Did we know how to do anything right in the '70's?

Thanks to a very late night last night (read 3 hours sleep), a morning hike was out of the question. But thanks to a quiet house and a 4-hour nap, I was ready to go this afternoon. Imminent thunderstorms meant I was forced back into the gym, and did that ever translate into some bad television while working out on the treadmill! It was Ahrnold or Police Academy, so I chose to watch the latter. Bad hair, bad clothes, and most definitely bad acting.

I had to back off of such high protein - as good as I was feeling, it was creating muscle spasms, so now I'm focusing on healthy proteins and whole grain carbs with lots of veggies and fruits. So far it's doing the trick, although the weightloss slowed to only one more pound this week. On a happier note, I'm getting ready to do a bigger hike tomorrow as long as the weather cooperates. It's rained off and on all week - very unusual for New Mexico this time of year. I've decided that a 9-year-old is a perfect hiking buddy - he's close enough to the ground to discover the jackrabbits and interesting rocks, small enough to not want to race to the top of the mountain, and young enought to still not be embarrassed to be hiking with mom. We'll see who else I can rope into going with me, but I'm ok either way. Nothing quite like hiking outside - it beats a treadmill or elliptical trainer any day!

This is brief but had to share - I'm down 6 pounds from a week ago. How? Dance Dance Revolution for the Wii, hiking, and cutting the carbs back to a minimum and eating healthy proteins. And while the shed pounds are great, the best part is that the headaches are gone!

Some goofus long gone from the scholastic scene decided that the perfect day to hold graduation for our high school was Mother's Day. So every year, hundreds of families shift their Mother's Day celebrations to attend the graduation ceremony of loved ones. This was our year - and both sets of grandparents and some very dear friends put aside their own plans to join us in witnessing the passage of our oldest from high school.

After a wonderful (read brief) ceremony, we enjoyed dinner out and a long nap. And when evening approached, we climbed in the car and headed for the foothills for a family outing. My husband and older son took off on their mountain bikes, and my little guy joined me in a hike along the foothills of our beautiful Sandia Mountains.

We spied a rabbit scurrying behind some sage, got slobbered on by a very friendly dog whose owner believed that the leash law didn't apply to friendly dogs, and got some needed exercise. My son, who is now nine, made this observation when asked by his father how his hike was. After hiking up the Pino Trail and along the Nature Trail, he said, "I'm surprised by what we did NOT accomplish." He thought we'd get halfway up the mountain in the hour and a half we'd hiked. He was quite disgusted we didn't even make it to the giant boulders littering the trails along the steep climb up the face.

Hope you enjoy the photos!

It used to be a tradition in my husband's former company that a group of employees would meet before the crack of dawn at the base of our Sandia Mountains during our International Balloon Fiesta instead of fighting the traffic down to the balloon fields.  Why?  To climb halfway up the mountain by the time the sun rose and hundreds of hot air balloons decorated the morning sky.  I looked forward to these annual treks up the La Luz trail which topped out at the crest of the mountain.  We usually made the top by early afternoon where we hiked across to the High Finance Restaurant and devoured piping hot burgers before riding the tram back down to the base.

I haven't hiked the La Luz since those treks, but I am setting a goal of hiking up the La Luz to enjoy this year's Balloon Fiesta Mass Ascension in the fall.  At my current weight, there is no way I could make it.  And so I've had to come up with a plan to get me in good enough shape to hike several thousand feet up the face of a mountain.

I met this morning with Lisa Golden, a trainer at my gym here in Albuquerque.  She's a perky, happy blonde, and best of all, she's upbeat and sure that she can whip me into shape.  (We didn't discuss what the final shape would look like, but that's ok.  Anything is better than where I am now - foundering around, completely at a loss of how to get from point B back to point A.) 

We meet again next Monday to set this plan in motion.  She said things about increasing the speed on my treadmill (who knew that's what the up button was for), circuit training and things like working the back muscles, abs and lower body.  I smiled and nodded and acted like I was totally on board, but the Fat Lady inside, well, she was having a fit.  She's had a hard time adjusting to the word no; I can't imagine what she's going to do with words like "one more rep" and "five more minutes at that speed".  No siree, she is not going to be a happy camper at all. 

