Chew Your Juice
“But we only drink REAL orange juice!” I protested to my friend. “We only buy orange juice squeezed from real oranges, not juice drink, or orange juice from concentrate!”
“Have you read the sugar content on the lable?” she asked quietly.
I grabbed the carton and started reading. Oh. Holy cow. 22 grams of sugar in one serving.
“There is nothing wrong with juice,” my friend added, “but chew your juice.”
” ? ? ? ”
“Eat whole fruit. That way you get all the good stuff, the skin, the vitamins and the fiber as well as the juice. Better for you.”
Sigh. Another habit to break and replace with a newer, better, healthier habit. No more juice.
Hmmm. Now I wonder about my hot-weather addiction, McDonald’s wild berry smoothies. I don’t think I want to know how many grams of sugar per serving . . . .
Pensacola Visitors To Fort Pickens
You ask where I have been. We’ve just had two weeks and three weekends of house guests. Now, before you groan, I have to tell you that it was two different visits, with less than 24 hours in between, and both visits were old and dear friends. Our visitors are people we treasure and who are easy easy guests to have around. We’ve had two weeks of great visits and great conversations, and I apologize if you are feeling a little abandoned. I didn’t really abandon you; I checked the blog almost daily, but . . . I had a lot on my hands. I can only do a few things at a time, and do them well. I chose to focus on my guests. I hope you will forgive me. 🙂
So I am going to share with you some beautiful sights from nearby Fort Pickens. When we first went there, about a year ago, we discovered they have a Senior Lifetime Pass for only $20. There was only one Senior in the car at the time – me – so the pass is in my name, and gets us into every national park in the United States, me and up to eight people in the same car with me. How is that for a bargain? We’ve already used it four or five times worth the original payment of $20. What an amazing deal!
Fort Pickens is out along Pensacola Beach, and is a long narrow strip of land barely above sea-level. We could see it with our eyes, and when we measured it with our iPhones, it gave us a range from below sea level to 33 feet above sea level. (iPhones must be nearly out of fashion because all my friends have them and we are OLD! If we have them, there must be something out there newer and faster and better that all the trend-setting youngsters are buying . . . so what is it?)
Oops! I got distracted! What I want to do is share some photos of what a truly gorgeous place Fort Pickens is:
I think these are trilliiums:
Aren’t these pretty berries? I don’t know if they are edible – or poisonous!
Perfect weather for a walk, and this is the walking trail, .7 miles each direction:
Fort Pickens was constructed to protect the shores from invaders, so this is one of the fortress walls”
A Heron along the nature trail:
A Turtle (we can’t agree on whether it is a Gopher Turtle or a Snapping Turtle):
We finished up with a walk along the beach, where our visitors talked with the fishermen along the shore. These are the lines they have out trying to catch some fish, but I really want you to see how clean and beautiful the beach, sand and water are looking 🙂 :
This week, I need to get some things done in the garden, before the weather starts getting too hot!
AdventureMan’s New Talents
This has been a great month for AdventureMan.
He knew what he wanted. He thought about it, planned it, sought out resources. He now has three photo shelves in his office, where he can display a changing round of photographs. He bought the lumber, tacked on the trim and mounted them on the wall, all by himself.
All these years he has worked so hard – he has never had the time for a fun project like this, and he just sits there and grins that something he was able to do himself can give him so much satisfaction and happiness. Retired, maybe, but still learning new skills, scaling new mountains.
Last night, he baked his first pork tenderloin, and then roasted up some asparagus with an olive vinaigrette sauce. Oh, yummmmm. Still growing, still developing new skills, it is so much fun.
Today, he is going out to explore what kind of kayak he wants to buy. 🙂
You Can’t Take it With You
I awoke this morning from the most horrible dream, and it’s a dream I have had often, but this time, there is no reason. I am packing boxes. I have a deadline. I have a lot to pack, I am feeling very anxious, and I keep getting distracted from my packing. Soon I will have to go, and I haven’t accomplished what I meant to accomplish.
This dream is a very common dream for someone who has moved 31 times in her life, who had packed boxes and suitcases and never missed a deadline. Never once have I left a box with someone else to mail for me. I’ve had these anxiety dreams so many times, but never when I am not facing a move.
So I felt depressed, and I felt anxious this morning, wondering what my dream means. Does it mean that I am thinking about my mortality, and distracted by my attachment to things? Does it mean that I need to be clearing up and organizing my life so I can depart? Or is it just a remnant anxiety, like those leftover dreams about having to take a college exam you haven’t prepared for?
For me, the cure for depression, anxiety and morbidity is action. We hit the water aerobics class this morning and she worked us so hard we both fell asleep this afternoon. I got some tomatoes (not the Black Krim, which I have not yet found) and basil potted, and some weeding done. Depression gone. Anxiety gone. Inklings drift across my consciousness, but I sweep them away like cobwebs.
