Archive for the ‘Healthy Living’ Category

What Ya Don’t Want To Smell

Friday, January 9th, 2009

I’m just going to put it right out there.  When I come to your house the last thing I want to smell is Febreze.  Why?  It’s not that the smell is all that unpleasant, though I’d hardly dub it the olfactory delight the commercials make it out to be.  Nope, the smell in itself is not the problem.  It’s the fact once I smell it I know for a fact I am sitting on or near something that would likely make me shudder.  Sure, that baby throw-up, athletic residue, pet disaster or toddler pee has transformed into a fragrance resembling a meadow on steroids, but that is all that has happened.  An odor has been killed or subdued.  The instigator of the odor remains reveling in its new found stealth ability.

Shame on the Febreze company for making their product so recognizable.  Do they not see the social consequences exposing consumers’ friends and families to a trademark smell that should set off warning bells to anyone with an ounce of good sense? I don’t know what’s worse, smelling the original odor or allowing one’s guests’ imaginations to run wild with what the homeowner is attempting to cover up.  For me, it is my nature to march mentally to the worst possible scenario. The unknown is much more tragic than facing the truth head on.

So, to the loyal Febreze groupies I say this.  Put down the spray bottle.  Masking isn’t the answer.  Cleaning is.  I say this as I prepare to sign off and wash my daughter’s bean bag chair of Febreze and something else I’d rather not mention.

Grandpa’s Secret

Sunday, October 26th, 2008

My Grandpa has always been a busy body.  He’s a few days away from 87 and does a little more couch sitting now then before, but he’s still pretty active for a man of his years.  As a kid and young adult, I often wondered where my Grandpa’s inner drive came from and why it didn’t get passed down to me.  I like to do things from time to time, but I don’t seem to burn with the same desire to fill every moment of my life with something.

Recently my Grandpa faced a health challenge that could have been the beginning of the end.  Not wanting to risk losing him before knowing him better, I asked him some questions in a letter.  One question was about his inner fire.  Where did it come from and why didn’t he pass it down genetically?  My Grandpa was very candid with his answer.  It wasn’t something cellular.  When he was young he wasn’t all that motivated or driven.  WWII changed him.  He saw many of his comrades die beside him and had a few close calls himself.  At the time he was a poor farm kid without a wife or family.  Men dying beside him had a lot more to live for and yet he was the one to come out intact.  When his foot hit American soil again he promised himself he would live his life for those who couldn’t, for those who never came home.  Reading his words I knew it was the blunt truth.  His life was a mission.  It all made perfect sense.  He came home from the War, but he never stopped being a soldier and comrade.  Never.

This knowlege has made me wonder if some of us are missing out on life because we’ve never had the opportunity to experience just how precious and valuable it is.

Clearly I’m All Woman

Monday, September 29th, 2008

Dang!  My husband is sitting next to me and solidly asleep on the couch.  My daughter’s television show is blaring, the house is full of fumes from the staining going on in our basement, I’m typing away on my computer and he is a bear in hibernation.  My husband can sleep anywhere and it usually only takes a minute or two for him to make it to ‘the other side.’  How do men do this?  There are days when a sleeping pill taken at 2:00 a.m. in the middle of a quiet and pitch-black room can’t get the job done for me.  This is one area where I honestly wish I was more like a man.  I’d be a lot cuter if I got as much sleep as my husband.

Don’t Blame Our Furry Friends

Friday, August 22nd, 2008

Just read a news report that kids who grow up with pets are more likely to snore. Whatever. Where some of these hair-brain studies come from, I don’t know. Is it possible to make a lot of money inventing science? If so, I think there might be a link between vacuuming and osteoporosis I’d like to tell the world about for some cash and attention. In any event, in my short scientific study on pets and snoring I took into consideration two samples, my family and my sister’s. My sister and I grew up with cats and dogs. Our husbands did not. Our husbands snore. My sister and I do not. Sure, my sampling is small, but hey, who relies on a valid sampling to report findings these days. I’m sure these ‘scientists’ didn’t.

You Know You’re Getting Old

Friday, August 22nd, 2008

You know you’re getting old when the heating pad no longer covers the entire area needing attention. I don’t suppose they make heating pad body suits?

My muscles act like children.  Quit fussing Shoulder and wait your turn.  It’s Achy Lower Back’s turn to play with Mr. Hottie.  You had your turn a short while ago.  It’s not fair to be screaming to play with it again already.  Besides, after Achy Lower Back is finished it will then be Hippy Dippy’s turn.  Why must kids always want the same toy at the exact same time?

Duty Calls

Sunday, August 17th, 2008

I did something today I despise. I went to the doctor. It wasn’t a planned visit either. For the past few weeks I’ve been struggling with chest, back and arm pain. Until today I was 99% sure it was all related to hauling my heavy 9 month old son around. He is a big mama’s boy and is pushing my muscles to their limits. What changed today was a sudden numbing of my entire right arm. I’m not going to lie, it concerned me a bit. You’d think I would have been concerned over a throbbing and numb left arm, but I could rationalize that away because I lug my son around on that side. Nope, this wasn’t something to ignore. My guess was a pinched nerve from altering my kid carrying technique. As a mom of two very young kids, guessing wasn’t good enough, however. I knew I had a duty to get checked out and rule out anything more serious.

