I know I have been posting things my brother has written about his weight loss. He has been posting them on his blog, and when the folks at Somae asked him if he could get his posts to a Mommy blog, I complied. Happy to do it. I’m actually finding them interesting and kind of fun, so I will continue to post them as he writes them.

But I do want to make some things very clear.

I believe (and I think I can speak for all us here):

1. You do not have to be a certain weight or size to be beautiful.
2. You do not have to be a certain weight or size to be happy.
3. You do not have to be a certain weight or size to be loved, or loving.
4. You do not have to be a certain weight or size to be…..anything, really, except possibly a jockey or a stewardess in the ’60s.

Now, if you are having health issues, that is something else entirely, and I would hope that you would address them with your doctor and take whatever steps you and your medical and support team deem appropriate.

But if you do decide you want to lose weight, and when stupid people tell you “It’s basic math - it’s as simple as calories in vs. calories out” I want to mentally picture me smacking them in the face. That way, you don’t have to actually hit them, you can just mentally say “The Wiz hates you” and then you’ll feel better.

If it WERE that simple, then the following would be true.

1. It would be just as easy for women to lose weight as men.
2. It would be just as easy to lose weight at 45 as it is at 25. Heck, at 85 vs 15. Feed a teenager and a senior the same things, see what happens.
3. Hormones wouldn’t matter.
4. The type of calorie wouldn’t matter.
5. Stress wouldn’t matter.
6. Eating too few calories would actually work, instead of forcing your body into starvation mode.
7. Billions of other factors (sleep, marital status, finances, emotions, hydration) would simply not come into play.

Now, I’m not saying calories don’t matter, I just hate it when people say it’s that easy. Even on “Biggest Loser” they say it all the time, and then at the weigh-in, they’re all “I don’t get it. Mathematically this doesn’t make sense.” And I scream at the TV “That’s because weight loss is COMPLICATED.”

Then my husband tells me I’m taking this show a little too seriously. And I agree. But what is reality television for if not to manipulate emotions and illicit a response?

Anyway….I digress.

I’m just asking you please to not take my brother’s posts as an indication that anybody here at MMW thinks you need to be skinnier. Because we don’t. You’re good.

(Still my brother. Written on June 7. This is the last one he’s written so far, so I don’t know when the next one will be.) (Also, I don’t think he wants me editorializing, but the apple thing is insanity. Enjoy.)

An actual conversation that just took place with a friend I hadn’t seen for a few weeks…

Him: “Hey, you look really thin!”

Me: “Thanks! I’ve lost about thirty pounds.”

Him: “But you still have a ginormous head. It looks really weird on a thin body.”

Yes, well, not much I can do about that. I’ve always been a prototype of the whole “orange on a toothpick” motif, even when my weight was only in double digits. My parents always said that if I finally grew into my head, I’d be enormous. I grew, but my head still doesn’t fit. Or maybe it’s my body that doesn’t really fit with the head. Either way, I’m happier to have a head that’s far less chubby, even if it is still sizeable.

Big heads, incidentally, run in the family. In one of her infant check-ups, we found out my oldest daughter’s head size was in the 99th percentile.

“Oh, that’s terrific!” the doctor said.

“Why?”

“Well, this is the first time she’s been in a normal range. She was way off the charts in her last visit.”

Thankfully, she has grown with better proportions than her old man. And she doesn’t need to slim down. Although she has been nicking some of my Somae Health protein smoothies that have been fueling my weight loss. I love those things! A cup of fruit – berries, etc. – along with a little bit of almond milk, some ice, and two scoops of the magic Somae powder, and presto! Low calorie, high nutrition goodness. Which is pretty much my life now.

Phase Two is far more demanding than Phase One was. I eat no grain or dairy at all, and I lost one serving of fruit. In addition, my protein servings are only 3.5 ounces, not 4, like they were in the last phase. This made for some hungry days before I discovered the smoothies. Those suckers fill you up without bloating your gut. Good, good stuff.

One of the things that worried me was that, for about a week, my weight was staying constant. Part of that was due to the fact that I was exercising a whole lot, and, hopefully, adding a bit of muscle. But that didn’t explain all of it. After all, I was dropping about two punds a day on Phase One. Why wasn’t Phase Two working for me?

