For my thirtieth column, I wanted to do something worthy of what, for me, is a huge accomplishment. Writing this column (more or less) consistently since last fall is a major feather in my consistency cap - one of only a bare few. It can sit right alongside the feather that represents my unquenchable love of mystery stories and the one that symbolizes my tendency to be awkward in public.
Initially I thought, “Thirty columns? Oh yeah, I got this. I’m making a list.” It turned out to be a list of the top thirty reasons why that idea was lame. Then I started working on a more introspective piece that reflected on all the things that have happened since I embarked on chronicling my journey almost one year ago. That piece instead ended up chronicling my ability to write something with about as much life in it as a fillet of dead carp and all the appeal of a flaccid piece of wet cardboard.
In fact, I wasn’t fired up to write anything until two days ago when I had my second encounter with our Nintendo Wii Fit.
106 days ago, according to the reproach I received from the modern-day Hal perched in our living room, was my last session with the Wii. The Wii was something Andrew had bought “for both of us,” though admittedly I was pretty indifferent to the idea. I can’t explain it, but somewhere along the line my interest in video games went out along with my ability to give a crap about professional wrestling. Admittedly, some of the Wii games can be fun, but most of the time I am trying so hard to handle the controller the right way that focusing on the coordination needed to expertly wield a computer generated golf club escapes me completely. I mean, I gave up trying years ago to beat the final level of Bowser’s Castle in "Super Mario World," so wherever the place is that resides between that and a good old-fashioned river fording on "Oregon Trail" lies my skill level for video gamery.
Then came the Wii Fit.
In a gesture that smacked of affection and personal bravery, my boyfriend bought the Wii Fit in an attempt to make it easier for us to squeeze exercise into our lives. It would be fun, he told me, after seeing my eyebrows reach skyward with skepticism, and we could exercise in smaller time increments whenever we could fit it in. And while I feel a pang of guilt for my aversion to that small, sleek, white machine because he bought it for us as something to help, I will not abide getting aggro from a video game machine. There, I said it. Now if the Cylons really do take over, I’ll be in trouble. (Battlestar geeks holla if you hear me.)
So Wii Fit, how did we go so wrong?
Well, for starters, you’re never going to get a girl if all you do is make fun of her all the time, call out her faults and then rub it in when she fails to meet your expectations.
Here’s the thing: When you want to use the Nintendo Wii, you need to create an avatar called a Mii. Essentially you create the computer equivalent of yourself that has all the fine attention to detail of a Lego person and is meant to superficially resemble you. You can make it look like anything you want, but this is the idea - i.e., it sports a certain hairstyle, color of clothing, etc., that you choose for it. But the Wii Fit takes this avatar building business a few steps further than having a baker’s dozen of different eyebrow sets to choose from.
You have to enter certain other personal details in order for the Wii Fit to allegedly help you realize your fitness goals. So now the damn thing knows your height and weight too. However, instead of leaving your Mii alone, thank you very much, the Wii makes your Mii fat too.
Yep. In much the same way that Mario has excited little sparkles burst out of him when he runs into a mushroom or a raccoon tail that gives him special powers, I watched my Mii go through a fun transformation too: the out-plopping of my spare tire - and I could have sworn there were computer-generated sparkles when it happened.
One might think for a video game suite that was designed to help people get in shape, maybe they would give the user a regular Mii, a thinner version to look forward to, or even just the option of not having a fat avatar, right? I mean, it’s entirely possible that I reached my ideal calorie-burning heart rate “zone” by standing on the scale/Wii Fit board and having my blood pressure escalate at the sight of my Mii’s mid-section expanding with a “pop!” as it shrunk me vertically and stretched me sideways.
Then, as I fought to regain control over my volcano of rage, the Wii Fit asked me to enter my weight loss goals. “Okay,” I thought. “Just enter what you want to lose and get it over with.”
So, a), when you enter the number of pounds you want to lose, you have to press the button on the controller each time for each pound, exacerbating an already tedious process; b), apparently no one creating this software could fathom anyone needing to lose more than 20-plus pounds.
Seriously, it literally stopped letting me enter how much weight I wanted to lose somewhere in the 20s.
I don’t know what enraged me more, the fact that clearly it was ludicrous to the Wii Fit that anyone could possibly be that overweight, or the fact that I couldn’t gain some exercise points by throwing the vile thing through the window.
That was roughly 106 days ago. Then, about a week and a half ago, I started Weight Watchers. Lord knows I need structure. I’m not down with the whole low-fat/no fat foods stuff or anything like that, but good foods that are naturally low in the bad things - I can deal with that. However, you need to weigh yourself weekly to chart your progress.
I was all prepared to go out and buy a scale when my boyfriend reminded me that the Wii Fit doubles as a scale. I had preferred to leave it shoved under the chair in the living room, forgotten and alone, but I didn’t want to shell out for a scale if we already had one in the house.
So I got myself up on the Wii Fit board, and braced myself to see if I had lost anything in my first week on the WW plan.
Reasons why trying to do a simple task like weighing yourself on the Wii Fit is maddening:
a) It takes forever just to get to the weighing point. I dig the old-fashioned bathroom scale of the ilk that my Grandma had - step up, the numbers spin in front of you and in less than 20 seconds, voila! You have your weight - and it is not saved in some computer’s memory for future judgment.
b) You have to turn the machine on, wait for it to load, then select your Mii, which brings back all of the lovely memories you have of creating it, and then it tells you how long it’s been since you’ve deigned to work out with the Wii Fit.
c) Then it doesn’t just let you weigh yourself - it has to assess your balance first…
d) After which it has to berate you about your need to disperse your weight more to the right (in my case anyway).
e) Once you’ve been told that your balance is for shit, then it asks you to stand and be weighed.
f) Ah - and here’s the best part: If you’ve gained weight since the last time you stood on the scale, in my case 1.5 pounds, it condescends to tell you that maybe next time you shouldn’t set such lofty weight loss goals.
g) No, I’m not kidding.
However, according to my WW online tracker, I have lost 1.5 pounds since last week, and Myrtle made a good point: Maybe since 106 days ago I had gained weight and then lost it from there, so my Wii Fit weigh-in might not be as horrid as it seems.
Regardless, I found myself nearly brought to tears of incredulity after realizing that a computer had just worn away my defenses with its snide commentary on my weight-loss efforts. My boyfriend, who was making dinner in the kitchen, looked into the living room and saw me sitting on the sofa.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
(My responses have been made PG with the aid of "Battlestar Gallactica" euphemisms):
“I hate that fracking thing.” I responded. “I’m sorry, I know you bought it to be helpful, but I hate that gods-damn fracking thing.”
So tonight, after my eye appointment, I am going to the store to purchase my own, low-tech, no frills, Grandma-style old-school scale. Preferably something in gold or powder blue - an echo of a simpler time when the scale I knew matched the color scheme in my Grandma’s bathroom and hadn’t yet gained the awareness to talk back.
You can find all of Elizabeth's adventures in being a Curvy Girl at: http://www.annarbor.com/cgi-bin/mt/mt-search.cgi?search=Curvy%20Girl&__mode=tag&IncludeBlogs=1&limit=20&page=2
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Curvy Girl #29: To veg or not to veg, that is the question
Anyone who has followed this column has probably read one or two of my rants on veganism. Most of these stem from my staunch resistance to being restricted from eating anything I choose. However, in light of some recent health issues and the heart gripping fact that I am not getting any younger, I've decided to approach investigating the vegan diet from the viewpoint of some of its potential benefits. There is obviously the fact that the vegan diet puts a much lighter footprint on the earth, that it definitely reduces your cholesterol intake (which for me is a huge thing) and that it often incorporates better food choices, like organic foods, into its repertoire. I'd been thinking about this for a bit, trying to adjust my thought process to one that would in some way welcome such a big change, and then, from an unexpected source, a book literally fell into my lap.
If your mother is anything like mine, there are moments when she is gripped with such fervor that its intensity can only be explained by it having been ignited by her drive to protect whom she loves. Once the spark is lit, she may as well be on a mission from god.
In my mom’s case, I’ve seen this phenomenon occur most frequently when there is a potential risk to someone she cares about. This includes the risks of poor health and its effect on the body. If something will make you healthier, than you just need to carve out the time and energy to do it. Rarely have I encountered anyone who takes her health more seriously than my mother. She wouldn’t agree with me on this; she would say that she tries but doesn't always succeed. However, she’s just being humble. It’s not like she is a marathon runner or into extreme sports, but she exercises the vigilance necessary to keep potential health risks at bay when she is aware of them. It has always been one of the things I admire most about her.
So, it turns out that Type 2 diabetes has started to rear its ugly head in our world and it is affecting people we love. You guessed it: that equals a very serious risk.
And now, a brief jump into the “way-back machine”:
In another life, I was a medical photographer. For six months in Chicago I photographed skin cancers, and then for a year after that in Detroit I was an ophthalmic photographer. I took photographs of people’s eyes. We had imaging equipment for all the parts of the eye, but the most common (and the most fascinating in my opinion) was the fundus photography.
Say it with me: “fundus.”
Webster’s on fundus:
“Main Entry: fun•dus
Pronunciation: \ˈfən-dəs\
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural fun•di \-ˌdī, -ˌdē\
Etymology: New Latin, from Latin, bottom
Date: 1764
: the bottom of or part opposite the aperture of the internal surface of a hollow organ: as a : the greater curvature of the stomach b : the lower back part of the bladder c : the large upper end of the uterus d : the part of the eye opposite the pupil”
In our case, it was definition d.
Fundus cameras are designed to photograph the retina. Standard fundus photos are taken in color, but if a patient has diabetes, frequently, the doctor will order flourescein angiography. This study produces a series of several photographs that are black and white, and I don’t want anyone to fall off their chair here, but it actually shows the blood flow into the back of the eye in real time. The flourescein dye is injected into the patient's arm, after having taken control shots, and then under certain filters in the camera, the photographer can actually image the dye in the blood as it flows into the eye and lights up all of the blood vessels.
In a healthy eye, these images will just look like crisp, high-contrast images of the retina, with the veins bright white against the dark grey backdrop of the densely pigmented retinal layer. In an unhealthy eye, specifically one that is afflicted with diabetes, depending on the extent of the deterioration of the blood vessels, will start to light up in the back of the eye. These bright spots are the places where ophthalmologists focus their laser treatments. The goal of these treatments as I understand it is to preserve the patient’s central vision for as long as possible by cauterizing the leaking vessels. In general, patients with diabetic retinopathy tend to exhibit blood vessel leakage first on the periphery, and then as the condition worsens, the leaking vessels get closer and closer to the avascular foveal zone, i.e., the sweet spot for your central vision. Eventually, this can lead to total blindness.
