Yoga for Grieving

Last Friday night, I attended a free 'Yoga for Grieving' class at Pittsburgh's Keystone Health Club.  It has a really cool industrial vibe, being located in an old Westinghouse Plant.  From the parking garage, the walkway into the club overlooks the vast expanse of a long-vacated manufacturing plant that once was part of the area's economic backbone.  Now it's just a lot of emptiness except for this jewel of a health club, tucked into a corner of this big open space.  Last June, I saw an ad from a local funeral home (Patrick T. Lanigan) announcing its sponsorship of this class as part of its grief support outreach.  I tucked it away, thinking that some day I would like to attend.  Since the class is only every other Friday night at 7:00 p.m., I kept missing it due to other schedule commitments. 
As part of our yoga teacher training, we are supposed to attend two classes a week.  It helps to observe different instructors and styles of yoga and to see how other studios are organized. 
With nothing better to do, I set off for East Pittsburgh directly from work.  It was not until I put the address into my smartphone that I suddenly realized that the route would take me through Braddock PA.  My parents and maternal grandparents are all buried in the Braddock Catholic Cemetery.   Probably almost a century ago, my maternal grandfather and his two brothers purchased cemetery plots on the same hillside overlooking this old industrial town.  My mother's family included talented stonemasons -- there were family monument businesses in Dravosburg and New Kensington.  The three family headstones are beautiful examples of their work.  My grandparents' is an artful representation of the Agony in the Garden.  My cousin tells a funny story that her mother did not want to be buried in Braddock, but she loved the design of the headstone.  They graciously accommodated her desire to be located in a more upscale city location, Calvary Cemetery, and replicated the exact design in what is now her final resting place. 
Thinking that visiting the cemetery was the thing to do, seeing as I was on my way to a yoga class designed to help grieving people, I arrived at the family gravesite as the sun was nearly setting in the sky. 

I always cry when visiting this place and arrived at the Keystone Commons in an appropriately grieving state of mind.  There are other blog posts on this site where I have reflected on how yoga has helped me occupy my time, mind and body at times of loss.  The class was very gentle, much of it done in a chair.   There was no conversation about loss or grief or mourning.  Just dim lights, calming music and soothing postures. 
Teaching yoga is not something I am sure I can do.  But I could do this kind of class. 

Yoga Classes and Catholic Masses

It's been a loooooong summer vacation from this blog.    And I truly want to get back to blogging, to thinking and writing about health and wellness and to doing more about health and wellness.  This summer has been bookended by two awesome vacations, one in early summer that took me to both coasts (Maine and Northern California) with Montana in between and a late summer trek by car to the Smoky Mountains in Tennessee. 


They really are smoky!

What is a vacation?   The word shares Latin roots with the words vacancy and vacate, so it has something to do with space, emptiness and openness.   While there has been frantic activity to be sure, especially in Maine and California with kids, moves and San Francisco sightseeing and visiting, there has been much quiet and solitude.   Quiet and solitude as in not doing much of anything.  In both Montana and Tennessee, there was no access to cell phones, newspapers or the Internet.  In Montana, there was no television.  So, lots of reading, thinking and sitting. 

Yet always from my childhood up to today, there is never a vacation from the obligation to attend Sunday (and post Vatican II, Saturday) Mass.  No matter where we were, we found a Catholic Church.  There was no discussion, no debating, no break.  And as a adult with a family of my own, this tradition has continued.   It has made for some challenges.  Try finding a Catholic Church in Salt Lake City or the Cayman Islands.  Since the advent of the Internet and a great website, www.masstimes.org,  the task has been made much easier.   But what wonderful memories of grand and tiny churches, in places ranging from the Brompton Oratory to Hilton Head.  And on the most recent vacation in Tennessee, the absolute luxury of two Masses (on Sunday and one for the August 15 Feast of the Assumption) that were celebrated right in our rented vacation villa, thanks to two priests who were with our group and vacationing too.   While vacations bring adventure and new places, there is something comforting about finding the universal Church wherever I go.

Lately I have added a new vacation tradition, with taking yoga classes whenever possible while on vacation.  Not as predictably found as Catholic masses and with content not nearly as consistent, I have done yoga in Puerta Vallarta, Puerto Rico, on a cruise ship and on a dude ranch in Montana. 

The photo doesn't do justice to the view from the yoga studio, but you get the idea.

