Damned if you do. Damned if you don't.

I have learned a lot of things in the past few weeks. I learned I have high blood pressure. And now I know the difference between systolic and diastolic. I know how your kidneys use sodium. I know what happens when they can't use all that you give them.

My doctor wants me to supply him with a chart of my blood pressure every 3 days for a month. So I had to get it checked in Vancouver. After squeezing the life out of my arm at least 5 times, each giving a reading of a diastolic much more elevated than a systolic number (consistent with the numbers my doc got) the little Chinese dude exclaimed, "You numbers. They close together."
"Yes, I know. That's why I'm here." I replied.
"You no eat salt. You walk." He ordered.

My doctor didn't flat out tell me to lose weight or die, but he implied that perhaps I am packing around a little more than I need to. I think I was secretly hoping he'd give me the "lose it or die" ultimatum so I'd actually get motivated. But alas, he only left it as a suggestion that I eat smarter.

Did you know table salt is only 40% sodium? And it generally only accounts for 10% of our daily intake. It's the processed foods that are the major culprit. You'd think that you'd be smarter to cut out the fries than the burger, but in fact medium fries have 250 mg of sodium. A cheese burger has 750. I'm shocked by this.

To lower blood pressure the recommended intake is 1500 mg maximum per day. (The body only needs about 500 to function adequately.) Most adults consume about 4000 mg.
...

Lose weight and intake less sodium. That's the challenge set forth.

So... I'm on a label reading tangent. It takes me 2-and-a-half hours to grocery shop.

But what is one supposed to do? They tell you being fat raises your blood pressure. Eating sodium raises your blood pressure. But as they reduce fat from food products, they increase the sodium. So which is supposed to be the lesser of the two evils? By the time I leave the grocery store I'm so confused and frustrated I say, "To hell with it." and throw the bag of nachos in the cart and head off for a burger and fries on my way home.

1/2 cup tomato soup - 3 times the sodium and similar calories as Doritos.
What would you choose?

I'm so full.

We just returned home after 4 glorious food-filled days in Vancouver with Brandi & Kore. I may not eat for another week.

We arrived on Friday to the aroma of roasting pork - Kore's successful attempt to prove himself worthy of the role of head chef at the wedding. As if we weren't stuffed enough, we later cruised the streets of the city in search of dessert. And dessert we found!

Right there on the corner of Broadway and Alma was a little piece of heaven: a dessert only restaurant, True Confections. Mmm mm m. The hard part was choosing between cake, pie and cheesecake. The coffee is good too.

Rather than stuff myself sick eating the entire 15 inch piece of melt-in-your-mouth goodness, I saved half of it for breakfast. But of course did not eat it for breakfast because we awoke to the sumptuous smells of coffee, eggs, hash browns and toast which we ate on the sunny balcony over looking the city with the mountains in the background.

Lest the calories go straight to the hips and butt, Kore marched us all over town, to the point of blisters, before our excursion up Grouse mountain. Where we proceeded to linger over a lovely feast of appies and drinks whilst viewing the beautiful city and English Bay from up above. Way way up above.

I managed to squeeze a tiny nap in on the devil couch (so called because no one can sit on it for more the 15 minutes without falling asleep) while Kore & Brandi prepared a magazine-worthy meal of goat cheese and cranberry stuffed turkey breast. Once again we dined above the city lights on the deck.

Sunday morning breakfast was a lighter faire: yogurt and berry sundaes. To keep our stomaches in shape for the pending evening meal at Hy's Steakhouse, we stretched them a little further with elegant pork roast sandwiches for our midday dining experience.

Hy's Steakhouse is truly a fantastic dining experience not to be missed. From the valet parking, to the indescribably glorious cheese bread, to salad dressing made at your table, to great steak and fabulous dessert all presented by the best waiter I have ever encountered, it was incredible.

Monday morning Jim, Barb and Kyle joined us for a spread of French toast, berries and whip cream along with a side of bacon before the guys headed for the golf course and we girls shopped till we dropped.

That evening, the Olive Garden did not disappoint as we gorged ourselves on bread sticks, salad and assorted Italian food. Topped off with a bottle of fine Italian red and the obligatory piece of tiramisu, worthy of it's reputation that goes before it.Kore asked why Olive Garden was my favourite. I didn't have a direct answer.
It just is.
Could be atmosphere. Could be taste. Could be price.
Could be that I fantasize about Italy.
Could be all of the above.

Doesn't it seem a sacrilege to play with your food at Olive Garden?
Them's holy morsels, Kyle!

Tuesday morning we had breakfast at Tim Horton's in Chilliwack and didn't even think about eating another thing until we got home and unpacked the leftover Olive Garden goodness.

All that and I only gained 2 pounds.

Apparently "annual" means once a year.

I went for a routine female exam with my doctor whom I've had for over 20 years. The receptionist had a hard time finding my file. Apparently I was filed with the dead people due to lack of activity.

I'm not dead yet. But by the flurry of activity that took place once my blood pressure was taken, you'd think it won't be long now. My doctor normally takes the "just leave it alone, you'll grow out of it" attitude whenever possible when treating things. So when he read my bp and scheduled me for every blood, organ and cell test known to man, you can be sure that if my bp wasn't high enough to start with, it was by the time he finished.

He then proceeds with the task at hand.

"Umm. I can't find your cervix."

He removes the tool the nurse had nicely warmed up in a bowl of hot water and inserts some other object he found in a draw full of ice or something. After he dug around for a while and just about the point I thought he was going to reach for a miner's lamp or something, I said, "`Scuse me doc ... just how does one go about losing their cervix?" He laughed. And then apparently found what he was looking for.

