Leave It to Vegan

I'm not a vegan, but I have a friend who just started a blog about being a vegan and I like blogs. Please let me introduce you.

Leave It to Vegan offers recipes and glimpses into a life free of animal products. Elisa's recipes look very good and I wouldn't be at all opposed to trying them with some eggs or meat stew on the side. I liked her post about her struggle to enjoy kale (she succeeds deliciously). I like the taste of regularly cooked kale, so I should love her smoothie.

I limit carbohydrates (wheat, grains, potatoes, rice) and asked Elisa if it's possible to live as a vegan if you don't eat any of those things. Apparently, it is possible. It just means a diet of vegetables, fruit, beans, nuts and seeds. I couldn't do it, but it's good to know that a vegan diet can accommodate a low-carb focus, especially after my last post.

Take a look. Elisa is a culinary adventurer and is fun to watch. If we're lucky, she'll share her recipe for eggless egg salad, which is a devious triumph.

Carbs, fats and biology, or "You're doing great just as you are!"

Weight gain and loss holds my attention more the older I get. The fantasy still lives, but I have to admit that being thin is no longer enough to make me look young. At the age of 45, I could weigh 115 pounds and still not look young-adult-slim because I'm no longer a young adult. These days, too little weight would actually make me look older than too much weight.

So it's just as well that getting skinny seems increasingly out of my reach. Here's the information that has recently impressed me:

1. Eating carbs triggers weight gain in a way that eating fat (and protein) does not.
2. Our bodies never stop trying to maintain the highest weight we've ever reached.

The first one is sobering, but I can live with it. The article I read about carbs vs. fats is called "Pasta, Not Bacon, Makes You Fat. But How?" It includes some nice graphics that show the steps by which carb-heavy foods trigger insulin production which slows fat burning and increases fat retention. And that chemistry, of course, leads to weight gain. As much as some might want to believe that weight is just about calories-in/calories-out it's not.

Weight is not just about calories-in/calories-out.

That is to say, that it's not enough to create a deficit in your daily calorie intake by exercising more and eating less. The kinds of calories you eat also matter because your body treats different kinds of calories differently. Calories that come from carbs like bread, pasta, rice, grains, potatoes, alcohol, sweets and sweetened drinks trigger your cells to hold on to fat. Calories that come from protein and fats don't do that. You eat an avocado and your cells continue burning fat at their regular rate. You eat a bowl of pasta with Italian bread and it all slows down. Check out the article. It might make you look at that sandwich differently.

The second item that caught my eye is even more sobering, and yet kind of a relief. "Losing Weight: A Battle Against Fat and Biology" explains that once you gain weight, your body sort of memorizes that weight and never stops fighting to stay, or get back to, that size.

Let's say I'm a 5'2" woman (157 cm tall) who eats about 2000 calories a day, exercises two or three times a week and stays around 125 lbs/57 kg (I'm just making up wild stories here). Let's say that during an emotionally difficult period, I hit 145 pounds. According to this research, my body chemistry locks in on that 145 pounds and wants to stay there. When I try to lose, my body begins producing more hormones to make me feel hungry. As my body senses that it's getting smaller, it slows down my metabolism, so I lose weight more slowly. Basically, my body fights me however it can to maintain those 145 pounds.

Now let's say that through raw determination I change my diet, cut out all the junk food and start exercising every single day for an hour. Gradually, (oh my god, so gradually), I get my weight back down to 125. Success! But you know what? I can't go back to my former 2000 calorie-a-day, 3-workouts-a-week way of life. Between exercise and eating, I must maintain a net of maybe 1800 calories a day to stay 125, and that's a permanent change. I can never go back to the way I used to live and still be 125 pounds.

Why, O Lord, why?

Because gaining weight changes your body chemistry.

Once you've been big, your body never stops wanting to be big.

Your body is genetically programmed to hold onto every scrap of energy it can. Any weightloss, even after extreme obesity, is seen on the cellular level as a crisis state. And those cells will never be convinced otherwise. They keep producing hormones to increase your appetite and lower your metabolism until you get all that weight back. Only then are they happy.

People who have lost large amounts of weight essentially live in a state of long-term starvation as far as their cells are concerned. Those cells never stop wanting to go back to the biggest size they were. This is why, once it starts, the battle against being overweight rarely ends.

But sometimes it does, and painlessly. My husband used to be a few dozen pounds overweight and was the chubby guy in many photos from about 15 years ago (yes, he approved me posting this). Several years ago he lost about 40 pounds by changing the way he eats and he's never had a problem maintaining it. He's simply never gone back to eating in the old way (all night long), but it doesn't feel like a sacrifice to him. So there are good weightloss stories, too.

Here's my good weightloss story: this news about biology working against me actually relieves me because it means I'm not a failure. My inability to get back to and maintain my ideal low weight doesn't mean I have no willpower or discipline. It doesn't mean I'm lazy and unable to stick to a plan. Lack of thinness is not a moral failing. I'm fighting a wretched evil battle with my own biology, a battle that is wicked hard to win. Let us all feel proud of every ounce we ever have managed to lose.

