time to let it out of the box. IT WAS TIME.

I prepared the 6 carrots and 1 apple and began to "fiddle" with the machine. After a little carrot stub popped up and hit me in the shoulder, I decided to read the manual. No it is not just men who read the manual as a last resort. I enjoy trying to figure things out but not getting hit with vegetables - it goes against my stage training.

I successfully made a cup of juice. And that little sip tasted wonderful. I decided I would save the juice for hubby WHO I expected to be home in just a few minutes - and use the pulp to make scones!

But when I went into the fridge a few minutes later the juice was starting to settle - so I decided I would use the juice as the liquid, instead of water, in the scone recipe.
So that was my juicer adventure and here is the recipe for my carrot scones.

CARROT SCONES

Cut strips of parchment paper
Juice approx. 6 carrots and 1 apple

Preheat oven to 375

1 box spice cake mix
2 cups baking mix
1 cup juice from juice extractor ( approx. 6 carrots, 1 apple)
1/2 cup of pulp from juice extractor

Put dry ingredients in large bowl.
Add liquid and pulp.
Fold mixture until all dry ingredients are moistened.

REGULAR SCONE SHAPE
Form two balls of dough. Place each ball on parchment and cut into eighths with wet knife. Brush with cream or milk.

MUFFIN SHAPE
Place strips of parchment in each muffin cup. Scoop 1/2 cup of dough over parchment strip in muffin cup. Smooth tops of scones with cream or milk.

Bake 25 minutes at 375

OPTION
While scones are hot spread with cream cheese frosting. Let cool.

Thanks for reading, New Geri

SURPRISE!!

MARCH 31st 2012

My dear husband turns 50 today.

Last year when I turned 50, we celebrated in a hospital. Not only did we celebrate my 50years, we were celebrating that I would never have uterine cancer. Nor would I ever have ovarian cancer. It was a wonderful celebration, and I wouldn't have had it any other way.

This year, we are celebrating his 50 years. I wanted to do something wonderful for him. About a month ago I started inviting people to a surprise party. Never did I think that tonight, the day before, it would still be a surprise! I even cautiously made updates letting people know it was still a surprise! This week preparations were all set to move forward. Monday I had a Dr apt, but then the rest of the week had tasks spread out to make the to do list disappear easily and without getting overwhelmed.

I seriously had it all figured out.

Honestly, I made a list. I had it ALL figured out.

SO......Monday, I went out to the car to go to my Dr apt. yup. cross item 1 off the list. Yessiree.

Car will not start.

Yessiree, car will not start.

Well, it's only Monday, I'll just do some of my Tuesday stuff today and reschedule my apt.

My Tuesday stuff was cleaning up and putting away my granddaughter's happiness from the weekend. This happiness included a brand new feather boa.

I am allergic to feathers.

Yep. That's right.

So I spent the rest of the day sneezing. Of course, it had been so long since I was around feathers, I didn't even KNOW that the boa was causing all the sneezing, and itchy watery eyes and pluggy ears.

Ears. Yes, then came the call from the Audiologists. An apt opened up for a consult  on hearing aid options. Not knowing if the car would be fixed I opted to take the early Tues morning apt which would allow me to take hubby to work and use the car if my car was still dead.

Suddenly TWO days are messed up instead of just one. But Geri, how did an early appointment mess up the whole day on Tuesday? This is how: sneezing all day  automatically ruins the next day with headache, and/or drowsy allergy medicine. Not to mention how stinking depressing it is to have a hearing aid consult. Sheesh. Not only am I 51 married to a man still in his 40s for 12 more hours, I have to go pick out some hearing aides.

Oh and by the way, the car got fixed. I love that man!!!

So it's Wednesday.  It is raining like, what we generally to refer to as: "cats and dogs".  I know the neighbor is going to go nuts about people parking on his driveway when it has been raining. Not only that, but I hate the idea of my friends walking through the wet soggy grass to get to the house so that the hubster won't see their cars when he gets back from the wild goose chase "De jour" that I've sent him on prior to the big surprise. Anyhoo . . I send out an update to tell guests to just wait until 5:15pm and come on down OUR driveway. A slight compromise to the traditional surprise but still pretty impressive to be suddenly surrounded by friends wearing Hawaiian attire. You see it was billed as a "HAWAII FIVE-0" party.

Wednesday, the first cancellation comes in. Our son is not going to make it. He'll be in Cancun.

That's OK. I'd cancel for Cancun. No I wouldn't but . . I try to be understanding anyway.

Friday, three more cancellations. Normally, at this point of an event we are hosting I would talk to my best friend and discuss what changes need to be made now that the "pots" coming to the "pot luck" have changed. But guess who my best friend is? Right. And I can't talk to him about it.

I have errands to run. Hubby wants to use the smoker to impress his mother. So although I am cooking Hawaiian Chicken for a houseful, we are also smoking ribs. Gotta pick up ribs. Nothing will go to waste, we have a freezer. I just have to let him do this so he won't get suspicious. Also, on the errand list is the stuff for punch, cups and plastic cutlery, plates, table cloth, you know: party stuff. Stuff that was originally on the Monday list.

Friday night, cancellation five. OK. I am sure this kind of thing happens all the time. I do start to wonder: have I invited a good mix of people? And I didn't get all my housecleaning done, will I be too pooped tomorrow to make sure everyone is having a good time?(why do i think that is my job?) Oh my goodness, am I expecting too much help in the side dish area, now that there are so many cancellations? And well, that went on for quite some time. I can worry up a storm. Normally, I talk to my best friend and He is the logic to my whimsy, and we balance each other out.

At peak overwhelmedness, I get a text from a friend about a new movie on Netflix. Sure. I need to take another two hours out of my last day to prepare to watch a movie. Ok, let's just get it queued up for when I have time, she says it is really good. Let's see, little boy, troubles at home, Dad goes to Iraq, singing competition. Yes that sounds good. ok. add to Que.

or play.

and watch.

Just for a few minutes.

Ok. Crying. PAUSE. I get up and clean the bathroom floor. Sweep the dining room and start a load of clothes.

Play. Crying. PAUSE. I can't believe I have only been watching this movie for 37minutes and I have already cried twice.

Play. Crying. PAUSE. I am just going to tell Roland about this party and let go of all this stress. No I can't. Maybe it's not the way I thought it would be but: when is it ever?
I get up and clean the kitchen floor, and the counters with the new orange vinegar cleaner I learned how to make from pinterest. smile.

Play. Crying. PAUSE. I have to cancel. I wont tell the hubster, I'll just put out an update and he'll never know. No I can't. I have already talked to people who have made things to bring. I'm just an idiot for thinking I could do this. I need him. Normally, I would be going to him for help with all this nervousness. Normally, he would say, "Are you nuts? How many people did you invite? Where were you going to put them? Why did you think I would like this?" Seriously, I told one guest when they asked about a gift, that the only thing I was sure he wouldn't want was "a surprise party". This I know about him, why did I do this?

Anyway, I made it through the movie, bawling, my house is not spotless, I will spend some time hiding things tomorrow, which I wish I wouldn't have to do, I will not be making ALL the wonderful dishes I have been dreaming of for a month, I will just be making Hawaiian chicken with rice, and punch. and you know what? I may not make the punch.
I will try to post a comment after the party tomorrow.

So Hubster wakes up Saturday morning making groaning noises that he only makes when he doesn't feel well or is having a UPS man dream about a dog.

When I get up I already have a message from a guest cancelling.

My daughter isn't staying she thought the party was on Sunday and made plans. Sheesh.

