Joining the Thin Club

Made the Treats - Now DON'T Eat!

 

Me and My New Shoes:  Post-workout bliss!

Passover prep is well underway with the almost 24-hours to Seder and counting.  Today I baked.  Not with ordinary ingredients, but with Passover substitutes.  It's amazing how many gooey, gunky, sugary treats you can make without flour, yeast and baking powder.

This year Judy's bakery includes this amazing sponge/almond roulade with amaretto/apricot cream inside and melted chocolates and ground almonds on top, a walnut meringue cake with truffle fudge topping, a sponge cake, a chocolate cake, a chocolate nut torte and about 600 "taste like chometz" chocolate chippies.  And as I separated eggs, beat whites, poured in practically five pounds of sugar, melted chocolate, I cannot tell a lie--the little voice in my head said, "Just Do It!"

Darlene wrote on my Facebook Wall and indicated she would like to know how these baddies play into the "diet."  Well, guess what - they don't!  Sorry, I have not yet figured out how to eat any of these things and still manage to keep the weight off.  The only trick I've learned is to make things that I typically don't love.  But Passover time, especially the first few days, all those exotic cakes take on a new appeal.  So what's a dieter to do?

Well, to counteract the negative sweets (which my hungry family, pregnant daughter-in-law and umpteen guests will no doubt find quite "positive"), I did something tonight - this eve before Passover.  I took my daughter to the Nike store at the Westchester mall, cashed in on some American Express Membership rewards, and bought us both new running shoes.  Just being in the Nike store, and talking to the cool personal trainer who ran through the shoe inventory to find me some great shoes at excellent prices, made me ache for the treadmill.  Like NOW!  We talked about Kettlebell workouts, kickboxing, all the activities that due to Passover prep mode have taken a major back burner - and I came back with brand new sneakers and a desire, not to taste the treats in my bursting-at-the-seams kitchen, but to burn some calories before the holiday begins.  That will keep ME from bursting at the seams!

So excuse me all while I lace up and hit the treadmill and elliptical!   I'm psyched!

The World's a Coach

What's with that?  Suddenly everyone and his brother has become a coach.  I am not talking basketball here...it seems that ever since this recession has reared its ugly head, the nation is filled with a bunch of know-it-alls who are ready to tell everybody else how to do things.

You're unemployed - one will teach you to rewrite your resume and find the stellar job.  You're a businessperson?  One is ready to teach you to make more money - even in this down economy!  You've lost every penny of your retirement savings--no problemo, the wealth advisor will advise you how to re-invest in something bigger, better and about to crest.  You are single and miserable - a dating coach will be Cyrano de Bergerac in your ear, telling you just what to say and how to say it so you will captivate her (or get HIM to pay attention).  Constipated?  I'm sure there's a coach for that as well.

So when a business advisor (not a coach - just an advisor), suggested that I become a "weight loss coach," I tried not to laugh too hard.  Yeah, right...people are going to pay me to walk with them, exercise with them, and talk them down off a triple scoop Ben & Jerry's Chubby Hubby waffle cone drenched in m&ms and hot fudge?  I don't think so! 

"Seriously," he said.  "People are dying for advice on how to finally lose weight."

"But if everyone is a coach, precisely who is left to look for advice?"

"You see, that's your problem," he shook his finger at me.  "You are SO negative.  Have you thought about finding a positivity coach?"

OK, in my day, a "positivity coach" was a therapist.  He or she probably cost as much as a coach, but with a therapist, I could talk about ALL my problems - not just my tendency to look at things realistically...which this guy calls "negative."  I could tell a therapist all about my difficulties being a single mom with a teenage drama queen in tow.  I could rag about my last boyfriend.  I could talk about my own struggles with weight.  About my challenges being a good daughter to parents with health issues.  I could rant about my business situations, work difficulties, spiritual dilemmas.  It's an all-in-one deal.  Can the coach!  I want a qualified professional who can listen, give me feedback and advice on everything that bothers me!