In fact, I congratulate myself for every pound I've managed to not put on. For years I've heard that it's easier to prevent weight gain than to lose weight later, but I never really knew what it meant. Now I know it refers to how difficult it is to permanently lose a significant amount of weight, and how, compared to that, avoiding weight gain altogether is much easier.

So let us all congratulate ourselves that we are not even chubbier than we are at this very moment. Better yet, think of your highest weight ever. Now add 50 pounds (or kilograms) to it. Now rejoice that you've never hit that weight. Isn't that great? You never have to worry about keeping that extra 50 off because you've never hit it to begin with. Well done!

I'm serious. From now on I'm taking it easy on myself about weight. I will focus on eating in a healthy way (low carb) and exercising for fitness, but no more tormenting myself with, "Well? When am I going to really take control and get back to my college weight?" From now on I'll say, "I look great. If I can just stay as I am, that's success right there!"

Sexy Black

Each year Virtually Home Chicago raises money with its Sexy Black event to benefit dogs and cats that happen to have black fur. O, the birth defect of being born with black fur!

From their website:
Itʼs a poorly known fact that black cats and dogs have the lowest adoption rates and the highest euthanasia rates. The reasons are unclear, and these bleak facts leave us mystified. (We love our black cats!). But across the board, black cats and dogs are statistically less likely to be adopted than their more brightly colored compatriots. Many animal rescue organizations are forced to ignore these animals because they are so difficult to place with already limited resources. Itʼs a vicious cycle that results in the needless destruction of many black animals. Virtually Home is determined to make their plight public. In doing so, we hope to help more of them find their forever homes.

Join me at this fundraiser on Saturday, February 25 from 7 - 10 p.m. For $25 you gain entrance to Gold Star Bar at 1755 W. Division Street, Chicago USA. You get a drink of choice and some munchies, but who cares what you get? You support the adoption of animals who are at high risk of being killed just because they're black. What's wrong with black?

Let's hear it for blackness!

Lake Geneva with Dog

Photos of our first vacation with our dog (in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin USA). The Brat Stop (pronounced "brawwt stawwp" because "brat" is short for "bratwurst") is a bar, restaurant and cheese shop. It's where Bob and I shared our first meal as husband and wife on our wedding day (3/25/08). We cut our wedding cake there and shared it with random staff and guests at the bar. Bob had three beers bought for him.

In the last picture, those cylinders were made of snow and in a couple of days Lake Geneva's annual snow sculpting competition was going to begin. Sadly, the warmest winter in years was kind of spoiling it. It didn't look like those huge snow cakes were going to last long.

Some vacation

This week (Mon-Wed) Bob and I finally got our getaway "weekend" to Lake Geneva, Wisconsin USA. It was our first ever vacation with our dog, Ozzie. We stayed at Eleven Gables Inn, a wonderful bed and breakfast that's homey and quaint and accepts dogs. We had a lake view, a kitchenette and a separate entrance through a gated patio, for less than $140 a night. It was beautiful.

On Monday night the very friendly owner welcomed us and we settled in. I set up Ozzie's crate as he sniffed the room and we prepared to be in for the night. At about 10:00 p.m, Bob stepped onto the patio for a smoke.

And Ozzie took off.

I couldn't believe I had just removed his collar, which meant that he didn't have any identification on him. If the patio gate had been closed, Bob could have nabbed him, but Bob had left it open. We had done everything wrong.

Since we had just finished unloading the car, we hadn't even had a chance to walk Ozzie in this new environment and we knew he didn't know his way around. It was an awful feeling. Bob and I split up. We searched and whistled and searched and called, but it didn't matter: the dog was gone. Ozzie, a 45-pound pitbull mix, can run and he loves his freedom. Also, we had no way of knowing which way he had gone. It was Lake Geneva, a small town with plenty of generous lawns, dark fields and an only partially frozen lake. Was Ozzie searching through garbage? Was he chasing the sound of nesting geese on the water? Pooping on a pitch black private lawn?

After about an hour of looking for a black dog in the cold darkness, we came back to our room. Bob looked so distraught. I felt awful for him. Some vacation! He slumped in front of his computer, but couldn't concentrate on anything. I called the Lake Geneva police to ask them to let us know if anyone found a black pitbull mix with no tags. The dispatcher was very nice. When I hung up, Bob looked at me painfully and said, "What do we do? Just wait?" I said softly, "Yeah. We wait."

About ten minutes later we heard a noise on the patio. Our eyes locked. It felt like an eon went by as I waited for Bob to get up and check, but he hesitated until we heard the second slight creaking. Our faces went sharp with anticipation as Bob sprang up to slide open the patio door. And in strolled Ozzie.

My mouth dropped open. Bob grabbed a towel and rubbed down our damp dog, while I stared. Bob started out repeating "Oh my God" and then switched to repeating "Thank you for coming back." Bob hugged and petted our self-satisfied-looking dog as I called the police back to give them the update. The dispatcher was glad to hear it and said, "Smart dog." After I hung up, I said to Bob, "Yeah, we got %!&-damn Einstein here." Exasperation tempered my joy. I felt hugely relieved, but didn't join in Bob's love fest as I considered what had just happened.