I sit in one of our front room chairs and set off an explosion of dog hair. ugh. I am instantly put into a whirl of emotional turmoil and begin to pour out my soul to hubby. I am failing as a homemaker (that evaluation is primarily due to the explosion of dog hair), and hostess(referring to the cancellations ~ because certainly I am responsible for all things in all lives). I need him. Realizing he is not feeling well, (remember the noises when he got up?) I spill the beans. Over a month of secrecy and I let it all out. I need him and if he is not well enough to enjoy this event what am I doing?

So we begin to make the calls to cancel. His mom and brother is invited to come up, after all we still have a ton of food to share.

Knock knock.

Oh no. Guest number one shows up. "I guess you didn't get the message. we canceled the party. But please stay we have enough food to share"

I made the punch. (Forgetting the sweet little frozen raspberries I bought especially for the punch, details.)

Knock knock. More guests trickle in. "Come on in" she says stunned and concerned. And the eye contact between family and guest number one makes the silent decision not to tell the new guests that the party they just joined was indeed cancelled.

So in all the excitement of guests arriving to a cancelled surprise party, I didn't take any photos. The Hawaiian shirts were great and had everyone who was invited came it would have been a delightful spectacle. Thanks Roy, Carl, Mike, Travis, Gary, Bob, Ron and their wives who made sure they wore them. I truly appreciate the people who supported my idea of celebrating his FIVE-O Hawaiian style. Even/especially those who received the cancellation and missed the event.

Oh no.

I cancelled.

But we had a party.

Now before it gets around that we had a party,  I have to make contact with the people who actually got the message that we cancelled and didn't show up. Oh no.

So for the second time in a day I make contact with the people invited only this time to tell them we had a party without them. UGH!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I learned a lot this week. I need my husband. He is the other half of me. The other half of my mind. He is the logic. He balances me. And the only surprise party I should NEVER plan is one for HIM.

Thanks for coming on this little Roller coaster ride with me.

PS: I stayed well within my eating program for the day, AND the movie my friend recommended was "LIFTED".

Thanks for reading, New Geri

On The Road Again

After my last post I struggled with the plateau for a few weeks, trying to stay true to the encouragement I gave you the reader. I had my days.


  I enjoy the early Beatles. I must've sung "HARD DAYS NIGHT" 100 times before I gave any thought to what I was singing. I eventually decided it had something to do with working the graveyard shift. Who knows? I would rather not KNOW. Especially, if it has something to do with some drug they took in the 60s. C'mon, I used to love PUFF THE MAGIC DRAGON!


Sheesh! Just a sweet story about a boy and a dragon . . . . .ruined.


 So...anyhoo. I had to check myself on HOW I was tracking on my program. One time I can fall short is at night. So for a few nights I fought through my insomnia without a comforting midnight snack. Now, I could easily be convinced the Beatles wrote "HARD DAYS NIGHT" while they were on a diet!


Or the munchies, shoot, I almost made it past that one.


 Another check was in activity. Sometimes when you recover you can overdo. Sometimes when you recover you can wait a little too long before you test yourself.  Yup. I looked at the calendar: time to test the knees and legs. I was really afraid of activity. So I had to sneak up on it. I can take laps around my house, I can park farther away from the store, I can say "yes" instead of sitting on the couch. So I am "ON THE ROAD AGAIN".  I don't think there is any hidden meaning in that song. 


[Well, you probably have to assume that there is some road trip card games, cigarettes, whiskey and wild wild women. Shoot. Nothing is all wholesome.]

 Water intake also needed attention. I was not drinking enough water. Yes water is good to bathe in, wash your dishes and water your gardens but it also makes a great refreshing way to quench your thirst. Water is so good for you, just drink it!


The song that comes to my mind when I think of water is COOL CHANGE. "If there's one thing in my life that's missing . . ." Ahh.

 It only took two weeks of due diligence to show a change on the scale. And you know what? I couldn't promise you that any one of those checks had anything to do with the weight loss. Or if none of them had anything to do with the weight loss. What I BELIEVE is:  God asked me, "Are you willing to keep going?". I had to answer, "Yes Lord, I am willing."  With every journey God asks that question. There are four phases of the affirmative answer: I can, I will, I am, I have.

I can         Phil. 4:13
I will        Psalm 100:4
I am         Gal. 2:20
I have       II Tim 4:7

Each of the four phases can, and likely will, be a struggle. What I hear people say is NOT that it is easy but that it is worth it. Today, I move forward encouraging myself in this: God is able to do more than I can think or even imagine Ephesians 3:20.


Which brings me to the song of my heart: AMAZING GRACE.

Thank you for reading, ~ New Geri

PLATEAU

pla·teau/plaˈtō/   noun an area of fairly level ground verb reach a state of little or no change after a time of activity or progress     I have not read about or even heard of someone making this journey from obesity to a healthy weight without hitting a plateau. I am sure there are some and I am happy for them. Jealous, but not so much that I would give them regular frozen yogurt labeled non-fat, pfft, that would never even cross my mind if I wasnt trying to make YOU laugh.   I am an emotional eater. That is so easy to admit, but, no so easy to overcome. This journey is not just about weight. So many factors affect how my body responds to the food I eat, the choices I make when I eat, what time I eat. I have hit a plateau every time I have dieted, and went on to reach my goal, and I also have hit a plateau each time I gave up before NOT reaching my goal. What I know now is If I am to successfully, and permantly, change my eating and thereby change my health I must conquer my emotions.   A dysfunctional past, who doesn't have one?   So I ask myself: are there people who grow up crooked who eventually find a way out?   Basically I got out. I have a nearly 30 year marriage, two adult children - one attending college the other trained in the airline/hospitality industry - a home, and more "things" than I can take care of well.  I have a church that I enjoy, a Pastor I appreciate and trust. Seriously, doesn't that sound like I got out?   Then there is the flipside: I used to sing. I tell myself there are lots of reasons I stopped but one reason I tend to leave off the list is: vanity. I hate even writing that word. How in the world can a woman who is overweight, less than supermodel facial features, really big feet, oily skin, visibly thinning salt and pepper hair, . . . Do I need to go on? How can I be aware of all these things and be vain?   Pride is an interesting thing. I love Jesus. I love the stories of his miracles, of his selflessness, of how he remained silent until he spoke just the right words. I love worshipping Him in song. But when I was in front of the church I felt as I gained weight I was less and less affective. I made the transition to hiding behind the piano without actually realizing I was hiding behind the piano. Then I gained some confidence as the team leader and actually lost weight, even then I saw discipline with food as a integral part of being "usable" in God's kingdom. Why would someone like me think I could affect God's kingdom better or worse? Even Jesus, who could have boasted of his equality with God the Father, said,"I only do what the Father tells me to do". So the miracles, the wisdom, the loving the unloveable was all credited to the Father.   I have fasted, exercised, prayed, been "delivered" and forgiven. I have practiced and fallen short, failed to practice and soared effortlessly.  I've read books and filled out workbooks. I have listened to tapes and danced to videos, sometimes I did well, sometimes . . well, not so well.   One thing I know is I can not add to or take away from what God wants to do. At the same time I make choices each day that can affect my tomorrows. God very well knows what I will do - but doesnt make me do it.   Yes I want to look nicer. Yes, I want to be healthier. Yes I want to be stronger. Yes I miss singing.   I do not have to wait for the weight to change to start singing again. I can sing at church in the pews - and touch God's heart from there. I can sing at home - and touch God's heart from there. When I have an opportunity to sing "for others" even then I can touch God's heart from there. If indeed he has given me a gift, I can share it - no matter what I look like or how much I weigh. God gives the gift that can be shared to be shared. (How dissapointing to realize a gift is not being used.)   So what am I saying? I am on a plateau, it is fairly level ground, but it is higher ground. I am in a state of no change after a time of  progress. So While I am on this plateau I reach out to the God who neither holds a grudge for my  lack of progress nor is moved by the abundance of it, and He touches me right where I am. On a plateau.   APPLICATION: PLATEAU PLAN    1) I revisit the first few weeks of my weight watchers program and become more diligent in tracking, 2)  I add activity with a few walking goals, and 3)  I set time aside each day for music. And touch God's heart from there.   THANKS FOR READING

My Favorite Scones

Easy. Quick. Delicious.