My weight loss mentor suggested that my body was trying to “reset” itself, with that new weight as the new normal. She recommended that I do what they call an “apple day,” where I ate nothing but apples for twenty-four hours. Eight apples total. Believe me, that’s a lot of apples. After apple 4, I started to hate the sight of those things. But it worked – I had lost 2.5 pounds when I stepped on the scale the next morning, and my weight loss in the week since I ate nothing but those vile red things has been steady, if somewhat slower than I’d like. But I’m getting into a groove now – I know what I can and can’t eat, and I’m not struggling to avoid the steady stream of chips and salsa that made the man I am today – or at least the man I was a little over a month ago when I started following the Somae program.

By my count, I’ve lost just over twenty-five pounds, but I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday where I had to weigh in. The nurse practitioner was startled when she noted that I was thirty-one pounds lighter than the last time I had weighed in. My blood pressure was also far better than it had been, and she told me that whatever I was doing, I ought to keep it up.

So I will. But I’m not going to get a big head about it.

(Still my brother. This was written on May 21.)

Still losing weight! The Somae Health program is kicking my butt, but it’s working better than I expected it would.

So with Phase Once complete, it was time to move into Phase Two, which is a lot like Phase One, except with fewer calories. But prior to fewer calories, it was time for essentially, well, no calories. The transition from Phase One to Phase Two includes – THE CLEANSE.

Basically, a cleanse is a two-day non-religious fast where you can drink all the water you want, along with a wild concoction consisting of water, freshly squeezed lemons and limes, and grade B maple syrup, with just a dash of cayenne pepper thrown in. It sounds nasty, and it tastes… well, it tastes OK, actually. Sort of a rugged lemonade with a kick. You’re not supposed to add all the cayenne pepper at once, because you prepare a gallon of the stuff the night before, and cayenne gets hotter the longer it sits in water. So I mixed up a gallon, poured it into 12-ounce water bottles, and dropped in a dash of pepper before consumption took place.

The next two days did not allow me to separate myself from the food-eating public. My kids were in a huge group piano recital at the mall, and their piano teacher had bamboozled me into playing the role of “The Phantom,” a generically evil guy who would do dastardly deeds while a horde of prepubescent pianists accompanied me with a song by the same name.

I didn’t want to play The Phantom. In the first place, it was stupid. In the second place, it was very stupid. I grumbled and mumbled and made excuses, but she cornered me the day before, and when asked point blank, I found I couldn’t say no.

“Oh, that’s terrific!” she said. “Let me
make it up to you – dinner anywhere, on me.”

When your only dinner is cayenne lemonade, that’s not the most exciting offer in the world.

So, anyway, I phantomed, a process which involved me peeking around pianos and making goofy aces while dressed in black pants, a black turtleneck, a black wool trenchcoat, and black sunglasses.

The black pants were skinny pants that I hadn’t been able to squeeze into for several years. I should have given them away, but there they were, ready and willing to accommodate a phantom. My neck size has also shrunk an inch and a half, which allowed me to squeeze through the tight turtleneck without feeling like a cow. All in all, if the choice was between food and fat clothes and phantoming in skinny clothes, I liked my options.

(I should note that I took liberties with the costume. She wanted to put a kid’s Dracula cape on me and paint my face. I preferred the phantom-as-mugger look that wouldn’t require makeup remover.)

My parents came to the recital, ad my mother, the diet and fitness guru that she is, couldn’t stop congratulating me on how skinny I looked. She was also impressed that as he took my kids to lunch at the food court, where they gorged themselves on Panda Express and some mustard-covered bunned beef thing, I sat and ate nothing, dutifully sipping my pepper juice. That night, they took the kids to Sweet Tomatoes, an all-you-can-eat soup and salad place, and, again, I came armed with the drink that cleanses. I kept offering sips to my kids and my brother’s kids, who joined us at the restaurant.

“Do you know what that looks like?” my nephew asked.

“Yes, but it doesn’t taste like that,” I replied.

They weren’t convinced. I took another sip, and they buried their heads in all-you-can-eat frozen yogurt. Only my lovely bride was brave enough to sip from my cup, but she wasn’t willing to do it unless I avoided adding pepper.

