If I Only Knew Then...

...what I know now, well, suffice it to say, I might not have eaten every single one of those 1-lb bags of M&Ms before I went to bed at night.

Your 20's are a time of self-discovery - figuring out who you are, what you believe in, what you want to do with your life and who you want to become.  Long about that time of my life I was living in Atlanta, working crazy and countless hours, spending money I hadn't yet earned, traveling to some pretty incredible places all around the globe and searching.  Searching for something I hadn't yet realized I was looking for.  And because I didn't really know what it was  I was looking for, my 20s were also all about dealing with all that uncertainty, stress and searching by soothing myself by eating countless M&Ms, Reece's Peanut Butter Cups and let's don't even talk about all those Coffee Crisps imported from Canada.

If I only knew.  See, at the time, I had a metabolism.  In the 20-odd years since those days, I've misplaced it.  Probably in a vat of chocolate somewhere.  I'm hoping it's not lost forever, but with my advancing years, not to mention my advancing waistline, it's time I began searching for it again.

Here's the good news - in the 20-odd years since then, I have learned a few things.  

• Stop searching - things will somehow find you if you're meant to have them.  So, let the search for "it" (whatever "it" is) go.
• Don't spend money you don't have in the bank.  I've actually gotten exceptionally good at this and even though my mom desperately tried instilling this in me most of my life, it took marrying a financial wizard for the lessons to really sink in.
• Ice-cream is a fun food - fun because it comes in so many flavours.  Fun because you can eat it in a cone, with a spoon or sandwiched between two chocolate cookie/cakes.  Unfortunately, it's not so much fun when it hits my belly and makes me sick.  I've learned to let go of ice-cream.
• Probably most importantly (or relevant to this blog anyway) is the fact that I've learned the right way to eat.  I know I cannot eat unlimited quantities of bread and cheese and expect to drop a pound a week.   I know I have to have vegetables or fruit with every meal.  I know what foods make me feel full and what ones just leave me craving more.  I know I cannot metabolize white wine, but I can slug back vodka till the cows come home.  
• I also not only know what to eat, but I do believe, I know how much to eat.  Like for example, a serving of pasta is ONE cup.  Not the six cups you normally get at the Olive Garden.  Or that a piece of bread is 180 calories.  So much for something so little.  So unfair.

Anyway, all of this to say that week 2 of No Crap for Kim is successfully behind me.  Getting as active as I wanted hasn't been as easy what, with putting in all the hours I have been getting ready for our big fundraiser tonight.  But I did manage to get a beach walk in every day the weather allowed me to, including a nice long walk this morning.  So, activity-wise, I'm not where I want to be, but I am getting more active than I have been, for sure.

But, you want to know something.  I was recently looking for a picture of my cousin Lori to post about her not-yet 50th birthday and I came across some of my old pictures I had totally forgotten about.  Like this one:

That's me on the far right.  Can you believe that around the time I had this picture taken, I had visited my doctor for a yearly physical and he told me I was OBESE.  Yup, there I was, 5'7" and 170-lbs and I was considered obese.  If you just look at the numbers, I guess that'd be right.  But look at me.  I was wearing a size 10 in this photo.  Do I look fat to you?  I don't think so and what I wouldn't give to be that size again.

Which brings me to the point of this blog.  For way too long, I have let everyone and their opinion rule how I feel about myself.  I know for a fact that after that Dr. visit where I was told I was not just a little chubby, but that I was OBESE that I went home and ate a great big plate of brownies, trying to squash the inadequacy I felt.  So his little pep talk to motivate me to lose weight actually back-fired and it sent me right out to start putting on even more.

20-odd years later and I still struggle with this.  But, I am getting better.  I am eating smarter.  I have one cheat day a week where I give myself permission to enjoy that piece of dessert, if there is some (like that fabulous slice of blueberry pie Sat. night at the beach party - yum!).  I am now aware that I manage my emotions through food.   When I have those moments now, I do something else...like blog...or go pull weeds...or water my garden.  

I haven't been on a scale since I started No Crap for Kim, so I cannot put a number to my results...but I am getting results.  I can now wear pants I wouldn't wear  a month ago.  I've tweaked what I'm eating and the result is I feel full much of the time.  And when I'm hungry I eat.  But definitely not a 1-lb bag of M&M's.

Connecting the dots

Funny how a series of events, seemingly unrelated can come together to cause mayhem and pandemonium.  Like, when a group of butterflies on the coast of Africa flap their wings thus  setting off a hurricane that will make its way across the Atlantic and devastate a whole city.  Yeah, stuff like that.

Thursday I came home from my volunteer job to discover I had forgotten to close the bathroom door before I left that morning.  In most households that's no big deal, but here in the OBB we have two garbage hungry dogs who will take every opportunity they can to sniff around and sort through things that they shouldn't.  Like bathroom garbage cans.

In my rush to get to a meeting with our local DJs who are helping us promote our event I failed to shut said bathroom door and believe me when I tell you, I paid the price for it that night.  I came home to a living full of shredded paper products...used tissues, q-tips, the like, strewn throughout the lower level of the house.  