PREHEAT OVEN TO 400. Line a cookie sheet with parchment paper.

You need:
1 box cake mix
1 c  baking mix (Bisquick type)
1 c water (or buttermilk, milk)
cream (milk)
optional:
nuts to taste
raisins to taste
herbs for savory scones
frosting or butter

Mix all ingredients slowly adding water until mixture forms a soft but firm dough. divide dough into halves, then into two balls. Place one ball on the parchment and flatten to desired size. With a wet knife cut into 8 parts. Brush with cream. Bake until golden brown(15-20mins). While still hot, spread with frosting creating glaze as the frosting melts(use butter for savory scones and sprinkle with herbs or sea salt). Repeat with second ball.

TO STORE: Place scones in container alternating a layer of parchment paper between layers of scones. Depending on the ingredients, I prefer NO refrigeration. Most of the time they don't last long anyway. I have never frozen any of these so can't give you any advice there. I would however, put scones made with perishable add ins in the fridge . . .if they make it that long.

NOTE: If you are feeding a larger crowd, or prefer less sweet scones add two(2)cups of baking mix to 1 box cake mix. If making savory scones, omit cake mix using two cups of baking mix and 1 tbs of sugar, or honey(This takes away the "biscuit" taste).

My family loves these so I try to make them often. I find that the whole wheat baking mixes, and low fat Bisquick taste yummy, too!

Enjoy!

AT THE MOVIES: "MAGIC TOWN"

I just finished a B&W movie with James Stewart and Jane Wyman called Magic Town. I have always been a Jimmy Stewart fan but have never watched this one in it's entirety. I decided to make myself finish it this time, and I am glad I did. Before I write my review I want to recommend you watch it, too. ALL OF IT! If you don’t wade through the slow stuff at the beginning you wont give yourself the opportunity to see the parallels to our society today. So before you read the rest of this blog, watch it. NOTE: It's available on Netflix or online at  http://youtu.be/lr-FbTLfOds (let me know how this link works)

                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stewart plays Rip smith a statistician who makes his living selling opinion polls. Finding this tedious and time consuming work he searches for, and finds, a town statistically identical to the USA as a whole. With the same percentages of groups i.e. ?0% women over 25, ?2% annual earnings under 15k a year, and so forth. This mathematically perfect town and Smith can save time and provide marketing research to high paying clients in a fraction of the time and expense of "scientific" polls. Smith dreams that he can accumulate his fortune and finally have what he has always wanted: security. Yeah right!

In contrast, Jane Wyman plays Mary Peterman the editor of the newspaper, who wants to carry on her father’s dream of bringing progress to Grandview by building new schools and making room for cultural pursuits. Smith knows this would attract new people changing the opinions and socioeconomic values of current residents ergo changing the statistical perfection he has bet on to sustain his future security.

When the truth comes out the town goes crazy thinking they are special. With swelled heads and greedy hearts they begin to change. Almost overnight they begin to make promises they cannot fulfill without the new citizens and economic growth, but as the town changes the first poll proves to be ridiculously off of the grid for the rest of the nation. After becoming laughing stock for radio and print nationally, the town becomes a ghost town and their humiliation leaves the original people withdrawn and isolated from one another. Smith then tries to get the town to come back together. (Here is a town hall meeting scene that is sappy but inspirational nonetheless.)

One of the boasts made in the throes of conceit was that a new high school would be built “with their own hands” in the event that the bond vote failed. Smith reminds the council of these words and the meeting eventually becomes what could be compared to a group of Amish discussing the barn they will build for the neighbor. The kind of teamwork upon which our great nation was built.

                    ************************************************************

Believing the US debt is built upon the same ridiculous pride found in fictional Grandview – I also believe humble sacrifice and hard work is the solution. I know there will be some challenging days ahead of us. We must overcome our addiction to products made in China, we must continue/begin growing our own food, thinking health first and medicine second, many of us may find ourselves in multi-generational housing, and this doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Together we lighten the load. There is no easy fix, we have debts and debtors will need to be paid the sooner we roll up our sleeves and face it the better.

Watch Magic Town. Don’t shut it off before the ghost town scene. There are some great lessons to learn, some pretty good acting and a few familiar faces from another Stewart movie, “It’s a wonderful life”. If you don’t see what I saw, that’s okay, you won’t have wasted 2 hours of your time because it is a satisfying movie. (Even if you don’t feel inspired to Blog about it.)

I’d love to hear your points of view on this movie.

Thanks for reading, Geri     

Sweet Nothings

I broke a candle today. The glass container shattered across the laminate flooring in an explosion of sparkling clear razors,  needles, and knives. I was barefoot.

This was the candle purchased the day I had to leave Roland at the hospital for the first time. It was lovely just to look at, but also had a delightful fragrance and crackling sound. It comforted me that first night. And the next. I stared at it on the floor trying to figure out how I could save it.

Then, my eyes drifted from the sparkling glass to my bare feet. Then my mind ran to my grand-daughter's little toes and I began trying to figure out how to save them!

First, do no (more) harm. If the candle can't be saved, so be it, the toes were the most important. So I tried to find a part of the nearby carpet that was NOT sparkling. Then stepped over to it.

Second, assess the damage. I saw that most of the glass had stayed embedded in the soft wax. Also, only part of the glass container was cracked. (At this point putting on gloves would have been a great idea) I picked up the largest remaining piece of the candle and carefully carried it into the kitchen. Then I put on shoes and grabbed the broom and dustpan.

Third, saving the candle. In order to save the candle I had to break the rest of the glass off of the soft wax. (This would have been a good time to put on safety goggles) Removing the candle was only one part of saving it. It melted at such a low temperature it would turn into a puddle if it was lit as it was now: just wax and wick. So I had to find a new container.  

A new home.  My friend went to San Francisco and brought me back an amber/orange cut glass votive holder. When I asked her why she didn't get me the traditional T-shirt, she said the glass reminded her of the lights on the golden gate bridge at night. That thought transformed my outlook on candles and containers. I have purchased glass cups and jars and all sorts of things because, "I can put a candle in that!". So I knew what I wanted to put the candle "guts" in, but wasn't sure it would fit. It did. Then I was not sure about the science of it, stability, overflow of melted wax, how high the flame would go, etc. I lit it. (Kids, dont try this at home!)

The surprise.  I had to let it burn for a while in order to see if it would melt too fast and overflow the container so I set it right next to me, lit, smelling wonderful, looking lovely, and crackling like a nice little fire. Wait a minute, . . . . I haven't been able to hear very well since New Years' Eve weekend when I developed a double ear infection (I also had an eye infection and strep throat, but oye, I never complain). I have been watching the TV with the volume in the 70s, saying "pardon me" too many times to count, and now I am hearing the wonderful little crackling sound of this candle.