My reason for giving you this unexpected (and most likely uninvited) lecture on fundus photography and diabetic retinopathy is that I wanted to share my experience, limited though it is, of diabetes with you. Most of us know someone in our lives who is affected by diabetes. In an unexpected turn of the screw, my mom has known an increasing number of people in her life who have been diagnosed with the disease lately. And it’s because of diabetes she recently called me up and subsequently thrust a copy of a book about following a vegan diet into my hands.
Now, I don’t have diabetes. I’m not pre-diabetic either, but it appears that I do have a familial predisposition to develop diabetes judging by some recent diagnoses in my greater family. In addition to that, it seems like there are more and more convincing arguments out there for being vegan. Most of these stem from the health benefits that can occur from following such a diet. Particularly if your vegan diet includes organic foods, and you keep the super sugary things in check, you’re going to be in pretty good shape. Also, I think it’s safe to say that most people agree that a B12 supplement for those following a vegan diet is a must.
At any rate, the book my mom gave me is a pretty good read. For something I initially rolled my eyes at reading, Dr. Neal Barnard’s Program for Reversing Diabetes was a surprising page turner. It advocates a diet that has complex carbohydrates and whole grains, organic foods, minimal oil used in the preparation of food, a reduction in the naturally fatty foods like avocadoes and olives and sticking to foods low on the Glycemic index. Oh yeah, and of course, it completely tosses out meat, cheese and eggs.
It actually sounds pretty good.
There are plenty of naturally scrumptious foods, and many recipes can be adapted to a vegan version without a ton of extra work. It also apparently does what it alleges to do. It lowers people’s sugar profoundly in lots of cases. In addition to that, there have been other benefits cited by people who have used this diet, such as improved sleep and higher energy levels just to name a couple.
However, I don’t agree with everything in the book, as in, I’m still completely unconvinced as to the virtues of soy in general, and I’m not sure what is actually in fake meat alternatives, but I’m not really drawn to eat those things anyway. My thinking is: Why would I want fake meat? If I can’t have the real thing, what is the point or trying to choke down a substitute? It’s not my style.
Anyway, the best argument for any food in my book is that food is always at its best when it is allowed to shine for what it is. For me, that means largely organic foods that are full of flavor, recipes that use the natural complementary nature of different foods to bring out the best in each other and not flubbing it up with weirdness like meat-free “sausage crumbles” (my deepest apologies to the die-hard sausage crumblers in the audience).
Dr. Barnard offers soy and meat substitutes as potential tools you can use to help maintain a vegan diet. For me, a week of step-down with lots of peanut butter and jelly rice cakes turned out to be what was needed (though I am still struggling with deviations). I just couldn’t go cold turkey … or cold kelp loaf (yick).
So I had this book and my mom, who beat me to veganism (and is loving it by the way except for its distressing lack of cheese), was starting to convince me that maybe it was worth a real shot. Also, a little over a month ago, I was stricken by some (still) inexplicable severe chest pains and had to go to the ER. This on top of everything else really has given me pause. I’m not even 30 yet, and this year constitutes my having the most issues ever with my physical health. It’s not been fun. I’ve been really grumpy, seriously funky and profoundly tired. Trying the vegan thing has helped a bit. Also, in an unexpected benefit, cutting out the dairy particularly has had a startling effect on my chronic acid reflux. It’s almost gone when I follow the vegan diet. Even if I eat slightly more spicy foods, my body can all of a sudden handle it better. That being said, when I deviate, I know.
To add to the knowledge I had been amassing on the virtues of veganism, the other night, my boyfriend and I watched a documentary called The Beautiful Truth. It was about a few things: mercury poisoning, toxins in our food, but ultimately, it was about the Gerson Therapy.
The Gerson Therapy advocates a strict organic vegan diet as a part of their treatment for cancer. It involves some other things as well, the least appetizing of which is regular (no pun intended) organic coffee enemas, but diet is the main significant change. Also, they appear to have had astounding success rates in treating all kinds of cancers, as well as some other illnesses, with this therapy. From what I could tell, this therapy also does not involve a plethora of drugs that can potentially make you as sick as the original disease. As I watched this documentary unfold, all I could think was that I sincerely wished I had seen it before my uncle passed away last Thanksgiving from esophageal and liver cancer.
Now, before everyone writes in - I know that this is a controversial topic, and that the lines are drawn quite decisively on both sides. I find it a compelling possibility though, in a world ever more put upon by cancers of all kinds, that there is a treatment option that suggests, we - good god the gall - go back to eating unadulterated foods as the main crux of its argument. The more I learn about the mainstream food industry and about the abundance of toxic things we are exposed to every day, I’m finding myself more and more invested in making the healthy choices. So I am sort of giving it a real go, though I am loathe to admit it. (Once I put it out there, I’m sure to fail at it.)
However, I have to reserve the right to eat whatever the hell I want at any time. Will it help me lose weight? In theory, but maybe not. It's more of a health choice at this moment than anything else.
With that in mind, making healthier choices becomes almost effortless, because then I am not being restricted.
...At least that’s what I tell my brain.
If your mother is anything like mine, there are moments when she is gripped with such fervor that its intensity can only be explained by it having been ignited by her drive to protect whom she loves. Once the spark is lit, she may as well be on a mission from god.
In my mom’s case, I’ve seen this phenomenon occur most frequently when there is a potential risk to someone she cares about. This includes the risks of poor health and its effect on the body. If something will make you healthier, than you just need to carve out the time and energy to do it. Rarely have I encountered anyone who takes her health more seriously than my mother. She wouldn’t agree with me on this; she would say that she tries but doesn't always succeed. However, she’s just being humble. It’s not like she is a marathon runner or into extreme sports, but she exercises the vigilance necessary to keep potential health risks at bay when she is aware of them. It has always been one of the things I admire most about her.
So, it turns out that Type 2 diabetes has started to rear its ugly head in our world and it is affecting people we love. You guessed it: that equals a very serious risk.
And now, a brief jump into the “way-back machine”:
In another life, I was a medical photographer. For six months in Chicago I photographed skin cancers, and then for a year after that in Detroit I was an ophthalmic photographer. I took photographs of people’s eyes. We had imaging equipment for all the parts of the eye, but the most common (and the most fascinating in my opinion) was the fundus photography.
Say it with me: “fundus.”
Webster’s on fundus:
“Main Entry: fun•dus
Pronunciation: \ˈfən-dəs\
Function: noun
Inflected Form(s): plural fun•di \-ˌdī, -ˌdē\
Etymology: New Latin, from Latin, bottom
Date: 1764
: the bottom of or part opposite the aperture of the internal surface of a hollow organ: as a : the greater curvature of the stomach b : the lower back part of the bladder c : the large upper end of the uterus d : the part of the eye opposite the pupil”
In our case, it was definition d.
Fundus cameras are designed to photograph the retina. Standard fundus photos are taken in color, but if a patient has diabetes, frequently, the doctor will order flourescein angiography. This study produces a series of several photographs that are black and white, and I don’t want anyone to fall off their chair here, but it actually shows the blood flow into the back of the eye in real time. The flourescein dye is injected into the patient's arm, after having taken control shots, and then under certain filters in the camera, the photographer can actually image the dye in the blood as it flows into the eye and lights up all of the blood vessels.
In a healthy eye, these images will just look like crisp, high-contrast images of the retina, with the veins bright white against the dark grey backdrop of the densely pigmented retinal layer. In an unhealthy eye, specifically one that is afflicted with diabetes, depending on the extent of the deterioration of the blood vessels, will start to light up in the back of the eye. These bright spots are the places where ophthalmologists focus their laser treatments. The goal of these treatments as I understand it is to preserve the patient’s central vision for as long as possible by cauterizing the leaking vessels. In general, patients with diabetic retinopathy tend to exhibit blood vessel leakage first on the periphery, and then as the condition worsens, the leaking vessels get closer and closer to the avascular foveal zone, i.e., the sweet spot for your central vision. Eventually, this can lead to total blindness.
My reason for giving you this unexpected (and most likely uninvited) lecture on fundus photography and diabetic retinopathy is that I wanted to share my experience, limited though it is, of diabetes with you. Most of us know someone in our lives who is affected by diabetes. In an unexpected turn of the screw, my mom has known an increasing number of people in her life who have been diagnosed with the disease lately. And it’s because of diabetes she recently called me up and subsequently thrust a copy of a book about following a vegan diet into my hands.
Now, I don’t have diabetes. I’m not pre-diabetic either, but it appears that I do have a familial predisposition to develop diabetes judging by some recent diagnoses in my greater family. In addition to that, it seems like there are more and more convincing arguments out there for being vegan. Most of these stem from the health benefits that can occur from following such a diet. Particularly if your vegan diet includes organic foods, and you keep the super sugary things in check, you’re going to be in pretty good shape. Also, I think it’s safe to say that most people agree that a B12 supplement for those following a vegan diet is a must.
At any rate, the book my mom gave me is a pretty good read. For something I initially rolled my eyes at reading, Dr. Neal Barnard’s Program for Reversing Diabetes was a surprising page turner. It advocates a diet that has complex carbohydrates and whole grains, organic foods, minimal oil used in the preparation of food, a reduction in the naturally fatty foods like avocadoes and olives and sticking to foods low on the Glycemic index. Oh yeah, and of course, it completely tosses out meat, cheese and eggs.
It actually sounds pretty good.
There are plenty of naturally scrumptious foods, and many recipes can be adapted to a vegan version without a ton of extra work. It also apparently does what it alleges to do. It lowers people’s sugar profoundly in lots of cases. In addition to that, there have been other benefits cited by people who have used this diet, such as improved sleep and higher energy levels just to name a couple.
However, I don’t agree with everything in the book, as in, I’m still completely unconvinced as to the virtues of soy in general, and I’m not sure what is actually in fake meat alternatives, but I’m not really drawn to eat those things anyway. My thinking is: Why would I want fake meat? If I can’t have the real thing, what is the point or trying to choke down a substitute? It’s not my style.
Anyway, the best argument for any food in my book is that food is always at its best when it is allowed to shine for what it is. For me, that means largely organic foods that are full of flavor, recipes that use the natural complementary nature of different foods to bring out the best in each other and not flubbing it up with weirdness like meat-free “sausage crumbles” (my deepest apologies to the die-hard sausage crumblers in the audience).
Dr. Barnard offers soy and meat substitutes as potential tools you can use to help maintain a vegan diet. For me, a week of step-down with lots of peanut butter and jelly rice cakes turned out to be what was needed (though I am still struggling with deviations). I just couldn’t go cold turkey … or cold kelp loaf (yick).
