A Way of Life

by Laurissa

Wow, it sure does seem like August is the month for “new beginnings.” In addition to my new empty nest which I blogged about a couple of weeks ago, and since I’m miserable adjusting to this empty nest, I decided that I might as well go ahead and make myself totally miserable and start following a vegan diet. Well, that wasn’t my exact thought process, but after being on a vegan diet for almost two weeks now, that’s how I’m feeling.


I started this diet (or “way of life,” as diets are now often called) because, oh, well, I guess that I’ll come right out and say it: I’ve gained a few pounds over the past decade. I thought it might be a good idea for me to lose this extra weight now before it becomes more of a health issue than it might already be.

Anyhow, I’m dying (just a slight exaggeration) without chocolate ice cream mixed with chunky peanut butter in an oversized mug, buttered toast, and melted cheese on practically everything. Hmm…I wonder how I gained those extra pounds.

As you can see I don’t really miss meat in my diet. It’s the dairy products that I’m having a hard time doing without, in particular, the high fat dairy products. I guess that’s why I chose a vegan diet instead of a vegetarian diet that eliminates meat, but might allow for eggs, butter, milk, cheese. And I’ve been eating only those foods that have a low GI value (glycemic index).

I’ve been walking when the weather allows and on the days it doesn’t, I’ve been thinking about walking (that counts doesn’t it?). The only dairy product I’ve consumed has been one non-fat plain Greek yogurt -- so not too many indiscretions.

By the way, I love Greek yogurt! The thick, creamy texture is wonderful. It’s hard to believe that for all of the ice cream, cakes and cookies that I enjoyed eating before my self-inflicted new way of life, I don’t like sweetened, fruit or other flavored yogurts, but have always preferred plain yogurt. Also, I don’t like sweetened coffee. Oddly, I can eat a half gallon of chocolate ice cream quicker than I’d like to admit to, but can’t eat a sweet yogurt or have a teaspoon of sugar in a cup of coffee. Go figure.

But almost two weeks later the scale is only showing a loss of a pound. Shouldn’t it be more than a pound? I’ve been suffering here! I don’t know what to do. Should I go off the diet (I know, it’s not a diet, it’s a way of life, but it feels like a diet) and just quit eating chocolate ice cream mixed with chunky peanut butter, buttered toast, and melted cheese? That’s what I’m thinking about doing. But if I don’t stay on this diet, will it only make it easier for me to slip back into my old eating habits? Knowing me like I do, I think that might be what would happen.

So until I decide what I’m doing, if anyone has suggestions for non-dairy substitutes for chocolate ice cream, butter and melted cheese ( I can live without cheese, it’s the melted cheese that I need), I would really, really appreciate hearing them.

New Beginnings - Friend or Foe

By Tamara Girardi

Here's the thing about new beginnings. I'm not sure if I should dread them or relish them. Of course as my grandmother always said, "Circumstances alter cases."

For instance, I drove to Indiana University of Pennsylvania today to buy my books, submit paperwork, drop off library books, pick up graded papers from professors, etc. I spent all of June and all of July in IUP classrooms and the library. It was intense and impossible to reflect upon because I was so in the moment.

Then I was blessed with three weeks off. And now, what? I have to go back to begin a new semester? Impossible.

Yet, I have those new books. There's excitement over the promise of learning.

New beginnings with writing are similarly dependent on situations. We can be positive in that we welcome a new beginning every day we return to the page. But many writers say that's the hardest part - actually sitting down. Once you're there and in the moment (there's that phrase again), words begin to flow.

What about the new beginning of kicking off a fresh project? Gulp. Sound scary? Writers spend months, years, even decades working on one book, and then suddenly it's time to move on. Make a new start. How terrifying is that?

Writers admit to fears of whether they can ever craft anything else. Then again, what if that new project is the one that scores the agent, hits the bestsellers list, rolls in the millions (whether you laughed at that last possibility or believed it could prove true for you might classify your place in the following discussion).

Maybe the votes tallied for new beginnings being dreaded are equivalent to those tallied for glasses of water being half empty. Same may go for half-full kind of folks and those who relish new beginnings. Of course, nothing's ever that simple. Life is not dichotomous. There are fields of grey and infinite spectrums.

So where do you fall on the spectrum? Are your new beginnings half empty or half full (pay no attention to the mixed metaphor behind the sheer curtain)?

*I'll be spending the day at the lake with my family, so apologies for not being around to respond to comments most of today.

Our New Beginning

by Laurissa

Last Friday Jennie/Bente suggested that the Working Stiffs’ theme for the month of August be “new beginnings.” So in keeping with our theme, today I’m attending my daughter’s White Coat Ceremony. She’s beginning her first year of medical school and is receiving her first “white coat.” This is most certainly a new beginning for her that is also turning out to be a new beginning of sorts for me. A beginning for me, of what, I’m not quite sure.

For anyone who knows me, you already know this, so I apologize for sounding like a broken record. By the way, does anyone still use that expression or am I dating myself?

My daughter graduated from college this spring. While in college she stayed in the dorms; however, she was actually only a little under an hour’s drive away from home and we were able to frequently visit. In hindsight, it was a nice transition for us both. Okay, okay, maybe I needed the transitional period more than she. Since my daughter was a little over a year old, our immediate family has consisted of just her and me. So I’ve definitely had to do some adjusting to my empty nest.

In July I helped her move to medical school -- a MapQuest estimated nine hour drive south from our home in northeast Ohio. Considering the amount of coffee I drink and my frequent desire to eat, I have to face it; I’ll never make that drive in nine hours. Ten hours at a very minimum is more than likely my reality. College was an adjustment and now the geographical distance between us while she attends medical school is an even bigger adjustment for me.

I’ve become very reflective since her college graduation and recall that when I was also twenty-two years old and also a new college graduate that summer many years ago I, too, drove south for my “new beginning” (my drive was a bit further though as it took about fifteen hours). I was attending law enforcement training as I had just been hired as a criminal investigator. So there I was at the age of twenty-two adjusting to the same heat and humidity of the south during the month of August that today my daughter is also adjusting to (during the hottest summer on record, unfortunately for her).

When I began my career in the early eighties (I retired in early 2009), females were in the distinct minority in my profession. Several instances stand out in my mind to this day; but I’ll just tell you about one of them. On the range I was singled out by the range instructor over the bullhorn to “quit standing like a model!” Mind you, I didn’t have any idea how a model might stand nor was I standing any differently than any of the males as we all stood waiting for the instructor to give the next command to “Fire!”

With my easy to freckle and redden face, now beet red, I observed that day on the range that none of the guys were singled out and similarly told to not stand “like a model.” Anyhow, you get the picture-- it wasn’t always a bed of roses being a new young female investigator in the early eighties, even if my face was often a similar shade of red.

All of this brings me back to my daughter, whose medical school class has more females than males for the first time in its history. Here’s what I have to say about that.

“You Go, Girl!” I’m very proud of you, honey.