After ten days of antibiotics I had begun to wonder how much of my hearing loss was going to be permanent. Then with the second round almost gone I was beginning to get used to having people repeat things. How easily we accept troubles sometimes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I believe when we have troubles we need to go to our maker first with all of them, then our doctors, and our family and friends. And just like taking antibiotics - the label usually says to finish all medication - we need to stand firm. Answers may not come instantly, but look for little reminders that an "answer-er" is listening. A glimmer of a candle, the sparkle of an explosion of glass that causes NO cuts! Keep taking your medication (NOTE: If you see listening to God as the medication, just remember it is a lifetime prescription), before you know it you will see improvement. Carefully the glass is removed making big and little toes safe, the candle is made beautifully useful again, and there will be some kind of love letter from God if you look for it. Who knows? Maybe He will whisper sweet nothings in your ear!  B^)

Gloom, despair and agony on me....

If you have read more than one of my posts you know I wear my feelings on my sleeve. I doubt they are always easily understood by others but they are there never the less. (Is nevertheless one word?) Anyway,......

On the week before Christmas, we thought we were going to move slowly and purposefully toward the big family gathering set for Christmas eve. I had planned ahead for the dinner because I knew I would still be recovering from the surgery we had started calling "having my tires rotated", so besides preparing for dinner, the Internet was my shopping center. I just had to wait for the presents to be delivered to our door and hubby would wrap all but one: his from me. So for that gift I went the extra mile and had Amazon wrap it. With a personal card!!!(Don't Judge me!) Worth every penny. My gift from hubby came the same day, he hid it in the guest house. We always decide to get something big for each other that we both like and call it our only gift(the turkey smoker). It's not always big in size or $$, just big because it is for both of us. Then, even tho' it happens every year, he surprises me with something else, and I do the same. This year I realized I needed  to use his surprise gift for dinner Christmas eve and since we don't usually open our gifts until Christmas morning, I had to put on my begging shoes and give up the surprise. So I told him, "Honey I got you a coffee bean grinder, and I need you to open it so we can use it on Christmas eve" ... big smile, batting eyes, and the obligatory southern belle "please?".

Honestly, wouldn't you think that would mean I got to open my surprise? Sheesh.

Anyway, things were going fairly well with my recovery: I couldn't drive, couldn't lift anything, needed help getting dressed, and with other little details of day to day living, but I felt great for the most part. Then hubby started not feeling well. Through a series of fortunate events, a day of Dr visits kept me away from home, with him, and away from the pain meds. Good thing because we had to return to Longview from Castle Rock to take hubby to ER, and I had to drive. Good thing I was off the pills long enough to drive.

We were in a situation that was either going to mean an emergency surgery that was dangerous due to poor vitals, or everything was going to be OK after having some IV antibiotics. These were our choices. Terrifying or no big deal. We are hospital professionals because of my cancer history, my daughter had a terrible infection when she was 10 months old and severe anemia during her early teens, my son spent several post football game hours in the ER and when he was younger they began to know his name at the main desk,I started to count the stitches but gave up when I lost count. I never had to leave any of my family in the hospital over night. We have been there over night waiting, but I never walked out of  the hospital leaving them to stay in an unfamiliar room, saying goodbye and letting go of their hand. I was always the one in the bed.

Roland finally saw the surgeon and she eliminated the dangerous surgical option, but he had to stay on the IV for over 24 hours and that was gonna put him at the wrong time to come home the next day so we knew we were looking at at least two nights in the hospital. Under normal circumstances ( whatever that means) I would have called my daughter and stayed at the hospital, but by now I was definitely feeling the need to pay attention to my own recovery. Pain and fatigue + sleeping in a chair = TROUBLE. But as I said goodbye I was overwhelmed by the pain of deep love. Yes, I said the pain of deep love. I didn't want to leave. We tried to convince ourselves I could stay but ultimately this wisdom won out: I have to take care of myself because he could not, whereas he would be taken care of there, and I could not at home.

So at home, alone, I began to realize how amazing love is, how I didn't want to leave the bedside of the guy who spills little drops of coffee by the coffeemaker EVERY SINGLE DAY, the guy who does a million little things that drive me crazy, I didn't want to be away. How wonderful to feel love so strongly it hurts. I cried and am crying now remembering it.

I had been given a candle that makes a crackling noise like a fire as a housewarming gift just a few weeks prior. I thought if I could have the candlelight and that noise maybe it would feel like he was home and had built a fire for me like he has so many times before. (I was actually purchasing another candle like that one when he came in the store to tell me I had to drive him back to the ER.) It was comforting.

The brand is WoodWick just in case you want one. Not the cure for loneliness but it is a comforting sound.

He stayed two nights and they let him come home. Then on Christmas eve morning he ended up back in the ER this time with my son driving because I had taken meds and couldn't drive, I smoked a turkey - alone, none of my plans for dinner turned out exactly how I planned them (maybe one day I'll tell how there was an unplanned fire - which had nothing to do with smoking the turkey), since Roland was not working he changed the time to three hours earlier than I had figured for a UPS family Christmas eve. And as badly as I want to blame him for my overwhelmnity I can't. There were offers to help - but I don't know how to delegate help - I gotta just have people take over. I am gonna work on that tho', because I have excellent helpers.  I mean top notch helpers! These people are like the guys who change the tires on the race cars, help me out NASCAR friends - are those guys called the pit crew? Anyway these people are that good. Delegating to them has got to become one of my skills as long as they allow me to host our gatherings.  AND I LOVE HOSTING OUR GATHERINGS.


So I titled this with a line from an old HEE-HAW song, and if you are too young to have seen it, or too old to remember it I would not be surprised if there are clips on YouTube.

In closing, I guess I want to share that just as loving deeply can cause pain when we are confronted with loss, possible loss or even little frustrations, we can rejoice that we have known great love. Not unlike that old HEE-HAW song about gloom, despair and agony can make us laugh. During the Holidays I was able to share this with my in laws who are very much my family after almost 30yrs. Hopefully, they are not disappointed to be stuck with me, BECAUSE THEY ARE...BWAHAHAHAHA!

Thanks for reading, Geri

NOTE: Health issues are resolving and we will be making some health related changes around here so that we increase our chances of not having to leave one or the other over night in a hospital. May this post encourage you and your great love to do the same.

Sweet Selfishness - or - Christmas just isnt the same anymore

I am far from being the selfless non-materialistic person I would like to be, or even would like to SAY I have become one day.


I do prefer being the giver of the perfect gift, whether it is perfect in timing or in and of itself, than to be the reciever of such a gift. But theres the rub, it isnt sacraficial giving most of the time because I get such a return emotionally from giving. Emphasize most of the time.


I enjoy recieving, yes, yes, I do. I enjoy wrapping papers and ribbons and bows, gift bags and wondering whats nside then finding something wonderful inside. I enjoy recieving cards, and flowers, and boxes from the postal carrier, Fed-Ex and UPS. I am old school if you really want to give me a treat send a handwritten letter to me snail mail. Not everyone feels this way and thats ok. (to my children who are now afraid that all they will recieve at Christmas is a handwritten letter snail mail, relax, but you on the other hand might want to keep this in mind).


When we were children, we anticipated Christmas morning with the anticipation of a child on Christmas morning.....Redundant? No, it's just that there is nothing to compare it to except itself.  For all our lives anticipation will be compared to how we felt waiting for Christmas. As the years pass the anticipation does also. What seemed like endless days between Christmases turns into a blink of an eye between Christmases, so much so when we look at Christmas photos we might have to count children to see what year it was. For example, that was "before Carol was born"..or that's "the year John came home on leave".