So I had this book and my mom, who beat me to veganism (and is loving it by the way except for its distressing lack of cheese), was starting to convince me that maybe it was worth a real shot. Also, a little over a month ago, I was stricken by some (still) inexplicable severe chest pains and had to go to the ER. This on top of everything else really has given me pause. I’m not even 30 yet, and this year constitutes my having the most issues ever with my physical health. It’s not been fun. I’ve been really grumpy, seriously funky and profoundly tired. Trying the vegan thing has helped a bit. Also, in an unexpected benefit, cutting out the dairy particularly has had a startling effect on my chronic acid reflux. It’s almost gone when I follow the vegan diet. Even if I eat slightly more spicy foods, my body can all of a sudden handle it better. That being said, when I deviate, I know.
To add to the knowledge I had been amassing on the virtues of veganism, the other night, my boyfriend and I watched a documentary called The Beautiful Truth. It was about a few things: mercury poisoning, toxins in our food, but ultimately, it was about the Gerson Therapy.
The Gerson Therapy advocates a strict organic vegan diet as a part of their treatment for cancer. It involves some other things as well, the least appetizing of which is regular (no pun intended) organic coffee enemas, but diet is the main significant change. Also, they appear to have had astounding success rates in treating all kinds of cancers, as well as some other illnesses, with this therapy. From what I could tell, this therapy also does not involve a plethora of drugs that can potentially make you as sick as the original disease. As I watched this documentary unfold, all I could think was that I sincerely wished I had seen it before my uncle passed away last Thanksgiving from esophageal and liver cancer.
Now, before everyone writes in - I know that this is a controversial topic, and that the lines are drawn quite decisively on both sides. I find it a compelling possibility though, in a world ever more put upon by cancers of all kinds, that there is a treatment option that suggests, we - good god the gall - go back to eating unadulterated foods as the main crux of its argument. The more I learn about the mainstream food industry and about the abundance of toxic things we are exposed to every day, I’m finding myself more and more invested in making the healthy choices. So I am sort of giving it a real go, though I am loathe to admit it. (Once I put it out there, I’m sure to fail at it.)
However, I have to reserve the right to eat whatever the hell I want at any time. Will it help me lose weight? In theory, but maybe not. It's more of a health choice at this moment than anything else.
With that in mind, making healthier choices becomes almost effortless, because then I am not being restricted.
...At least that’s what I tell my brain.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
How are you planning to spend your Nikola Tesla Day?
As it happens, it would not be uncommon for you to answer that question with, “Wait, spend my who day?”
I mean, unfortunately, Tesla’s name has largely been shoved out of the common vernacular in this country. Aside from an offhand reference to the 80’s hair band (who, incidentally makes an brief appearance later in this story) or the occasional mention of a Tesla Coil, there isn’t much out there to draw our attention to this incredible, mind-bending scientist. Oh wait. There was that movie The Prestige, but how many of us actually thought that mad scientist out west was actually based on a real man? The man, who as it turns out, lassoed the power of Niagara Falls and will forever be associated with the robotic ship?
I suppose a more accurate title for this article would be, “How will you celebrate the functioning electricity you enjoy today?” or “How will you be acknowledging the power that we take for granted that enables us to move forward with nearly all life-advancing technologies?” Subtitles could range anywhere from, “Nikola Tesla: The man who gave power to the people” to “Tesla: brilliant scientist who changed the very nature of our lives who died penniless and alone.” A bit too wordy I know, but it needs to be said, and when I was listening to President Obama’s speech on immigration the other day and he mentioned the great inventions of Nikola Tesla, it reinvigorated my interest in the man and his work.
Born in 1856 in what is now Serbia, Tesla immigrated to the United States in 1884 and gained American citizenship. The work he did here would go on to change the entire way we communicate and operate globally, and yet many people have never even heard of him. Part of this is due to the fact that Tesla, unlike some other scientists of the day, was not one to showboat or pursue profit in place of working to prove his theories and create real, functioning electricity that could be brought large-scale to the people. He died in 1943 alone, riddled with depression and destitute. In fact, the circumstances in which he died could not provide a starker contrast to the richness and life that his work breathed into our scientific world.
It is one of the greater intellectual crimes of history that the father of polyphase alternating current (AC, the power that brings life to our computers, power stations and has influenced all of modern electrical science) and the father of radio, Nikola Tesla, continues to largely fade into the shadows of the annals of science education and appreciation in modern society.
A simple Google search revealed that in some places in the world, there is a Nikola Tesla Day, celebrated every year on his birthday, July 10. I thought, “Perfect. Now I just need to find a timely link to Ann Arbor so that I can write about it.” As it turns out, I didn’t have to look that far. You may be interested to know that our very own Ann Arbor Hands-On Museum has an exhibit of Tesla’s “Egg of Columbus” on display, a recreation of a model that Tesla had constructed to showcase his discovery of the rotating magnetic field principle at the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893.
However, once I jumped into the Tesla rabbit hole, I discovered a lot more. It turns out that the predominant champion for bringing Tesla into elementary education and the man who has spearheaded a campaign against the Smithsonian Institution for not properly recognizing Tesla in their displays and publications on the history of electricity lives in, of all places, our fair town of Ann Arbor.
I was also in luck, because he was happy to make time for an interview with me.
What struck me first is that John W. Wagner is first and foremost an educator. What struck me as an immediate second was the fact that he is easily one of the most passionate people I have encountered in researching Tesla. In fact, his website is one of the most comprehensive sources around for Tesla’s life history and his contributions to modern electrical science. Wagner is very clear in giving credit where it is due to the other scientists who have contributed to electrical science, such as Oersted and Faraday, and is just as clear about exposing the often unpopular truth about Edison and others such as Marconi, who, though they made contributions, appear to have been much more concerned with capitalizing and monetizing their (and others’) work than they were with bringing these life-altering technologies to the common people. In fact, after years in court over patent battles, the court finally ruled in Tesla’s favor over Marconi, but the ruling was bittersweet, as Tesla had already passed away.
I asked John several questions, but mostly I just listened. The man is wealth of knowledge on the subject. As a third grade teacher required to teach his students how to write in cursive, Wagner not only drilled the students in how to master fine penmanship but also harnessed their imaginations and unbridled sense of youthful curiosity and justice.
In a letter writing and t-shirt selling campaign that lasted many years, Wagner and his students raised money for bronze busts sculpted by a former student’s father to be placed in universities all over the country. In fact, if you feel like seeing one in person, the University of Michigan has one on display in the Atrium in their EECS building. At this point in time there are 19 donated bronze busts of Tesla in universities all over the United States. In fact, at the time on a tip from his younger son, Wagner contacted the band Tesla, and they ended up donating $1,800 to the cause.
Notably, one of the first places Wagner went to donate a bronze bust of Tesla was The Henry Ford Museum, but was told that they “had no use for it…at the “Edison Institute.” Wagner ran into a similar situation with the Smithsonian Institution. After offering a bust to the Smithsonian, accompanied by a student letter, a week later they got a letter back saying “Sorry, we have no use for it.” In spring 1989 they went to Washington, and saw that there was a bust of Edison sitting right next to an exhibit of one of Tesla’s inventions with no mention of Tesla, even though his patent number was right on it. If anything, it’s snubs like these that seemed to have spurned Wagner to work all the harder to bring education about Tesla to young students.
In fact, one of the things that I found most interesting about Wagner’s work involving Tesla awareness in elementary-age students are the two children’s books he has written about the inventor. The first one is already out, complete with a wide array of color illustrations, and the second book is due out later this summer. These books are the culmination of 27 years devoted to making knowledge about Nikola Tesla easily accessible to young minds. In 2002, Wagner was awarded a lifetime achievement award for his work in education of Tesla at the Telluride Technical Festival.
According to Wagner, in 1896 when Tesla electrified the power of Niagara Falls, the “…world exploded with progress…and [then] the world promptly forgot about Tesla because they had gotten what they wanted…people don’t realize how important polyphase electric current rotating until they don’t have it.” Essentially, we take it for granted until the power goes out.
Do you like the fact that your laptop works and you can Skype with your friends overseas? Thank Tesla.
Are you a fan of the Information Super-Highway? Thank Tesla.
Do you love (as I do) your NPR “driveway moments?” Thank Tesla.
At it most elemental, Tesla harnessed the power to make all of those things possible for us to enjoy. He created the stepping stone into the 20th and 21st century of technological discovery, all powered by an imagination and understanding of the world and how it works that comes along once in a lifetime.
Tesla was a unique human being, and one who was also deeply plagued with depression, severe obsessive compulsive disorder and a fight for his life and discoveries against far more well-funded opponents seeking to capitalize off of new scientific discoveries (think Thomas Edison) that chased him essentially all the way to his grave. On his Web site, John Wagner describes Tesla as the man “who invented tomorrow.”
So, the last question I asked John Wagner was, “How will you be spending Nikola Tesla Day?"
His answer was this:
“…I consider everyday of the year Nikola Tesla Day. In short, July 10 for me is no different than any other day because I am 'on the job' celebrating and promoting him everyday.”
You can't really hope for a better celebration than that.
Friday, July 02, 2010
Morning Thoughts: Bon Jovi can still make me cry - May, 2010.
I recently came across my old Bon Jovi greatest hits album. This is a) totally awesome, and b) dangerous. Because here’s what happens to almost-thirty-something’s when they get a hold of some rockin’ Bon Jovi: they go into their regular morning haunt and sit there, eyes looking out from the world of the ipod, and they start uncontrollably fist pumping and singing along like they’re in some kind of misguided karaoke competition, contestant count one. “Livin’ on a prayer” comes to mind as perhaps one of the best righteous ballads with which to rock out.
Before we get halfway there, I am living on a prayer. And then we get to “Always” and I, an intelligent, independent woman well past the “Untamed Heart” 14-year-old pining stage, begin to have trouble stemming the tide of just a really, really, really good cry. :)
It’s amazing how some songs have the ability to instantly transport one back to the sixth-grade roller skating party at the Shores roller rink, standing on the sidelines inwardly convulsing in sobs because the “couples skate” is happening and Whitney Houston is singing the theme from “The Bodyguard” and you are alone, gripping a carpeted wall. “You give love a bad name” comes on in my headphones just in time to bring me back to the present with its defiant anger and prevent a full-on emotional collapse. My mind drifts to the skating rink again…It’s okay that at the end of the night when you go over to the rounded couches to take of your brown suede rental skates you will be doing so alone. It’s okay that no boy ever gets up the courage to say “Hi”. But hey, sixth-grade self, it’s okay, the guy you want doesn’t even exist yet.