(Note to fellow Yoga Teacher trainees -- the Gatlinburg Tennessee location appears to be woefully underserved.  Wedding chapels abound, but no yoga studios).  I have travel yoga memories now etched in my head, including arising from Savasana this Memorial Day weekend to gently falling snow outside in the Absaroka Mountains in Montana and to rocking on a cruise ship in choppy waters in Alaska trying to keep my balance. 
On vacation, we still eat -- we need to keep those prayer and exercise routines going too! 

Aunt Mary's Secrets of Longevity

Today is my Aunt Mary's 97th birthday.  She has outlived her four sisters (even though two of them lived into their 90s also) and I have been thinking of how her most unique personality has gotten her to this ripe old age.   So these are my thoughts on Aunt Mary's secrets of longevity. 

1. Don't complain ever, about anything.
2. Walk everywhere you can.
3. Don't drive a car.
4. Don't get married or have kids.
5. Make friends with a bakery.
6. Don't ever go anywhere empty handed.
7. Correspond and especially remember the birthdays of those you love.
8. Avoid excessive entanglements, especially with doctors.
9. Don't worry. 
10. Never stop getting your hair done, permed or dyed. 
11. Don't talk about yourself.
12. Always have something to look forward to.
13. Don't criticize anyone, especially your family.
14. Leave yesterday behind. 
15. When in doubt, wear pink. 

Is Yoga a Religion? (Part 2)

A family member recently shared a link to a 'Boston Catholic Insider' blog post about the Archdiocese offering a yoga class to staff of its headquarters.  The initial announcement of the class was made by a benefits administrator, attempting to determine interest in holding the class after hours, with fees paid directly by employees to the instructor.  The post's author is scandalized by the offer. 
He (or she) quotes no less an authority than Wikipedia, which states that "The goal of yoga, or of the person practicing yoga, is the attainment of a state of perfect spiritual insight and tranquility while meditating on the Hindu concept of divinity or Brahman.  The word is associated with meditative practices in Hinduism, Jainism and Buddhism."
I am here to categorically state that the goal of this person practicing yoga is to improve my physical and mental health. 
The post went on to cite writings of the now Pope, but then Cardinal Ratzinger, warning of the dangers of "Eastern" practices, including yoga.  It generated 39 pages of comment, much of it critical of yoga and the hierarchy of the Archdiocese for its apparent lack of understanding of the potential spiritual danger to which it is exposing its employees.  A later post included the text of an email message from the Vicar General of the Diocese (clearly in a higher pay grade than the benefits administrator) confirming that the Archdiocese intends to continue to pursue the yoga class as part of its health and wellness program.  These are among his comments:
"While recognizing the dangers inherent in some spiritual practices of yoga, particularly those that incorporate eastern philosophy, we are no way promoting a false religion, pagan worship, or narcissistic spirituality...I am told that many good and faithful Catholics incorporate this simple and useful form of physical exercise into their workouts.  This type of yoga is apparently also a common part of many physical therapy routines and can offer positive physical results...It is a health and wellness program..."
This second post generated more pages of comments, many of them laced with vitriol against the Vicar General, Cardinal O'Malley, the Archdiocese of Boston and both teachers and practitioners of yoga. 
I have no doubt that there are teachers and practitioners of yoga whose devotion extends to elements of it that are associated with Buddhist and Hindu traditions.  Recently I attended a session on meditation at a retreat for yoga teacher trainees.  The presenter, a trainee herself and a psychotherapist, commented that she sometimes during meditation, liked to picture herself "with my head resting in the lap of the Buddha".  Another participant in the session commented that she found herself "turning to the Rosary" during the meditation practice. 
Yoga, not unlike the Catholic Church, is a very big tent.  There is a range of teachers and styles that is literally mind-boggling.   I have previously shared in this blog my experience of attending a retreat on prayer at a Jesuit Retreat Center given by a Kripalu trained yoga instructor.
This wellness journey of mine has taken me through a Dean Ornish series called the Spectrum, in which every session began with yoga poses and one entire session was devoted to meditation and relaxation techniques shown to have a positive effect on blood sugar and overall health.   Last night I came across a Readers' Digest guide to diabetes that included photos of traditional yoga poses in a series of exercises designed to better control blood sugar.    No chanting, no discussion of sutras or chakras -- just straightforward exercises and breathing techniques that have been shown to improve health of mind and body. 
Yoga has been a positive force for health in my life and I continue to want to learn more and to perhaps show others its benefits.  Can't we all just stay calm and breathe? 

