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Another “Fad” Diet?

Posted by Debbie in Uncategorized and tagged with , , ,

I was minding my own business when something caught my attention on Good Morning America today.

It seems that some new brides, fearing they won’t look PERFECT on their wedding day, are taking to a drastic means of shedding excess pounds.

Yes, there’s a doctor who has found that inserting a feeding tube into the poor dear’s nose for a 10-day period can help banish unwanted weight without side effects.

Sounds too good to be true, doesn’t it?

The K-E Diet promises to rid you of 20 excess pounds in 10 days. You exist on basically 800 calories a day, supposedly aren’t hungry for the entire 10-day period, and are under a doctor’s supervision but not hospitalization.

The Florida doctor promoting it says the only side effects are a bit of constipation and bad breath.

Oh, and you have to carry your “food” around with you in a purse-like bag and keep the nose tube in place.

Hmmm.

I think the bigger quandary is why a bride figures she has to be perfect in the first place.

I mean, suppose this diet works and she loses the pounds. Isn’t it likely she’ll gain them back on her honeymoon or during her marriage?

And, if a bride has to be perfect, shouldn’t her husband be perfect, too? He’s probably carrying a pound or two extra, so maybe they can do the diet together.

Wouldn’t that be cute?

I can just hear the pundits now. The couple who diets together, stays together.

Really? They probably just stay angry together and wolf down everything in sight once the fast is over!

The K-E Diet only recently came to the U.S. from Europe. I’d love to hear if it worked there and if the pounds truly stay off, or if it’s just another American fascination with anything foreign and exotic.

And the diet doesn’t come cheap. The doctor’s going price is $1,500 for the 10-day treatment (questionable whether insurance will cover it).

So what do you think? Would you be willing to try the K-E Diet?

Easter Egg Hunting

Posted by Debbie in Family/Parenting, Seasonal and tagged with , , ,

Sad to say, My Favorite Domer learned from an early age that Easter Egg hunts aren’t as much fun as they’re cracked up to be.

When he was but a young’un, Domer signed up to participate in the annual YMCA egg hunt.

There would be prizes. And candy. And a visit from the Easter Bunny. And fun.

Or so we thought.

The day of the hunt dawned cold (typical Midwest weather). We arrived at the park, registered, and were shown which fenced-off area the kids in his age group would comb.

So far, so good.

When the whistle blew, the kids were off. Problem was, so were the parents.

Yep, the adults got involved in a kids’ Easter Egg hunt. They mowed down the fence and muscled their way toward the hidden eggs, knocking down little kids right and left.

Kids were crying and screaming; other parents were hollering.

Nobody had much fun.

Especially Domer, who, like his mom, doesn’t particularly like crowds.

Or aggression.

Our Easter Egg hunts then became more tandem affairs. I’d hide the eggs; he’d find them. When he got older, he’d hide the eggs and let me look for them (but mostly, he just couldn’t stand not telling me where each one was!)

Fast-forward a few years. Domer was fifteen when a darling Sheltie came to live with us.

Too old for egg hunts.

So we decided to hold an egg hunt for the dog.

We took some treats (broken bits of Pupperoni work especially well!) and inserted them into plastic eggs. One of us went outside with the dog while the other hid the eggs in plain sight inside.

With the hiding completed, we let the Sheltie inside to search.

He LOVED it! Amid much clapping and laughing and encouragement from us, he raced around the house looking for the eggs with the treats. Finding one, he’d bust it open and scarf down the tidbit.

So that’s become our Easter tradition — a dog’s egg hunt.

No pushing, no shoving, no screaming. Everybody has fun, and isn’t that what Easter Egg hunts are supposed to be like? Here, take a look at a few of this year’s hunting photos:

Finding a pink egg

Finding a yellow egg

Domer helps with the blue egg

Happy Easter!

Posted by Debbie in Seasonal and tagged with , , , , ,

I’ve got a case of the lazies right now (let’s just call it Spring Fever!). It’s hard to be inside working when the sunshine is calling, birds are chirping, and nature beckons.

Anyway, with Domer home for a short spell and all the church obligations I need to participate in over the weekend, I decided I’d take the easy way out and post some spring pictures. You enjoy pretty pictures now and then, don’t you?

Here’s hoping everyone has a beautiful Easter!

Pair of pink tulips

I think this is a rhododendron

No clue what this is, but it's a mass of lilac-colored blooms!