But then you begin to hear the strains of “Patience” by Guns n’ Roses as the lights turn on and as the few lingering couples do the last few loops on the baby blue skating rink floor your heart swells for a love that you long to know one day.
And then “Bed of Roses” begins on your ipod, and there you are: 28 years old and crying openly in Sweetwaters. Wiping away your errant tears under the scrutiny of a semi-concerned look coming from a frat boy sitting near you, you hide behind the bangs that you are shaking in front of your eyes in a lame effort to disguise the fact that Bon Jovi can still make you cry.
It’s enough to make you want to run over to where your man is working, take him in your arms and lay him down in a bed of roses.
You ankle it out the door and down the street, stepping in time to “Blaze of Glory”, your hips swaying to the dulcet tones of that kid from New Jersey with rock and roll dreams and what sounds like an entire gospel choir singing behind him propelling you onward.
Before we get halfway there, I am living on a prayer. And then we get to “Always” and I, an intelligent, independent woman well past the “Untamed Heart” 14-year-old pining stage, begin to have trouble stemming the tide of just a really, really, really good cry. :)
It’s amazing how some songs have the ability to instantly transport one back to the sixth-grade roller skating party at the Shores roller rink, standing on the sidelines inwardly convulsing in sobs because the “couples skate” is happening and Whitney Houston is singing the theme from “The Bodyguard” and you are alone, gripping a carpeted wall. “You give love a bad name” comes on in my headphones just in time to bring me back to the present with its defiant anger and prevent a full-on emotional collapse. My mind drifts to the skating rink again…It’s okay that at the end of the night when you go over to the rounded couches to take of your brown suede rental skates you will be doing so alone. It’s okay that no boy ever gets up the courage to say “Hi”. But hey, sixth-grade self, it’s okay, the guy you want doesn’t even exist yet.
But then you begin to hear the strains of “Patience” by Guns n’ Roses as the lights turn on and as the few lingering couples do the last few loops on the baby blue skating rink floor your heart swells for a love that you long to know one day.
And then “Bed of Roses” begins on your ipod, and there you are: 28 years old and crying openly in Sweetwaters. Wiping away your errant tears under the scrutiny of a semi-concerned look coming from a frat boy sitting near you, you hide behind the bangs that you are shaking in front of your eyes in a lame effort to disguise the fact that Bon Jovi can still make you cry.
It’s enough to make you want to run over to where your man is working, take him in your arms and lay him down in a bed of roses.
You ankle it out the door and down the street, stepping in time to “Blaze of Glory”, your hips swaying to the dulcet tones of that kid from New Jersey with rock and roll dreams and what sounds like an entire gospel choir singing behind him propelling you onward.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Confessions of a (very) curvy girl: Part 27: Endurance in dieting not the easiest thing
The other day, I changed my gchat status to, “Am now officially girl who sits at desk eating baby carrots.” Because honestly, keeping up the low-calorie eating throughout the days that I am stuck to my desk is difficult. I like to have something to chew on while I consider, ponder, work. It’s more of an unconscious habit, and instead of doing that with a candy bar, I’m just putting something more healthy conveniently within my grasp.
OK, so the U.S. team just won a big game in the World Cup; if they can do that, then I can keep on with my plans to get and stay healthy. I’m not even a soccer fan per se, but I do love rooting for the home team, especially when they’re the underdog.
So maybe I’m the underdog in the losing weight game. Discipline and routine are things that I really need to concentrate hard on or they won’t happen. I have still been meeting my calorie goals daily (except for a little deviation on some weekend days), but I’ve gone from working out every day to every other day or so, and I really feel the difference. It’s definitely time to go back to once a day on the exercises. I have lost a little weight, and being in that position, where the proverbial tread on the shoes holding me up from sliding right back down into the blubbery chasm makes me feel like I have a little wiggle room, I need to make myself grip the hilltop all the harder lest I slip altogether (and yes, I just used the word “lest”)
“Don’t slip, Liz.” That should be the mantra. “So you’ve lost a little weight, but that does not mean that if you drink two beers and eat a bunch of cheese that it won’t show. You’ll just be back (and bloated with heartburn) where you started.”
Not this time. Not this time, I say! You hear me self? You hear me irrational cravings? You hear me skewed sense of accountability and personal physical appearance? Can you smell what I’m cooking?
That’s right. I’m getting all drill sergeant on my own ass.
Hence, the baby carrots…and the raw broccoli, though both are great with hummus, and what’s a little hummus between friends?
I mean it’s fascinating to learn about what comprises ones daily caloric intake. It’s also a rather rude surprise to realize how little it takes to fill it. For instance, today, my calorie tracker goes something like this (and keep in mind these are only approximates in many cases):
Breakfast:
¾ cup milk: 120 calories
Cinnamon Cereal: 290 calories
Lunch:
Amy’s Paneer Tikka: 320 calories
Annie’s Bunny Grahams, Chocolate: 215.8 calories
Total: 945.8 calories according to the free tracker I use.
However, this tracker also allows me to track mundane and unavoidable daily doings in my “burned calories” column. I often track these to feel better about munching on the chocolate bunny cookies and perhaps the occasional assignation to The Cupcake Station for minis.
For instance, today’s burned calories at the moment (until I go home and work out) are:
Typing, 240 minutes: 501 calories burned. And yes, I know it’s totally lame to track one's clerical duties as exercise. I also know that it helps me feel accomplished when I see that little “calories” bar jump backwards when I enter in how much typing I do in a day. It’s more for show to myself than it is a genuine accomplishment.
Something in my methods must be working though, because this past weekend, alarmingly aware that I had no summertime work attire, I drove myself down to Target and did some shopping. You know what? Homegirl fit into a size medium dress. We are back in the green hanger zone! It felt good. I wore the dress to a baby shower on Saturday, and I didn’t feel uncomfortable in it at all. (Insert happy dance here.) As more of the things that have been gathering dust in my closet slowly slide back into focus and fit, I’m excited to keep working on the progression.
More Confessions of a (very) curvy girl will come out every other Wednesday.
OK, so the U.S. team just won a big game in the World Cup; if they can do that, then I can keep on with my plans to get and stay healthy. I’m not even a soccer fan per se, but I do love rooting for the home team, especially when they’re the underdog.
So maybe I’m the underdog in the losing weight game. Discipline and routine are things that I really need to concentrate hard on or they won’t happen. I have still been meeting my calorie goals daily (except for a little deviation on some weekend days), but I’ve gone from working out every day to every other day or so, and I really feel the difference. It’s definitely time to go back to once a day on the exercises. I have lost a little weight, and being in that position, where the proverbial tread on the shoes holding me up from sliding right back down into the blubbery chasm makes me feel like I have a little wiggle room, I need to make myself grip the hilltop all the harder lest I slip altogether (and yes, I just used the word “lest”)
“Don’t slip, Liz.” That should be the mantra. “So you’ve lost a little weight, but that does not mean that if you drink two beers and eat a bunch of cheese that it won’t show. You’ll just be back (and bloated with heartburn) where you started.”
Not this time. Not this time, I say! You hear me self? You hear me irrational cravings? You hear me skewed sense of accountability and personal physical appearance? Can you smell what I’m cooking?
That’s right. I’m getting all drill sergeant on my own ass.
Hence, the baby carrots…and the raw broccoli, though both are great with hummus, and what’s a little hummus between friends?
I mean it’s fascinating to learn about what comprises ones daily caloric intake. It’s also a rather rude surprise to realize how little it takes to fill it. For instance, today, my calorie tracker goes something like this (and keep in mind these are only approximates in many cases):
Breakfast:
¾ cup milk: 120 calories
Cinnamon Cereal: 290 calories
Lunch:
Amy’s Paneer Tikka: 320 calories
Annie’s Bunny Grahams, Chocolate: 215.8 calories
Total: 945.8 calories according to the free tracker I use.
However, this tracker also allows me to track mundane and unavoidable daily doings in my “burned calories” column. I often track these to feel better about munching on the chocolate bunny cookies and perhaps the occasional assignation to The Cupcake Station for minis.
For instance, today’s burned calories at the moment (until I go home and work out) are:
Typing, 240 minutes: 501 calories burned. And yes, I know it’s totally lame to track one's clerical duties as exercise. I also know that it helps me feel accomplished when I see that little “calories” bar jump backwards when I enter in how much typing I do in a day. It’s more for show to myself than it is a genuine accomplishment.
Something in my methods must be working though, because this past weekend, alarmingly aware that I had no summertime work attire, I drove myself down to Target and did some shopping. You know what? Homegirl fit into a size medium dress. We are back in the green hanger zone! It felt good. I wore the dress to a baby shower on Saturday, and I didn’t feel uncomfortable in it at all. (Insert happy dance here.) As more of the things that have been gathering dust in my closet slowly slide back into focus and fit, I’m excited to keep working on the progression.
More Confessions of a (very) curvy girl will come out every other Wednesday.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Limp Handshakes
If there's one thing I can't abide, it's a limp handshake. There's really very little in this world more creepy and offputting when you first meet someone than a clammy, uncommitted, timid greeting of the hand in which the other person simply sets their fingers in your hand and you begin to squeeze, a socially requisite action during which you find yourself feeling slightly nauseous as you try and find the least awkward way to relinquish the overwhelming feeling of a fistful of gummy pasta in your hand. You feel the distinct need to wipe and wash your hands directly afterward lest the slimy fish guts feeling remain emblazoned on your skin.
Am I right or am I right?
Am I right or am I right?
Friday, June 11, 2010
Confessions of a (Very) Curvy Girl Part 26: Eating less is like quitting smoking
Posted: Jun 10, 2010 at 6:00 AM [Yesterday]
A couple of (very) curvy girls having a (very) good time.
*Note: There is a slight schedule change. New installments of “Curvy Girl” will now come out every other Wednesday.
Recently, I’ve had a revelation of sorts. When I lived in Chicago (2000-2005), there was a period toward the end of my time there when I got incredibly skinny, skinnier than I had been in high school. I mean, I actually lost my Murray behind (and by this I mean the posterior characteristic that unites all of the relatives on my mom’s side of the family whether we like it or not. Male or female, it does not matter. Gain enough weight and the Murray behind will follow you everywhere - literally.)
I didn’t have saddlebags, my thighs didn’t touch and I zipped a zero at Banana Republic. I couldn’t breathe, but I zipped a zero. At the time I wasn’t as concerned with health as I was concerned with being depressed. I was thin, but I was miserable. Granted, that misery was due to a number of things, but that was the situation nonetheless.