So if you're thinking of going to a coach - here's my advice - and remember--this is coming from  someone who COULD have been a coach but got smart!  Get a good therapist!  It's one-stop shopping!  And in these days of economic challenges, that's the best value you can get!

Routines BeGone

As the Passover prep gets serious - all new food, clean those cabinets out, put the Chometz dishes in the garage and after my kitchen is meticulously cleansed of every morsel of leaven (and since I bake my Challah each week - that's a whole lot of flour granules to track down) - I will bring in all the replacement Passover dishes, pots, pans and utensils.  What a big bother for an 8-day holiday, right?

Why, every year, do we shake ourselves out of the reverie of every day life for 8 days?  Does it make sense?  Oddly enough, I've given it a lot of thought and I've decided, it makes perfect sense.

Imagine for a moment, you are miserable in Egypt - subjected to torturous workdays, paid nothing, exhausted and abused.  Nonetheless, you have your established routine.  Each day you know you will wake up and serve the Pharaoh.  You will take your bread and water break, get verbally and physically whipped around, come back bone tired to your wife and kids and start again - the same routine tomorrow.

And then one day - Shazaam!  Everything changes.  Immediately.  You've cleaned out your leaven.  You've trekked out to do a quick sacrifice.  You are commanded to sit tight while G-d smites the enemy and then - you're free!

Your routine is gone!  You're running with the pack -towards the sea- freedom at last!  But what happened to routine!  This is new, this is change - and THIS IS SCARY!  CHANGE is disconcerting - even when it's good change.

And NOW you know why we force ourselves to de-routinize ourselves every Passover.  It's just one minuscule taste of what it must have felt like for our ancestors to have their routines suddenly eliminated.  To be marched into the desert with matzo in tow.  To face the Red Sea and see chariots bearing down on you from behind.

Yeah, I'll take the cleaning and dish changing.  It's a pain - but hey, do you know what the Red Sea would do to my hair????

What He Would Have Said...

The dreaded evening has finally arrived - the one-year anniversary of the day the house around the corner from me was struck by lightening and the Scarsdale community woke up to the news that our Rabbi, Rabbi Jacob Rubenstein and his wife, Debbie, had perished in the resulting fast-moving fire.

We shuffled through that horrible Saturday like zombies.  We wept uncontrollably at the funeral next day.  And somehow we've been pulling ourselves together this past year...slowly...returning to our communal activities, with a new, young vibrant Rabbi, who has done all he can to create momentum from mourning.

There have been days - like today - when I wake up in the morning, a problem nagging at my psyche - and I wonder - what would Rabbi Rubenstein have advised me to do?  I remember our conversations - and I've archived his emails - each word of encouragement, gentle well-placed kicks and just plain reflecting - and I try to reapply the salve as needed.  But the tube is empty.  All I have is what I remember.  And sometimes it just seems like it's not enough.

ME:  I realize I can be very judgemental.

RABBI R:  Yes, you can.

ME:  It's not good.

RABBI R:  No, it isn't.

or

ME:  Why is it that I just can't seem to find the right man?

RABBI R:  You're a very strong woman.  The man you need is out there but he's going to need to be stronger than you.  Not easy.

ME:  Where should I look?

RABBI R:  I don't know.  But whatever you do, DON'T SETTLE!  You are quality, Lady.  You deserve someone like you.  If you want to find someone to lay with - the men are a dime a dozen.  To find the one who is your bashert--your soulmate--do NOT SETTLE for less than you deserve!

or the exchange I treasured the most:

ME:  I pray each morning - how could I pass up an opportunity to connect.  It's like checking in with my kids - or my parents - I need to let G-d know I'm thinking of Him - and I want Him to think of me.

RABBI R:  Lady, you have done some growing!  Kol HaKavod!  (Good for You!)  I wish everybody was able to see things that way.

His words of advice will follow me wherever I go.  I will remember them like a salve.  And apply them as needed. 