Exercise Reverses Aging
When I lived in Qatar, we had a group that did water-aerobics, and we, sort of ironically, called ourselves the Aqua Babes. (If you knew us, you would snicker along with us. ) The best part was that we had a lot of fun, secondly, we got some exercise. Our motto was “Any exercise is better than nothing,” and we would repeat it to ourselves on mornings when the pool was too cold and we were kicking lacksadaisically in the hot tub, LOL. It tickles my heart to see the researcher use the same words. 🙂
I found this report on AOL NEWS
Photo Courtesy of Adeel Safdar
Ph.D. student Adeel Safdar is pictured with one of the mice that took part in the exercise and aging study at McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario.
Research Shows Exercise Reverses Aging in Mice
Rebecca Delaney
Dr. Mark Tarnopolsky is not a couch potato. The professor of pediatrics at McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario, recently placed first in his age group in a series of trail races in the United States and Canada. He’s also competed internationally in winter triathlons, ski orienteering and adventure racing. However, if he feels burnt out and needs a little motivation to hit the gym, he needs only to look to his lab.
Tarnopolsky recently published a groundbreaking study with Ph.D. student Adeel Safdar that found exercise reversed the signs of aging in mice.
Tarnopolsky specializes in studying and treating mitochondria dysfunction. Mitochondria are similar to little furnaces in each cell that convert food and oxygen into energy for the cell to do its job. As people age, the mitochondria break down, causing the cells to break down as well — thus contributing to the well-known signs of aging, brain atrophy, wrinkles, hair loss and heart problems.
“We knew that exercise was beneficial and that runners had a lower risk of death,” Tarnopolsky told AOL News. “But we wanted to look at the systemic effects and find a therapy [exercise] that’s available to most people if they got off the couch and did it.”
The mice that Tarnopolsky used in his study had been genetically modified with dysfunctional mitochondria, meaning they were engineered to age prematurely. Half of these genetically modified mice ran for 45 minutes on mini treadmills, like those at a gym — except smaller — three times a week. The other half remained sedentary in their cages.
The results were staggering.
“After a few months of exercise, there were absolutely unprecedented changes,” Safdar said. “And we saw improvements not only in their running capacity but also their other organ systems.”
He added, “It went way above and beyond the muscles and heart, but also the brain, gonads, kidneys and other organs. It was absolutely exciting.”
The exercised mice were also more robust and had shinier, fuller fur.
“Every organ was better off in the mice that exercised,” Tarnopolsky said. “And not just a little bit better — it was a 100 percent improvement.”
Safdar said that before he joined Tarnopolsky’s lab he wasn’t that interested in exercising, but now he makes a point to stay active by running and doing karate.
“People who exercise are generally physically active longer and are happier,” he said. “Their whole system remains young, so to speak.”
And for those who haven’t exercised regularly, it’s not too late to start, the scientists said. People don’t have to run on a treadmill for 45 minutes three times a day, like the mice.
“Anything is better than nothing,” Tarnopolsky said. Those who are older than 65 can still see the benefits if they just start walking for five minutes and slowly ramp up.
Tarnopolsky also conducted a previous study on weight training in seniors, which proved to significantly slow the body’s aging process.
“It all about keeping yourself moving every day,” Safdar added.
“You Seem Happy Here – Are You?”
The landscape designer and I met last year as she toured our garden and helped us identify the plants we have in our garden. She had great ideas, and gave us a lot of help caring for a mature garden. She suggested we live with our yard for a year, and then decide how we want to move forward.
It was the best advice. What looked like a wreck of a garden after last year’s very cold winter came back back with a vengeance. We had fabulous plants, plants the birds and bees and butterflies and hummingbirds all loved to visit. We had a chance to visit other gardens and to see what we like. This year, we have more of a plan, and this lovely lady who has been gardening in Pensacola all her life, helps us fine tune our plans.
We’ve been going around the yard, figuring out where to put a pomegranate tree, a lime tree, a couple hydrangea bushes.
“You seem happy here,” she starts, “Are you?”
“You sound surprised!” I laughed, thinking how many moves I’ve made, and how I really like living near our son, his wife and son. We’ve been here a year now. I make friends slowly, but I actually have a few now.
“I wasn’t sure you would be able to handle the heat,” she confided.
I laughed. “I can’t. There is this wonderful thing called air conditioning. When it gets too hot, I don’t spent much time outside. I’m doing fine.”
It’s been almost a year since we bought the house here. It seems like so much longer, so much has happened. Last night, AdventureMan made a fabulous Bermuda Fish Chowder. Our son’s wife and little Baby Q came by for dinner while our son waited in line at Best Buy for a new iPad2, wooo hooo. He came by as soon as finished the purchase. Life is sweet, and yes, I think I am happy.