The return to the true meaning of the Holiday is kind of a weird journey. You cant KNOW that Jesus was actually born on December 25th, and then the idea of the evergreen tree brought into the house and decorated with glass and shiny things or even food - well I can not even as a devout Christian tell you the true meaning of this holiday in it's current state. I know there are many ideas about it and most of what I do is done because it's just plain how it was done when I was a kid. And I gotta tell ya, I like it!

Then you can also add the journey of 400 years waiting for messiah. Waiting for redeemer, waiting for the lamb of God, waiting for the Christ, "the hopes and fears of all the years, are met in thee tonight". Oh come o come Emmanuel.

So for me the journey to finding the anticipation of a child again has to do with being a grown up. Yup, I am weird. Becoming a giver IS the circle of life. You are concieved and are nurtured by your mothers being, then born and most likely are nurtured by her for some months more and your other needs are taken care of as well. yes I think we can all agree a baby is dependant on recieving. Not to say their caregiviers don't recieve from their servitude. And someday when that child is grown and becomes a parent, they will also find they get something from giving. Here is the thing: grown ups get something out of giving.

Finding the anticipation of a child at Christmas is the journey to becoming a giver.

It is the sweetest selfishness I can imagine: giving because you know how good it makes you feel. It is a grand hobby this. Focus on the joy you can give to others and Joy comes to you. I'll repeat that because if I were preaching in an amen-ing church  instead of blogging I would repeat it - JOY COMES TO YOU!

So give. Find something worthy and give. Find someone unworthy and give. You're gonna feel great!

God bless you, in your giving, Geri

A Girl Needs Shoes

Wherefore take unto you the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Stand therefore, having your loins girt about with truth, and having on the breastplate of righteousness; And your feet shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace; Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked. And take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. Ephesians 6 (KJV)

I was thinking about shoes today. No coincidence that I also saw the podiatrist. I have a few foot issues he is trying to help me with, today I used the breathing technique taught to me by the crazy surgeon who did an emergency biopsy on my breast without numbing me first, in her office with a nurse holding my breast like I was a cow getting a brand. (all I know about that I learned from John Wayne movies and Bonanza) Count to ten then backwards to one - over and over until you are through. The Dr was giving me a cortisone shot in the heel. UGH!

So I was thinking about how I walk different depending on the shoes I wear. Or don't wear. Then I was thinking about the God's armour verses, which brought me to here.

When I get dressed I put on my shoes last. Most of the time if I have shoes on, I am dressed. Yup hardly ever in the birthday suit with shoes on. I have gotten the mail in a robe, birthday suit, and Roland's romeos, but we have a delightful mail WOMAN. And she has been our mail lady through all my chemo and the rest of the falderall being bald and all. Anyway, for me shoes are last.

The helmet of salvation is on as long as Jesus is in my heart. And the loin girting is only in truth - to girt or not to girt is a question asked and answered prior to putting on the helmet. If you dont believe the Bible is truth you won't have the sheild of faith or the helmet of salvation, see where I am going with this? The breast plate of righteousness, well that was tested and approved by covering it in Jesus' precious blood. His blood will never lose it's power.

The nest verse is putting on the shoes so I will skip over that one just for the sake of my podiatry analogy, and because I put my shoes on last.

The sheild of faith is needed prior to any of the armour."He that comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of them that diligently seek Him” Hebrew 11:6. So in order to have any of the armour you must first have the shield of faith.

Which brings me to the shoes. Different shoes make us walk differently. I am not a stilletto girl - mainly since I cant see my feet so well at this weight. But I have worn high heels in my day and I know you walk differently in those than in penny loafers. (Kudos to the women who can wear them and walk in them you do look very . . . feminine.) So My point is, no matter where you go, how you walk, you take that helmet, girt-er thing, breast plate, sheild of faith and the ever important sword of the spirit which is God's word.  And I believe If you hide his word in your heart, believe on Jesus that all the armour is portable. PORTABLE.

BUT, all the armour can be intimidating, harsh and dangerous without the shoes of the gospel of PEACE.  Oh have I learned this the hard way. All of the armour can appear to be mere religion if you come after others without the gospel of PEACE.

GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST, PEACE ON EARTH & GOODWILL TO ALL MEN!

Thanks for reading, Geri

Celebrate The Small Stuff

Just an update on how the weight loss is going, since we are entering the holidays.

I hit -35lbs this week. I know I have a few more to go, you know I have a few more to go, so I am not gonna make the amount lost the big thing to celebrate, I will save the big celebration for when I hit the healthy number that gets me off of the high risk for cancer list.

Something else I know is that I have to grant myself little celebrations along the way, I think everyone needs hugs, and "attaboy"s, pats on the back and "you go girl"s. I think I may have gotten a bit addicted to all those cheers, well, because they kept me alive. Let me explain:

During my first battle the diagnosis was the most grim. The chemo was the most grueling, and my support system was the most afraid. In January of 2001, the protocol of care for stage 3b Inflammatory Breast Cancer (IBC) was chemo, followed by a mastectomy, followed by more chemo, and finally radiation. After my mastectomy there was a break in treatment to allow my body to recover before assaulting it again with the chemo. At that time my hair was begining to grow back. It had been 4 months since my last chemo and my hair was growing. I began thinking about losing it all again. I started to consider quitting. About just letting my Faith stand - about believing that I was cancer free - and get back to life. It was at that point a therapist clarified to me what I had told him in the begining of treatment "I want my kids to see me fight-win or lose". It reminded me that the well spoken "cheer" at the just the right moment can keep you going when stopping could have epic consequences.

During the second battle the shock of a reoccurence and the probability of my demise, brought out the best of the cheerleaders. Oh my goodness, the staff at the cancer center was so attentive and caring. The gentleness of those serving me was beautiful. After every surgery getting a card from the staff wishing me healthy recovery and half joking that they hoped they would never see me as a patient again. I had awesome cheerleaders. Which is not to take away from the power of prayer - God was the best cheerleader of all.

So now I face this old battle, and when you are 3x-4x it takes alot of pounds lost in order for the loss to show. I have seen changes. But I am looking for them. In fact even if the scale hasnt changed I see changes possibly just because I have a good outlook one day. The fact may be that the only thing changed was my outlook that day. I can psych myself out sometimes with that kinda stuff. Escpecially if no one else notices.

Anyway, back to celebrating the little things. As I said before I hit the -35lbs mark this week. So what? Well do you know what last thursday was? The biggest day of the year for us overeaters. WE BLEND! Yesiree Bob! We can eat and eat and keep up with all y'all! And even tho' we might still eat more than you but,  it goes without the same humiliation as the other big get togethers - because "everyone is endulging". But, this year, this year I had a plan. I have no certain types of food that are off limits, but I do have choices: good choices & bad choices. Yes, we had enough food for an army and I had seconds of some of it - and it was delicious! Thanks Mom and Carol!

One cheerleader shared with me and other FB friends that thanksgiving was a day NOT a season, and although we eat to celebrate God's blessing us and give thanks, it is just one day. That simple cheer, and my new found dislike for the feeling of being FULL, allowed me to lose weight over the week that includes the biggest feast of the year. GO, GO GERI! GO GO, GO GERI! (sometimes you have to be your own cheerleader)

I started this blog Oct 30, so even tho' I blogged yesterday I felt I should post the update on the weight loss.

Just a few more days until my surgery so we'll see how that goes....I told my plastic surgeon that if he wanted to use me to teach interns how to do liposuction it was OK by me, and that I also have a mole above my lip...you know, since I'll be asleep anyway...