Surprisingly, it didn’t bother me much. I was proud of myself for not cheating on the program, and while I was a little light-headed, I wasn’t insanely hungry.
I lost five pounds in two days.

But then came Phase Two…

(To be continued…)

(Continuation of my brother’s series on his weight loss. Originally written May 11.)

So the Somae Health plan works in phases. Phase One begins with three servings of fruits and three of vegetables – 1.5 cups per serving -and three servings of lean meat per day – either 4 oz. of fish/chicken/beef, or 2 eggs. You eat about twenty raw nuts, and you take some multivitamins and digestive enzymes, along with some probiotics. You only get one serving of grain, which consists of a single piece of unbuttered whole grain bread. You can drink herbal tea sweetened with Stevia, and boom! That’s your meal plan.

This frightened me.

My custom was to eat all day long – when I was hungry, when I was bored, when I was watching TV, when I was reading a book, when I was inhaling or exhaling. I wasn’t necessarily big on meals, but a steady stream of chips and salsa makes the day go faster.

I also didn’t realize how many personal rituals I had built around food. Wednesday, you may or may not realize, is the day new comic books are released. I read far fewer than I used to back in the day, but there’s something extraordinarily satisfying about getting the latest issue of Action Comics and perusing Superman’s latest exploits while chowing down on a combo meal at the fast food franchise of your choice.

That’s not to mention the things normal people do, like, you know, go out to dinner with family and friends. “Waiter, I’d like precisely four ounces of unsalted, grilled meat and 1.5 cups of unseasoned steamed broccoli, please.” I mean, what’s the point?

So I started phase one with trepidation, but I dutifully complied. And the first thing I noticed was that I wasn’t hungry. The piece of toast, apple, and two hard-boiled eggs I ate for breakfast constituted a larger morning meal than I usually ate, and it was more than enough to get me to my 10:00 AM morning snack, which was a handful of nuts and another serving of fruit. That got me to noon’s lunch of fish and tomatoes, and I found I was satiated all day long.

Keep in mind, this happened on the first day.

I was somewhat tempted by the sights and smells of more decadent foods, especially the open bag of tortilla chips that my daughter regularly leaves on the kitchen table. But the temptation was about a 4 on a scale of 1 to 10, which is considerably lower than how tempted I am to yell at the television any time some cable news talking head says something stupid. I can handle a 4.

As the days wore on, even those temptations faded. I was able to cook for my kids and handle tasty foods without partaking, and I could synchronize my meals with the fam and sit down to dinner with them. When my lovely bride told me my grilled salmon and steamed brussel sprouts looked better than what the rest of the family was eating, I knew I was on to something.

This program includes the support of a live mentor, who steered me in the right direction when I went astray. (I ate pork once. Not kosher.) I journal what I eat on the Somae website, and she can review what I’m eating and provide encouragement, support, and suggestions for different food choices. She introduced me to the wonders of Stevia, an all-natural zero calorie sweetener that makes my daily herbal tea break the highlight of my evening. I have an official check-in with her every Monday at 1:30, which provides support and keeps me accountable.

I also get daily phone calls from an automated phone coach that gives me an extra nudge in the right direction.

Bottom line: it’s been less than two weeks, and I’ve already lost 15 pounds.

Phase 2 starts on Monday…

(This is a continuation of my brother’s posting. This was originally written May 6, 2013.)

On a Sunday night, as I contemplated a new life free of the burden of eating whatever I wanted to eat, I recalled the words of my mother on the occasion of my parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary at the end of last year.

All the family had gathered at the downtown Marriott Hotel in Salt Lake City to honor our folks, and some of that time was spent in the pool and the hot tub. It was my appearance in a swimsuit that prompted her to tell me I could stand to lose a few pounds.

“Come on, Mom,” I shot back. “It’s not like I’m morbidly obese.”

She frowned. “Yes, you are.”

Well, no, I’m not. Not in technical terms, anyway. Morbid obesity is defined as being 50% – 100% above your ideal body weight, being 100 pounds overweight, or having a Body/Mass Index (BMI) of 39 or higher. For my part, I’m nowhere near that 50-100% threshold, I’m only 30 pounds above my ideal healthy weight, and, being 6′ 4″ and weighing 230 pounds, I have a BMI of 28, which qualifies me as being officially “overweight,” not obese.

