Photo Per Day #1: Stella! Hey, Stella!

After a fabulous Thanksgiving at Belhurst Castle with my family and amazing nephew who was in town from (no sleep till) Brooklyn, I spent the rest of the weekend -- until this very morning -- in bed with the flu. The Christmas tree is literally half decorated as the first wave hit me like a hurricane as I was attempting to affix the (not tacky at all, thanks for asking) black Labrador angel to the treetop. Blech.

I did have a momentary lapse in sanity when I thought that, perchance, I was okay, so I went to the pool on Monday a.m. and then to the 6:45 a.m. mass at St. Louis only to get the sweats and shakes and run like hell.

Today, I am back to my sunny office, feeling on top of my game (and who wouldn't after working 36 hours from M-W this week in bed!?) only to discover that, hey, I'M A WIENER (insert hotdog wingding here)! I won a Stella + Dot bracelet from local blogger Chic and Green.

Who's the coolest chick in town? I am! I am! Thanks to my new best friend, whom I've never met, Karley. #winning

And now for fun, I'm reprising last year's photo-a-day series (taken during the month of November) with my second annual photo-a-day series (a month later). My audience loved it. Critics adored it. I think I even had a comment or two. Fans galore!

So without further ado: my sunny office as taken from behind my desk. Exciting, right? It doesn't get much better than this. You can't see me in the mirror because, I'm skillfully hidden behind the white door panels (well, except the arm taking the picture). I'm amazing like Kreskin.

Happy December y'all.

Goodbye Food Pyramid

I just read in the NYT that they're finally doing away with that stoopid food pyramid. Instead, they're unveiling a new rendition on Thursday -- one that is shaped like a plate. (I would argue, in this case, it's a shape more aptly known as a pie chart. Even my fourth grader knows that. Mmmm. Pie. Pie-ramid.)

Anyhoo, to confirm that Michelle Obama and I are once again on the same page, I'm unveiling my personal guide to healthy eating in the form of my very own pie chart. Later this week, we'll see how close I am. Get your wagers ready.

Please note the overlapping foods. I swear it's intentional (i.e., wine pairs well with Fritos) and not just my lack of access to sophisticated tools. (PowerPoint be damned.)

But seriously, who would want a glass of wine when you can have a slice of bread? Right mom?

MYOB

Last night, Son #2 coined a new phrase: MYObesity.

After I recovered from laughing, I said, "Wow, you are clever" to which he responded, "Yeah, I've got a lot of hook, line and sinkers." I see a future in writing captions for the Daily Show.

Do they hire nine year old boys?

Photo Per Day #6: Acupuncture

I went to see one of my favorite women on the planet at 8:00 a.m. this morning: my acupuncturist, Deeanne Bevin. Today we talked about the usual stuff: health, work, stress, politics, faith, family and pooping.

Grannie gave me a highly desired gift certificate to an acupuncture session in a professional practice in an office building a few years ago. I was sooooooo excited! There was a menu of choices on the wall from which I could select (weight loss, smoking cessation, balance, etc.) I was told to take my clothes off and lie down on a cold hospital cot. The doctor then rapidly proceeded to stick tens of needles up and down my body with what looked and felt like a staple gun. He left my voodoo doll body to lie there freezing to death.

When I told Robert, my hair stylist, about this well intentioned but god-awful experience, he referred me to Deeanne. I now understand firsthand the difference in treatment styles. Night and day. Deeanne's practice is in a cozy little home. It's well lit and surrounded by trees and birds. It's also warm inside and the beds are heated. Most importantly, she knows eastern medicine inside and out. Unlike my first experience, it's both professional and personal. Chatting, examining my tongue, taking my pulse. And gently (for the most part!) hand placing needles in a few select areas of my body. I then relax (covered!), in a warm bed, while listening to beautiful music.

It's a great, great feeling to start the day back in bed . . . 

And stretch!

Merry Christmist

Move over Cabbage Patch Kids, Tickle Me Elmo and Playstation 3. I got up at the crack of dawn this morning and stood in line for this year's "must have" holiday gift: limited edition H1N1 vaccines! And I got 'em -- in the new, designer mist! (Well, I gained two winning lottery tickets that allow entry to the fun festivities.) The kids'll be soooo excited when they get to go to the pediatrician's office on Saturday.

Who says that Christmas can't come early?

DocAdvisor

According to a recent New York Times article entitled "Looking Abroad for Health Savings,"

• A heart operation that might cost $130,000 in this country could cost $18,500 in Singapore or $10,000 in India.
• Estimates of the number of Americans traveling abroad for treatment — “medical tourism,” some call it — vary widely, from 75,000 to 750,000 last year. But many experts consider it a growth industry.