Now who's to blame here?  The one who gave birth to me says there are no bad dogs, just bad owners...so I guess it serves me right that after a very full day of fundraising I should have to come home to clean up this mess.

Oh, but wait.  It gets better.

Friday morning begins as it normally does.  Me letting the dogs out before filling their bowls with dog food.  Them sitting, staring at me, boring holes into my back as they wait with much anticipation for me to fill their bowls with the left-over milk from my Bran Flakes.  As I said, all very much the way things happen here almost every morning.

As I was scanning the on-line edition of our daily newspaper, reading the late breaking news about a 16.04 oz baby born FIFTY years ago today - you can read about it here:  http://kimberlycameron.blogspot.com/2009_06_12_archive.html

I hear the unmistakable sounds of our little dog retching her guts up.  There's really nothing as appetizing as the sound of a dog making themselves sick to eat your Bran Flakes by, but I digress.  After several minutes (really, I'm sure it was seconds, but it seemed like FOREVER) The Gidge deposited a big gift of dog-vomit on the floor at my feet.  Now she had room for that bowl of milk she was anticipating.

Another isolated incident.  Or so it seemed at the time.

Last night, as the one whom I adore and I were lounging about watching a very scary movie ("Taken," with Liam Neeson) Snickers got up off his dog bed, quietly walked into the kitchen where he hurled up a pile of dog barf the size I hadn't seen in quite some time.  His entire dinner plus whatever snacks he had been given by you know who while I was out.   The good news is, he had the presence of mind not to be sick all over our antique hardwood floors in the living room, but had the good graces to go to the kitchen which has ceramic tile and is much easier to clean up! 

A stand alone incident?  Maybe...but I'm beginning to get suspicious.

Now it's Saturday morning and as I am wont to do, I lounged about bed dozing in and out of sleep past my usual 6am walk-up.  As I was rousing myself from a very disturbing dream (where I was searching for my now deceased Uncle Dick's wet suit because he had misplaced it) I could hear the sound of the upstairs toilet being plunged.  This usually can only mean one thing and that's that the one whom I adore had too much fiber and thus, ahem, caused some blockage.

Such was not the case today.  Seems somebody (probably Snicks) up-chucked in the night in our upstairs hallway.  It's now a pandemic, I tell you!  He who was up first saw the deposit and had the foresight to realize the longer it sits there, the worse the stain will be, so best get it cleaned up now.

So he does.  He gets it all cleaned up - chunky mess that it is and flushes it down the toilet.  Except.  Yes, that's right.  It doesn't go down.  And why, you might ask, would dog vomit not go down the toilet?

The answer really is quite simple.

Because the dog vomit was not just stomach fluids.  Oh no.  The dog vomit was laced with previously used feminine hygiene products that had been fished out of the downstairs bathroom garbage TWO DAYS AGO.  How is that for nasty?  Note to self and anyone else - never let our dogs kiss you - they are disgusting animals.  

And now, the dots are all connecting.  I failed to close the bathroom door.  Dogs scavenged the garbage, ate the nasty contents there-of.  Dogs have sporadic episodes of upset stomach for two days until the big dog finally (hopefully) passes the last of the nasties.  It's all connected.

Aren't you glad you read this post all the way to the end?

Above the Fold News on PEI

There are a lot of things our local newspaper can choose to put above the fold on the front page...things like the H1N1 virus being updated to a pandemic or how about the Iranian elections that took place yesterday?  If those issues are too big, how about the fact that the leader of the opposition will decide today whether or not to challenge the current sitting government and call an election?  Or tonight's game 7 of the Stanley Cup?  Did ANY of these make the newspaper?

Nope.

Instead, our above the fold story today is this:

Bill Shepard of Brudenell celebrates his 50th birthday today, but the milestone event will be much quieter than the news sensation he caused on June 12, 1959, at the hospital in Montague.

Shepard came into the world weighing a staggering 16 lbs., 4.5 ozs. By one year of age, he was 36 lbs. 

The size of the baby was considered almost unprecedented at the time.  His birth resulted in a front-page story in The Guardian, and coverage in newspapers across Canada and the United States.

Dr. Preston MacIntyre, a medical legend in Montague, was the presiding physician as Florence Shepard delivered her ninth and last baby by natural childbirth.  As a thank you to the doctor, the child was baptized William Preston Shepard.

Despite the obvious potential to be a very tall and large man, today Shepard is a normal six-foot-two and weighs approximately 200 lbs.

James Shepard and his wife raised their nine children on the Seven Mile Road near Cardigan. James passed away more than 20 years ago and his wife Florence died of cancer in 1997 at aged 74.

Dan Shepard of Seven Mile Road, a brother of Bill, says their mother was a small woman of Acadian descent, (nee Fougere) from West Arichat, Cape Breton Island.  Dan said this week that he heard lots of stories over the years resulting from his brother’s famous birth.