So there. Not that it matters. I’d rather be at my target weight, thanks. But in wanting to prove my mother wrong, I’ve added a “revenge” component to my weight loss quest.

So how am I going to do it?

Well, Somae Health claims that their clients lose, on average, 5-7 pounds per week for the first three weeks or so, slowing down to drop 30-40 pounds over a twelve-week period. That works for me, assuming I can keep the weight off at the end of that. They way to achieve this is through eating “whole” foods, which is a concept I didn’t initially understand. After all, I’ve eaten whole cheeseburgers by the dozens, so why shouldn’t those count? But, no, a “whole” food is a food that is a food unto itself without extra ingredients. An Oreo, for instance, consists of SUGAR, ENRICHED FLOUR (WHEAT FLOUR, NIACIN, REDUCED IRON, THIAMINE MONONITRATE {VITAMIN B1}, RIBOFLAVIN {VITAMIN B2}, FOLIC ACID), HIGH OLEIC CANOLA OIL AND/OR PALM OIL AND/OR CANOLA OIL, AND/OR SOYBEAN OIL, COCOA (PROCESSED WITH ALKALI), HIGH FRUCTOSE CORN SYRUP, CORNSTARCH, LEAVENING (BAKING SODA AND/OR CALCIUM PHOSPHATE), SALT, SOY LECITHIN (EMULSIFIER), VANILLIN – AN ARTIFICIAL FLAVOR, CHOCOLATE. CONTAINS: WHEAT, SOY.

Compare that with, say, a banana, which consists of – well, a banana. It’s a whole food. Whole foods are easier to digest and are generally better for you. So I’m supposed to stick to those.

Of course, some whole foods are better than others. A steady diet of potatoes, for instance, isn’t considered the right way to go. And, in this first phase, I’m steering clear of dairy. I get to eat three servings of protein – in 4 oz. lean meats – along with three servings of fruits, three servings of vegetables, one serving of grain that takes the form of a single piece of whole grain toast, and a handful of nuts. I get to drink water, and lots of it, along with a shot of apple cider vinegar every morning. (Yuck.) And I also take a Somae multivitamin and digestive enzymes with every meal, along with probiotics before I go to bed.

Oooh boy.

So the night before I begin, I chow down on two hot dogs (with mustard-slathered buns), a couple diet Cokes – ’cause, you know, I want to watch my calories – and several handfuls of potato chips, topped up with a big slice of cake. Not to be blasphemous, but it was my own personal Last Supper, if you know what I mean.

The next morning, I pay for it with my first official weigh in – 231.5 pounds, 1.5 pounds more than I had weighed the day before.

Yikes.

Can I do this? Will it work? These are the questions I ask myself as I swig back a nice helping of apple cider vinegar and choke it down.

I’ll let both you and Mom know.

And I do everything he says.

At least I make him think I do.

This topic (weight loss) might make you think this is spam, because lately, this blog has been nothing BUT spam, but no. My brother asked me to post this over here, and hey, I’M not posting a whole lot, so why not? I also have been waiting for this REALLY old version of Wordpress to get updated, and then we could just add my brother as an author, but apparently my husband has better things to do, like make money and help with the kids and stuff.

And SO. I bring you his journey.

ORIGINALLY WRITTEN MAY 3

I NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT

Let me share with you my personal incentive to lose thirty pounds.

I was part of a church performance called “A Night of Broadway,” where I was asked to sing “Mama Says,” a song from the stage musical “Footloose.” I had never heard it prior to being assigned to it, but it seemed goofy enough for my personal oeuvre. I asked if I could accompany myself on the guitar rather than perform with a prerecorded track. What I didn’t do is ask whether I could tell a joke at the beginning of my number – this was a one-night-only gig, and I figured there wasn’t much they could do to stop me.