The Dangers of Second Hand Sugar

After being told last year that "Sugar is Poison" by a naturopathic doctor at Canyon Ranch, I have tried to use that as a mantra when faced with a delectable dessert or the prolific office candy dishes full of chocolate treats.  Sometimes repeating the mantra to myself works, but lately more often than not, it doesn't and I succumb to what is placed in my path even if I never intended to.  I know how Eve must have felt. 
So when I saw an ABC News blog post this week with the headline, "Sugar as Dangerous as Alcohol and Tobacco?", it got my attention because of my ongoing attempt to understand my own behavior.  The post reported on an article published in the journal, Nature, in which physicians from the University of San Francisco editorialized their views that sugar should be regulated, in much the same way as alcohol and cigarettes.  They say that "supply side" restrictions have had some success in moderating behavior and preventing some of the harmful health effects of those substances.
I'm all for regulating sugar.  When I worked as a consultant to a health care foundation, our CEO had the sugared sodas removed from the office and restricted the food that could be brought in to the office -- no dumping of excess Halloween or holiday candy or celebrations of birthday parties with cakes.   "We're a health care foundation; we shouldn't be serving donuts."
It is easier to control behavior when the environment in controlled.  Much of the sugar I end up consuming is second-hand.  I eat it because it's there; somebody else put it there.
Anyway tomorrow I am off to another stay at Canyon Ranch; looking forward to a session on sugar addiction.  I need detox. 

Changing Course

One of the axioms in the quality management world is that if you do what you've always done, you get what you've always gotten.  So in an effort to get something different, I am doing something different.  Yoga has become a part of my life and I continue to be drawn to it -- but still not really understanding what "it" is. 
Teaching was part of my professional life for over two decades.  It helped me to understand what I was doing professionally, because I had to explain it to others.  So, I have enrolled in yoga teacher training so that I can add the credential RYT after my name -- and learn.
We are a group of about 20 people with incredibly diverse backgrounds.  I hope to be able to write about this experience as a way of reinforcing it.  We are required to keep a journal and I wrote the following at the end of the first class on January 15.
'Me, a yogi?  And I don't mean bear or Berra!   In the midst of a roomful of beginner students, I feel like a true beginner.  There are people here who are already teachers -- lots of lanky bodies -- no pot bellies the size of mine. 
I paid in full, not just to save the higher cost of installment payments, but to make a commitment. Time to leave today.   Time to start." 

New Year's Baseline

7.3

Home Care or Just TMI

The holidays are just about over.  And they truly were holidays, particularly from the reality of diabetes.  I admit to much overindulgence and to taking a break from regular yoga and regular blood sugar testing.  But when I had trouble buttoning my pants for work this week, reality had to be faced.  I've regained weight that was carefully lost (not all, but enough).
One of the disciplines of diabetes is regular A1C testing completed just before PCP visits.  My last one had a happy result.  The next one is due in February.  But where am I now post-holiday holiday? 
Two new recent magazine subscriptions are Diabetic Cooking and Diabetes Self Management.  Oh, those were the days when my taste in magazines ran to things like People or Woman's Day. 
Inside the front cover of the holiday issue of DC is an offer for $5 off on home A1C testing -- "Finally, an easy way to track my progress, right at home."
In my case I have a feeling that it is an easy way to track my lack of progress or worse yet, my negative progress.  Anyway, I printed it out and am off this afternoon in search of 'A1C Now SELFCHECK'.   In this circumstance, I do not think that ignorance is bliss.  Next PCP visit is fast approaching in February.
It's time for some new year's resolution. 

Too Blessed To Be Stressed?