“There was a guest book at the hospital signed by numerous people,” said Dan. “After Bill came home from the hospital, many people, including complete strangers, came to the house just to catch a glimpse of the newborn celebrity.” 

Another of Bill’s siblings, Stella, also had stories to add. “After Bill came home, Mom was still in the hospital. So Dad had to take Bill to a neighbour to take care of him till Mom got home a week or so later,” said Stella, who was five years old at the time.  “Dad drove Bill in his old truck, using his arm as a seat belt around Stella who was trying to hold on to Bill,” added Dan. 

Bill became a well-known cook in the area, working for 10 years at the Whim Inn in Poole’s Corner. 

After the Whim Inn closed its doors, Bill got employment with the provincial government.

Bill and his wife Aura Lee reside in Brudenell.

Now, I know I might sound cynical here, but this? This?  This is breaking news here on PEI?  Honest to heaven and I do not kid, this is the type of news coverage we get EVERY DAY HERE.

Is it well written?  I think not!  Did you see the sentence that started with James Shepard - who the hell is James Shepard?  I thought the story was about Bill Shepard?  Not until you see the reference to Florance do you think maybe James was the father!  How about the fact that this BIG STORY only quotes his siblings, despite the fact that HE STILL LIVES ON PEI?  Why wasn't he interviewed?  

Makes me think I could get a job at The Guardian.  Clearly they don't require a journalism degree in their reporters.  Ugh.

Robbing Peter, but Not Paying Paul

Four more days until the BIG FUNDRAISER I've been working on the last couple of months.  Four more days until we find out if the record breaking items we've secured for the auction will fetch record breaking bids.  Four more days until I'm unemployed for the summer.  Crap.

It's been fantastic being as involved as I have in this charity - I've been doing work that calls on my talents and plays to my comfort zone.  I've met some interesting people and I've enjoyed working with the employees of the charity.  It's been an eye-opener to understand just how under-funded and under-served this group really is.  

They've survived almost a year of scandal with their former executive director being charged with theft in excess of $5000.  The fact of the matter is, his theft robbed them of much more than just $5000, (and believe me, the dollar amount is much greater than that).  He robbed them of their momentum.  He stole their enthusiasm.  He took opportunity and potential away from one of the most under served populations on the island.  

But he didn't take their determination.  He didn't steal their resolve.  Their dedication to the organization and to each other has been left in-tact.  Fueled by their anger at him, and their dedication to their members, the staff have carried on and continued to move the organization forward.  

Good for them.

Lorraine Hissa

She taught me how to drive a stick.

And the correct way to inhale.

She plied me with enough rum & coke that I haven't had either ever since.

And force-fed me black coffee to off-set the effects.

She's held my hair back while I up-chucked rum, coke & black coffee.

She's the reason I was late for my curfew (honestly, that's my story & I'm still sticking to it)

She fought the unfair rules for granddaughters that didn't apply to grandsons

She's raised two kids, mostly on her own

She's creative & funny

She's one of the hardest working women I know

Today she turns almost 50 

But not quite

At least not this year

Happy Birthday 'cuz!

Anticipation...Making Me Wait

Yesterday I was going to put in the garden...all 15 of those tomato plants plus the peppers, fennel, carrots and peas and all the other vegetables I have standing by waiting for their moment in the sun.  But, given that I live on an island in the Northumberland Straight whose weather is controlled by the ocean's temperatures and given that those same temperatures plummeted last night to near freezing (yes, you read that right) I opted to wait. 

Only problem is, the forecast doesn't show it warming up in the foreseeable future!  So I'm in a bit of a pickle as it were, or I would be if I could plant those damn cucumbers!  Most of what I'm planting takes a minimum of 70 days to mature...so by the time I get them in the ground, it's going to be Sept. or Oct. at the earliest before we can enjoy our home-grown food.  Patience has never been one of my virtues so you can only imagine how pleased I am at this turn of events.

On the good news front...the French Lilac I planted last year is in full bloom!  Isn't it pretty?

Monday, Monday

Ah, Monday, Monday...After a FULL weekend of visiting with old (for him) and new (for me) friends, working the land (ie slave to the lawn), weeding, weeding and more weeding and then cultivating the garden, planting rose bushes and peonies and  the whole movie marathon thing (go see the new Star Trek it is AWESOME!)...well, it seems I didn't have time to think about or write anything blog worthy.  I suck.

So instead I'm posting a picture of Friday's sunset at Argyle Shores on the south side of the island.    This is what surviving the winter is all about here on the island in the Northumberland Straight.  A lovely bonfire rivaled in colour by the brilliant sunset.

 

Did I mention it's gardening season here on the island?  For us that meant prepping the soil for our tomato & pepper patch - which really involved the one whom I adore getting out there with shovel, spade & hoe and tilling bags of manure & compost into the soil then organizing it all into beautiful raised beds.    But for the guy that owns the field behind us, "prepping the soil" means something entirely different:

Ah, potato season will soon be upon us!