I should really try to make my annual visits once a year instead of once a decade. Getting old sucks, but beats the alternative, I suppose.

Honk honk!

As a general rule, all of my work shifts start at noon. If I were a person able to sleep in, this would be an absolute luxury. Even though I don't sleep in, I do enjoy going to work at this time - except for the drive to work on school days.

This means I am driving through the John McInnis school zone at precisely the same time the kids get out and head to the corner store or Panago for lunch. Even though there are crosswalks and lights at the corner, 90% of the kids choose to randomly step into traffic in the middle of the block. For three years now, I have managed to remain calm and meander along amongst the kids. Although I will say that my urge ranges from screaming at them, to phoning the school, to wanting to have a stack of 5 dollar bills in my car one day and jump out at the intersection and reward the relatively few kids who use the crosswalk. - Of course my suppressed urge totally depends on where I am in my PMS cycle.

Today I made it through the regular throng of kids to the intersection where my light was red - soon to turn green, because the oncoming traffic was coming through but they also had a left turning light.

Two kids, who had the brains to walk to crosswalk but obviously didn't know that the red hand light means "do not cross right now," stepped in front of my car without so much as looking at the oncoming traffic, ignoring the fact that they could have crossed the street in the direction I was headed. (a street they had to cross anyway)

My light turned green just as they were right in front of me. I probably could have exercised patience if they were making an effort to get out of the way, but they nearly stopped in the middle of the street, chatting away to each other. I laid on my horn. Now, this is a foreign-car gentle horn - I was wishing at that moment for a Mac Truck air horn. But it did the job. The kids jumped so high, it actually scared me.

I laughed out loud. Ha ha. I still chuckle when I envision their faces.

How sad and childish.

Drivers with cellphones in parking lots is near the top of my list of pet peeves.

Prov 16:31 Gray hair is a crown of splendor.

... and most of us pay a lot of money to get rid of it.

Jed's budgeting and financial skills are somewhere between nil-to-none. A lot of that is largely inherited, I suspect. Either way, I carry his bank card and dispense it for short periods of time on an as needed basis.

He reminded me yesterday morning that he needed his bank card because he had made an appointment for a haircut. He had just gotten a hair cut a few weeks ago, before going to Vancouver, and he even paid a substantial amount of money to get some cool blonde streaks put in. I, however, am the only one who has ever seen these cool streaks cuz he always wears a hat - even to bed.

So although he didn't really need his hair done, I was quite encouraged by his initiative to take an interest in his own person grooming, I handed over the bank card before I left for work.

When he said he was going for "a" hair cut, he meant "a" hair cut. I'm sure she only cut one hair because it really doesn't look any different - except for the colour. It no longer has cool blonde streaks. His hairdresser commented that this was the first time in her career than anyone has come in and asked for their hair to be dyed grey. Yes, he bought himself a crown of splendor. For eighty eight bucks. He also had lunch at McDonalds. He bought a 10-time punch card for the swimming pool. He signed up for private swimming lessons. He had lunch again at Tim Hortons.

So he goes on this rapid spending spree and did it even cross his mind that tomorrow is Mother's Day. No. This is why I control the card.

Significance of Seven

I looked down at my countdown clock this morning and these are the numbers I saw. Holy crap! Do you know that significance of that? ... Nothing more than the fact that there are less than eleven weeks till the wedding, but I thought the number looked cool so I took a screenshot of it.

They always warned me not to skip breakfast.

As a child I remember disliking a number of foods: peanut butter, watermelon, cucumbers, green peppers. I don't recall us kids ever being forced to eat anything. My husband's family was the opposite, they had to try some of everything on the table. As adults, my family will eat just about anything and everything - and a fast as we can. Alb's family has a number of picky eaters.
Coincidence? Possibly.

A couple of weeks ago, Alb asked me if I'd had one of Tim Horton's new slow roast beef sandwiches. "They're quite, good," he said. Then the other day he commented how he and Jed had gone to Timmy's for lunch and had slow roast beef sandwiches. "Have you had one yet? They're quite good. Except the horseradish is maybe a little strong."

Now I had see them on tv ... they are covered in onions and mushrooms - Alb's 2 least favourite foods in all the world, so I knew this must be a fantastic sandwich for him to go back twice and be willing to flick the onions and mushrooms off.

I am in the midst of a 6-week stint of Jenny's Friends & Family Biggest Loser Fat Camp Challenge. But I decided I'd have a slow roast sandwich on my way to art class. (I find I need to eat on the way to class or else I'm pretty hungry by the time the 4 hours is up.) Not knowing the calorie count or fat content of the said sandwich, I skipped breakfast to make up for it. (Dumb idea, I know - this is why I am not leading the challenge)

I was starving and running a little late by the time I received my sandwich and coffee. I sunk my teeth into my nice warm sandwich. Ahh..aaarrg. What the heck? It tastes like mildew. The onions that look fried were so cold they were nearly frozen. The horseradish is obviously not the brand I buy and enjoy the flavour of. I dunno what concoction of spices the bun was rolled in.

I threw it back in the box on the passenger seat. I can't eat that! But as I neared my class, I knew I was late and didn't have to time get something else and I'd be shaking and seeing spots by the end of class if I didn't eat it, so I forged ahead. By now the warm roast had transferred its heat to the onion goop so the whole thing was just kinda room temperature.

I forced myself to eat the entire thing, washing each bite down with the delicious black goodness in my cup. But I have to say that was the most disgusting unharmonious blend of flavours that has passed my lips in a very long time.