Yesterday,  I was privileged to attend a Baptist funeral for the first time.  It was a bit out of my comfort zone in several ways.  First, I felt like a true minority for one of the few times in my life.  Years ago, I attended a professional seminar and was the only female present.  Yesterday, I was in the racial minority. 
It was out of my comfort zone liturgically.  The order of the service was unfamiliar and it included elements that I had never seen before.  The program titled the service, "A Home Going Celebration" and noted the deceased's date of birth as his "sunrise" and his date of death as "sunset."  Letters of condolence were read from neighboring congregations and the obituary too was read.
There was a degree of raw emotion displayed foreign to my experience of controlled and choreographed Roman Catholic funerals-- not just tears, but hard, breathtaking, loud sobbing that could best be described as wailing.   
And there were multiple preachers (not sure if this is typical).  One of them spoke in a cadence that reminded me of the way that Jesse Jackson delivers a message.  Part of his message was that "I'm too blessed to be stressed" and "I'm not disappointed because I'm anointed". 
The preachers seemed less concerned about the spiritual welfare of the deceased and more concerned about whether those of us in the congregation were saved, inviting us to accept Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior and praying over those who accepted the invitation. 
The repetitive cadence of the "I'm too blessed to be stressed" phrase has been playing over and over again in the background of my mind, like when there is a song that I can't get out of my head.
I've been stressed lately over typical holiday dynamics and dramas; and over my over-consumption of the type of food that should be avoided but that is everywhere.   I am getting back on track; and I am blessed -- too blessed to be stressed. 

Thanksgiving for Aunt Mary

My Aunt Mary, at 96, is a living lesson in how to survive. Last Sunday morning after finishing up a yoga class, I switched my phone back on to see missed calls and voice mail messages from my cousin Karen and JB. Immediately I knew that something must have happened to Aunt Mary.
In large Italian families, it is not unusual to have the last unmarried daughter stay at home to care for aging parents. Aunt Mary, one of five girls, did just that. She worked at US Steel, a career woman before it was commonplace. She not only never married, but she never even learned to drive, walking to work, taking buses to town and relying on others to drive her when she needed to get to a family event or holiday celebration.
Everybody should have an Aunt Mary.  She remembers all family birthdays, with cards and presents too.  I was the beneficiary of a great family birthday tradition as a child in which Aunt Mary gave us a dollar for every year of our life.  So getting older meant getting more dough -- and it was surely something to look forward to.
She was devoted first to her aging mother, and then to her siblings, nieces, nephews, and now great and great great nieces and nephews. 
As she and I have gotten older, I have come to realize that while all of those tangible presents and her very real presence have been such constant blessings, there is something so much more edifying about how she lives her life.
Aunt Mary lives totally in the present moment.
This is a lesson I have longed to learn.  In the firmament of magnets that have graced the face of our refrigerator over the years, this is one that can always be found and is attributed to Buddha -- "The secret of health for both mind and body is not to mourn for the past, worry about the future, or to anticipate troubles, but to live in the present moment, wisely and earnestly."
And so last Sunday, when Aunt Mary was taken to the hospital after a fall, she sat peacefully and was engaged in the Steeler game as we waited for the results of her X-rays.  After the ED physician said he saw nothing broken, she prepared to return home (while I am mentally obsessing about how I am going to leave her in her apartment).  It turns out she could not bear weight on her leg, so they ended up keeping her overnight.  That night and the next day when I saw her, her only seeming concern was that I remember to call her favorite bakery and order a birthday cake for my cousin Karen.  She must have told me five times to remember to get the cake and assured me that she would pay for it and asked that I get my uncle or a friend to pick it up. 
I was further reminded of her positive mental outlook when she was presented with her dinner tray of what looked to me like classically nondescript hospital food.  "Beautiful, beautiful", she kept repeating as she ate every bite of food on that tray.   Turns out her hip is broken. 
When I went to see her in the nursing home where she has gone to recover, she was waiting at the dining room table for her dinner tray to arrive. "Beautiful, beautiful", she again exclaimed, as she proceeded to consume every bite on that tray too.
She does not appear to be concerned about when or whether her hip will heal, when or whether she will be able to return to her apartment.  That is because she is not thinking about that.  She is only thinking of what in the present moment she can focus on that is positive.  She is helping me more than I am helping her right now.  Forget Buddha, watch Aunt Mary. 