Given the proliferation of user-created content on sites like TripAdvisor and SpaFinder, I think it would behoove us to create a similar site guiding us to the best-of-the-best doctors worldwide.

Better yet, what about introducing an insurance carrier that significantly reduces its monthly (or annual) premiums by coordinating your care with low-cost, high-quality international options? Sure, that would mean even more jobs leaving the U.S. (and, in this case, those associated with highly qualified, well trained professionals) but, really, paying less than a tenth of the cost for a commensurate surgery (and saving $120K per procedure) might just alleviate our nation's escalating health care costs. Or, at the very minimum, provide a serious wake-up call to our big insurance firms.

As always, I'm sure there are major flaws in my logic. Feel free to point 'em out. If it takes a while for me to respond, it's because I'll be in Vietnam getting a face lift.

Ageless Beauty

According to a recently published study revealing the secrets* to looking younger, I'm hosed.

Bad news: Sun, smoking, alcohol and stress can add years to your face

Good news: Additional weight fills in and softens wrinkles

As a stressed out, cocktail imbibing, ex-smoker with a strong proclivity toward sunny beaches and/or hammocks, I'm not poised well. Once again, there goes my modeling career. However, as luck would have it, I can somewhat offset the effects of aging simply by continuing to overeat. Yay!

Bring on the cupcakes!

*Are any of these illuminating research findings really a surprise?

More Good News

My brother sent a CNN article to me yesterday which states that "a new study in the American Journal of Epidemiology found that healthy seniors who consume light to moderate amounts of alcohol reduce their odds of developing physical disabilities or dying in the next five years by 23 percent, compared with either heavy drinkers or those who abstain."

Now that is good news--especially for him because in the study, "seniors" referred to men and women over age 50. Oh the humanity!

What's more: Light to moderate drinkers were defined as those who consumed fewer than 15 drinks a week and fewer than five per day (fewer than four daily for women).

That's considered light? More good news for me!

Life be not Proud

A couple of years ago, my siblings and I began crafting our mother’s obituary. Even though she’s thankfully in perfect health (i.e., she’s feeling spry!), we thought we could get a leg up on this unfortunate event -- not to mention obtain her permission beforehand to take certain liberties with her public tribute, so to speak.

For whatever reason, I seem to have misplaced what was written; however, I’m pretty sure it started with something to the effect of “died suddenly due to a chocolate overdose” and continued with the line “leaves behind her lifelong passion of making fun of other people’s obituaries.” Since then, every once in a while, mom will call or email with a stolen line from a new obituary that she wants to co-opt for her own.

“Should we add ‘avid bowler’?” asks the woman who needs help lifting small objects.

“This one says 'spectacular mother of . . . ' ” she says, pausing for dramatic effect.

Last weekend, our local paper printed the mother lode of all obits which was (I believe) written firmly tongue in cheek by a local woman’s loving daughter and someone whom I wish I knew!

Sample lines from what may be one of the lengthiest obits ever written include:

• Predeceased by her parents, brother, 163 cats, 9 dogs, 4 horses, and numerous chickens.
  
• Ann's early years were touched by the Depression, and were pivotal in developing what she termed “Cliffy syndrome,” the exultant satisfaction derived from saving money. Ann relished trading thrift stories with other members of the family also afflicted.
  
• Ann loved growing things; be it plants, a savings account, or paperwork on her desk.
  
• Ann also enjoyed the music section; in her lifetime she blew out three sets of stereo speakers: on Polkas, Sousa marches, and Placido Domingo.
  
• There will be no service, as per her emphatic command not to drag those who loved her over emotional hot coals. (Note: my favorite of all and oddly enough my mom's wish, as well!)
  
• Donations in her memory may be made to Habitat for Cats or you can adopt one or more of the 31 houseplants and tender perennials she has in the basement.
  
• Mother Nature requests everyone living near my parents to step up their efforts for wildlife, as there will be significant slack to be taken up.

Per our mom's request, I'm pretty sure ours will be much, much shorter. But I take comfort in the fact that other families may be as willing to laugh in the face of tough subjects as ours!

I Found My Thrill

I just trolled a bunch of beer review sites (e.g., Beer Advocate, Rate Beer, The Brew Club) where I discovered that I may be the only person on the planet who likes Anheuser-Busch's Wild Blue blueberry lager.


(Image from JustBeer a fun little beer blog.)

Maybe because I don't normally drink beer? And I love Kool-Aid? Or perhaps my sudden attraction to (necessity for) Hall's cough drops and NyQuil are tainting my view.

Anything that's brightly colored with purple foam can't be bad . . . not to mention the antioxidants.