So here’s the joke:

A cowboy walks into a saloon and says, “I’m lookin’ for an outlaw.”
The saloon keeper says, “Well, what does he look like?”
Cowboy says, “He was a guy wearing a paper hat, paper shirt, paper spurs, and rode in on a paper horse.”
The saloon keeper says, “Man, I’d have remembered a guy like that. What’s he wanted for?”
(Pause for effect)
“Rustlin’.”

I told that every night in Jackson Hole to warm up audiences at the Grand Teton Mainstage Theatre. It’s stupid, but you can’t help but laugh. I figured the other performers in this show were taking themselves way too seriously, and I wanted to break the ice.

From what I could tell, it worked. I got a great response to my number, and I was quite proud of it. It had been quite some time since I stood in front of an audience and sang by myself. I thought I acquitted myself well.

The director of the show set up a Facebook page to post pictures of the performance. She didn’t post everything it once, but the first phot of my performance showed up rather quickly.

Here it is:

I was quite pleased with this photo. I thought I looked good, despite the double chin. I liked the goofy face I was making, and I quickly made this my Facebook profile picture.

The director soon started to post video of the performances, too. Being the Facebook addict I am, I couldn’t wait to post the video of the whole performance to show off my chops. I considered this evidence that, after all these years, I’ve still “got it.” I’m not sure what it is that I’ve got, or if it’s worth getting, but whatever I had gotten before, I still got.

About two weeks ago, the video was posted. I’ve never shared it with anyone – until now.

Here it is. I’m betting you’ll see why I wasn’t eager to have this on display for public consumption.

I look at myself every morning in the mirror, and I never see a fat person. Oh, sure, there’s a little bit of gut there, but that can be sucked in. And if I just stick my neck out a little, the double chin sort of goes away. And I walk around with the illusion that I’m really not that very removed from the geeky beanpole I was before sometime around my thirtieth birthday, which was when the pooch started to grow. (Cleta, my oldest daughter, affectionately refers to my gut as my “food baby.” You’d think I would have taken the hint by now.)

Watching this video, then, woke me out of my stupor. From the moment I waddle out on to the stage, you can see something’s up. Unlike the photo, this was filmed from the side, so you can see the guitar resting on my generous belly at a 45-degree angle. And the double chin is omnipresent. I couldn’t look at anything else. I mentioned this to a friend of mine, who reassured me that “the camera adds ten pounds.” If that’s the case, there must have been four or five cameras on me that night.

This was particularly problematic for me, as, for the past two years, I’ve been working with a company called the Belief Workout, which uses cognitive tools to teach people to change how they think in order to change their weight. I’ve personally been teaching the classes – looking like the guy in that video. Nobody ever complained, and the results of our teaching have been great – but I never really bothered to change my own thinking or change my own weight. Oh, I made some half-hearted gestures in that direction, but I didn’t really see it as an urgent issue. That was someone else’s problem, not mine.

Until, of course, I saw this video.

So I’m now applying the ideas we teach, as well as using the automated phone coach that’s part of our program. We’ve also partnered with a company called Somae Health, which uses live mentors to help you follow their whole foods regimen. I’m diving in to the Somae program, which means adios to cheeseburgers and diet Cokes. My kids don’t think I can do it, and my wife, while supportive, is also skeptical. But I don’t ever want to watch a video of me singing like fat Elvis. My goal is a lifetime of skinny Elvis. I’ll keep you apprised of my progress.

(The Wiz here. He’s written a few posts since this, and we are playing catch-up. Next one will be posted tomorrow.)

MMW is under construction. Or, at least, we’re talking about it. It might not happen any time soon, or, you know, ever, but there is definite discussion about it. So don’t leave us completely, or if you do, check back now and then to see if we’ve moved on like we said we would. It might be a while, but we won’t be gone forever.

Or, maybe we will be, but in the meantime, you can check us out other places. The Wiz blogs at Diabetics are Naturally Sweet, and I blog at Living With PKD and Melissa blogs at Gerbera Daisy Diaries and Tracy blogs at, well, if you don’t know how to find Tracy M., I feel kinda sorry for you. She’s over at Dandelion Mama, which gets more hits than pretty much any other blog in the universe.

If we don’t really come back, know that we’ve loved blogging here, and we’ve loved having you as readers. You guys are awesome.