When I moved home and eventually gained a little weight back, I began to ponder whether being thin for me was synonymous with being horribly depressed, which, in itself was a depressing thought. I should have reminded myself that when I first started college and put on a lot of weight that I wasn’t that happy either. Then I was eating because I was lonely and didn’t give half a rat turd what people thought of how I looked. I was a heavy smoker, I drank tons of coffee and I could fall asleep at the drop of a hat. Greasy and fatty foods were cheap, too, and everywhere. I think the whole spring semester of my sophomore year I subsisted on the yogurt-drop trail mix from the school vending machine and the occasional candy bar. Even then, overweight. I was not healthy at all either though, and when I did lose a ton of weight later on, I was still extremely unhealthy.
I quit smoking somewhere around 5 or 6 years ago; I can’t remember. It was about a year and a half before I moved back to Michigan. Sometime in the months following that was when I decided to trade in the habitual ritual that I had enjoyed so much in smoking and turn it to something just as odious but not quite as harmful: counting calories. I also turned to the diet “food” the so-called neutraceuticals: the low-fat no-fat world. It left me with a void. I felt awful most of the time, but I kept eating the horrible stuff in what I’ve thought since was some sort of self-torture. I suppose one woman’s low-fat low-sugar miracle diet shake is another woman’s cry for help.
I can remember feeling so weak at the time and being worried about what was actually in these foods that I was eating. I did some light exercise, but other than that my days were consumed with worry (about, well, you name it - everything) and calorie counting.
It would be great understatement to say that I wasn’t happy. The funny thing is that all I got were compliments. “Oh you look so thin!” and “I mean you can tell, in your stomach!” This was in sharp contrast to a couple of years later, when I was at my cousin's wedding wearing a cotton, somewhat clingy dress and my aunt asked me in the buffet line (I was of course loading a plate for my dad as well) if I was eating for two and then looked pointedly at my stomach.
At that time I would say that I weighed 40-50 pounds less than where I am right now and I wasn’t fat at all. I thought that I was a little heftier than I wanted to be, but looking back, I really wasn’t. Not for what I want my body to look like.
The revelation I’ve had lately though is that I can start anew. From here I can formulate a plan that is healthy that will keep me in good shape long term. I’ve always thought of weight loss as an exercise in self-deprivation, and in some ways it can be, but thinking about it like that is quite possibly one of the biggest reasons for my failures in weight loss up until this point. Now I’m starting to really come to terms with the excesses I’ve become used to and the difference between that and what is healthy. Daily life has become a practice of overindulgence.
Why? How did it get to be this way? I don’t know. I’m literally not sure when it happened. I suppose somewhere between having no money in college and a reinvigorated interest in good food those things led to me wanting a whole ton of it, but I think that’s relatively normal. The real problems come with portion control and frequency. One croissant is lovely, but perhaps two and a muffin on top of all the other meals of the day is not the best course of action to propel yourself on your way to wellness.
One of the hardest things that I find about losing weight is that food I want to eat is everywhere. I’m not just talking about crappy food either. I have been willing to shell out for some wonderfully sourced, excellently prepared and highly caloric meals … often. And then desserts, and drinks, etc.
So much in the manner that I quit smoking, I am attempting to quit overindulgent eating. The past few weeks I have been getting used to working out nearly every day. I have slowly but surely been weeding out the worst food during that time as well. Now in this past week I have set strict calorie goals each day and exercise goals as well and I have been making myself meet those goals. Of course there are always exceptions, such as our good friends are getting married soon (a big what up to Nat and Leigh here, congratulations you guys!), and I am not going to curtail my merriment too much by calorie counting. The calories will still be there to count on the day after (I wonder if all the ibuprofen I’ll be taking that day will have a lot of calories? Just kidding folks.)
Also, a positive side effect of working out regularly and eating less in general is that I am not really able to eat the big meals like I used to. I have to stop a lot earlier into the plate if you know what I mean. Last weekend I was up on the Leelanau Peninsula with a group from my grad program (EMU HP - hay-ay! Raise the roof, push the walls, push the floor) and we were invited to be the first group dining at a new heritage bed and breakfast, the Hillside Homestead, run by wildly knowledgeable food historian Susan Odom.
This food was … magical. Her pickles really are the bomb, I mean to die for. In fact last year I had some of her pickled asparagus, and anyone who knows me will tell you I haven’t shut up about it since. I could only eat so much that night though, even though lord knows I tried to overcome my shrunken stomach for the spread that lay before me. Staring forlornly at my dessert, which was, if memory serves correctly, a brandied apple cake with only one meager bite out of it. It was a crying shame, but I just couldn’t shove it in. But I sure did finish the rest of everything put in front of me. (Come to think of it, I did have some room left for the hard cider from Tandem Ciders … maybe I had just reached my “solids” limit.)
Every dish on the table was made to be authentic for the region at the turn of the last century. And I’ll tell you what - early 1900’s Leelanau must have been a freaking delicious time to be alive.
I took away a feeling of some encouragement that even when faced with probably some of the most perfect food I have ever eaten, I still was able to pull away after I was only mildly overfull. A month ago that would have been wolfed down and I would have been trying to sneak seconds.
I think in the end, just as with smoking, for me success has to be framed by wanting to change. I had tried to quit smoking before I actually did, and it hadn’t stuck. The only time I was successfully able to almost completely quell that urge came when I decided I was ready for the change. So too with weight. I haven’t necessarily eaten my last brownie, but instead of something that could have been a biweekly occurrence in months past, maybe it will be a biannual craving. I haven’t been wanting extra sugary things or really greasy things either. It’s funny: Healthy eating perpetuates more healthy eating. It’s just getting on that track that is the hard part.
At long last though, I feel like I’m actually getting there.
A couple of (very) curvy girls having a (very) good time.
*Note: There is a slight schedule change. New installments of “Curvy Girl” will now come out every other Wednesday.
Recently, I’ve had a revelation of sorts. When I lived in Chicago (2000-2005), there was a period toward the end of my time there when I got incredibly skinny, skinnier than I had been in high school. I mean, I actually lost my Murray behind (and by this I mean the posterior characteristic that unites all of the relatives on my mom’s side of the family whether we like it or not. Male or female, it does not matter. Gain enough weight and the Murray behind will follow you everywhere - literally.)
I didn’t have saddlebags, my thighs didn’t touch and I zipped a zero at Banana Republic. I couldn’t breathe, but I zipped a zero. At the time I wasn’t as concerned with health as I was concerned with being depressed. I was thin, but I was miserable. Granted, that misery was due to a number of things, but that was the situation nonetheless.
When I moved home and eventually gained a little weight back, I began to ponder whether being thin for me was synonymous with being horribly depressed, which, in itself was a depressing thought. I should have reminded myself that when I first started college and put on a lot of weight that I wasn’t that happy either. Then I was eating because I was lonely and didn’t give half a rat turd what people thought of how I looked. I was a heavy smoker, I drank tons of coffee and I could fall asleep at the drop of a hat. Greasy and fatty foods were cheap, too, and everywhere. I think the whole spring semester of my sophomore year I subsisted on the yogurt-drop trail mix from the school vending machine and the occasional candy bar. Even then, overweight. I was not healthy at all either though, and when I did lose a ton of weight later on, I was still extremely unhealthy.
I quit smoking somewhere around 5 or 6 years ago; I can’t remember. It was about a year and a half before I moved back to Michigan. Sometime in the months following that was when I decided to trade in the habitual ritual that I had enjoyed so much in smoking and turn it to something just as odious but not quite as harmful: counting calories. I also turned to the diet “food” the so-called neutraceuticals: the low-fat no-fat world. It left me with a void. I felt awful most of the time, but I kept eating the horrible stuff in what I’ve thought since was some sort of self-torture. I suppose one woman’s low-fat low-sugar miracle diet shake is another woman’s cry for help.
I can remember feeling so weak at the time and being worried about what was actually in these foods that I was eating. I did some light exercise, but other than that my days were consumed with worry (about, well, you name it - everything) and calorie counting.
It would be great understatement to say that I wasn’t happy. The funny thing is that all I got were compliments. “Oh you look so thin!” and “I mean you can tell, in your stomach!” This was in sharp contrast to a couple of years later, when I was at my cousin's wedding wearing a cotton, somewhat clingy dress and my aunt asked me in the buffet line (I was of course loading a plate for my dad as well) if I was eating for two and then looked pointedly at my stomach.
At that time I would say that I weighed 40-50 pounds less than where I am right now and I wasn’t fat at all. I thought that I was a little heftier than I wanted to be, but looking back, I really wasn’t. Not for what I want my body to look like.
The revelation I’ve had lately though is that I can start anew. From here I can formulate a plan that is healthy that will keep me in good shape long term. I’ve always thought of weight loss as an exercise in self-deprivation, and in some ways it can be, but thinking about it like that is quite possibly one of the biggest reasons for my failures in weight loss up until this point. Now I’m starting to really come to terms with the excesses I’ve become used to and the difference between that and what is healthy. Daily life has become a practice of overindulgence.
Why? How did it get to be this way? I don’t know. I’m literally not sure when it happened. I suppose somewhere between having no money in college and a reinvigorated interest in good food those things led to me wanting a whole ton of it, but I think that’s relatively normal. The real problems come with portion control and frequency. One croissant is lovely, but perhaps two and a muffin on top of all the other meals of the day is not the best course of action to propel yourself on your way to wellness.
One of the hardest things that I find about losing weight is that food I want to eat is everywhere. I’m not just talking about crappy food either. I have been willing to shell out for some wonderfully sourced, excellently prepared and highly caloric meals … often. And then desserts, and drinks, etc.
So much in the manner that I quit smoking, I am attempting to quit overindulgent eating. The past few weeks I have been getting used to working out nearly every day. I have slowly but surely been weeding out the worst food during that time as well. Now in this past week I have set strict calorie goals each day and exercise goals as well and I have been making myself meet those goals. Of course there are always exceptions, such as our good friends are getting married soon (a big what up to Nat and Leigh here, congratulations you guys!), and I am not going to curtail my merriment too much by calorie counting. The calories will still be there to count on the day after (I wonder if all the ibuprofen I’ll be taking that day will have a lot of calories? Just kidding folks.)
Also, a positive side effect of working out regularly and eating less in general is that I am not really able to eat the big meals like I used to. I have to stop a lot earlier into the plate if you know what I mean. Last weekend I was up on the Leelanau Peninsula with a group from my grad program (EMU HP - hay-ay! Raise the roof, push the walls, push the floor) and we were invited to be the first group dining at a new heritage bed and breakfast, the Hillside Homestead, run by wildly knowledgeable food historian Susan Odom.
