Second Best Tone

May I tell you about a journal entry of mine from ten years ago? It is a sign of my fondness for you, my readers, that I am able to write this, as once I would not have been able to.

R.H. and I had been invited to a large, fancy dinner party by people we did not know well socially. I was nervous, shy, and overweight. I especially dreaded going because I had just finished reading a book by a beloved author. Here is my old journal entry. I must warn you that this was written, at the time, for my eyes only, and I was depressed about my yo-yo weight.


"In Seasoned Timber, by author Dorothy Canfield (Fisher), published in 1939, there is a scene around a boarding house table in Vermont that seems as revealing of the attitude that people had towards fat people then as I imagine they do today."

"Ah, how do you do, Miss Ingraham," he said in his second best tone…"

"Immediately I recognize this tone as the tone people use for me, their 'second best tone.' Why would they waste their 'best tone' on me?"

"…for he thought her drab and uninteresting, though worthy,

and often wondered how, with all that is now known about dieting,

it was possible for any woman to go around with such a waistline."

"Miss Ingraham is portrayed in the book as a twittering, talkative lady, clearly lacking in self-confidence or self-esteem or self-control. At first I thought that Canfield was falling into the stereotypical fat woman character, but I admit she does portray an admirable character in her book, Miss Peck, as 'massive, swarthy, saturnine, with thick, straight, large features, and bushy crinkling gray hair.' Miss Peck is not considered fat but massive.

"The male protagonist of the book values Miss Peck, the owner of the boarding house, for her Vermont cooking and for her silences. Also for her 'astringent, disdainful quality, which he relished as he relished horseradish with beef.'

"I feel that the author is saying that to be put up with, fat women must keep their mouths shut or at least utter only profound words and few at that, as does Miss Peck. I have sometimes felt that society really thinks, 'Just be glad we're letting you sit in the room. Don't push your luck by talking. What credence do fat women have? After all, if they knew anything, they would lose weight. Pu-lease!'

"So we went to the dinner party and everyone made me feel bad, right? No, what actually happened was that we had a delightful time and ended up laughing so much that one man from another table stopped by ours and said, 'You people are having entirely too much fun!'

"So shouldn't this blow my theory out of the water about the way people think of fat women? Not exactly; I can't help reminding myself that our table mates were too mannerly to reveal it if they did think so. But it does occur to me that one wonderful byproduct of my losing fifty pounds in 2001 was that I forgot about me and just enjoyed being with other people.

"Hmmm…"

Thank you for bearing with me sharing that ten-year old journal entry. I put you through it because it is the 12th of the month again, time for me to report on how the diet is coming, and it is not much fun to report again that, while I've kept off 12 pounds that I lost since August, I have not lost the fifteen pounds needed to reward myself with a lampshade for the lamp (and I bet you're getting so tired of seeing it here all naked!).

There have been some healthy meals here this past month. I try to have wild Alaskan salmon once a week, either fixed quickly and simply with olive oil, lemon juice, sea salt and freshly ground black pepper:

Or one of my more complicated recipes from The Mediterranean Diet Cookbook by Nancy Harmon Jenkins, Oven-Braised Salmon where the salmon is first browned in a pan for only three minutes, set aside in a baking dish, then thinly sliced yellow onions, a minced garlic clove, bay leaves, and salt are added to the pan the fish was cooked in, olive oil added, and cooked covered over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, until the onions are soft and golden brown, 15 minutes. Next you remove the bay leaves and stir in a little paprika and lemon juice. Rewarm and then put on top of fish. Bake for 20-25 minutes at 375 degrees. It is wonderful!

Blogger aside: Aren't these beautiful plates? I collect old Italian fish plates so I jumped on these on eBay a few years ago. Does anyone know what form of sea life these plates could be?

I've been using luncheon plates while on this diet so I would think I was getting more to eat and love these, even if I wouldn't dare put them in the dishwasher. 

Back to dieting. Most of my meals have not been exactly unhealthy…

Roast beef, carrots, onions, and potatoes:

Pork loin chops on sauerkraut (and yes, there are mashed potatoes on the plate too):

One night after hours of cooking, we ate Lee Bailey's Beef Stew with Rum and Olives:

It was supposed to have been served on buttered noodles but I used whole wheat rotini. I didn't think this dish was very good but R.H. and our son Gurn liked it. 