Have any of you ever had your eight year old about-to-be-baptized child go through an episode of doubt and/or anxiety? Not an “I’m nervous people will be looking at me” kind of thing. I’m talking about sincere soul-searching, deep pondering, real detailed questioning. A sort of existential or spiritual anxiety.  At the age of eight.
Anyone?

One of my life goals is to practice hippotherapy. Hippotherapy is when a PT, OT, or an ST uses riding a horse to achieve certain therapeutic goals. Also, although the research is slim, animal assisted therapy has shown to improve therapeutic outcomes for a variety of populations, including stroke patients and students on the autistic spectrum.

Basically, it’s therapy WITH A HORSE. Because HORSES ARE AWESOME. (more…)

We’re talking about Buffy, femininity, aggression, and parenting over at Segullah. It’s great fun and you should come and join us.

This month happened to be J’s birthday, and his very lovely primary teacher made him some of the most amazing brownies I have ever seen. Seriously, they were gorgeous—huge, thick slices of chocolate covered in an amazing chocolate concoction that involved peanut butter chips and frosting and mini peanut butter cups cut in half. They were on a paper plate, zipped into a gallon sized ziploc bag, and they slipped out of my hand as I was getting in the car. Blessedly, they landed frosting side up. I picked them back up and handed them to my husband, telling him to handle them with care. Then I drove home. (more…)

This video is circulating around FB. If you’re too lazy to click the link, basically it’s a video made by guys at BYU that shows how easily it is to get a girl’s phone number. Just ask! Yes, two guys go up to women they have never met, say to them, “Put your number in my phone.” And the women do it. According to the blurb on the bottom of the video, only 25% of the girls they approached refused.

I’ve been thinking about this the last few days. (more…)

We have a winner!

The number is 391!!

Her name is Mindi P!

I couldn’t be happier.  I know Mindi, she is a lovely lovely person.

In fact, I think everyone who gave is a lovely lovely person.  I know this is a terrible time to have a fundraiser.  I know so many people’s paychecks went down with the new tax changes.  I know you are all working on your taxes and yet nobody’s received their refund yet.  I know paying for the holidays is still stinging, and I know there are many New Year’s Resolutions to stick to a budget and save more money.

So I just want to say thank you.  THANK YOU.  I got many people who said “Sorry it’s not more.”  Well, technically I could be sorry it’s not more as well.  It would be great if everybody could throw thousands and thousands of dollars to cure my disease.  But I am not sorry.  I am just happy.  We raised right around $1200, and that, my friends, is $1200 Dr. Faustman didn’t have before.

So THANK YOU once again, and CONGRATULATIONS, MINDI!

It has come to my attention that when donating to Faustman labs, there is a place to enter an alternate email, and they say that a notification will be sent to that email.  I totally spaced that. mostly because every time I’ve donated, I’ve never felt the need to let somebody else know.

It came to my attention because somebody I know entered my email in that spot instead of forwarding me her receipt. Then when I did not respond, she wondered what her ticket numbers were.  I hadn’t received a notification of her donation.  I am not sure when MGH sends those notifications, but it would appear that they are not automatically generated.  I’m guessing they do it once a month?  I am not sure.

So,  if you have donated, but have not received an email from me with numbers on it, please forward me the copy of your receipt so you can be entered to win the Ipad mini.

Here are the steps:

1. Go donate.  Every $3 gives you one “ticket” number.

2. Receive receipt. (This IS automatically generated.  You will get a lovely notice about how you are keeping medicine alive and whatnot).

3. Forward me the receipt.  (Your credit card number is NOT displayed.  I will not spam you.  I am a nice person.)

4. My email is heidithewiz at gmail dot com.

5. Receive email back from me with magic numbers on it.  (They’re not really magic. No beanstalk will grow if you plant them.)  I am fairly good at emailing back in a good time frame.  It shouldn’t take more than a few hours.

6. Keep receipt for your tax records.  Deduct amount next year.  You know, if you remember.

7. Come back to my blog on Monday to see if your numbers actually were magic and caused an ipad mini to appear in the mail.