In Memory of my Rabbi and his Wife - G-d Rest Their Souls

Exactly one year ago, I woke up on Saturday morning, inspired - ready to go to synagogue and prepare for the Passover holiday with joy and anticipation.  It was a grey day, dank and rainy.  I enjoy being the first person in synagogue - greeting the sanctity of the prayer hall in solitude.  So I put on my special Saturday Coach sneakers and hastened out the door.

As I turned the corner I noticed a heavy, smoky smell mingling with the humid mist.  The road was blocked off with police barricades.  I asked a policeman what was going on.  "There's been a fire," was the curt reply.  My rabbi lives on that block, I thought.  But what was the likelihood that anything had happened to his house - of all the houses on the block.  But I knew others on the block.  My blood ran cold.  I took a detour around the street and saw the house from the back.  It was so burned, I wasn't sure which house it was...Couldn't be...

My hands itched for my prayerbook.  There was something supernatural and unsettling.  I sprinted to the synagogue - about one mile downhill.  The assistant Rabbi stood at the gate to the parking lot with friends I met in synagogue each Saturday.  Their expressions were grim.

"What?" I asked.

"The Rabbi - and his wife - there's been a fire," Rabbi Morgenstern told me, his heart breaking through his clouded blue eyes.  "They're dead."

Some moments hang in the air with the vivid memory of the odor of dank smoke for a lifetime, maybe more.  My motto is, "Crumbling is not an option!" But that day I crumbled.  Fell to my knees at the gates of the synagogue in agony.  My Rabbi, my mentor, my confidant, my father-figure, my friend.  His wife - the woman who complimented me, supported me.

Lightening struck their house, they were gone - forever.

Saturday - THAT holy Saturday - the Saturday before Passover, the holiday of renewal and liberation - it is supposed to be a day of rest, of anticipation, of excitement.  Mourning is forbidden on Saturday.  Sniffles, sobs, and choking sounds filled the sanctuary as we all tried to maintain a semblance of peace, the kind that is never supposed to be blighted by the horrific tear in the fabric of a community.

This week, as the  Scarsdale community and Jewish communities all over the world commemorate the passing of Rabbi Jacob and Debbie Rubenstein, I will write more about their beautiful lives, their tragic removal from our physical world, and I wish their souls ascension to the highest levels of heaven.

Turning in the Audi

We are living in a temporary world.  But, oh, what a lovely temporary world it is.

Today I turned in my Audi A4.  The lease was up.  Thank goodness.  Because the monthly payments were killing me.  What was once a breezy payment made off a comfortable income, enabling me to whiz my way up and down the Merritt Parkway to work in Stamford, CT., had become an albatross of a payment, eating up my savings account.  So it was with mixed emotions that I drove my car to a local dealer, handed over the keys, and took the license plates.

Mixed emotions because, boy, that car was great while I had it.  One tap on the accelerator and I was ten blocks up the road.  It hugged every windy curve on the Bronx River Parkway and one pump of the brake and it stopped on a dime.  The leather seats and five disc CD changer were elegant.  It performed like a champion racehorse.  If I could have, I would have married that Audi!  If I can find a man half as reliable, sexy and easy-to-handle, I will make him my own.  And the Honda that replaces my Audi, while nice, is, well...just not an Audi.  It will get me from point A to point B.  But it just ain't the same.

Am I whining?  Well, maybe a little.  And on the 2-mile walk home from the dealer (a cool way to burn some calories AND settle my mind), I couldn't help but think about the ephemeral quality of life.  We live in a temporary state.  Sometimes we're lucky enough to own an Audi.  Do we appreciate the Audi while we have it?  Perhaps.  Maybe we long for a Porsche.  Or maybe we don't even think about how fortunate we are to have such a cool car.  And then one day the Audi is gone. So we can either appreciate that we were even given the opportunity to have such a car, albeit for just a few years.  Or we can say, "Lucky me, I've got a Honda."