Pink azalea

Dogwood blossoms

Lady Bears Beat Lady Irish

Posted by Debbie in Notre Dame and tagged with , , , , ,

History was made last night in Denver during the NCAA women’s basketball championship game.

I won’t bore you with the statistics, which I never remember anyway, but the Lady Bears from Baylor University demolished the Lady Irish from Notre Dame 80-61.

The Lady Bears became the first team ever to go 40 wins and no losses during a season; this was their second national title.

While it’s kind of exciting to witness history in the making, my heart aches for the Irish. Bringing a 35-3 record into the final (and besting a scrappy UConn team in the semifinals), the Lady Irish were hoping for a victory to ease the disappointment of losing last year’s championship to Texas A&M. A win also would have been their second championship (the first was in 2001).

It wasn’t to be.

Early in the game, the Irish led by a couple of points and was only down six at halftime. Typically, after a hesitant first half, they come out blazing for the second half.

Not last night.

They ran into foul trouble, their shots turned ice-cold, and their ability to grab rebounds proved nonexistent.

No wonder.

They were up against Baylor’s Brittney Griner, who stands 6’8″.

That’s six feet, eight inches!

Now everybody expects good basketball players to be tall, but Brittney is taller than the average male in the U.S. (5’9.4″).

She’s also GOOD.

She scored points from the floor, snatched rebounds, blocked Irish shots — in short, everything asked of her to bring her ‘A game’ to the finale.

And she did it with class. No trash-talk. No super-sized ego. Just praise for her teammates and Coach Kim Mulkey.

So, while it’s disappointing to lose — especially a national championship, especially for Notre Dame’s graduating seniors — if you have to lose, it’s palatable to lose to a team like the Lady Bears.

After all, I seriously doubt whether any team, men’s or women’s, could have bested them last night!

Palm-Weaving

Posted by Debbie in Seasonal and tagged with , , , , ,

Yesterday was Palm Sunday, the day commemorating Jesus’ triumphal entrance into Jerusalem. The people welcomed Him by laying palm branches (a symbol of victory) along the street and singing songs of joy.

Less than a week later, He would be crucified.

Christians the world over continue to celebrate Palm Sunday, with church-goers receiving blessed palms.

But what can you do with a palm leaf once Palm Sunday is over? I mean, you can’t just throw it away because it’s a “sacramental” and reminds us of Christ’s resurrection. It also points to the multitude of saints in Heaven “wearing white robes and holding palm branches in their hands.” (Rev. 7:9)

Traditionally, some people return home with their palms and place them behind a crucifix or a religious picture. I’m told that farmers often bury them in the corners of their fields. Many parishes re-collect the dried palms before Ash Wednesday and burn them, using the ashes for that liturgy.

Another custom, particularly among Italian and Polish peoples, involves palm-weaving.

To weave palms, you take the frond (leaf) and transform it into a new shape by bending, cutting, and folding. Some of the more popular shapes include crosses, crowns of thorns, roses, and various animals, including fish.

Perhaps because the Palm Sunday readings are longer than those on other Sundays, I usually find myself weaving a cross out of my palm. I assumed some of my Italian forebears did likewise, but when I asked Mom which of her relatives passed this custom down, she didn’t remember any of them doing that.

As I thought about it longer, I realized the first time I made a palm cross was when Domer was little. An older woman sitting nearby was calmly folding and bending her palm frond into a beautiful shape, and Domer was fascinated.

Quiet, too, which is saying something for a small child in a long church service!

Anyway, Domer watched this weaving and promptly mimicked it with his own palm leaf. He silently walked me through the process, which, by the way, is easier than it looks online.

We still weave our palm fronds into crosses, but some of those other patterns look interesting. Do you weave palms, too?

What Does an Employer Really Need to Know About an Applicant?

Posted by Debbie in Uncategorized and tagged with , , ,

There’s been a lot of talk lately about the relatively new practice of U.S. employers asking job applicants to provide their Facebook login information.

Besides the passwords to social media accounts, employers have been known to “shoulder surf” while an applicant logs into his/her account, or request an applicant to befriend a human resource manager, letting him have access to their formerly private information.

I can see the employers’ reasoning: People tend to loosen up more online than they do in person. They’ll post pictures and comments they might never voice aloud, and they’ll show their “real” selves.

But that’s not true in all cases. Some of us are mighty selective about what we know will follow us, maybe forever.