This giveaway closes on SUNDAY, FEB. 3 at MIDNIGHT (Arizona time).  At that point, I will put all the numbers into random.org, and display the winning number, along with the winner’s first name and last initial.  As in “Congratulations go to #0 HEIDI K.” (Which I won’t actually say, because that’s me, and I’m not winning my own contest.  That would make me a NON nice person.)

SO BASICALLY, IF YOU HAVE DONATED BUT NOT RECEIVED ANYTHING BACK FROM ME, PLEASE EMAIL ME.

The end.

See original post here.

Around 9:30 p.m. my husband decides it’s a good time to workout.  Hey, you do what you have to do.

“Want to work out with me?”

“No.  I can’t work out this late.  I’ll go hypo all night.”  (Diabetes as excuse.  Nicely played.)

He begins his insanity.  I continue to play games on my phone. (I’m really good at Scramble.  Want to play?  I will destroy you.)

“Can you find the remote for the ceiling fan when that round is done?”

(staring intently at my phone)  ”Sure”.

After my round is done, I totally forget, and like a good wife, leave the room to get some water.  My sugars were a little high, and I was thirsty.  Then I remember like an ACTUAL  good wife, and so I go back in to get the ceiling fan going for him.

The outside door was open.  (We live in Arizona.  It’s acceptable to open doors in January.)

He’s there doing his jumping jacks and all the other whatchadoos and stuff.

“A bird flew in.  It’s either in the corner or Suzy is eating it.” (he continues his squats and pushups)

“What?  There’s a dead bird under here?”

“Not (puff) sure. Check the (puff) corner.”

Suzy is one of our dogs.  I don’t want to get too graphic about what was under the bed, but let’s just say the score was easily Bird: 0.  Dog: 1.

And still, he’s working out.

I feel I have to make a statement.

“I AM NOT DEALING WITH A BIRD CARCASS UNDER THE BED.”

And so he stops, and we remove the mattress, box spring, maneuver the bed, and proceed to clean everything up that was under the bed.

After, of course, luring the dogs outside. (She won’t come out! Get a piece of meat!  She’s EATING a piece of meat! Ew!)

OK.  It begins.  I have a goal this year to raise money for Faustman labs.  I chose the 4th anniversary of my diagnosis to do it.  I have been cheating death for 4 years now, and I would really like it if all Type 1s could just go back to normal living, without the feeling with every shot that we’re basically on “borrowed time.”  I think Faustman has the best chance of doing this, and so, here we are.

My husband’s company has kindly donated an ipad mini to the cause.  It can be yours.

I know, it sounds spammy, but it isn’t.  Here’s a pic of me holding it. Don’t we look cute together? I will mail it to you, possibly. Exciting, isn’t it?  Do you feel the excitement?

(Don’t ask me why I’m not smiling.  More drama, possibly?  I don’t know.  It is what it is.)

So, here’s how it’s going to work.  You go to the website and donate.  For every $3 you donate, I will assign you a number, a virtual “ticket”, if you will.  So, if you donate $9, you get 3 tickets.  However, if you donate $10, you still only get 3.  The extra dollar is just because you’re nice.  So, if you donate $50, you will get
16.  (But if you go up to $51, you get 17). Basically, take what you donate, divide by 3, and voila.  There you have it.

Once you donate the money, Massachusetts General Hospital will email you a receipt.  This is automatically generated.  I have received several of these receipts, and I know what they look like.  Your credit card number is not on it.  As proof of your donation, you need to forward me a copy of this receipt.  Please send it to heidithewiz at gmail dot com.

Once I receive your email, I will email you back telling you your number or numbers.

That’s it.  In one week from today, on February 3rd, I will use random.org to generate a winner.  I will then announce the winner, and mail you the ipad mini.  (Assuming that you’re the winner.)

This is in time for Valentine’s Day, so if you want to give your sweetheart a really cool gift…..I’m just saying, s/he would be impressed.

A few extra things.  Your name and address will be on the receipt. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but if you win, I would need that info anyway to send you the ipad.  I promise I am not building a mailing list.  I will not spam you.  Massachusetts General will not spam you.  (I even signed up to receive email updates, and I don’t get very many).  Please do not pay pal me any money. I am not a non-profit, so you need to send it directly to her. I don’t want your money, I want Dr. Faustman to get your money.