After an hour and twenty minutes of naked freedom in a small, sleeping town surrounded by rural farmland, our three-year-old pitbull mix had found his way back to our temporary lodging, in a town where he'd never been. Increíble. Yes, it was impressive, but I was still annoyed. Ozzie probably had the time of his life, while we panicked and grayed.

On top of that, the little brat had just pranced in as if everything were normal, as if to say:

"It's beautiful outside, what are you guys doing in here?"
or

"I love Lake Geneva!"
or

"Thanks for the run. Same time tomorrow night?"

O, this dog!

We'll never know what he did for that hour and twenty minutes or how the heck he found us again, but now the experiment has been run: if no one stops or catches him (Lake Geneva is clearly asleep at 10:00 p.m. on a winter Monday), this dog comes back. That is good to know. Also, if you're going to have a dog who's a runner, it's better if he's also smart enough to negotiate new terrain.

After that, when Bob stepped onto the patio for a smoke, we put Ozzie in his crate first. And that patio gate stayed closed, and Ozzie's collar stayed on until we got back home. Fortunately, it didn't take us long to recover from the trauma and Bob and I had a great vacation after that.

Increíble. Little monster. From now on I'm saying that "Ozzie" is short for Ozzilla.

A more angelic moment

Ozzie's back at the scene of the crime in this photo, but this time the gate was closed and he was tethered.

Twinkies

I tried our tiny neighborhood grocery and big chain supermarket Dominick's, but they were both out of Twinkies yesterday.

Is it the beginning of the end?

My favorite color is PINK

I have a new iPad cover that's bubblegum PINK and it makes me happy.

My co-workers were surprised when I told them my favorite color is PINK. I think this is because:

1. They know I like winter, gray skies and avoid sunlight.

2. At work I wear a lot of conservative, professional colors, such as black, brown and gray (but I also wear more PINK and red than anyone else).

3. I'm not the most optimistic, chirpy person in the building.

Does one's favorite color usually reflect one's personality as others see them? I come across as a serious person with a dry sense of humor who doesn't like going outside when the sun is shining, but I have always loved PINK, without shame.

I just wanted to clarify.

Half-birthday

Today I am exactly 45 and a half years old. In this photo I am three years old and my sister, Judy, is two (I have just one sibling). At this time, we lived in Los Angeles, California USA, but we were visiting a snow-covered Mt. Wilson, which is in Los Angeles County, but (clearly) at a much higher elevation. It was March 21, 1970 (impressively, my parents put dates on the backs of all photos. Now I do, too).

We're sitting on a picnic table piled with snow. The ground is also covered and Judy is holding a fledgling snowball. I wonder what she did with it. Another reason you can tell we're not in L.A. is that we never wore boots and mittens like that in Los Angeles (ha!). That was our serious snow attire.

Yes, Judy was the cute one. In my face you can see the beginnings of worry and overfunctioning and in my hair you can see an early stage of the mane. I had great hair for the 1980s, but then the '80s ended...

Sopa, not SOPA

Yesterday's actions against the Stop Online Piracy Act legislation seem to have been effective. I like to think Cindylu's blog, Loteria Chicana, did its part, too. Cindylu created this excellent photo. I love it! Please see her blog for the explanation.

Blood

My first and only trip out of the United States happened between August 28th and September 10th, 2010. One more reason to regret going was that traveling in Peru and Bolivia prevented me from donating blood for a whole year. I resented that.

Last night, for the first time since July 2010, I gave blood. It was great. I had tried to make an appointment a couple of times since September 2011, but last night I finally got past all the obstacles that had kept me from it and bled!

I like giving blood because it’s one way you can save lives when it’s convenient for you (rather than, say, running out into the cold to beat off an attack at four in the morning). My dad worked in a hospital for decades and I remember seeing him come home with the “Be Nice to Me, I Gave Blood” sticker. I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to start giving.

In fact, I took the first chance I got as a freshman in college. I didn't quite make the weight minimum, but I didn’t care. I wanted to give so badly I lied to the intake nurse who looked at me doubtfully. Giving blood felt fine and I gobbled cookies and juice with joy afterwards.

Later in my English class, I didn’t feel so great, but in decades of giving blood, I never had that reaction again. I gained weight quickly in the U.C. Berkeley dorms and have stayed well above 110 pounds ever since (OH yeah, NO problem).

Why would anyone turn down the chance to save up to three lives when it costs you nothing and you can do it in your spare time, whenever your schedule allows?

Donate blood, damn it. If you can’t give, please recruit someone who can. It's a wonderful thing to do, plus you never know when it’ll be you bleeding on the pavement.

Dogs don't need this stuff

When we first got our dog from the shelter last fall, we took him to the veterinarian. Among other things, I asked if a lean, short-haired dog like Ozzie would need protection from the weather. Should we get him a coat or some shoes? She said no. Dogs don't need weather protection.

I like how a veterinarian put it who was interviewed for National Public Radio. She said, "I've never seen a dog with a condition that made me think if only this dog had been wearing shoes."

That's good enough for me. Even in 10F/-12C degrees, Ozzie will go "barefoot" and "naked." I just keep him moving and keep the walk short.