Everything I’ve read suggests this practice is more common with industries where applicants need to pass a background check. Those employers are hoping a quick (or not so quick) peek into a Facebook account will reveal things about the applicant they’re not able to ask — things like age, race, religion, and gender — as well as activities like drug and alcohol use.

I can see why they’d want such information. With so darn many job applicants these days, anything that helps to narrow down the contenders would be helpful.

But applicants rightfully are concerned. After all, most social media accounts require a person signing up NOT to share their login and passwords.

Applicants fear that refusal to hand over such information will be grounds for employers to toss them out of the applicant pool. How can they feed their family and clothe their children unless they have a job?

Shouldn’t there be a division between what one does at work and what one does off work?

Legislators think so.

In fact, some states (Maryland and Illinois, for example) are considering passage of laws preventing employers from asking applicants for privacy information. Two Senators — one from New York, one from Connecticut — have asked the U.S. Justice Department to determine whether this practice is against the law.

I don’t do Facebook (despite constant urgings from friends to the contrary!). Nor am I looking for a job, thanks to being self-employed.

While I don’t have a dog in this fight, I am disturbed by the issue. It seems that attacks on an individual’s right to privacy are growing and relentless. Shouldn’t there be a better way to weed out unacceptable job applicants without resorting to violating their privacy?

Help me out here. What do you think?

When I Tried Wen…

Posted by Debbie in Fashion and tagged with ,

Seems like I can’t turn on the TV lately without seeing commercials for a hair care system called “Wen.”

This product by celebrity hair guru Chaz Dean is actually a 5-in-1 system, replacing shampoo, conditioner, deep conditioner, detangler, and leave-in conditioner. It’s supposed to make your hair shiny and soft, preserve your color and highlights longer, and actually save you money by reducing the number of products you’ll have to buy.

Sounds intriguing, huh?

So when one of my friends said she had some and offered to give me a sample, I jumped at the chance.

‘I’m sharing it around,’ she said. ‘We all want to try it, but we shouldn’t all have to buy it.’ Indeed.

So why didn’t I use it the minute I got home?

Leery, I guess.

Typical Midwestern distrust of anything new, “high fashion,” celebrity-endorsed.

Sometimes that can be good, but it tends to put our region of the country far behind the curve compared to the East and West coasts.

Oh well.

Last night I figured if I was going to use the stuff, I might as well (doesn’t hurt to know I’m going to see her next week and she’s going to ask how I liked the Wen!)

Now in a general way, I’m not unhappy with my hair. It makes up for the “disadvantage” of being stick-straight by being thick and healthy and growing faster than turtles crawl.

But Wen commercials depict women with gorgeous hair, and who wouldn’t want that?

‘How do I use it?’ I asked.

‘Just put it on your hair,’ she told me. ‘Doesn’t matter how.’

She didn’t get that exactly right. I probably should have browsed through the instructional videos online before using Wen, but it seems results take place regardless.

After only one use, I can tell my hair isn’t tangly. It looks shinier. Feels softer. Seems straighter (if straighter is desirable!)

Wen is touted as containing only natural ingredients, nothing like the hair care products on the shelves. And it’s one of those things where you buy it, then they regularly send you another supply until you cancel. Kind of like ProActiv or something.

I’m not sure I want to get locked in to that kind of purchase.

Nor am I sure I’m ready to part with shampoos that lather up and smell wonderful.

Still, if you get a chance to try some, go for it. And do share your thoughts with us!

Topsy-Turvy Weather

Posted by Debbie in Seasonal and tagged with , ,

I doubt any section of the United States is more concerned about weather than the Midwest.

Perhaps it’s because we’re so heavily agriculture-based. Perhaps it’s because for so much of the year, our weather is lousy.

Whatever.

We talk about the weather. We pray for good weather. Our radio stations and newspapers carry extensive weather reports. We have weather apps on our phones, and our computers bring up The Weather Channel as a home page. Weather radios are a big seller for stores; so are snow blowers and houses with basements.

Normally, mid-March brings awful weather. Cold, winds, grey skies. A sudden snowfall. An unexpected ice event. More shoveling, more concern over when the farmers can get into the fields and plant, more despair over Spring’s tardiness.

Not this year.

This year, our weather (as my friend Monica so aptly pointed out) has been gorgeous.

Sunny. Warm, to the point of almost-hot. Gentle breezes. Downright Spring-like.

College kids home on Break didn’t need to plan a trip to Florida this year. They could golf, catch some sun, run, and play tennis, right here at home!

Indeed, who wants to stay inside watching March Madness on TV when you can be outside?