EMM's 10-10-10 Plan

I seem to respond better to words than pictures.  When Dr. Natalie wrote the words "Exercise 30-60 minutes each day" and then spoke the words "Exercise is not optional", I internalized those orders.   Trying to deal with the eating and minding part has been much more challenging than the moving part.   A previous blog post described the first anniversary of my exercise log; and there are already 52 entries since  beginning the second year on August 15.  
One of my favorite wake up TV shows is Morning Joe on MSNBC.  I think of it as a thinking person's show because it is funny but thought provoking (and I like Mika Brzezinski too).  Anyway, they talk sports (baseball mostly) and politics, tracking the Republican candidates and the debates.  Lately, they have been having some fun at Herman Cain's expense.  It seems that when he was in single digit popularity numbers, he did not actually have well thought out policy proposals.  So 9-9-9 was his mantra for awhile until people actually began to seriously examine its impact.  And when he tried to explain the 9% sales tax added onto already existing state and local sales taxes as apples and oranges, the resulting reaction forced him to rethink the whole 9-9-9 concept in pretty short order.
But my 10-10-10 concept has been working pretty well when I cannot get a continuous 30 minutes of exercise on some days.  It means breaking up the exercise into three 10 minute blocks.  Or it can be 10-20 or 15-15.  Today was 10-20.  Upon arriving home, I still had 20 minutes to go.  That's four times around the circle that is our neighborhood.  Done. 

No Vacation from Too Many Choices

If you are looking for a quick getaway from Pittsburgh, Philadelphia or the DC area, consider  Bedford Springs.  It's got a lot to recommend it, especially as fall begins to re-color the landscape.  The resort is chock full of historical documents, photographs and artifacts, from the era when Bedford Springs was the edge of the frontier up through its magnificent restoration and reopening in 2007.  The spa, with its mineral baths and European trained aestheticians (I could only understand about half of what my Polish facialist said) is exquisitely appointed.  And for those of you who are golfers, they have that too. 
It was the summer White House for the only President from Pennsylvania (and the only bachelor one), James Buchanan.   Two other Presidents visited there, John Tyler and Ronald Reagan. 

Desk used by James Buchanan during his years of summering at Bedford Springs



I thought that perhaps by sitting at James Buchanan's desk, I could break my current writers block (or more specifically, a blogging block).  It's been tough to blog about my current state, which can best be described as erratically compliant and frequently off-track in the eating part of this journey.  I am moving just fine, keeping up with my exercise routine (and the fitness center at Bedford Springs is small, but adequate).  There are several blog posts in the queue, in various stages of progress.  One fact that keeps swirling in my head since I first read about it in the Canyon Ranch Magazine is that we make 200 different food decisions a day.  This comes courtesy of the Cornell Food and Brand Lab and its Director, Brian Wansink.  Yes, people actually research this stuff -- and the results are actually helpful to understanding why making lasting change is so challenging.  
I understand that stopping smoking is difficult and that the urge to smoke is one of the strongest addictions to break.   But the decision is easy and it is only one decision.  Making it stick means repeating the same decision over and over again. 
But decisions about not just what to eat but about portion size come at me from all directions.  First I was skeptical about the 200 number.  Then I got to thinking.  The opportunity to make good and bad choices related to food starts from the moment I wake up until the moment I fall asleep (and occasionally in the middle of the night).   And the barrage of conflicting and confusing dietary advice compounded by vagaries of blood sugar readings added to the unpredictable nature of when and how food decisions present themselves adds up to the exhausting reality that it is possible to make 180 good decisions, and another 20 or 10 or even one that totally screw up the best laid plans.  I have learned that planning is best and that pre-controlled portion size works for me.   And beginning again and again. 

Destination Walking



It's about a mile and a half from the parking lot in the Strip to Heinz Field.  One of the strategies I have been trying to use to get in exercise is destination walking -- not movement for movement's sake, but getting from point A to point B.   That's JB walking along the river.   One hour a day seems overwhelming when it's on a treadmill.   But checking out the scenery with a destination in mind and a companion sure makes it go faster.  







Happy Anniversary

On August 15, 2010, I started logging my exercise, nothing fancy, just using the 'notes' on my IPhone. Most experts in lifestyle change advocate writing things down, and the Weight Watchers program incorporates 'tracking'.   Tracking, either on paper or on WW etools, has never been my strong suit.  But today, I celebrate the first anniversary of my exercise log.  Back when I was first diagnosed, Dr. Natalie, in discussing exercise, said it was not optional.  Or rather, not exercising is not an option.  And so I do. 
The advantage of recording is that you have a record.. duh!   Reviewing it tells a story.  Lapses?  Sure.   But a review of the log shows 65 yoga classes and 184 walking entries.  Perfect?  No.
I am no longer seeking perfection, only consistency. 
BTW, my A1C went from 7.9 to 6.5.
Dr. Natalie is happy and so am I. 
Heading to Yoga tonight. 