Then there were some meatless meals like sautéed mushrooms and parsley on potatoes with a new whole grain cornbread that I made without remembering to put in the butter that was melted in the microwave. It tasted more like a corn pudding and was a happy accident.

I'm not giving up on this diet. I'm still not eating sweets except for my one time a month slips: 3 pieces of R.H.'s chocolate-peanut cluster candy in August, at midnight; 3 fig newtons in September, at midnight; and an entire Haagen-Dazs container of pineapple coconut ice cream in November, the other morning at 1:30 a.m. 

I will not give up, but what I am ending is this 12th of the month reporting on it because I want to feel that my readers are my friends, not my wardens. I may moan and groan some about dieting in my future posts, and sure, if I happen to lose six dress sizes you can bet I'll tell the world about it. 

But I don't want to begin to imagine that you, my beloved readers, are using your second best tone for me. So the monthly reporting is ending.

And, I plan on following the advice of a dear reader in Oklahoma who neither blogs nor comments but who does write me the nicest emails. Dianne advised me to go ahead and buy the lampshade and I'm going to take her advice. I am getting pretty tired of seeing it sitting on my kitchen counter without one.

You are troopers if you've gotten through this long post, and I promise you that my next post will be a one-sentence original thought that might help someone as they gather with family and friends at the Thanksgiving Day table.

Three Sorts of People

"Humanity can be roughly divided into three sorts of people,

those who find comfort in literature,

those who find comfort in personal adornment,

and those who find comfort in food..."

Elizabeth Goudge in The Little White Horse

It's that time again to give you a report. Today I have been two months on this diet--I know, I was not going to call it a diet but rather an eating plan for the rest of my life where I did not eat sugar, white flour, white rice, diet sodas. But it feels like a diet, looks like a diet, so why haven't I lost those four pounds more needed to have a 15 pound weight loss so I can buy a lampshade? Not to mention more weight the doctor wants me to lose?

The lamp is still without a bonnet.

I have stuck faithfully to this new diet for two months and still have only lost 11 pounds. Oh, I got close  to my second goal several times, two pounds away from my second reward of a lampshade for my new fish lamp. I focused on meals comprised of fish and vegetables.

And these became my surefire drop two pounds standbys because the plan I'm following says that dried beans are a diabetic's best friend, my homemade five bean salad and Cedar Lane's Quinoa Tabouli.

My bean salad tastes nothing like the horrible stuff that comes in a can or even what is sold at Whole Foods' counter. 

It is delicious, whether you're dieting or not, full of fiber and packed with fresh vegetables.

I made Laurie Colwin's black bean soup. It sounded sophisticated when she wrote about it:

"I had my first taste of black bean soup on a cold winter Saturday

when I was sixteen years old.

"A friend, home for the holidays from a very glamourous college,

gave a lunch party and invited me.

Seated at her table, I felt that I--

mired in high school and barely passing geometry--

had died and entered a heaven in which people played the cello,

stayed up at night discussing Virginia Woolf,

saw plays by Jean-Paul Sartre,

and went to Paris for their junior years abroad."

Laurie Colwin

These meals were tasty, I admit. But then I got to missing spaghetti. I missed my yummy recipe where I use Alessi's Fra Diavolo Arrabbiata Sauce. Yes, I know it's for pasta with seafood but I happen to love it in my spaghetti sauce. So I purchased the whole wheat pasta that I am, after all, allowed on this healthy eating plan/aka diet, and happily set the pot on to simmer all afternoon.

Why have I avoided using whole wheat pasta all my life? It was wonderful!

And still legal, according to the "plan," even with the dressing I made for the salad with no-sugar mayonnaise and red wine vinegar.

But guess what? Those two pounds were b-a-c-k. And it was so worth it.

Dear Miss Goudge, you are one of my favorite authors, but I am not one but two of your "three sorts of people." I would hazard a guess that few people find more comfort in literature than I do. Books, at different times of my life, have been my...

             escape, salvation, joy, addiction, reward, comfort, motivation, encouragement,

                       friend, family, lover, challenge, consolation, means of armchair travel,

                               reason to get up in the morning and go to bed at night.