My Health Comes First

My dad used to have the 45 of a catchy little tune entitled The Drinking Man's Diet which contained the lyrics:

Drink, drink, everyone drink
It's not as bad as we used to think
With every Manhattan
Your stomach will flatten
So drink, drink, drink!

I was singing this on my way to work this morning after I heard the DJ on the radio state that although resveratrol is found naturally in red wine, "the dose you're getting with your nightly glass is probably nowhere near enough to make a difference."

Well then, time to polish off the bottle! My vision might get blurry but, for now, I can still read between the lines . . .

Why Wait?

My mom, although in perfect health, wanted her DNR (do not resuscitate) notarized and filed with her lawyer. My brother told her it wasn't necessary; we were all planning to smother her with a pillow regardless.

In preparation, maybe we should pitch in for this beautiful piece from Coffin Couches. Mother's Day is right around the corner after all and it would actually complement Grannie Annie's funky home decor.


On a side note: Isn't it interesting that used coffins cannot be resold (by law) for dead bodies due to health and safety issues; however, they can be recycled and re-purposed for the living?

Methinks that if I owned Coffin Couches -- which would be fabulous! -- I would focus on some more interesting "body" copy on the home page (given that the products have so much character they're just screaming for some left-of-center marketing support) and relegate the biohazardous text to a secondary page. Otherwise, it's a bit off-putting!

Haste-makes-wasteology?

Until last night, I sincerely believed I was the easiest person to please food-wise. I’m equally as content dining in upscale restaurants as I am gorging myself on cheeseburgers at Tom Wahls. And, in my humble opinion, Kraft Macaroni & Cheese – the powdered kind lest there be any confusion – is better than “gourmet” Mac & Cheese any day. On the flip side, I can’t find a suitable tuna anywhere since I had killer sashimi years ago at the Market Street Bar & Grill in the Hyatt at the Reston Town Center. Alas, my hunt continues.

In recent weeks, I’ve enjoyed a fabulous Chilean sea bass at Max of Eastman Place, shared a delicious plate of Cajun calamari with my girlfriend at Bistro 135, devoured a heavenly breakfast empanada at Juan and Maria’s in the Rochester Public Market, and even found a little slice of yum with the Triple Chocolate Meltdown at our neighborhood Crapplebee’s. Really, it doesn’t take much.

Welcome to Tasteology: Rochester’s very own introduction into branded “health food.” With a clever concept, fabulous mission (the passionate pursuit of great food and inspired customers) and a CIA-trained head chef, what could go wrong? Oh, I wish you hadn't asked. The poor execution of an overstated brand promise, that’s what.

If you like dining at the Ikea Café sans the deliciously fattening Swedish meatballs, this is the place for you. Picture an oversized, nondescript dining room with Pergo-like flooring, colorful green painted walls and what I possibly remember to be plastic chairs —devoid of any warmth—and voila, try to make yourself at home on a chilly, wet, November evening. And feel free to ignore the woman being filmed in the kitchen and broadcast on a giant screen toward the back given that you cannot hear a word she's saying and the top of her head is cut off.

But really, lack of ambiance and technical difficulties aside, we were there for the “great food.”

I ordered the Parrilla touted as “grilled Argentinean style barbeque beef with chimichurri herb sauce, fire roasted tomatoes, chiles and Spanish cheeses (on a flatbread)” and sold to me as “really spicy.”

I received what tasted like sweet, barbequed, pulled pork over chunky Ragu on a flatbread. Being the good friend that I am, I kindly gave pieces to each of my friends. “Try this! No really, I insist!”

Being the good friends that they are, they offered samples of their meals in return. The noodle bowl I tried, to me, tasted like vomit. My girlfriends didn’t mind it nearly as much as I. One commented sadly that she could easily make it at home. Me too! If I stick my finger down my throat . . .

With all due respect, the Sizzology (i.e., stir fried beef, broccoli and cashews with black bean sauce, cinnamon roasted sweet plantains and sesame basmati brown rice) was the best item at our table. Hearty flavor with a hint of cinnamon sweetness. If there’s ever a next time, I’ll be sure to order it. I don’t want to venture out of my comfort zone here ever again! And I'm not naturally risk-adverse.

Thankfully Brio is next door. The minute we finished our meals, we walked (make that ran) next door, grabbed a bottle of wine and sunk into the leather couch and seats by the bar. Surrounded by candles and floor-to-ceiling curtains, we then proceeded to relax and stuff ourselves full with two fairly large bowls of spicy snack mix.

Goodbye health food. Hello Frito Lay!

Please, Tasteology, do us a favor, take some more time to perfect your recipes before going to market. We really do want you to succeed.