This food was … magical. Her pickles really are the bomb, I mean to die for. In fact last year I had some of her pickled asparagus, and anyone who knows me will tell you I haven’t shut up about it since. I could only eat so much that night though, even though lord knows I tried to overcome my shrunken stomach for the spread that lay before me. Staring forlornly at my dessert, which was, if memory serves correctly, a brandied apple cake with only one meager bite out of it. It was a crying shame, but I just couldn’t shove it in. But I sure did finish the rest of everything put in front of me. (Come to think of it, I did have some room left for the hard cider from Tandem Ciders … maybe I had just reached my “solids” limit.)
Every dish on the table was made to be authentic for the region at the turn of the last century. And I’ll tell you what - early 1900’s Leelanau must have been a freaking delicious time to be alive.
I took away a feeling of some encouragement that even when faced with probably some of the most perfect food I have ever eaten, I still was able to pull away after I was only mildly overfull. A month ago that would have been wolfed down and I would have been trying to sneak seconds.
I think in the end, just as with smoking, for me success has to be framed by wanting to change. I had tried to quit smoking before I actually did, and it hadn’t stuck. The only time I was successfully able to almost completely quell that urge came when I decided I was ready for the change. So too with weight. I haven’t necessarily eaten my last brownie, but instead of something that could have been a biweekly occurrence in months past, maybe it will be a biannual craving. I haven’t been wanting extra sugary things or really greasy things either. It’s funny: Healthy eating perpetuates more healthy eating. It’s just getting on that track that is the hard part.
At long last though, I feel like I’m actually getting there.
Oliverio Sister’s Pasta e Pasta
Posted: May 30, 2010 at 7:00 AM [May 30, 2010]
Diane Allan and Debbie Moran, the Oliverio twins, at the Ann Arbor Farmers Market in Kerrytown.
Elizabeth Palmer | AnnArbor.com
Well, if the humidity is an indication, we are at long last reaching summertime in our fair state. Michigan has traded in its mitten for a string bikini, the canoe liveries are open and the Wednesday Farmers Market at Kerrytown has started up again. With all the bounty that is spilling from the farm stalls, it is easy to forget that not all that long ago we were still in the clutches of the bitter, frigid onslaught of a Michigan winter.
The throngs of people who attend the Saturday Kerrytown market travel in a different time space than other people. Now being one of them, on a leisurely morning, I can get that glazed look in my eyes and stop abruptly in the middle of one of the aisles as well as anyone else. That being said, woe be tied to anyone who is in a hurry, and I have definitely been one of those people too.
In the warmer months, this phenomenon increases exponentially. The people milling about are packed more densely, and the will and exertion it takes to not become completely embroiled in pedestrian rage is immense. That being said, it is well worth dealing with the crowd to get there. One of the stands that always makes me smile and love the bustling market is the Pasta e Pasta booth run buy the Oliverio twins, Diane and Debbie.
While moving with the tide of other market goers, keep your eyes peeled for them. Having weathered the entire winter season at the market, I am always struck each time I visit by how kind and cheerful they always are - smiles all around.
The history of Pasta e Pasta is a family affair. Family owned and operated since 2002, Pasta e Pasta pastas and sauces were sold only in a few bakeries and Italian food stores on the eastside until last year. The Oliviero sisters partnered with their cousin, who started the business, in August 2009. It was then that the twins began to bring the Pasta e Pasta goods to markets in the Ann Arbor area. They have a booth at the Ann Arbor Farmers Market every Wednesday and Saturday, and they are also at the Northville Farmer’s Market on Thursdays. Recently, some of their frozen items (raviolis and sauces) have also become available for sale at Plum Market.
So what do they make? Well, for starters, they have five different kinds of pasta: spinach, whole wheat, tomato basil, egg and a mixed blend. Each of these pastas also comes in four different cuts: spaghetti, fettuccine, pappardelle and rotini. If you are into ravioli, you’re in luck. Pasta e Pasta makes five kinds of frozen ravioli: pumpkin, spinach ricotta, portabella mushroom, four cheese (quarto formaggio) and roasted vegetable. They also make potato and potato spinach gnocchi. For sauce, you have the choice of either marinara or blush. During the holidays, Pasta e Pasta also sells gift baskets. So if you’re thinking or treating yourself to Italian food, Pasta e Pasta may be just your bag.
Pasta e Pasta's booth at the Ann Arbor Farmers Market.
For inquiries, you can reach Diane at: 248-974-0971 and Debbie at: 734-883-1907. You can also reach them by e-mail at: TheOliverioTwins@pasta-e-pasta.com.
Diane Allan and Debbie Moran, the Oliverio twins, at the Ann Arbor Farmers Market in Kerrytown.
Elizabeth Palmer | AnnArbor.com
Well, if the humidity is an indication, we are at long last reaching summertime in our fair state. Michigan has traded in its mitten for a string bikini, the canoe liveries are open and the Wednesday Farmers Market at Kerrytown has started up again. With all the bounty that is spilling from the farm stalls, it is easy to forget that not all that long ago we were still in the clutches of the bitter, frigid onslaught of a Michigan winter.
The throngs of people who attend the Saturday Kerrytown market travel in a different time space than other people. Now being one of them, on a leisurely morning, I can get that glazed look in my eyes and stop abruptly in the middle of one of the aisles as well as anyone else. That being said, woe be tied to anyone who is in a hurry, and I have definitely been one of those people too.
In the warmer months, this phenomenon increases exponentially. The people milling about are packed more densely, and the will and exertion it takes to not become completely embroiled in pedestrian rage is immense. That being said, it is well worth dealing with the crowd to get there. One of the stands that always makes me smile and love the bustling market is the Pasta e Pasta booth run buy the Oliverio twins, Diane and Debbie.
While moving with the tide of other market goers, keep your eyes peeled for them. Having weathered the entire winter season at the market, I am always struck each time I visit by how kind and cheerful they always are - smiles all around.
The history of Pasta e Pasta is a family affair. Family owned and operated since 2002, Pasta e Pasta pastas and sauces were sold only in a few bakeries and Italian food stores on the eastside until last year. The Oliviero sisters partnered with their cousin, who started the business, in August 2009. It was then that the twins began to bring the Pasta e Pasta goods to markets in the Ann Arbor area. They have a booth at the Ann Arbor Farmers Market every Wednesday and Saturday, and they are also at the Northville Farmer’s Market on Thursdays. Recently, some of their frozen items (raviolis and sauces) have also become available for sale at Plum Market.
So what do they make? Well, for starters, they have five different kinds of pasta: spinach, whole wheat, tomato basil, egg and a mixed blend. Each of these pastas also comes in four different cuts: spaghetti, fettuccine, pappardelle and rotini. If you are into ravioli, you’re in luck. Pasta e Pasta makes five kinds of frozen ravioli: pumpkin, spinach ricotta, portabella mushroom, four cheese (quarto formaggio) and roasted vegetable. They also make potato and potato spinach gnocchi. For sauce, you have the choice of either marinara or blush. During the holidays, Pasta e Pasta also sells gift baskets. So if you’re thinking or treating yourself to Italian food, Pasta e Pasta may be just your bag.
Pasta e Pasta's booth at the Ann Arbor Farmers Market.
For inquiries, you can reach Diane at: 248-974-0971 and Debbie at: 734-883-1907. You can also reach them by e-mail at: TheOliverioTwins@pasta-e-pasta.com.
Working out, having fun - and my boots feel looser
Posted: May 26, 2010 at 9:30 AM [May 26, 2010]
When I was younger, I never thought that the phrase, “Wow, my boots feel a little looser” would be a cause for celebration. Apparently the younger me had a different definition of victory.
From where I’m sitting - I mean standing of course, got to remain active - it’s a noteworthy benchmark when my leather-ish boots almost actually pull up over my calves. Admittedly, when I wore them before, the seal formed by plugging my bountiful and stocky leg into the just-too-small opening in the boot was enough to send me flailing off the sofa with a “pop!” as I wrenched them off my feet at the end of the day. Eventually, I believe that this insistence on wearing ill-fitting boots was what caused my feet some extreme pain and may have curtailed some of the blood flow to the bottommost parts of my understructure over the last couple of months. Not the case today. Today, my boots still don’t completely fit over my calves, but I have some room in the calf area for my leg to move within it and not be stuck in the same position for the entire day. This, for me, is new.
Thanks to the bellydance DVD reawakening that I’ve been experiencing lately, it’s something that I can count as an achievement. I’ve had fleeting thoughts about standing outside at the corner of Fifth and Liberty, working my lungs to shout over the din of construction and yelling, “Hey everybody! The circumferences of my calves are shrinking! How do you like me now? Yeah. That’s what I thought.” And then I would proceed to nod my head up and down emphatically to accompany the wild gleam in my eyes.
This week, I tried to mix it up by throwing the Belly Twins Neena and Veena’s Bollywood Blast and Indy Hop DVDs into the rotation. And though I swear it is just the same twin Photo-shopped twice on to the cover of the Bollywood Blast, it does not diminish the quality of the cardio workout held therein. Sure, I’m awkward with the bouncing and skipping movements, the whole coordinating my arms and legs thing. I also can’t deny that when I don’t move the rug in the living room I see my life flash before my eyes each time one of my feet hits the floor and makes the rug slip, but all in all, the routines are still fun.
Myrtle (my best friend), who reads all of the girly magazines so that I don’t have to, told me about a feature recently published in one of them. The piece paired five women with five different personal trainers in a comparison of how much weight and what percentage of body fat they lost under each different regimen. Apparently the winner in terms of body fat lost followed a regimen of 1,200 calories a day and intensive power yoga five days a week. Now, let me start by saying that at 1,200 calories a day most people would be reduced to the size of a toothpick. What Myrtle and I found interesting though was the percentage of body fat lost, i.e., the healthier the body became, not just skinnier.
The woman who followed this regimen dropped more than 15 pounds and 12 percent of her body fat in 6 weeks. Personally, I know that yoga in general has always made my body feel infinitely better when I keep it up, so that sounds like an additional bonus to me. She loses 15 pounds in 6 weeks. Meanwhile, I continue to slap the underside of my neck in a somewhat vain effort to keep the skin taut.
I know that it will take much longer than I think to really get things in shape, but I’m thinking that slender ankles and more slender calves are, in my case, nothing to sneeze at. I am also continuing to have fun working out, and this past Sunday my bellydance class was awesome. Up on our toes, twisting, shimmying - it was great. I left with my muscles feeling loose but strong and lovely.