But I plan to be a happy hiker this fall, so she's just going to have to get on board and like the program.  Because, I, for one, really am excited.

I don't know about you, but I'm far more willing to stick to a diet for health than for beauty. Then again, I was the kid who would rather climb a tree than buy a new flavor of Bonne Bell lip gloss. Two minutes in front of the mirror was one minute too many - 60 precious seconds that I could have spent reading another half page of whatever novel had captured my interest.

And I've found that age hasn't changed me all that much. Yes, my hair (which seems to be gaining a life of its own as I get older) requires a bit more attention, and foundation is now part of the daily routine, but all in all, I'd still rather spend my time with a good book than in front of the mirror. And I've recently started to understand that this attitude has been a large contributor to my lack of commitment to sticking to a diet. I'm ok the way I am, I tell myself. My blood pressure is enviable, I exercise every day, my lab work all checks out. So, really, losing weight is just about looks, and that's not a huge priority with me.

Think again. Those extra pounds may not be changing the lab work just yet, but they will eventually. And anyone who remains overweight for extended periods of time is just asking for a visit from the diabetes fairy (and the gifts that little bugger leaves are far less appealing than a quarter under the pillow from the tooth fairy). Extra pounds really does equal extra risk. And thus a new panic has set in to beat the clock. If being chubby doesn't bother you, ask yourself if a heart attack will. And then don't wait for the heart attack. Get busy now while the getting is good!

I am a big fan of soup, although my family thinks it is just my way of getting rid of everything left in the refrigerator on the weekend (they're not too far off, but I protest loudly and pretend they're wrong).  I recently cleaned out the fridge and came up with one of my best concoctions yet (which means I was able to convince my husband and part of my kids to have a bowl).  In case you enjoy soup, here is the basic recipe - but feel free to substitute with what you have in the pantry and fridge.  Just leave out the jello; that's going a bit too far.

Creamy Green Chile Chicken Soup

• 2 cups chopped cooked chicken
• 1 (16 oz.) can stewed chopped tomatoes, Italian style
• 2 cups low salt beef broth
• 1/2 cup roasted potatoes, cubed
• 1/2 cup sliced mushrooms
• 1/2 cup chopped green chile
• 1/4 cup goat cheese, whisked into soup
• 1/4 cup chopped yellow onion

Heat in crockpot or simmer on stove until thoroughly heated and vegetables are soft.

Approximately 250 calories per serving (4 generous servings / recipe).

Serve sprinkled with grated asiago or parmesan cheese

Once a year a magazine I write for throws a huge party where restaurants and businesses who have been voted "Best of" some category provide samples of the award-winning wares. And as a contributor, I usually get invited to attend. This year was no exception.

The party is tonight, so we leave the kids to their microwaved popcorn and pizza and head out for a free date. In this economy, who turns down a free date?

It isn't until we pull into the parking lot that my husband turns to me and says, "Oh, by the way, tonight you're the designated driver.

What?" I ask, totally surprised. Did I miss a vote somewhere to get elected to this position? Where was I? In the bathroom or pulling a stray hair out of my chin in front of the mirror? I know for sure I didn't get a vote in this particular election.

"Designated Driver. You know - the one who doesn't drink."

I know what it is. But they have the "best of" everything just right inside the doors. What idiot wants to be a designated driver going to party with free strawberry flavored drinks and martinis and wine and and and... really, do I look that dumb?

I don't think so," I say. After all, it's because of me we have the tickets. That gives me the power, right?

Yeah, I called it first," he says.

I wonder when designated driver status took on the same rules as calling shot gun, but I give in.

We wander through the rooms trying such delicacies as tuna nachos (to die for, seriously), peach and salmon hor dourves (also wonderful) and egg rolls (not so good). I have a bite-sized red-velvet cupcake, another bite-sized cheesecake, and spy a few more delicacies which vie for my attention. And all the while, my husband keeps sampling the mai tai (which he threw out), margarita, and other flavored drinks.

And then it hits me. I just saved myself a pile of calories by being the designated driver.

As we drive home, I am no longer sulking at having lost the dibs on trying out the drinks. I'm thinking of just how guilty I don't have to feel about those tiny desserts I enjoyed. After all, I saved a ton a calories.