Hitting the Wall
“Ummm . . . . I can’t stay up any longer. I have to go to bed now,” AdventureMan says to me, bleary-eyed. It’s 8:15 PM.
I’m still slowly going through mail that came while we were gone. I went through quickly the first day, checking for any bills that needed to be paid right away, and the rest I’m going through when I can.
We are not exactly not jet lagging. We are sleeping through the night, which is a really good thing, but we still hit slumps at odd times during the day. I am waking up early, but I don’t mind. This morning was a huge full moon, so I went out and walked a mile; it doesn’t even take 20 minutes, and I am savoring this spring weather. In the summer, it is hot – for me – even at 5 in the morning, even when that is the coolest it is going to be all day, it is still hot for me in the summer. I relish my walks at this time of year, relish the coolness.
We spent yesterday taking care of the Happy Baby, who was a little less happy than normal. Well, happy enough, he is such a good baby, but suffering the after-effects of the one year vaccinations, fever, lethargy, just not his normal self. We were delighted not to have anything else on our calendar, and at the same time, we were exhausted by the end of the day. My heart goes out to grandparents who are raising their children’s children . . . we just don’t have that energy anymore; it takes two of us to keep up with a very mobile one-year-old. No wonder God gives babies to young people!
Today, a beautiful spring day when the high will be around 72°, I think I will start cleaning out the garden in back. Last year, I had to completely cut it back, but when it started growing, it was lush and glorious. I’ll just pull out the dead growth this year, trim where it might need trimming, and look for a new honeysuckle vine to plant along my back fence. I love the smell of honeysuckle. I might also plant a jasmine plant, see how it does, have a great smelling back yard. 🙂
Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger
This was another find passed along by either Big Diamond or Little Diamond, via my Mom, and oh, what a find. Audrey Niffenegger wrote The Time Traveler’s Wife, a highly unusual book which hit the best seller list like a hurricane. This book, Her Fearful Symmetry, solidifies the perception that this author has real talent, thinks way outside the box, and creates characters and situations that, while unlikely, are likable and who become real enough for us to identify with them.
The title is based on a poem by William Blake, a poem I have always liked:
The Tiger
TIGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies 5
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare seize the fire?
And what shoulder and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart? 10
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand and what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? What dread grasp 15
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water’d heaven with their tears,
Did He smile His work to see?
Did He who made the lamb make thee? 20
Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
While this tale is a great yarn, it helps to know this poem, there are a lot of literary references in the novel and the title is just one of them.
As the story begins, there is a death, a will, and a set of mirror-image twins who inherit a flat in London overlooking a famous cemetery. The flat is in a building and has an upstairs neighbor, a man succumbing to obsessive-compulsive disease, and a downstairs neighbor, an aging bachelor, all a little eccentric in the nicest, English sort of way. The twins, Valentina and Julia, are twenty years old, and waif-like, still dressing alike, doing almost everything together.
There is also a ghost. No, wait! Two ghosts, and a kitten ghost. No, wait! I forgot! Lots of ghosts!
What I love about Audrey Niffenegger is that she takes what we perceive as reality and gives it a twist, and once you buy the twist, you are off on a wild ride. This book is a wild ride, with unforgettable characters and some unexpected kinks and thrills, as well as more than a couple shudders and chills.
“So I Shot HIm . . . “
In Pensacola, people talk all the time about “carrying.” People have lots of weapons; even my tiniest little friend has a small revolver in her handbag when she goes out.
This old guy makes life a lot easier for the rest of us. Sometimes young guys get bad ideas, and these guys evidently thought they would hit and rob the old people. Guess they got quite a surprise. Guess they will think twice before doing another home invasion – once they get out of prison, which will probably be quite a while from now.
Resident shoots 2 teens in home invasion
Resident, 72, fends off 3 attackers; 1 suspect in hospital, 2 in jail
Two teenagers were shot Saturday night by a 72-year-old man they allegedly beat with a baseball bat during a home-invasion robbery in Ferry Pass.
About 8:45 p.m., three teenage males knocked on the door of a home in the 3300 block of Raines Street, Pensacola Police Department officials said.
When resident Jack Crawford, 72, answered the door, one of the teens hit him in the head with an aluminum bat and tried to force his way into the home.
“I opened it up, and he hit me right off. … Wham! Split my head open,” Crawford said.
“So I shot him and another guy,” Crawford said, chuckling as he told the story to a News Journal reporter Sunday evening. “I could have shot the third one, but I would have had to shoot him in the back as he ran away.”
The attackers fled the scene on foot, and Crawford’s 70-year-old sister, who also lives at the home, called the police, he said.
Earl Benard, 15, Nathaniel Nichols, 17, and Curtis Crenshaw, 18, all of Pensacola, have been charged with home-invasion robbery and aggravated battery in connection with the case, police said.