Doctoring

All families must have some unique expressions.  My mother would say, when speaking of someone who was ill, that they were "doctoring".  Outside of our family unit, I never heard that phrase.  It was a bad thing, this doctoring stuff.   In her experience, no one who was feeling well would ever go the the doctor.  None of this preventive medicine or annual checkups or vaccines for my parents.  Looking back, it may have been a result of their upbringing where there would not have been doctors around.  Or perhaps because we were uninsured.  My dad was self-employed.  For him, health insurance was a luxury, not a necessity.  And going to a doctor was an expense to be avoided. 
For years I pretty much felt the same way.  Oh, having babies necessitated having a doctor.   After that, I avoided them too.  Ignorance can be bliss, at least in the short term.
Now I find that I am 'doctoring', going for things like blood work, taking pills, and having regular doctor visits.  I have one coming up on Monday with Dr. Natalie, my PCP.  Facing reality comes with these visits because while she is certainly empathetic, there is an element of judgment that comes with the inevitable reporting of numbers.  A1C, cholesterol, weight, body mass index, blood pressure, etc. I dread these visits. 
Just came home from a birthday party in the neighborhood.  Social events now have an element of dread to them as well even when they are happy occasions.  I find myself engaged in a dialogue with myself about what I should and should not eat.   If asked to name my five favorite foods, without thinking the first two would come out as birthday cake and then ice cream!     Perhaps knowing that I will face the scale on Monday morning, I managed to avoid them.  Four diet cokes and a big cup of coffee helped fill my stomach and occupy my hands.  Hoping for some better numbers this visit. 

Simple Answers to Vexing Questions

Remember the Baltimore Catechism?  Those of us of a certain age sure do.  Written in question and answer format, we were required to commit much of it to memory, so we could readily cough up the answers to questions like, "Who Made Me?".  ("God made me", is the quick, semi-automatic response).
There was brevity and clarity associated with these crisp responses; but I can't say that I have been able to resolve the more challenging questions life has presented me by pulling out and applying memorized answers.  Lately though, some similar questions and the resulting knee-jerk responses have actually been helpful in this journey to better health and well-being. 
I once read a recommendation to avoid eating (or drinking) any food or drink that your grandmother would not recognize.  That feels right--wine's OK; Mike's Hard Lemonade, probably not.   Piece of fruit, good.  A 'gotta have it' treat from Coldstone Creamery?  Don't think so. And my grandmothers likely ate pretty good stuff -- bread, pasta, vegetables, fruits.  My maternal grandmother was a wiry, trim woman.  My paternal grandmother was a bit broader and my overall build seems more to resemble hers. I have previously described my strong family history of diabetes.  So maybe the 'grandmother test' isn't the best. 
I've been thinking more about applying the 'God-Baltimore Catechism' test to the "Can/Should I Eat This?" question.  I've been asking myself, "Who Made This?"  If God did make it and it is still looks close to the way He made it, then I'm thinking it's probably fine.  So, blueberries, yes; blueberry cobbler with ice cream, no.  Fish or meat?  Hey, I think Jesus ate those!  Pasta?  That's a tough one -- it is processed.  For awhile I am taking a pass.  And chocolate?  Don't think so.
That still leaves lots of options.  It's fresh corn season; tomatoes and cherries too.  And something is working, albeit verrrrry slowly. Down another pound this week.  Total of 10 pounds off now (pCR or post Canyon Ranch) and just over 27 in total.

Under New Management and Over .500

They're making tee-shirts now that we are at baseball's All-Star Break.  I saw one in the window of a South Side shop, with a picture of a pirate ship and '.500' printed below.  There have been attendance records set at PNC Park this summer, as both Pirate and out-of-town fans have flocked to see real live competitive baseball again.   JB and I attended a sell-out earlier this summer and saw the Bucs defeat Detroit.  It was kind of weird though.  We are used to watching away games of the Steelers and seeing Terrible Towels and hearing cheers for the Steelers, sometimes almost drowning out the home team.  It's kind of the reverse phenomenon as we see and hear fans from Detroit, or Philadelphia or Boston, as they travel to PNC Park and enjoy rooting for their home teams.    After nearly 20 years of losing, It feels good to go to a game in anticipation of the game itself and not the gorgeous views, fireworks, the bobble heads or the company. 
What's made the difference?  I am no expert.  But it must have something to do with management -- at least that is the one thing that I know has changed.  I've been noticing a sign that I drive by on the way to work for a local bar/restaurant that says "Under New Management".  Those signs used to be common.  I guess it's a way of communicating that changes have been made and we know our food or product or service hasn't been good and that something is now different.   Since they can't put up signs that say things like, "we fired the SOB that used to run this place" or "we finally have a chef that actually went to cooking school", businesses post a more benign, but clear message.  Somebody new is in charge.  And isn't that what it often takes to really turn a team or an organization around?
I like to think that maybe I am under new management too.  At least some of the time. 