For me, whether I work out in the morning or the evening makes a difference. In the morning, if I’ve had to get up before my body wants to, the workout is a stiff and unbalanced performance. To put it another way, in the morning, I’m doing the “modified” version. At night, once I’ve been awake and moving all day (unless I’ve been wearing really uncomfortable shoes), my body is more prepped for a workout. This, however, presents its own challenges:
Generally, evenings are when other people you live with may just want to sit and watch TV without you indy hopping all over the living room. In fact, you may be tempted as well to watching something other than the calories evaporating from your ample gluteus maximus.
The cat may attack you while you are wearing your short pants … ouch.
The cat may interpret your workout as some sort of non-verbal declaration of battle and proceed to bounce off the walls and loll about by your feet while you are trying to perfect your “bolly lift.”
Others in your presence may taunt you and your musical choices by dancing around the room while playing the pennywhistle. You know who you are.
You could reveal to the person you live with that you are, in fact, a head sweater.
Bearing all these things in mind, it’s still worth it. I could go work out in the basement, but it’s just lonely down there with the unpacked boxes of yet more pots and pans and the aromatic hockey equipment.
In order to stay motivated, if I find something that works, I have to just keep doing it. Gaps in performance or doing anything that makes it lose its luster is a no-no. I just ordered a power yoga DVD to add to the rotation, so we’ll see how that goes. Until next week, here’s to more pennywhistle accompaniments (you know I love them) and more cat attacks. Oh, the trials.
When I was younger, I never thought that the phrase, “Wow, my boots feel a little looser” would be a cause for celebration. Apparently the younger me had a different definition of victory.
From where I’m sitting - I mean standing of course, got to remain active - it’s a noteworthy benchmark when my leather-ish boots almost actually pull up over my calves. Admittedly, when I wore them before, the seal formed by plugging my bountiful and stocky leg into the just-too-small opening in the boot was enough to send me flailing off the sofa with a “pop!” as I wrenched them off my feet at the end of the day. Eventually, I believe that this insistence on wearing ill-fitting boots was what caused my feet some extreme pain and may have curtailed some of the blood flow to the bottommost parts of my understructure over the last couple of months. Not the case today. Today, my boots still don’t completely fit over my calves, but I have some room in the calf area for my leg to move within it and not be stuck in the same position for the entire day. This, for me, is new.
Thanks to the bellydance DVD reawakening that I’ve been experiencing lately, it’s something that I can count as an achievement. I’ve had fleeting thoughts about standing outside at the corner of Fifth and Liberty, working my lungs to shout over the din of construction and yelling, “Hey everybody! The circumferences of my calves are shrinking! How do you like me now? Yeah. That’s what I thought.” And then I would proceed to nod my head up and down emphatically to accompany the wild gleam in my eyes.
This week, I tried to mix it up by throwing the Belly Twins Neena and Veena’s Bollywood Blast and Indy Hop DVDs into the rotation. And though I swear it is just the same twin Photo-shopped twice on to the cover of the Bollywood Blast, it does not diminish the quality of the cardio workout held therein. Sure, I’m awkward with the bouncing and skipping movements, the whole coordinating my arms and legs thing. I also can’t deny that when I don’t move the rug in the living room I see my life flash before my eyes each time one of my feet hits the floor and makes the rug slip, but all in all, the routines are still fun.
Myrtle (my best friend), who reads all of the girly magazines so that I don’t have to, told me about a feature recently published in one of them. The piece paired five women with five different personal trainers in a comparison of how much weight and what percentage of body fat they lost under each different regimen. Apparently the winner in terms of body fat lost followed a regimen of 1,200 calories a day and intensive power yoga five days a week. Now, let me start by saying that at 1,200 calories a day most people would be reduced to the size of a toothpick. What Myrtle and I found interesting though was the percentage of body fat lost, i.e., the healthier the body became, not just skinnier.
The woman who followed this regimen dropped more than 15 pounds and 12 percent of her body fat in 6 weeks. Personally, I know that yoga in general has always made my body feel infinitely better when I keep it up, so that sounds like an additional bonus to me. She loses 15 pounds in 6 weeks. Meanwhile, I continue to slap the underside of my neck in a somewhat vain effort to keep the skin taut.
I know that it will take much longer than I think to really get things in shape, but I’m thinking that slender ankles and more slender calves are, in my case, nothing to sneeze at. I am also continuing to have fun working out, and this past Sunday my bellydance class was awesome. Up on our toes, twisting, shimmying - it was great. I left with my muscles feeling loose but strong and lovely.
For me, whether I work out in the morning or the evening makes a difference. In the morning, if I’ve had to get up before my body wants to, the workout is a stiff and unbalanced performance. To put it another way, in the morning, I’m doing the “modified” version. At night, once I’ve been awake and moving all day (unless I’ve been wearing really uncomfortable shoes), my body is more prepped for a workout. This, however, presents its own challenges:
Generally, evenings are when other people you live with may just want to sit and watch TV without you indy hopping all over the living room. In fact, you may be tempted as well to watching something other than the calories evaporating from your ample gluteus maximus.
The cat may attack you while you are wearing your short pants … ouch.
The cat may interpret your workout as some sort of non-verbal declaration of battle and proceed to bounce off the walls and loll about by your feet while you are trying to perfect your “bolly lift.”
Others in your presence may taunt you and your musical choices by dancing around the room while playing the pennywhistle. You know who you are.
You could reveal to the person you live with that you are, in fact, a head sweater.
Bearing all these things in mind, it’s still worth it. I could go work out in the basement, but it’s just lonely down there with the unpacked boxes of yet more pots and pans and the aromatic hockey equipment.
In order to stay motivated, if I find something that works, I have to just keep doing it. Gaps in performance or doing anything that makes it lose its luster is a no-no. I just ordered a power yoga DVD to add to the rotation, so we’ll see how that goes. Until next week, here’s to more pennywhistle accompaniments (you know I love them) and more cat attacks. Oh, the trials.
Belly dancing, a strategy in action
Posted: May 19, 2010 at 1:00 PM [May 19, 2010]
Part 24: Shimmy shimmy, burn burn.
Anyone who knows me or has seen me uncontrollably yawning during an elevator ride at noon can tell you that I am not even marginally a morning person. However lately, after only two and a half years of practice, I am finally really getting motivated to become a good belly dancer; it is getting me out of bed in the morning - or in some cases, keeping me up later at night.
I’ve been studying with some great teachers the last couple of years and having a lot of fun, (shout out to Nadira and Unveiled) but I think that it is my recent bout of performing in public in a few student haflas that has been pushing me along to actually be a better dancer. I’m finding that I love performing with all the girls. Getting all dressed up and nervous about going up to perform - for some reason it brings back fond memories of sleepovers from when I was a kid, a group of girls all having genuine fun with each other. Though in that case most of us were nerding out about boys, listening to the New Kids on the Block before they were NKOTB and playing “light as a feather, stiff as a board,” but I digress.
The weekend before last when the Detroit Raqs Convention was in town, I took a workshop with Leilani from the Double Moon Project (an amazing dancer) and it hit home again more than it had in my week to week classes that I could do this if I wanted to, but I have a long way to go. It was a good thing to realize, because it is making me get up in time to do a belly dance DVD on most mornings (I mean, I’ll be honest with you, I’m not getting up right with the alarm clock every morning, but early enough). When I can’t get up in the mornings, this newfound motivation has spurred me on to work out even in front of my boyfriend - a thing unheard of. I am working out with the dance because I love the dance.
Don’t get me wrong, despite writing about it almost every week for the past six months, I hadn’t as yet reached even close to the steady level of motivation needed to really effect some positive change on my body. So I am as surprised as anybody that this is actually sticking and that I am still thoroughly enjoying it. In fact, I am enjoying it more and more the better I get and the more I learn. It doesn’t matter that I was waaay off in my performance last Friday (like when I did a little rendition of the twist instead of the cute little bend and shoulder shimmy that everyone else did, you know, the move we were supposed to do), or that I still can’t manage to get the timing right on my arms. It just matters that I’m doing it.
I’m finding it really amazing, though, that you can do something for more than two years and still be so uncoordinated, but eh, coordination has never, ever been my strong suit. Sometime after the age of 8 I lost my ability to balance well, and since then it’s been all downhill. Prior to that I had even taken ice skating lessons and managed to stay upright, at one point well enough to attempt small jumps. Now nearing 30, if I can just walk up the stairs without my shoe catching on the step and sending me flailing it is a victory. In some cases this dancing thing is an exercise in regaining body awareness for me.
Belly dancing also has helped in terms of the whole weight loss conundrum as well. Not so much in that I’ve lost a ton of weight (yet), but in that traditionally, I tend to not have a realistic sense of anything when it comes to my appearance, much less my actual size. I mean, I am only five feet tall, but I never think about it. As far as I am concerned, I could be eye to eye with Andre the Giant. In some ways that is good, and in other ways it can be slightly detrimental. Dancing has really become a great tool for me to use to just get a realistic idea of what my body is like. Also, dancing has provided me great revelations in terms of how my body moves and how it feels when I move. It’s also making me realize that I’ve been largely inert for the better portion of my life.
The fact remains, though, that I have worked out nearly every day for the past 10 days and I’m still yearning to do more.
Part 24: Shimmy shimmy, burn burn.
Anyone who knows me or has seen me uncontrollably yawning during an elevator ride at noon can tell you that I am not even marginally a morning person. However lately, after only two and a half years of practice, I am finally really getting motivated to become a good belly dancer; it is getting me out of bed in the morning - or in some cases, keeping me up later at night.
I’ve been studying with some great teachers the last couple of years and having a lot of fun, (shout out to Nadira and Unveiled) but I think that it is my recent bout of performing in public in a few student haflas that has been pushing me along to actually be a better dancer. I’m finding that I love performing with all the girls. Getting all dressed up and nervous about going up to perform - for some reason it brings back fond memories of sleepovers from when I was a kid, a group of girls all having genuine fun with each other. Though in that case most of us were nerding out about boys, listening to the New Kids on the Block before they were NKOTB and playing “light as a feather, stiff as a board,” but I digress.
The weekend before last when the Detroit Raqs Convention was in town, I took a workshop with Leilani from the Double Moon Project (an amazing dancer) and it hit home again more than it had in my week to week classes that I could do this if I wanted to, but I have a long way to go. It was a good thing to realize, because it is making me get up in time to do a belly dance DVD on most mornings (I mean, I’ll be honest with you, I’m not getting up right with the alarm clock every morning, but early enough). When I can’t get up in the mornings, this newfound motivation has spurred me on to work out even in front of my boyfriend - a thing unheard of. I am working out with the dance because I love the dance.