Crenshaw and Nichols were arrested at a local hospital after being dropped off for treatment with gunshot wounds to their torsos. Benard later was arrested at a nearby rental home.
Nichols remained hospitalized Sunday afternoon, police said. Crenshaw was treated and released and was being held Sunday evening at Escambia County Jail on $300,000 bond.
State Attorney Bill Eddins said he plans to try all three suspects as adults.
Crawford said he grabbed his handgun as a precaution and was holding it at his side when he opened the door Saturday night.
“At 9 o’clock at night, I never take any chances,” Crawford said.
The three teens had “hoods on and scarves around their faces,” Crawford said, and they hit him with the bat before anyone had a chance to speak.
Crawford stumbled back a step from the blow but didn’t fall, and he started shooting as the first attacker was coming through the door, he said.
“I didn’t go down, and I think it shocked him,” Crawford said.
Following the attack, Crawford was transported by ambulance to West Florida Hospital for treatment of injuries to his head. He said doctors stapled his scalp back together, and he was back at home and feeling fine Sunday evening.
“Yeah I’m fine. I’ve got a hard head,” Crawford said.
Police did not release any information Sunday about possible connections between Crawford and the teens. Crawford said he’s lived in the neighborhood about 12 years, and he suspects the attackers were acquaintances with a neighborhood boy who used to do odd jobs around his home.
Crawford said he wasn’t too rattled by the attack, and he still felt comfortable staying in the home.
He said he’s had a rough-and-tumble past that’s left him with a cool head in similar situations.
“I’m not that big of a boy, but I had a reputation,” Crawford said.
I live next door to a cop. His car isn’t marked, but it is a big dark Crown Vic with that cage thing that separates the front from the back seats. Not that criminals are very smart, but you would have to be REALLY stupid to invade my house.
This story is from today’s Pensacola News Journal.
The Glass Rainbow by James Lee Burke
“Here’s the book,” Sparkle said, sliding into the restaurant seat as we all poured over the menu, wafts of garlic, white wine and butter drifting our way. “I’m getting kind of tired of Dave and Clete.”
“What, you mean not just bending the envelope but tearing right through it?” I asked “Or all the gratuitous violence?”
“Mostly the scorn for official procedures,” she started, two little lines between her eyes as she took in all the delicious possibilities, “How about some of that Montepulciano?”
She passed the book along to me. I was in the middle of another book, but oh, the temptation to drop it and get on with a new James Lee Burke.
The book opens with Dave Robicheaux, our recovering alcoholic detective, meeting up with a convict on a work crew whose sister has disappeared and who was found murdered. Bernadette Latiolais’s remains are thought to be the work of a serial killer working the area who targets prostitutes, but Bernadette was an honor student, graduating with a full scholarship promised to a Louisiana university. She was also an heiress, in a small way, to some property at the edge of a swamp. She doesn’t fit the profile, and her brother wants justice – not for himself, he’s doing his time, but for his sister, who never did anything to anyone, and who wanted to create a conservation area to preserve bears.
Right off the top, Robicheaux is outside of his parish, investigating a case nobody cares about in an area out of his jurisdiction.
OK, OK, my sister is right, this is pretty much another formulaic James Lee Burke. There are the corrupt rich families, the amoral women, the voiceless victims. Instead of the old Italian organized crime families, this time there are hired mercenaries, equally creative in killing, but way more efficient in cleaning up afterwards.
I’m just a sucker for James Lee Burke’s writing. Here’s one sample, from his interview with a very rich old man who goes a long way back with Robicheaux’s family:
“Don’t get old, Mr. Robicheaux. Age is an insatiable thief. It steals the pleasures of your youth, then locks you inside your own body with your desires still glowing. Worse, it makes you dependent upon people who are half a century younger than you. Dont’ let anyone tell you that it brings you peace, either, because that’s the biggest lie of all.”
Burke’s Dave Robicheaux and his private-investigator friend Clete are flawed men, prone to violence, but I cut them a lot of slack because in each novel they are bright shining avengers of all the wrongs done to the weak and helpless. They are Quixotic. They fight the rich and powerful for the rights of the common man. They know the risks they take, and they are too old to think they are going to survive every bad guy they go after. It’s a good thing the law of averages doesn’t hold true in novels; they should have been dead a long time ago.
What keeps me coming back are the lyrical descriptions of life along the Atchafalaya Bayou, community life in New Iberia, Louisiana, and Robicheaux’s family life, wife Molly, daughter Alifair (now grown to young womanhood) and Snuggs their cat and Tripod their raccoon, as well as the knowledge that at the end of the book, in spite of every evidence to the contrary, Dave and Clete will emerge alive, if damaged, and their indirect and violent path will have achieved some semblance of justice.
(I ordered the spaghetti with a white-wine mussel sauce, and Sparkle ordered the chicken marsala. Mom had seafood diablo.)
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