I might even win bonus points next year and volunteer for the job. After all, there will always be a best dessert winner waiting just for me.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and so I wanted to wish all my readers a happy Thanksgiving and wonderful holiday.

Remember to get in some exercise to burn off all those extra calories, but make it fun so it doesn't feel like punishment.  Go for a long walk with family, start a game of flag football with your dinner guests, or turn on some music and kick up your legs for some good laughs. 

Don't skimp so much on the meal that you feel cheated, because it will only trigger eating to compensate later on, but also remember that sometimes a taste of something is all you need to feel satisfied. 

Don't pile your plate high - you can always go back for more if you're still hungry. 

Skip the store-bought stuff and enjoy the homemade goodies to cut down on calories.

Skip the alcohol as well - it's added calories that you could use to enjoy a piece of pie.

Oh, and go wander around the mall for the After-Thanksgiving sales.  Surely dodging all those other shoppers will be worth a few more calories burned!

But most importantly, enjoy your time with family and friends and take time to regenerate.  We're headed into the holiday season, and feeling happy and satisfied will keep us from eating out way through the next month!

When I informed the family that I wouldn't be making a variety of pie and asked for their favorite kind, everyone had the same choice: pumpkin pie.  And so this next week I will bake three pumpkin pies and enjoy a slice on Thanksgiving Day.  I'll save calories by using low-fat whipping cream, but I'm not messing with the pie recipe.  I learned that the hard way.

When I first started dieting, I decided that I could still eat all the foods I wanted and just make them healthier.

Sometimes it worked out fine - like using applesauce in muffins instead of butter and no-stick cooking spray on baked fries instead of oil.  But sometimes it was an unmitigated disaster.  For the record, Splenda, apple sauce and egg beaters do not make good substitutes for pie.  And here's helpful hint - don't serve the pie without tasting it.  It's just a wee bit embarrassing to walk back into the dining room after serving up dessert to find everyone picking at the edges of the pie to eat off the crust and trying to pretend it's just wonderful.

Nope.  This year it's the good old recipe of pumpkin pie.  I'll scrape the custard out of the pie shell before I'll mess with the recipe again.

And for all of you who are dieting - and those of you who will decide you need to about 4 PM Thanksgiving Day - exercise a little bit harder, skip the mashed potatoes and dinner roll.... and enjoy your pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving.

The woman in the corner of the pool is wearing a beanie, t-shirt and leggings.  She moves and sways to the music, eyes closed with a soft smile as she twirls about with her arms outstretched.  A group of elderly women form a circle in another corner, talking loudly over the pulsating beat, looking up every so often to see if the instructor has moved on to something they might want to do.  And a few of us strain to hear the shouted instructions over the hub-bub.

"Okay!  On three, jumping jacks!  Remember, shoulders down and push against the water for more resistance!"

I count to three and turn, only to find that I am the only one who has turned.  The rest of the group still faces the end of the pool, doing the last of their forward-kicks.

I try to decide if I have time to turn around again and join the group or whether to wait it out.  I choose to wait it out, and soon the group turns in unison and begins the jumping jacks in the water.  I wait to jump on the same beat but miss it.  My arms flail out as the rest pull in, and I jump as the rest settle back down onto the bottom of the pool.

Any other time my lack of coordination would be enough for me to quit.  But not this time.  You see, I like jumping up and down in the water, even if I'm the crazy lady who can't keep up.  I'm bouyant and light and feel the thrill of excitement as I soar through the water on my way upwards for yet another jumping jack.  I feel like a kid.

Okay.  I don't soar.  It's more of a lunge, like a killer whale gaining steam before shooting out of the water.  I know when I rocket back down, I'll create a massive splash.  But just like the killer whale, I don't care.  It feels good.

I hear a new instruction shouted out, but I can't quite make out what she is saying.  And so I continue to hop up and down, waiting to see what the group does.  They turn and begin a set of lunges through the water.  I scramble to turn with them and lunge forward. 

We lunge backwards, and I follow.

But I forget to look behind me.  Some woman has encroached on my space in the pool, and I back up into her.

"Watch where you're going," she barks.

I smile and shout back, "Sorry.  You'd be best to give me some space.  I'm clumsy."