What kind of good things can my car help me accomplish?  Bond with my daughter when I drive her to school?  Teach her how to drive (eeek!)? Use the car to go to learning groups, help my aging parents, deliver food packages to the needy?  Wow, that car can become a real vehicle for good.  Who cares if it's not an Audi.

The truth is, it's ALL temporary.  Fleeting.  Cars.  Life.  Sometimes we have it good.  We should cherish the good times.  And even the not-so-good times.  We're put on this planet for just a few nanoseconds in the cosmic calendar.  Blink and it's all over.  So I don't really miss my Audi.  I was lucky to have had it.  Now my Honda can become the mitzvah-mobile.  It's all good!

Putting the Past Away

"Are you ready for Passover?" a friend asked me recently.

Passover has varying levels of "prep" depending on one's level of observance.  For those who don't immerse themselves in eight days of stringent holiday, the preparation can be as simple as purchasing matzo and cooking up a storm.  But for the orthodox  "initiated" (like me), Passover begins outside the kitchen.  We go through each room, looking for crumbs.  The prohibition not to eat bread extends to actually seeing bread in the home.  So all bread, leavened products and derivatives must go.

The purging of the leavened food from our domains and our possessions is significant.  We are letting go of the leaven and switching over to a whole new routine - Matzo.  We change our dishes, our utensils--we cover every surface and are scrupulously careful to put the bread "in the past."

Putting the past away - purging it - burning it - letting it fly like dust in the wind...it's something we do as part of the Jewish calendar every spring.  For eight days we are immersed in changes - the new, the fresh, the simplicity.

Can we do the same in our overall lives? Put the past on a shelf somewhere?  Cover up what we once were and focus on what we are becoming?  Look towards the future and leave the crumbs behind?  Yeah, I'm ready for Passover!

Entitlements

With AIG executives fighting for bonuses, and most of the world scraping to keep what they have and be able to put bread on their table, have you ever given thought to what we are actually "entitled" to in this whirlwind of life?

I think most of us believe that we are entitled to parents.  Not only parents - but parents who love and raise us in happy homes.  We are entitled to shelter, food, health and clothing.  But wait a minute--maybe we are being like the AIG executives...voting ourselves PERKS that we are not entitled to at all...

Stop and think for a moment of what we believe every person deserves - and what, in reality, every person DOES deserve...what is it?

Well, according to the Torah - the code of law that the Jewish people have followed since it was revealed at Sinai, there are only two sets of entitlements in this world: what G-d is entitled to from us, and what we are "entitled to" based on His Torah.  There are bonuses for sure - but they are bonuses - not guarantees - and He gives them out at His behest, not necessarily when WE think we deserve them.

The Ten Commandments give G-d the following entitlements from us:  Recognition, first and foremost, that He is the Creator, our Redeemer, the ONLY G-d, and that we acknowledge his singleness by not creating images to replace Him.  He requires Respect for His name. He is entitled to our day of rest - The Sabbath - that we share with him.  What a gift.  That is a mutual entitlement - His and ours - and we enjoy that together.  And He is entitled to Parental Honor - another entitlement that we share with Him - we are entitled to respect from our children, and with that comes the requirement to respect our parents (and of course, G-d).

Note:  Children are NOT entitled to perfect parents and a warm and loving home.  No matter what they say on the therapist's couch, it is like those AIG bonuses should be - not a given!

We, the people, were given another set of entitlements,  according to the ten commandments, and they are:  Safety - we are entitled not to be murdered or kidnapped; Honesty, we are entitled not to have someone bear false witness against us; Fidelity - we can know with assurance that our spouse is faithful - that is an entitlement. Security - we are entitled to the security of knowing that no one may steal from us - not our material things, not our reputations, not even our knowledge.  And then comes the tenth commandment (or if you look at it backwards - entitlement) - a very puzzling one:  We are entitled to a life, to people and possessions that that are above anyone's jealousy or covet. In other words, we are entitled to have what we have, without anyone ever questioning whether we deserve it or saying we aren't entitled to it.  Which leaves those AIG executives and their bonuses where?