Don’t get me wrong, despite writing about it almost every week for the past six months, I hadn’t as yet reached even close to the steady level of motivation needed to really effect some positive change on my body. So I am as surprised as anybody that this is actually sticking and that I am still thoroughly enjoying it. In fact, I am enjoying it more and more the better I get and the more I learn. It doesn’t matter that I was waaay off in my performance last Friday (like when I did a little rendition of the twist instead of the cute little bend and shoulder shimmy that everyone else did, you know, the move we were supposed to do), or that I still can’t manage to get the timing right on my arms. It just matters that I’m doing it.
I’m finding it really amazing, though, that you can do something for more than two years and still be so uncoordinated, but eh, coordination has never, ever been my strong suit. Sometime after the age of 8 I lost my ability to balance well, and since then it’s been all downhill. Prior to that I had even taken ice skating lessons and managed to stay upright, at one point well enough to attempt small jumps. Now nearing 30, if I can just walk up the stairs without my shoe catching on the step and sending me flailing it is a victory. In some cases this dancing thing is an exercise in regaining body awareness for me.
Belly dancing also has helped in terms of the whole weight loss conundrum as well. Not so much in that I’ve lost a ton of weight (yet), but in that traditionally, I tend to not have a realistic sense of anything when it comes to my appearance, much less my actual size. I mean, I am only five feet tall, but I never think about it. As far as I am concerned, I could be eye to eye with Andre the Giant. In some ways that is good, and in other ways it can be slightly detrimental. Dancing has really become a great tool for me to use to just get a realistic idea of what my body is like. Also, dancing has provided me great revelations in terms of how my body moves and how it feels when I move. It’s also making me realize that I’ve been largely inert for the better portion of my life.
The fact remains, though, that I have worked out nearly every day for the past 10 days and I’m still yearning to do more.
Ann Arbor's Harvest Kitchen dishes up convenient, fresh local food
Posted: May 7, 2010 at 9:04 AM [May 7, 2010]
Mary Wessel Walker runs the kitchen and the stand for the Harvest Kitchen, formerly named the Community Farm Kitchen.
“The goal here is to make it easier for people to eat fresh local food, to make it convenient, to make it easier for people to connect ... to the food and the land.” This is how Harvest Kitchen founder Mary Wessel Walker describes her business.
Chances are that if you’ve wandered up and down the aisles at the Ann Arbor Farmers Market in Kerrytown on any given Saturday, you’ve seen Wessel Walker. A vibrant part of the fabric that makes up our local food movement here in Ann Arbor, Wessel Walker runs the kitchen and the stand for the Harvest Kitchen, formerly named the Community Farm Kitchen.
Essentially, the Harvest Kitchen provides CSA (community supported agriculture) shares that consist of prepared meal items with ingredients sourced from local farms in the area. Wessel Walker has recently changed the name of her business to Harvest Kitchen in order to reflect the change of the addition of goods from several farms including the Community Farm being included on the menu, rather than sourcing its produce strictly from the Community Farm alone. Right now, the produce is still primarily coming from the Community Farm, but Wessel
Walker is forming relationships with Tantre Farm, Frog Holler Organic Farm and Our Family Farm to name a few. She is also hoping to get more involved with other local farms as well, including farms that are just starting out, like Sunseed Farm, in an effort to further support the local food chain.
The Community Farm Kitchen started in 2007, and now in its fourth year of business, the newly renamed Harvest Kitchen is growing with the same health and vigor as the grassroots local food movement is in Washtenaw County.
Moving forward on the path of providing “convenience and increased accessibility” to locally grown food, the Harvest Kitchen is continually reinventing itself in response to the community’s interests. What began as a totally vegetarian share CSA has now grown to include meat from Old Pine Farm in its offerings this year. Last year, the Harvest Kitchen cooked and prepped for 17 vegetarian shares (approximately enough food for 28 families). This past winter, they tried a 10-share pilot program working with meat from Old Pine Farm and produce from local frozen food CSA Locavorious. The word is that people seem to be enjoying the meat option. This year, the Harvest Kitchen’s goal is to sell 35 shares total (food for about 40-50 families), giving the customer the choice of whether they want vegetarian or “omnivore” shares. According to Wessel Walker, the omnivore shares are not necessarily meat-heavy, but that they do provide a good balance.
The food used for the Harvest Kitchen shares mostly comes from CSA shares that the Harvest Kitchen gets from the farms they utilize. For example, the meat from Old Pine Farm is frozen, as it is picked up every month rather than every week like the produce, and then used throughout the season. A share, to give some perspective of size, is roughly enough for a family of four to five people, and a half share would feed a couple well. Wessel Walker stresses though that this depends totally on the shareholder and that everybody is different. She says that there is “lots of flexibility and people can adapt it to their eating pattern in a way that works for them.”
The recipes for the prepared food items you receive in a share are determined by the food coming into the kitchen from the farms. With the veggies, the dishes will vary throughout the season.
When you purchase a share, you are buying a weekly allotment of food for 25 weeks. The season stretches from June to November, and you can purchase either a half or a full share. I asked Wessel Walker how that varied throughout the season. She said that in June, “the farm is just beginning to go into production…[it] challenges our ingenuity to know what to do with it.”
As an example of one of these early summer shares, she offered the following:
• A nice, green salad
• Dill hummus or salad dressing
• Spinach soup or a spinach bake
Later in the season, the menu changes. For example:
• Ratatouille
• Green salad
• Slaw
• Tomato sauce
• Stuffed chard
Harvest Kitchen aims to make four to five different dishes/items per week. Wessel Walker says that throughout the season, a healthy green salad is generally a part of pretty much every share. Since there are tons of greens throughout the season, they try to mix it up: “We try to do a lot of different things with greens … we try to vary [it] ...” When all else fails, you may just have to enjoy a delicious gazpacho or a savory pesto more than once in a season; poor you!
Another expansion to the business is that Wessel Walker recently brought on a partner, Michelle Hartmann. Until now, it has been pretty much a one-woman show managerially speaking. After having met Wessel Walker and seeing her at the Ann Arbor Farmers Market week after week and through all the cold winter months, I am convinced that she is a model for self-motivation. Bringing on Hartmann this season will only add to the motivation in the kitchen. Hartmann brings a background in business, but Wessel Walker says that Hartmann is “no stranger to farming.”
The plan for next year is to expand to offer shares for the whole year with the inclusion of a full-fledged winter CSA program again incorporating Old Pine Farm meats, and vegetarian shares will be available as well. Though the details for the winter season are “still being hammered out,” Harvest Kitchen is planning to continue their relationship with Locavorious and their tradition of turning out delicious local meals for the convenience of their shareholders.
At this point, Wessel Walker says it’s a good time to “look back, look ahead, [and] see what changes we can make.”
You can still sign up for shares through mid-May, and Harvest Kitchen will keep the sign-up period open until it’s full.
More information about how to sign up for a share can be found here.
Mary Wessel Walker runs the kitchen and the stand for the Harvest Kitchen, formerly named the Community Farm Kitchen.
“The goal here is to make it easier for people to eat fresh local food, to make it convenient, to make it easier for people to connect ... to the food and the land.” This is how Harvest Kitchen founder Mary Wessel Walker describes her business.
Chances are that if you’ve wandered up and down the aisles at the Ann Arbor Farmers Market in Kerrytown on any given Saturday, you’ve seen Wessel Walker. A vibrant part of the fabric that makes up our local food movement here in Ann Arbor, Wessel Walker runs the kitchen and the stand for the Harvest Kitchen, formerly named the Community Farm Kitchen.
Walker is forming relationships with Tantre Farm, Frog Holler Organic Farm and Our Family Farm to name a few. She is also hoping to get more involved with other local farms as well, including farms that are just starting out, like Sunseed Farm, in an effort to further support the local food chain.
The Community Farm Kitchen started in 2007, and now in its fourth year of business, the newly renamed Harvest Kitchen is growing with the same health and vigor as the grassroots local food movement is in Washtenaw County.
The food used for the Harvest Kitchen shares mostly comes from CSA shares that the Harvest Kitchen gets from the farms they utilize. For example, the meat from Old Pine Farm is frozen, as it is picked up every month rather than every week like the produce, and then used throughout the season. A share, to give some perspective of size, is roughly enough for a family of four to five people, and a half share would feed a couple well. Wessel Walker stresses though that this depends totally on the shareholder and that everybody is different. She says that there is “lots of flexibility and people can adapt it to their eating pattern in a way that works for them.”
The recipes for the prepared food items you receive in a share are determined by the food coming into the kitchen from the farms. With the veggies, the dishes will vary throughout the season.
When you purchase a share, you are buying a weekly allotment of food for 25 weeks. The season stretches from June to November, and you can purchase either a half or a full share. I asked Wessel Walker how that varied throughout the season. She said that in June, “the farm is just beginning to go into production…[it] challenges our ingenuity to know what to do with it.”
As an example of one of these early summer shares, she offered the following:
• A nice, green salad
• Dill hummus or salad dressing
• Spinach soup or a spinach bake
Later in the season, the menu changes. For example:
• Ratatouille
• Green salad
• Slaw
• Tomato sauce
• Stuffed chard
Harvest Kitchen aims to make four to five different dishes/items per week. Wessel Walker says that throughout the season, a healthy green salad is generally a part of pretty much every share. Since there are tons of greens throughout the season, they try to mix it up: “We try to do a lot of different things with greens … we try to vary [it] ...” When all else fails, you may just have to enjoy a delicious gazpacho or a savory pesto more than once in a season; poor you!
Another expansion to the business is that Wessel Walker recently brought on a partner, Michelle Hartmann. Until now, it has been pretty much a one-woman show managerially speaking. After having met Wessel Walker and seeing her at the Ann Arbor Farmers Market week after week and through all the cold winter months, I am convinced that she is a model for self-motivation. Bringing on Hartmann this season will only add to the motivation in the kitchen. Hartmann brings a background in business, but Wessel Walker says that Hartmann is “no stranger to farming.”
The plan for next year is to expand to offer shares for the whole year with the inclusion of a full-fledged winter CSA program again incorporating Old Pine Farm meats, and vegetarian shares will be available as well. Though the details for the winter season are “still being hammered out,” Harvest Kitchen is planning to continue their relationship with Locavorious and their tradition of turning out delicious local meals for the convenience of their shareholders.
At this point, Wessel Walker says it’s a good time to “look back, look ahead, [and] see what changes we can make.”
You can still sign up for shares through mid-May, and Harvest Kitchen will keep the sign-up period open until it’s full.
More information about how to sign up for a share can be found here.
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