I smile, and she returns a tight grimace.  But she backs up and stays back.  I refuse to let her make me feel bad as I follow the group forward and backward again.  My breathing is heavy, my muscles burn.  I've achieved a cardio-burning state without realizing it, and I thrill at the idea of burning fat off my body while having so much fun.

We finish the class with some ab work in the water.  The instructor makes her way over to me.

"This your first time?" she asks.

I nod and wait for her to suggest that I go back to the treadmill where I can't plow into people. 

"Don't overdo it at first," she says, "but work up to it gradually.  I notice you didn't use your right shoulder.  Do you have an injury?"

I tell her of a previous injury and worries about exacerbating it.  She shows me a couple of stretches and exercises to strengthen the area.

And she tells me she is looking forward to seeing me at the next class.

I smile all the way home.  If a whale can be graceful in water, maybe I can, too.  If not, I can still have fun, and that's enough for me.

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YouTube - DWTS Cloris Leachman & Corky Ballas 10/13/08
  

I don't mind waking up at 2 A.M.

Really.

There's plenty of time to get up, wander around the darkened house, check email (as if anyone important is going to send email in the middle of the night), and wait to get sleepy.  When the sandman finally returns, there is still enough time to get in some sleep before the alarm goes off.

What I hate is waking up 45 minutes before the alarm will sound.  At that point the choices are to lay in bed and remember all the bills that need to be paid, that rude comment that a distant relative made at last year's family dinner, and worry about the kids' futures.  No time to go back to sleep but too early to get up.

Well, this morning I got up.  And half a pot of coffee later, I was ready to start the morning before anyone else was stirring.  In a moment of caffeine-induced inspiration, I decided to make fresh muffins for the family.  Now let me preface that with the fact that I rarely follow recipes.  I start with what's in the fridge or pantry and work from there.  This morning's concoction was a hit, so I thought I'd share it with you all.  I haven't calculated the nutritional content, but I will later and will add it to the recipe.

Buttermilk Whole Wheat Oatmeal Muffins

Preheat oven to 400 F.  In a large bowl, combine with a whisk:

• 3/4 cup whole wheat flour
• 1 1/4 cups unbleached flour
• 1/3 cup oats
• 1 tbsp baking powder
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 1/4 cup granulated sugar

Make a well in the dry ingredients and add:

• 1/4 cup oil
• 1 egg
• 1/2 cup orange juice
• 1 cup lowfat buttermilk

Using whisk, gently beat egg and mix into other liquid ingredients, only skimming the top so as not to combine with flour.  Then using a wooden spoon, gently toss until mixture is moistened.  Divide batter equally into twelve muffins in a greased baking tin.  Sprinkle with ground cinnamon and bake in 400 F oven for 20 minutes or until lightly browned on top.  Remove and immediately turn onto cooling racks or into lined bread basket.

About a month ago, I finally harvested my small green chile crop from my garden.  After roasting, peeling, and chopping, I had just enough for two green chile enchiladas and a few mornings of green chile scrambled eggs.

Buried behind a large cluster of marigolds, I left the plants and forgot about them.  Imagine my surprise this past week when I pulled out the marigolds to find yet another crop of green chile almost ready for harvest!

Now for those of you whose entire experience with green chile comes from a tin can of mild chiles bought at the local grocery store or the green sauce at Taco Bell, you have no idea what you're missing.  Fiery, flavorful chile makes everything taste better and packs a wallop of vitamin C to boot.  And the best part is that it is almost entirely calorie-free.

I plan to roast, peel and chop my bonus crop and make an egg-white omelette that will not only set my taste buds on fire but make me forget I'm on a diet.

Here is my recipe for Green Chile Egg White Omelletes:

• 3 egg whites, whipped
• 1/4 cup low fat shreeded cheddar cheese
• 3 fresh green chile pods, roasted, cooled, peeled, seeded and chopped (for those of you who are using canned, a couple of tablespoons will do)
• chopped fresh cilantro, green onion, fresh tomato and bell pepper to taste

Heat small skillet and spray and non-stick cooking spray.  When very hot, add egg whites.  Immediately top with chopped vegetables, herbs and green chile.  Sprinkle all but a small amount of the grated cheese.  Cover with lid and cook until egg is no longer watery.  Using a spatula, flip egg in half and continue cooking.  Sprinkle with remaining cheese and serve.