Mistakes...I've Made a Few...

Face it, mistakes are an important part of life--without them we would not learn quite as effectively.  But owning up to our mistakes--looking at ourselves and really seeing ourselves in the mirror of life--now THAT'S the ultimate challenge.

Every new day brings with it a plethora of opportunity.  A chance to assess ourselves in the mirror, own up to past mistakes, and try to right previous wrongs.  This goes for dieters, on the job front, in relationships...we can LEARN or we can continue damaging patterns. 

Since this is primarily a "healthy mindset as it pertains to diet" website, I'll start with the diet/fitness application of addressing and correcting mistakes.  Clearly we all have days spent scarfing down chocolate (like I did yesterday).  Today I woke up, faced the mirror, and decided to turn over a green tea leaf.  It's time to detox.  Bad habits begone!  I've worked in some exercise, some housecleaning and other activities that will enable me to spend this day correcting the mistakes I made yesterday.  Think forward, think positive and move ON!

Work, too, presents its challenges.  Procrastinating is the mother of all mistakes-causing deadlines to loom and projects to flop.  Here is an easy exercise to help you correct yesterday's work mistakes.  Ye olde "To Do" list is the simplist way to stay on track.  Each morning make your list and each evening, scratch off the items you completed.  Sounds easy - but if you've seen my desk (it's under the papers somewhere), you'd know it's my special challenge.  And one I've solved.

In relationships, patterns are de rigour.  We are creatures of habit and our early relationship impressions cause us to make the same mistakes over and over in our lives.  Funny, it's easy to see OTHER PEOPLE'S MISTAKES, especially in relationships, but our own tend to be underplayed in our minds.  We all have blind spots - and friends, while well-meaning, can be subjective soundboards because their own personalities play into interpreting our motives and actions.  To address relationship mistakes, write down key goals and figure out what you truly want out of that relationship.  Then work towards it.  If you want to establish a peaceful home with your family, figure out the impediments that present--and assess your OWN part of the challenge.  Remember, while you can communicate challenges to others, the only one you can be responsible for fixing is YOURSELF.

So, with that said, I'm going to work on some of yesterday's mistakes, to make today a better day for myself and everyone else!

Purim Fun - Trash the Hamantash!

It's Purim, the festival of fun, food and feasting!  I've been baking my famous chocolate/peanut butter hamantashen (as well as the standard poppy seed and prune versions) for weeks now and I'm sick of sugar.  Does that mean I have the willpower to trash the hamantash?  Let's just say it's not easy - even after weeks of nibbling...

The truth is - the only way I can assure myself of keeping my weight steady is to not start with sugar.   That means NOT ONE BITE of cookie, cake or chocolate.  Purim is like Halloween - but in reverse.  Instead of tricking or treating - we give food to one another.  And the only stricture is that the food be prepared - not in raw form - which makes it easiest to give baked goods and candy.

That means I have a whole pot of pea soup and a bowlful of cut up melon in my fridge, that is not likely to go over well as Purim fare, even though it's perfectly acceptable by custom, to give it out as a gift of food.  So how did I solve the dilemma of what food gifts to give to my friends and families?  Sadly, my gifts are not healthy - but they are interesting, for sure.  I created a "Bailout Bucket" - my own Economic Stimulus Packages, containing "bread" (actually a croissant), "moo-lah" (actually - organic chocolate milk... "MOO!" - get it?), and "de-Neros" (play on words here - because Neros means "candles" in Hebrew - so I wrapped two candles in a dollar bill, requesting that the recipient donate that dollar to the charity of his or her choice to keep money circulating to those who need it).  I did throw in a few chocolate nuggets and of course the blasted caloric hamantashen for good measure.

And the good news is - giving out my yummy hamantashen as gifts - means less temptation around the house for me!  Joy!  I've solved the problem!  Bailout!