He has been so great to deal with my sense of humor. Seriously, some of the stuff that I say at his office surprises me. Some of it could probably get me put into a straight jacket. But at any rate Dr. Gabriel has been a real sport - I suppose doctors need a cheerleader now and then too. And laughter is the best cheer!

Thanks for reading, Geri

Decorate The Cross

I am weird.

SURPRISE!

I tend to think of the cross at christmas time, and at Easter think of the manger. No rule against it. The bible says , "HE IS BORN", "HE IS CRUCIFIED" and "HE IS RISEN". So as long as you know what the definition of "is" is, you should be okay with my weirdness on this subject.

I think it might be because I tend to look at my children this way. I held my son in my arms and cried thinking he might one day be a soldier, and my daughter nearly died at birth (cord around her neck twice, no pulse, no breathing, CPR) after that trauma I enjoyed sleeping when she slept; waking when she woke; but cried knowing that she was my last baby, when she grew up I would be retired as a mom. So every first was also a last.

Now I see them both doing grown up things and picture them as children. I remember the principles office after a poor choice, a parents phone call after a thrown rock.

When they have the same job for a year ( I am so proud of you punkin') - but lose a good friend, I remember the playground where children have several best friends in a year, but in high school and beyond, as a parent you get attached to these friends, they call you "mom", then they are gone. I go back to the playground, once again.

When they get married and learn to be a part of another family...then experience domestic violence and stand up to it even when the charges get dropped and it looks like the bad guys win ( I am so proud of you Judah and Brittney). I go back to the little league coach with the temper, I go back to the High School Football days of using binoculars to see if his face would tell me how bad that last hit hurt. But He's a man, walking in a man's shoes. It's not the principles office its the bosses office asking for a raise; or the lawyers office wondering if the @#$#*3 that hit his wife is gonna get what he deserves. That's when I think of the playoff game where we won the game but he was hurt by some jerk kid who twisted his leg after the tackle. (I'm over it) The team went on to win a few more games but the last game of your senior year is always either a state championship, or a loss...and young men cry either way(Especially, if you think you might have been able to help your team if some jerk kid hadn't...but wait, seriously, I am over it).

Mary, the mother of Jesus, saw a baby in a manger, and a man crucified. Did she wonder in the manger would he be tortured in his life? Jews have always been at the mercy of the society around them with only their faith to strengthen and guide them - her pregnancy was different - would her son be also? Did she stand at the cross and remember the manger - how the star shone bright but how dark the skies are now? How she nurtured GOD at her breast, but how his thirst is mocked with a vinegar filled sponge today?

Yup, I am weird. 

The Bucket (is half full) List

I am thankful for the roof above me, the floor below, the walls that surround me and every window.
I am thankful for each day beyond my dreams added to my life, or at least it seems.
I am thankful for the goals I have set and reached, and for failures that never fail to teach.
I am thankful for friends who read the newspaper and post on facebook when America is in danger.
I am thankful for jokes, and funny movies and laughter, for photos of childhood before during and after.
I am thankful for my brothers and sisters, both near and far away. For their spouses and children and for however they spend this day.
I am thankful for a mind that trusts the heart, and for a heart that is willing to learn.
I am thankful for a fireplace, love the sound and the warmth, for matches and paper and wood to burn.
I am thankful for the love of a hardworking man and for the name he gave me - and all of his family. A passle of brothers that I hardly see, are supplemented by Travis and Uncle Damey. (the kids always called him Damey but his name is Damon)
I am thankful to God for forgiveness and grace, that when i fail He hides not His face.
I am glad for the spring I am Glad for the summer, I am thankful for Fall, but sometimes Winter's a bummer. I really enjoy the look of the snow, and thank God for saftey for those who must travel, the postman, the UPS man, and the driver of the school bus - blessing them and keeping them who do it all for us.
I miss certain people who've gone to heaven already. I want to be there too whenever God is ready. I know you are there, it's all gonna be great - someday, God  willing.
Feeling thankful, feeling comfortable looking forward to eating, and a special to thanks to all who are reading!
Thanks for listening.

Stuffed or Full? Starving or hungry?

Novemeber 20, 2011 I exaggerate. I can lie like nobody's business, too. Atleast, I did before I made a decision to follow Jesus. And even then it took awhile to weed through the lies that had become woven into the fabric of my life. Sometimes someone would ask about something and I would have to explain that I had lied. And because lies are so much harder to remember than the truth, it often takes an event like that for me to remember and then make sure I have confessed to them. I am willing to guess that I havent cleared them all up yet. I know My Classmates are aware of many of my lies, so I have planned to say at one of our future reunions, "I know you know I was a liar in school so I thought I would clear those all up in the interest witnessing to the power of Jesus to change my life" I would then remove a list that would go to the floor. " I think it might be easier to confirm those things which were the truth.....My name was indeed Geri Gilstrap, and .....I was born in Texas". I once told my mom upon returning from a Billy Graham crusade at the Kingdome, that there were so many converts that they ran out of volunteer counselors, ergo my counselor was none other than BG himself. Did she believe me? I don't know for sure...but she had me share the event with the church. I look back now and think she might have thought I would be too embarassed, then admit it was a lie before I got up in front of the whole church...nope. I stood at the pulpit and told the same stinking lie to all the sweet little christians looking up at me. Did they believe me? I don't know. But if they did they shouldn't have. And if they didn't wow, what a fool I was. Actually that fool thing..pretty much true whether they believed me or not. Exaggeration is another thing. Oh I suppose it fits into a sub category of lieing, but when I do it, I just dont feel like it is the same. Some people would disagree and then if they confronted me I would have to say, "you are probably right, it is lieing". But is it more like 'making yourself BIG' to scare a bear off? or even putting emphasis on a word in order for a joke to be more funny? I think that's my favorite one. Emphasis. Whether it is the same thing or not, it can offend people. Exaggeration when you are relaying someone's shortcomings, failures or character flaws can be HILARIOUS. However, the laughter is paid for at their cost - and the price is steals from your integrity. Even when misleading someone to believe a certain thing in order to preserve their feelings - the truth will come out and then you can either admit to lieing(reccomended), or use emphasis to put a spin on it to preserve your integrity(doesn't work). For instance, using the words 'always' and 'never' are ALWAYS WRONG & NEVER RIGHT. So in an attempt to salvage your integrity after the use of those words, you resort to emphasis on percentages saying 75% or more is pretty close to always (nope), and that 3 times in 30yrs is close to never (wrong again). But you know what? If I say "The Hubby puts the seat down 25% of the time, and the other 75% of the time I fall in 50% of those times"....well you can see that doesn't have the comedic rhythm of the traditional epic toilet seat war stories which include exaggerted tales of freezing body parts which once frozen fall off, and of course near drownings. I want to tell the truth and nothing but the truth but it is so much more fun to exaggerate. So how does this pertain to my health, my walk with God, my weight loss journey and my marriage? Honesty is not the enemy of exageration 100% of the time. Grandparents know this. Children have been succesfully persuaded NOT to swallow watermelon seeds for only God knows how long, simply because someone said a watermelon would grow in their stomach if they did. Fisherman have known about and used exageration for years, sports fanatics have used emphasis to win arguments in bars since the first time the amount of time it took to build Rome came into question. And of course how long it took Rome to burn since so much of it was stone. There will always be the people who look at "truth' or factual findings, etc as the basis for all conversation, then there are those who know that sometimes facts are not consistently what motivates dreams to come true, battles to be won and last but not least, fun to be had! Which brings me to the scale in my bathroom. I know that it is off. I know that the number it says I weigh is not what the number the scale at the Doctors office will say I weigh. What I do know is that the distance between what the doctors scale said in March and what the Doctorrs scales says in November is 34lbs. Just like on my scale the difference between March and November is 34lbs. I also know that I am in the "twos" now on both those scales. I started in the "threes" on both those scales. My "emphasis" is on the successful loss of 34lbs, not on the factual numbers of the Doctors scale. I can not go to the Doctors office each time I weigh, and I do not exagerate the 34lbs by rounding up to 35, I want that victory to be real when I reach it. And to my marriage, I love my husband. There are times when I am very much in love with him. So much that it can make me cry when I miss him, or when he says something sweet and unexpected. Then there are times.....I just....wouldnt know where to hide the body...and I hate taking the garbage out. Yup, not wanting to take out the garbage has kept us together for 29years. But don't think you know me completely, I have taken it out myself. Taking out the garbage instead of him is the female equivelent of HIM bringing me flowers for no reason. You might want to write that down, girls. My walk with God. Hmmm. I have praised him for things that can be explained by natural means, I know that somewhere in my pathology file there is a document that has the words "divine intervention" scribbled on it. I know that at the worse of the two diagnoses God used a movie to confirm that He had changed the outcome of that diagnosis even tho the cancer didnt completely dissapear - making my claims of being healed an exaggeration. I know that many people thought I would not have had cancer the second time had God truly healed me the first time. Well, All I know is I am still here. I lived. So if I wasn't healed......and I lived.....WOW isn't that a miracle too? So onto the next miracle in my life...to have a pastor again. I love him. I have had such suspicion for pastors for years. And I will use facts here, some of my mistrust was attributed to some based on the failures of a few. That is a form of exaggeration...you hear things that sound familiar and build, exagerate, a back story that supports your suspicions. (A mind that can exaggerate well, will exaggerate often). I have had years of only Jesus to fill that pastor role and even now My need for a pastor is filled by Jesus, but I know God wants us to have pastors and fellowship because loners get weird. I do not take everything my Pastor says as perfect and without flaw, the grace of God in his life, and mine, covers the places where there are holes in both our finite minds. But I would rather live having something God calls me to have, and struggle with it, than to live in fear and suspicion without it. Ultimately, what I am saying is I choose to exaggerate grace based on my understanding -and that understanding is: that I do not and can not fully comprehend it's factual extent. Thanks for listening, Geri