Within just a few days, our weather went from this:

Gotta love this snow, Mom!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To this:

Daffodils in bloom

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Too weird.

Usually, we’re bundled to our chins in coats, hats, mittens. Boots and jeans are the uniform of the day.

Now we’re shedding clothes like my Sheltie sheds his coat. We’re busting out shorts and flip-flops, T-shirts and tanning oil.

Some love it; some hate it. But in the Midwest we have a saying, ‘If you don’t like the weather, just stick around a few days because it will certainly change.’

How true that is!

I don’t expect this balmy spell to last. It probably won’t, if truth be told and history any indication. As the experts note, March came ‘in like a lamb,’ so it’s bound to go out roaring ‘like a lion.’

But, oh, while it’s here, we’re enjoying every minute of it!

Happy St. Paddy’s Day!

Posted by Debbie in Seasonal and tagged with , , ,

May there always be work for your hands to do.

May your purse always hold a coin or two.

May the sun always shine warm on your windowpane.

May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain.

May the hand of a friend always be near you.

And may God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.

– Irish blessing

ImageHappy St. Patrick’s Day from me and Fiona.

Who’s Fiona? My Shamrock plant, that’s who.

Of course you knew I’d have a Shamrock plant, didn’t you? Don’t all Irish folks have Shamrocks hanging around?

Actually, Fiona’s real name is Oxalis, and she’s a member of the wood sorrel family. Her brothers and sisters come in shades of green, purple, and red; they bloom with tiny white, pink, yellow, or red flowers once or twice a year.

Widely available around St. Patrick’s Day, Oxalis is easy to grow from carrot-shaped roots. A perennial, Oxalis likes a woodsy, shady area with rich, moist soil. It goes dormant during the summer; cut the leaves back and put it in a cool, dark place for two to three months. When you notice fresh shoots emerging, move it to a sunny window and start the cycle anew.

One warning: Shamrock plants are toxic to dogs! Ingesting quantities of any part of the plant can cause a dog to vomit and lead to kidney failure and death. My Sheltie doesn’t even know that Fiona exists because she’s on a really tall shelf, far away from his curiosity!

Death of a Teacher

Posted by Debbie in Uncategorized and tagged with , , , ,

My high school band director died over the weekend, and reading his obituary shamed me at how little we appreciated him during our teen years.

A former military man, Mr. B was on the strict side. He didn’t succumb to giggles the way we girls did, didn’t immerse himself in sports the way the boys did. He was a polar opposite to our former band director, who got into some “trouble” with a student and abruptly was gone. Probably fired, though that sort of scandal was hushed up at the time (nor did we have Facebook and Twitter to help us connect the dots!)

Anyway, one year prior to band contest, we were practicing, and Mr. B had us all turn our music stands — with our music — toward him and try to play our three selections. Talk about a wake-up call! The notes that minutes before sounded so clear and beautiful suddenly became a cacophony; rests were ignored, phrasing went out the window.

‘You should know these pieces like the back of your hand,’ he scolded us.

It must have worked, for we consistently earned top marks at local and state contests.

But Mr. B was so much more than just a band director. He was an outstanding role model, daily living his faith with emphasis on family. A tiny, leprechaun-ish man, Mr. B was dwarfed by many of his students in size, but outshone all of us in his love for music.

Too soon, the community college snatched him away to head up their music department. That, coupled with the fact that I’d headed off to college, left me clueless as to Mr. B’s whereabouts. Not that he didn’t cross my mind occasionally — important people from our past usually don’t vanish entirely.

But I never really said the words that most teachers need to hear. Two simple words every teacher longs to hear.

Thank You.

The entire time I was at university on a band scholarship, never once did I return home to say ‘Thank you’ to Mr. B for his encouragement.

Years later, our paths crossed when, as a journalist, I was covering a local festival and suddenly caught sight of Mr. B performing with a ragtime combo as a street musician.

Did I thank him then? No.

Some time later, when my son Domer was involved in solo and ensemble contests at the middle school level, I was helping as a parent volunteer and who should I see as one of the judges but Mr. B! Yep, he was still giving of his time and expertise to young band students.

Surely I thanked him then, didn’t I? Sadly no.

And now he’s passed to his Great Reward, playing music in Heaven that far overshadows anything earth can create. I hope he knows how grateful I am — how thankful all of us are — for his unselfish gift of self.

But in case he doesn’t — Thanks, Mr. B.