Al Fresco Memories

Is it true that outdoor dining makes for more satisfying and nourishing meal experiences? For me, it is. And memorable ones too. I can readily pluck recollections of meals served outdoors from my mind, recalling places, vistas, conversations, and yes, foods.

Some memories are fresh in my mind because they are so recent.  On the Friday before the 4th of July, my friend hosted an outdoor picnic.  She has a gift for assembling an eclectic mix of people and the conversation is unpredictable, interesting and fun.  That night was no different, but oh, the food.  More specifically the beef (we didn't have to ask where it was).  I had seen a recipe in the McGinnis Sisters newsletter for a grilled beef fillet, courtesy of the Barefoot Contessa herself, Ina Garten and offered to bring the beef if our expert grillmaster friend would grill it.  This baby weighed as much as a baby, and he did an amazing job of tending the grill.  The meat was sooooo tender and there was not one morsel of it left at the end of a long and leisurely meal.  It was charred on the outside, but practically melted in the mouth.  The recipe is:

Grilled Fillet of Beef with Mustard Sauce (courtesy of Ina Garten)
Ingredients (just six, not counting salt and pepper)

• 4 tablespoons of unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
• 2 tablespoons of salt
• 1 tablespoon of freshly ground pepper
• 4 1/2 to 5 pounds fillet of beef tenderloin, trimmed and tied
• 3/4 cup mayonnaise
• 1/4 cup sour cream
• 1 tablespoon coarse mustard
• 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
• 1/4 teaspoon of salt
• 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

Directions:
Heat charcoal or gas grill.  With lid on grill, thermometer should register 425-450 degrees.  Combine butter, salt and pepper.  Using paper towels, pat tenderloin completely dry.  Spread seasoned butter over fillet.  Place meat on hot grill and close lid tightly.  Be sure your grill temperature does not dip below 375 degrees.  For rare to medium rare, cook tenderloin approximately 30 minutes, tuning once during grilling until your instant read thermometer reaches 125 degrees.  (He did about 5 - 7 minutes longer).  Meanwhile, to make sauce: Whisk together all mustard sauce ingredients.  When fillet is done, place on a cutting board and cover with aluminum foil; allow to rest about 20 minutes.  Slice beef and serve with mustard sauce.

It's not just the recent al fresco times I recall.  I have vivid memories of dinners in an arbor with my Dad in Assisi; sitting outside a trattoria in Trastevere with Vespas and Fiats whipping by just inches from our chairs; and two dinners three years apart on the outdoor terrace at Mirabelle, looking out over the hills of Rome.
The photo above is from 2007, when Priscilla and I had an early birthday celebration for her.  The appetizers had just been served (note the portions) and the sun was still shining so the awnings were down.  Once the sun began to set, the waiter raised the awnings and we had a magnificent, magical view.  If you ever get to Rome, the view is priceless (although the food was beaucoup bucks or in the local vernacular, molti soldi).  I also remember their homemade souffles, which had to be ordered upon arrival. 

Any recommendations for local outdoor dining? 

A Letter from Canyon Ranch

A letter arrived,  postmarked June 14, return address Canyon Ranch, tag line "The Power of Possibility (r)"  It was addressed to me in my own handwriting.  I had no recall of having written it -- kind of like those postcards you fill out to yourself at the dentist office and they mail to you to remind you of your next appointment.  Whatever had I written to myself?  I procrastinated about opening it -- mostly because I thought it would contain some letter reminding me that there are things I planned to do that I have not done--you know the lose 15 pounds in 15 days types of promises to oneself.  After about a week, I peeked in the envelope and pulled out a one page document, titled, 'Commitment to Myself' and dated March 23, 2011.  On it I had written a total of 38 words.  Three statements of commitment to a healthier style and three changes that would be apparent three months out. 
I was pleasantly surprised.  Perhaps I did learn something new there about behavior change.  The commitments I made were modest -- to incorporate the recommendations for diet change and exercise and to apply my personal values.  The changes I hoped to realize have been.  They were modest also, having to do with how my clothes fit, my ability to do more challenging yoga and having lower blood sugar levels.
Every day brings challenges and there have been setbacks.  Three things I have learned so far in this journey that I talk to myself about consistently.