Movie Night

One reason I love music is most songs seem to be the soundtrack for the movie of my life. I have been on walks and heard Tara's theme in my head. Why? Because I swore I would never be hungry again. Did I bow to the ground and dig up a turnip? No. Did I flirt with the stranger next to me on the trail because they had a hamburger, just hoping they would offer to share their fries? No. You are getting the Gone With the Wind references right? Because I think I may be straying from the obvious ones. For instance I can't think of Scarlet without thinking about how she would compartmentalize her problems and decide to "think about that tomorrow". Her ability to compartmentalize may be the only thing I liked about Scarlett. She and I would not have been friends. We might have been sisters, but NOT friends. Although, I may have pretended to be her friend so I could borrow that green dress, not the drapery one as impressive as it was, but the BBQ one. (And right or wrong I would have fallen for Rhett that very day and never given Ashley another thought.)
Movie friends are often flawed. Bruno Kirby and Carrie Fischer in When Harry Met Sally - I loved these guys! There is a line from Neil Diamond's I am I said that says,"....except for the names and a few other changes (my) the story's the same one". My husband and I had crossed paths from before we were born to Junior college. My Grandfather was his mother's boss. Later at the ripe old age of 9 or 10 Grandad took me fishing and we stopped by his former employees' home to say hi. She was married with three boys by that time. When we left the visit, two hansome young boys appeared riding mini bikes, and my Grandad elbowed me and asked,"Do ya think one of them would make a good husband?". Yup. Actually personally, I can only vouch for one, but my sister in law seems to think they both make good husbands.
But even tho' our story covers pre birth, my brothers little league team, our best friends being brother and sister, going to some of the same parties in high school, we were much younger than Harry and Sally when we finally heard Harry Connick Jr, singing "it had to be you". Epic, yes, spanning decades, yes, except for the names and a few other changes well the story's the same one. NOT!
One of the strangest parts of our Epic story is underscored with ZZ TOP's Tush. I mentioned our best friends were brother and sister. In fact we both spent time in their home over the years but were never there at the same time and my best friend was so tall she appeared much older than she was.... and well I had never heard of ZZ Top let alone "Tush",But that was her favorite record to listen to while I was at her house. Over time we, hubby and I, both feel God's hand was on us keeping us apart during those years.
About 18 months into our marriage I stayed in the states when Roland went on a mission trip for a month to Mexico. I remember being haunted by the idea that our life would end in tragedy like a kidnapping demanding a ransom we could not pay, or he might get bitten by a poisinous spider( actually he almost did while painting the church), so on and so on. I think I planned a different funeral every night for a month. I cant live if living is without you. "We had it all - Just like Bogey and Becall (Key Largo)". Then I would plan a more spiritual send off with Peace in the Valley or  His eye is on the sparrow. Then I would think of surprising everyone with my great faith and choose only Happy uplifting songs - Jesus loves me, a funny little tune from the Agapeland children's records, Heaven is a wonderful Place, and even Oh you cant get to heaven ....in rolands car. Ahh good times. You haven't really been married until you plan a funeral when they are late for dinner atleast once. I was in my early twenties then, no children. So as in any good 'mind movie' the story line was all about ME.
Of course, we had no idea then we would face the fertility problems, financial problems, substance abuse, spiritual doubt, and one day misscarriage, depression, and cancer. We were Happy Together most of the time. Poor as church mice but I dont think we really knew it. (poor as church mice....makes it sound like we lived on communion crackers and grape juice left in the cupboards of the fellowship hall - dont be ridiculous-we had veg-all and top ramen) Why hasn't anyone written a country song about top ramen? "I know I'm in trouble......when I hear that ramen bubble.....there'll be no steak, no potatoes, no candle light tonight...No smilin, no cuddlin, wondering with each bite....what did I do this time?" Ok I guess I know why some songs are never written.
The mystery of eating to excess sometimes gets blamed on prosperity. We've all been told that some cultures in the past found beauty in the heavy set woman or man because it made the man look wealthy - how else would he or his wife gain such girth, but through the abundance of his provision. Well, that country song, it's all right to be little bitty.. comes to mind. Why do you climb a mountain? Because it's there - same reason you eat the whole cake.
Sometimes it gets blamed on being poor. We used powdered milk, peanut butter, butter, rice (I had no idea how to cook rice), and government cheese, Yah baby, government cheese. Cheese added to the afore mentioned veg-all and top ramen . . . we were livin'. So basically we were eating carbs and cheese, with sodium infused over processed mushy vegetables. The comcept is and seems to be correct that eating healthy is expensive.  Hey "we kept doing our best and prayed that it(was) blessed", and it was way better than Scarlett's turnip! We did dig up a small piece of dirt at the end of our trailor and planted some zucchini. Just in case you dont know: scientists do not know exactly how little dirt is needed to grow zucchini, it is possible that zucchini doesnt need anything but air and water, and maybe not even air! So we did have a fresh green vegetble in our diet. One. I dont mean just one Zucchini, I mean zucchini was our only vegetable. We had many, many zucchinis. Many. I dont think it is possible to grow ONE(1) zucchini.
SO our epic had no car chases or explsions, no real show stopper dance/chorus numbers, no ultra panaramic views with eye popping cinematography, but as I became a closet "bulk eater" there was definately lies, drama, and suspense. How would I find myself again, in a culture that not only "sees" no beauty in a obese woman, but knows it is a detriment to her health? I would hear, Please come to Boston for the spring time...And think if only I lived in a different situation, a different place, geographically then I could be "the happiest girl in the whole USA".
Actress gets in car, turns on radio and drives to the nearest McDonalds. the song comes on, "...you are so beautiful, to me, You are so beautiful, to me, cant you see...." Actress doesnt realize it is not meant to be Joe Cocker singing to his girlfriend, but is instead symbolic of Jesus singing to her................fade to black. 
Sequel begins with the song Bridge over troubled waters playing during title credits  and actress returning from the store with a can of slimfast........