But there's no escaping the fact that I also find comfort in food. Will I ever see food as merely a means to stoke the body? Do I even want to feel that way? Shudders run up and down my spine at the very thought. No, when it comes time to stand up and be counted, I'll stand with two sorts of people.

With Miss Heliotrope, the governess who found comfort in literature, and with Wiggins, the dog--and I'm glad he was considered "people" by Miss Goudge--who found comfort in his food.

The third sort of people was Maria, Miss Heliotrope's young charge, who found comfort in personal adornment. I like pretty clothes as well as the next female, but, hey, they don't hold a candle compared with books and food to me.

Losing weight may take longer than I had planned but I do hope by the time the 12th of November rolls around that my fish lamp will have a lampshade. That is when I'll also go to my doctor to see if three months on this diet has helped my glucose report, which is more important than a lampshade.

Would you feel like telling me what sort of people you are? Are you a Miss Heliotrope, taking comfort in literature? Maybe you're a Maria, taking comfort in personal adornment? Or do you bark with Wiggins, taking comfort in your kibbles like our Brown Eyes and Katie Belle do? Or purr with pleasure like our Sammi Gayle does when her very expensive cat food gets topped off in her bowl?

I know that Elizabeth Goudge left out lots of categories, but if you had to fall into one or more of hers, which would it be?

"Get Out of Dodge"

You've heard that expression often, I'm sure, and maybe even heard Marshall Dillon say it. I've muttered, "Time to get out of Dodge" a lot in the last month, only Dodge for me is not Dodge City, Kansas. Dodge is my kitchen, and there are times I have to get out of it and away from the refrigerator immediately. When I posted that I had been focusing on trying to improve my health [here], so many readers were supportive and followed up with encouraging emails. So I thought I would give you an update and tell you that I was indeed serious abou it and have stuck to this for one month now, not eating any desserts, white flour products, or pasta, and even doing what one of my sisters has been urging me to for years--stop drinking diet sodas. There have been days when I would have paid $10 for a Fresca, but thank you, Jenn.

I have lost 11 pounds this past month.

Do I feel better? Yes. No. Yes. No, depending on what time of day it is, how much sleep I had the night before, whether the fridge is stocked with healthy stuff and a good meal prepared, whether I've had my Quiet Time to pray and read and journal--so many variables. I try not to think about that and just have faith that a year from now I could be feeling much better.

Do I sound a little down about this? If I do, maybe it's because I hit the FaceTime icon accidentally instead of the internet icon when I got ready to write this post. Maybe you, dear reader, like looking at your "live" image on FaceTime or Skype, but I find it a little scary. Who is that woman?

"Sometimes she looked at herself in the mirror and was amazed and troubled

at the placid, wide face, the big body reflected there,

knowing it was not herself,

puzzled that the self could be so at variance with its shell."

Nelia Gardner White in The Doctor's Wife

This post needs some pictures, and I'm not anywhere near ready to show you any of me, so I'll show you what my first reward was. When I had stuck to the new eating plan for two weeks--I refuse to call it a "diet" as I know these are changes I need to stay on the rest of my life or at least until a doctor gives me thirty days to live, in which case just take me to the nearest Dunkin' Donuts, please--R.H. surprised me with my first reward. 

One of my earliest posts on this blog [here] was about wanting to have the red molding between the kitchen and family room, and the French doors, painted white. Instead of the retro red and white kitchen I had originally, I have been changing the colors to go with the pink German contemporary sofa, and pink accessories in the kitchen. One morning recently, R.H. told me he asked Zack to pick up paint for this job and Gurn to do the painting. I couldn't have been happier if he'd given me a diamond ring, seriously. 

Here are before and after pictures that I took hurriedly before the painting began and after it was finished. Not much styling went on at this point but please see if you don't think it looks better now. Honestly, the yellow walls aren't quite as bright as it looks here, but Benjamin Moore didn't name it Yellow Raincoat for nothing. And it's great on dreary days.

[before]

[after]

[before]

[after, with Katie Belle outside the door]

Losing the red molding and red French doors for Benjamin Moore's Decorator White was the best reward R.H. could have given me. Thank you, R.H., and thank you, Gurn!

What is my next reward going to be? When I've lost 15 pounds I am going to treat myself to a lampshade for this sweet lamp base I bought on eBay to go with the old gray and pink majolica Italian fish.