Also, please keep your receipt, as your donation is tax deductible.

I am told to be as legal as possible, I have to have a “no purchase necessary” option.  And so, if you would like a number and be entered in this giveaway, but don’t want to donate, please write me an essay of at least 300 words about diabetes.  For each essay, you’ll get a number.  Please do not send me the same essay repeatedly.  I am trying to raise money here, people.  I am trying to make the no purchase option necessary as sucky as possible so people find it easier to give three bucks.

Stats on the ipad mini:  It is the 16 GB, WiFi only option.  It is black.  My son wants it.  He doesn’t get it.

Odds:  I have no idea.  Depends of how many people enter, and how much they give.

So there you have it.  Please enter, and May the odds be ever in your favor…..

I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes.

Actually, it was almost 4 years ago. On Sunday, it will officially be 4 years. 4 years ago TODAY I was just feeling like total crap. I was sleeping a lot, and could not get enough liquid in me to save my life. Plus I couldn’t see very well. All classic symptoms, really.

And so, to “celebrate”…on that day, I will be doing an online fundraiser for Dr. Faustman, the researcher who’s work is the most exciting to me. www.faustmanlab.org

The prize will be an Ipad mini.

It sounds spammy. It’s not. I’m staring at the ipad right now. I kind of want to just open it and keep it, but I won’t. My husband’s company kindly donated it.

So come back on Sunday. Tell your friends. And if your pancreas works, be grateful.

CJane posed a question on FB today, about how she gets emails from women who have converted to Mormonism because of Mommy Blogs, but then are crushed when they find out that our lives aren’t really all that sparkly, that Mormons have the same problems as everybody else. She posed the question of how blogs can be more real, or even if we have a responsibility to show the grittier sides of our lives.

I kinda grinned at that, because dude, I don’t think we sparkle over here very much. We’re pretty gritty, aren’t we? At the very least, we all have a strict policy against putting up cute pictures of our well dressed and well coiffed children, so at least we aren’t making anybody feel bad because our kids are cuter than yours. (Because they are. Totally. My kids are gorgeous. Unkempt, dirty, sticky, mismatched little bundles of awesomeness.)

Still, it’s not like we reveal everything. (more…)

…and not just for the kids. For me as well.

Yes, peeps, I am headed back to school. For my Associate’s. Yes, I already have a Bachelor’s. In a few years time, if I play my cards right, I might just get my high school diploma!

I am going to the local community college to become a Radiographer. Think X-Ray Tech, Bone Density scans, MRI’s, etc., etc. I’m looking forward to it. I need to get some biology pre-req’s (anatomy! Hello!) out of the way before I can enter the program, but oddly enough, I HAVE all the other requirements for an Associates so I just need the required Bio and Psych classes. (Also writing 101. However, my transcript did get me out of writing 102. Explain that one, suckas.)

I haven’t been to college for 10 years.

Do people still take notebooks and pens to class? Or is it all laptops and ipads? Do people still GO to class, or just download lectures? I have 2 online courses and one ‘brick and mortar’ class+lab. Not sure how this is all going to work.

Also, anatomy books? Pricey.

Wish me luck. Give me advice. Thanks

P.S. I was all set to raffle off an Ipad mini that would kindly be donated by my husband’s company in order to raise money for Dr. Faustman. Apparently online raffles are illegal, unless you have a “no purchase necessary” option. Grrr….you guys totally would have donated for that, right?

It’s January. Which means I’m cleaning.

Our bedroom has long been a mess. Not just your typical hey, get those socks off the floor kind of mess, but the kind where there are piles of stuff in each corner that have no home. Actually, it’s not really stuff—it’s paper. Books, mostly, because we got rid of some bookshelves and then waited a long time to get new ones, which means there were lots of homeless books for a while.

But we got some Christmas money, and hoo boy, we spent it on shelves. Big Ikea shelves, which aren’t what I would call beautiful, but are at least a step up from the Walmart shelves we had in there. Add a new coat of paint and new bedding, and it feels like a different room! Or, at least I think it will, once we figure out where to house all these homeless books. And what color to paint the walls. And which new comforter to buy.

And what to do with the paper. It’s always the paper. (more…)