Why the weight?

Wanting to lose weight is a simple concept. ~~~~ Wanting to eat is a simpler one.

"If you get your tonsils out - you get all the ice cream you want"

"The family is coming over what shall we eat?"

"Happy Birthday - here's some cake"

"If you really want to get to know the people in the church you hafta come to the potluck"

AND "while you're at the potluck you gotta have a taste of everything".

 

WAIT! I chose to eat, I put it in my mouth, and I ate because I liked food, and liked being full. No blame on anyone who has ever fed me. Nor anyone who brought food when someone died, or when I was sick, or when a baby was born, or to celebrate graduations and weddings, etc., I did this.


I was so angry at my husband. The consequences of his vice seemingly dissappeared as soon as he quit. Next day he woke up completely restored to health, and good looks. Me? I stop abusing food, and I wake up the next day . . . . . still fat. I pouted a few more pounds on. Just to teach him a lesson. What lesson? It was like the big bad wolf threatening the pig in the brick house to come out or the wolf would blow his own house down. (a pig that can build a brick house will NEVER fall for that one, in fact, it cracks them up!)


It's not that I haven't ever lost weight. I can do it. I lost weight before each class reunion and after each baby, but always gained it back plus 20lbs, everytime. Packaged food, all liquids, cabbage soup - all worked. Everytime I gained the weight back plus 20lbs. Everytime.


I am a believer. To me that means I believe in God, the one from the Bible. During my journey to lose weight as an adult - I really didnt seem to have much of a weight problem before I was an adult - actually, not much before I became a christian. Before I decided to live for Jesus I drank alcohol to excess and even smoked pot a bit. Alot. A whole lot. Had I never smoked pot I would never have realized that it is possible to eat the whole package of cookies. And that being full, can help you sleep.That is what pot does to your appetite.


The thing was when I was doing all that I was also a cheerleader - 60+ minutes of cardio two times a week; I also had advanced PE - cardio and weight training at least three times a week. I also was singing in the choir and participating in the musicals - hearing applause, which can also become addicting.


When I had a choice whether to be active or not I chose not. Pot will do that to your motivation. I remember going to an away High School sporting event after graduation. waiting in the hotel for the event to start we found ourselves staring at the carpet, completely bored. Then we remembered the joint we brought with us. Smoked it. Then we found ourselves staring at the carpet, only now we weren't bored.  That is what pot does to your motivation.


So fast forward to marriage. Intimacy. Insecurity. Shame. How can this appetite I abused in the backseat of a car ever be blessed by the God of holiness? But, somehow, the other appetite I abused was now the center of activity for "all God's children". Music, and food - nothing to feel guilty about the next day - no hangover, no munchies - no smoke affecting my lungs, ergo my voice. Ah, I have found my people. ( and the term ergo)


My Christian walk probably became confused from the moment I raised my hand and someone said  " I see-ah that hand-ah". I couldn't understand why when the ladies had an evening event there needed to be childcare provided, but when the men had an event - there didn't. So basically the men had two nights free from parenting and the women only had one. The women were also the ones in the nursery on sundays missing the refreshment of worship, and the nourishment of the word. Hmmm. Couldnt quite grasp that as "Husbands love your wives like Christ loved the church" I think that's when I started to stop trusting.When I stopped trusting that God had my best interest at heart. What an ego, huh? To look up into the heavens and cry,"You call this fair"?


During the first years of being a parent, this frustration with what felt like an unequal balance ate me alive. So I ate back. Again no blame - it is just the way I reacted. And reacted. And reacted. And the more I ate the less attractive I felt and I stopped wanting to sing.


Then came the grand solution. I can sit behind a concert grand piano and all anyone would see would be my eyes. Like "WIlson", Tim "the toolman" Taylor's next door neighbor.(hi, Becky)


But hiding only works until about size 16. At that point, you can no longer just buy the "cute" clothes in a bigger size. Styles start to look more like maternity clothes, and even everyday jeans seem to give you the choice of fitting in the "seat" or the waist - never both.


During the 80s you had a small window of leggings and long, long sweaters which could look very similar on small women and bigger women alike, but then came the abuse of the legging. Women of great girth began testing the legging beyond the intended use, and with sweaters of inadequate length. It was tragic. The legging without a sweater of adequate length, is like looking at a bug under a microscope: it's okay if it's a pretty bug and there is no such thing as a "pretty" bug.........Like I said,  " hiding behind anything whether it is a long, long sweater or a grand piano", only works so long.


That inability to hide forever may quite possibly be the reason step one is admitting you can't hide anymore, the leggings have failed, the grand piano has failed and you have now become the "elephant in the room". Pun absolutely intended.


Just to clarify, God did not disqualify me because of my weight. He never intended that I would stop singing. I did that. I looked at myself with disgust, He looked at me with a broken heart. I took myself out of the game, He has pursued me to return to rejoicing in my heart, to worship. To fellowship. Which is why step two is believing God can restore me.


So why the weight? Because it has separated me from my hearts desire long enough. And by coincidence(lol), also put me on the high risk list for Cancer. I am determined to be off that list, and back on the worship team list, someday. One step at a time.  So if you ask why the weight, I ask why the wait? Today is the first day of the rest of my life right? yup. Yes it is!

Fall Happens - Spring Takes Faith

They can build breasts.

Not functional, feed a baby type breasts. But cleavage and bra filling breasts. I'm 50, and my hat is off to any 50 year old "functional, feed a baby type" breasts, but I don't need those. I certainly didnt want the "orange in the tube sock" type breast. (You can pretend like you don't know what I mean by that but you've seen them, we have all seen them.)

For me, I just like the symetry. You know there is an amazing engineering feat in a pair of breasts. When you remove one and wear a shirt even with a prosthetic the natural breast has a ebb and flow to it's "boyency" that the prosthetic can not duplicate so after a day of that asymetry, you can end up with a pocket up by your ear. Thats the rub. I used a prosthetic breast for four years before opting for reconstruction in 2005. I was told I was too fat to have the breast built from my abdomen and I would need to lose 100lbs before I would qualify for that surgery which included a tummy tuck. So they used flesh from my back instead. After four years I forgot about the drains and the pain of surgery. After six weeks that included drains an infection, and all the joys that taking pain meds and antibiotics reek upon your bowels. Finally I was symetrical, sort of. Yes they were relatively the same size but my original had a different drift. So I wore a bra a bit too tight to conceal this flaw.

The bra fit securely on the natural breast side, but would slip up into the divot left on my back where the new breast had once been. Not exactly symetrical.

And I can't close without mentioning that my nerves were all confused and I could touch my new breast in front and feel it on my back. Not exactly a party trick but I did think it was kinda cool that the mole that was once on my back was now on my front but when I touched it it still felt as if it were on my back.

So I will talk more about the second time around in the future, My surgery is coming up in December. The Dr is slightly obsessed with symetry so I am hoping he does his best work.