See the darling little pink fish on it? I'd love to have some hints about what kind of lampshade to buy for it. It will need to be a rather conical shape to fit the space, and it won't need to give bright light as I have plenty of that from other sources. So black would work, but is that too much with the black granite countertops?

Well, my goodness, I think I may have cheered myself up a little just from talking about new lampshades. And from talking to you.

A Mutual Admiration Society

"We belong to a Mutual Admiration Society

My baby and me

We belong to a Mutual Admiration Society"

"I think he's handsome and he's smart"

"I think that she's a work of art"

"And that's the way we pass the time of day

My baby and me."

You can see it in their eyes in these pictures, can't you? This mutual admiration society between R.H. and our granddaughter. If you were not around in 1956 to see the Broadway production of Happy Hunting where Ethel Merman and Virginia Gibson, as her daughter, sang this duet to each other, or to hear Teresa Brewer's recording of "Mutual Admiration Society" as I did, you may not be familiar with this catchy tune. I thought of it immediately when I saw these pictures of my husband with our little granddaughter.

As I have been absent from blogging for nearly two weeks, to the extent of never having even returned or answered the many sweet birthday wishes left for R.H. on my last post, I hoped that the mutual admiration society between me and my blog friends would not disappear. For nine days I did not look at my blog or anyone else's. My focus has been instead on my health. In 2007 I was diagnosed with diabetes and faithfully dealt with it for a year. Did you know that success can breed a lackadaisical attitude? With me it did and the slippery slope can fool you into thinking that nothing is wrong simply because it happens ever so slowly. 

Once I woke up and realized that I might not be around to enjoy this little granddaughter very long I had to examine all my habits and try to make an about-face. I knew that my present life was such that I had to address changing more than what I ate, although that was the most urgent. It was time to nourish my body, yes, but also my mind, soul, and spirit. I asked my husband to remember that for one month it would be as if I were going to a Health Farm or Spa. I asked all my family to pray for me. I put away all my dessert files--I had about 11 of them, one for each possible category. I went through my cookbooks and made lists of meals that contained no sugars, white flour, or white rice. Actually no rices or grains of any kind for this first phase. And no recipes including my favorite food--Hellman's Mayonnaise. Did you know that it has sugar in it?

Can you guess what kind of mood I've been in these last nine days? (I'm pausing here to thank God for my patient husband.)

I have examined another area of my life, blogging. Not only how much time it consumes if done properly but a possible addiction to it. Do I depend too much on feedback/comments? Have I sought approval too much--all my life? Is there any "me" there without validation or compliments from others?

How to break from that dependence? How do I trust my own sense of accomplishment in what I do, enjoy it for my own self? Was blogging at fault? I decided it was not as I have struggled with this all of my adult life, long before I began to blog last November. It is a separate mire that I must find my way out of.

Maybe we bloggers are a Mutual Admiration Society. Does it matter? Dangers can lurk here but I believe I have found something personally rewarding in blogging. Friendships can grow here just as easily as face to face. Interests expand, inspirations abound, empathy grows.

I did consider disabling comments. Have any of you ever had the nerve to do that?

"I say now you're the sweetest one"

"I say, no you're the sweetest one"

"She claims that I'm a natural wit"

"He says it's just the opposite"

Are we codependent? Or do we simply in friendship encourage each other, applaud each other's efforts, share in each other's joys and sorrows? Laugh with each other and sometimes cry for each other?

As I began once more Sunday night to visit a few blog friends it was difficult for me to comment. Mostly I just read for the sheer pleasure of reading or looking at beautiful pictures. There are times like this in all our lives. Each of us face distractions and mind-hogging challenges. Is it okay to just relax and take it as it comes, giving to blogging the time you have to give, not making every single day hold the urgency to blog, read blogs, or comment?

There I go again, needing to know how you feel. And yet you might not be up to it. You might be stretched thin. You might understand but not be able to put it into words.

That has to be enough, or it should be, anyway. Shouldn't it?

"My baby and me

We belong to a Mutual Admiration Society."

There is original Broadway footage from Ethel Merman and Virginia Gibson singing this on YouTube if you'd care to watch. I'm going to try to link to it [here].