After an EKG and a quick once over, I’m happy to report the doctor agreed with my guesses on what is going on with me. Though I expected that result, it was still a relief. Leaving the clinic I struggled with feeling silly over even worrying to begin with. Playing with my kids tonight I was able to set that aside. There really isn’t anything silly about doing what you can to make sure you are there for your kids for as long as possible. I may not be willing to brave the doctor for my sake, but doing it for them is pretty darn easy.

There’s A Brownie In My Frig

Sunday, August 10th, 2008

There’s a brownie in my frig. Just one. Well, not really one. It looks like one, but the truth of the matter is I like to bake my brownies in such a small dish it ends up being like 2 or 3 brownies thick. I had dinner guests last night, you see. After all the carnage this one lone mass of chocolate goodness remained. It’s wrapped in foil. That’s probably the only reason it’s still there. Had it been clearly visible in plastic wrap there is little doubt my husband would have relieved the brownie of its solitary existence.

So now what? It’s 9:30 in the morning and my husband is gone for the day. The brownie is talking to me, which means I’m either insane or bi-lingual with brownie speak on my list of languages. The brownie is cold and alone. It doesn’t want to go on this way. I hate being cold and alone too. How can I ignore its plight and not do what I can to envelop it in warmth? If I went ahead and ate it, I’m sure it would be the beginning of a long and lasting relationship. We’d be together forever. It would never be without companionship again. It’s hard to know what thigh, upper arm or buttock it will take up residence in, but it will definitely have a home with me. I imagine it would get along well with its neighbors, mashed potatoes, pasta, Oreo and pie. What’s the chance of me charging these boarders rent and retiring a young millionaire?

Can of Shame

Saturday, August 9th, 2008

I’m a bit disgusted with myself lately. Too much food is ending up in the trash can. Forgotten leftovers, moldy bread, fermented fruits and shriveled veggies are more the norm than they should be. It’s so easy to just toss it in the can and tell myself I’ll do better next time around. I don’t do better though. A few weeks later it’s more black lettuce, questionable meat, sour dairy and antibiotic producing carbs headed for their final resting place. Ugh. There is no excuse for not making use of food. When I was a kid starving kids in Africa were constantly being referenced. We don’t seem to talk much about them anymore.  Wasting that mound of carrots on my plate wasn’t an option because it could have be put to good use by someone with nothing. I have got to do a better job of managing my refrigerator. If it is impossible to consume what I have before it expires then I need to limit what I buy. Sounds so simple. Why I am struggling in this area is beyond me. I’m better than this. I know I am.

Trash Islands

Friday, February 15th, 2008

They say one person’s trash is another person’s treasure. Well, according to the major news outlets today, many trash/treasure islands are forming in our oceans as a result of countries (especially the United Stated) creating dump sites under water. There is supposedly a large mass of trash somewhere between Hawaii and California.

The thought of our waste intentionally being deposited in our oceans makes me ill. First of all, what have the oceans done to us to deserve such treatment. There is no telling what harm all of that junk is having on the ocean’s inhabitants. Secondly, most of what Americans throw away is recyclable/reusable in some way. The day will come when we will be forced to mine our landfills for the resources we so carelessly disposed of. The ocean with its salt isn’t going to preserve those resources as well as dirt may.

It really is astounding how little thought we humans give to our planet’s finite resources. We consume without any regard for the future. We dispose without any concern of consequence. It’s not like the message isn’t out there. There are programs designed to educate citizens on how to protect and preserve. Recycling centers, pick-up programs and bins are more plentiful. Yet still, you will see people throw something recyclable in a trash can that is 10 steps away from a recycle bin. I don’t get it. Throwing away recyclable materials gives me the same feeling as throwing trash out my car window. How is it any different than littering in the grand scheme of things?

Crossing the Line

Thursday, January 3rd, 2008

Oh dear. I think I am starting to cross the invisible line of life. You know the one. The one that determines whether you are looking forward to or back on events of your life. There is a point in your life when all you care to do is look forward. You enjoy wondering what you will be when you grow up. You wonder who you will marry. When you find your mate, you dream of your wedding. Once the wedding is over you think of future children. When you are pregnant you imagine what your baby will be like. Once the wedding is over and the kids are here, there isn’t as much we are groomed to look forward to other than retirement. Retirement is close enough to the final chapter of our life that it isn’t as much fun to dream about as the earlier milestones.

I am catching myself reliving the past more than I am daydreaming about my future. To be fair, you’d think looking to the past would slow life down a bit. It’s not like I’m a starry-eyed twenty something wishing my life away in anticipation of what is to come. The more I look back, the faster life seems to go. The more I wished for my future in my youth, the more the future dragged its heels to get here. I think this phenomena is the reason life seems to go faster and faster as I age. I need to learn from the cliche’ “a watched pot never boils.” My pot is boiling away because I don’t have my eyes on it anymore. I need to start looking with excitement towards my future again. Perhaps looking forward to what is to come will give me the sense it is taking forever to get here again.