Auspicious Days revisited

As it turns out, last Wednesday was THE auspicious day to join Weightwatchers again.  I think I've lost about three pounds (of the nine I had gained eating bag after bag of Halloween candy).  I'm thinking of making a chart so that I can cross off the pounds as they go away.  My goal is that I can honestly say to myself "I will NEVER see that particular pound again."

I note with regret the passing of Dr. Jim Pearce yesterday of ALS.  Those of you who knew him can perhaps read his obituary online at the Deseret News.  I'm sure I told all the family this, but I will always treasure his memory for something he did for Dad and me. . .  I was just finishing at the beauty salon when Dr. Pearce called Dad's cell phone to tell him that the cancer had invaded my lymph nodes (but I didn't know then that it had invaded every single one of them under my right arm).  I assumed this was a death sentence and my body felt as though a great wind were rushing through it.  Adrenaline, perhaps.  When we arrived at Dr. Pearce's office, he calmly and very quietly explained the diagnosis he had written on his notepad and gave to me:  "Metastatic breast cancer."  I wept.  We talked a few minutes.  In the coming months and years, I was to be grateful for his saying, "I can't tell you what will happen.  Every cancer is different and follows its own path."  Then he said, "If I seem cold, it's because I cried before you got here."  I had only seen him twice before this and was touched by his obvious loving concern.  RIP, Dr. Pearce, and thank you.

For my efforts

Half-heartedly decided that yesterday was an auspicious day to start losing that ten pounds (out of 35) that I've gained back.  My reward is a weight gain of 1/5th of a pound.

Dog hair

Re-reading Piers Paul Read's  Alec Guinness, I come upon an invitation by Sir Alec to the author:  "If the weather is decent we could eat out and avoid the dog hairs in which we live and have our being."

Well, that says it all, doesn't it?  I have chosen to live and have my being in dog hairs.  One of the carpool moms (a gimlet-eyed persnickety housekeeper with lint-attracting upholstery in her car) who took her weekly turn chauffeuring Maren to and from Bella Vista told me she had to spend a half hour cleaning the back seat after she had taken Maren to school.  I was truly shocked.  I'm sure Jip left plenty of his soft white hair (he was double-coated) all over all the carpets, but here is the thing:  I had never noticed.  (I started putting Maren's clean pants on right before she ran out the door so she didn't have time to get down and play on the floor.)

I was sorry for the trouble the dog hairs caused, but there you have it; even though I wear black most days, I am resigned to white dog hairs on my clothes, occasionally in my mouth and trapped in my eyelashes.  It's really a small thing to put up with from one who is so generous with his love and devotion.

And don't you think someone who would spend a half hour removing dog hair from her back seat just might have her priorities misplaced?

Milk is the gateway to cookies

Listening to an interview with Foodnetwork show host Alton Brown, the interviewer asked him, "Is it true you gave up milk because milk is the gateway to cookies?"  Alton replied that it was harder to eat a whole sleeve of Girl Scout cookies unless you were drinking milk with it.  Certain foods are paired so closely with other foods (burgers and fries, etc.) that by giving up one you will find it easier to give up the other.  This is an idea that merits more thought.

Last night at Saturday dinner, it dawned on me that though Emma and co. are the only ones missing, it feels like at least 33% of us is gone.  And I think that would be true of anyone who quit coming. . .  The whole you leave is disproportionate to the actual missing number.

This reminds me of a good discussion on "What Every Baby Knows" (alas, now, no longer being broadcast), hosted by Barry Brazelton the famous pediatrician.  A discussion was held by a bunch of young moms trying to help them determine whether or not to have another child.  The visiting expert commented that when you have Mom, Dad, and Baby and then add another child to the mix, 17 new relationships begin.  There is Mom relating to new baby, Dad relating to new baby, Mom and Dad together relating to new baby, Mom and older child relating to baby. . . You get the drift.

So when one is missing from our family table, there are probably several hundred relationships involved.  I can't do anything about this, but it does help explain my sense of loss at Saturday dinners.