1. Stay in Today (forget yesterday and don't worry about tomorrow).  There is a reason why the Lord's Prayer speaks of 'our daily bread'.  I only make positive progress when I keep myself firmly planted in the present moment.
2. Small Changes.  Things like taking the stairs, walking to local destinations (church, coffee shop), parking a longer distance from entrances and remembering to move instead of sit when I can.
3. Simple Pleasures.  Farmers markets and more real food (I ask myself -- "Who made this and What's in it?")  I'm beginning to prefer a more basic diet of fruits, vegetables and meats.  And wine, in very small amounts has really helped.  

Other results?  Went to Weight Watchers this morning.  Down a total of 15 pounds since the beginning of the year, nine since Canyon Ranch (and 27 since my all time high).  Not earth shattering, but my goal has always been to get 50 pounds off -- 23 more to go and eight months to go. 

From Red Lion, PA

Well, it's not Tuscany or the Napa Valley.  But this Fourth of July weekend brought a lovely, characteristically American, surprise quick trip to wine county, PA.  A dear friend from California returned unexpectedly to the area due to a death in her family and asked me to accompany her on the drive to return her daughter to York, PA.  The drive time allowed for great catch-up conversation and we reflected on family, relationships, life, health care and friendships. She arranged for us to stay overnight at the Red Lion B & B.  Most of my overnight trips are to places like Fairfield Inns or Courtyards (got to use those Marriott points!).    The B & B was lovely and the owner-couple also run a local bakery-tea room.  Dani, the wife, is an accomplished pastry chef and she prepared a great breakfast of French Toast (I nibbled); fruit cup, bacon and raspberries with cream.  The raspberries were tiny and picked from the garden outside the inn.  We were seated at an outdoor table with a couple who were in the area to attend a Mennonite wedding.  We had a delightful conversation about the wedding, and they shared stories of the ceremony (lots of a capella singing), the food (a sit-down dinner served family style) and the interaction of men and women (apparently not much).  We talked about various ethic wedding and related food customs.  It was the kind of conversation that would not spring forth at a chain hotel, where CNN blares and USA today provides reading material for isolated, silent dining.  

Before heading back so she could catch her flight, we stopped at Brown's Orchard and Farm Market in Loganville, PA; the photo captures part of their nursery operation.   Adjacent to the store is an outlet for Logan's View Winery. 
We browsed and I bought local cherries, zucchini, potatoes and three bottles of wine.  The winery is new, offering its first wines for sale in August 2009.  The grapes are grown on Brown's land and the fruit wines are made with fruit from Brown's orchards.  One of the wines is a cherry one, so I am looking forward to serving it with their cherries as a dessert.  It's a strictly grown and produced local proposition.  I picked up the Brown's newsletter and during the long PA turnpike ride home, I read it.  It was packed with information about local artists, local performances, a feature on all the employees they have named Linda, their 'pick our own' program for fruits, a farm-based summer camp and recipes.   

 I am going to try this one which comes from www.fruitsandveggiesmorematters.org.  

Watermelon-Blueberry Banana Split (Serves 4)

2 large ripe bananas, 8 scoops of watermelon (take out the seeds), 1 pint blueberries, 1/2 cup low-fat vanilla yogurt, 1/4 cup crunchy cereal nuggets or granola ( I think I will use nuts instead)

Cut the bananas crosswise in half, cut each piece lengthwise in half.  For each serving, place 2 pieces of banana against the sides of a long shallow desert dish.  Place a scoop of watermelon at each end of the dish.  Fill the center with blueberries, Stir the yogurt until smooth, spoon over the fruit.  Sprinkle with cereal nuggets or granola. 

I loved this getaway and the fact that the places we patronized were local independent businesses, made possible by American entrepreneurs (and not a McDonald's or Wal-Mart in sight).  Happy Independence Day!