Information Overload (TMI)

 The more I read, the more confused I become. I’m not talking about genres like fiction, mystery, biography and history. Step into the self-help aisle.

The other day a new book came in that had food cures for almost every ailment you could name. Except of course weight loss. There are a gazillion other books for that. We’ll get to that later on. Eat this and one ailment lessens but of course it cancels out another ailment getting better. It’s insane.

It’s hard to know who or what to believe these days. It’s downright confusing and can be crazy expensive. The contradictions are endless. I’ve been having a little bit of digestive problems lately. Not a big deal really. So I searched a bit to see what I could do to make it better. Don’t eat this. Eat that. Don’t drink this. Drink that. But if I want to LOSE the weight I CAN’T eat that. It’s a big mess.

I think things were much simpler before we had so much information available to us. It makes me nervous and a bit obsessive. Online, magazines, books. Everywhere you look there is information about how to have younger skin, how to wear clothes, what and where to eat. I don’t always go looking for it, but somehow it manages to be in my face ALL the time.

OK, yes, I’ll admit I AM a product junkie although over the last few years I’ve gotten my fix at Walgreens or CVS. And Sephora. A little.

And now to the weight loss. As you all know, I have been on a strict program since Jan. 2, 2012. It’s working for me and I’m looking forward to reaching my goal so I can add the foods I love back into my life. I’ve learned how to eat, what to avoid and all that. I was curious to learn what the new food pyramid looks like. I spent over an hour trying to find it online. Each one I looked at said something different. Too much information. All I wanted to know was how many starchy carbs, how much protein, fruit, vegetables. When I eventually have to go out on my own without a net, I need facts. Don’t tell me to calculate my BMI and then divide it 1000 times by my weight blah, blah, blah. Just give me concrete facts. One slice of pizza? Or is two ok? I used to be able to eat a whole pie (Italy not USA) and I probably still could, but there would be hell to pay in the morning.

I guess my best line of defense would be to stop reading and just listen to what my body tells me. A headache? Take a Tylenol, drink lots of water and skip the heavy metal concert. If I went by the books I’d be having a brain scan.

And now dear friends, I will go offline and watch a movie. Chick flick. Easy and painless.

Have a great week!

The Piano in the Parlor

 In my living room, in the tower part of the room (Queen Anne Victorian) sits my parlor grand. It’s far from being a new piano. I think it’s well over a hundred years old. It even has ivory keys. Yup, it’s old.

This was my Gram’s piano. It used to live in The Bronx. They bought it used. It was at least 50 years old. My grandparents had a spacious apartment and the piano sat at the end of the living room.

Not quite ready for lessons

Whenever we went to visit, I always gravitated towards that end of the room. When I was 7 or maybe 8 (who can remember?) my grandmother told my mother it was time for me to have lessons. And so it began.

My parents bought a spinet piano and I started lessons. While the other kids in the neighborhood were outside playing, I was inside practicing. At first it was torture. Then it was status. Then it became my life. And the rest is history…

Now back to Gram’s piano.

In her will, Gram left me the piano. It was a given. Gram decided to give me her piano after we bought our house. She figured I’d make better use of it and rather than sitting in her living room collecting dust (actually, Gram never had dust) it would have a happy home near the sea. And Gram would have a lot more living room space.

Blueberry is fast asleep!

So she sent that piano up to Boston. They had a hell of a time getting it into the house but there it was. Gram’s piano in my tower room. It fit perfectly. Like it was meant to be. She even sent along the ruby vase that always sat on the piano. Today, the ruby vase is NOT on the piano because there are two loveable felines that like to lounge on top of the piano (don’t worry, they sleep on throws and pillows…no scratching the varnish).

Sammy

The piano is old. The sound is ok but not great. When Sammy (my keyboard player) comes to visit from Trieste, he always gravitates towards that part of the living room just as I did in The Bronx. I can’t imagine my home without Gram’s piano.

Our son Spencer called the other day. He’s coming home for a visit. His one request? No, not food. Well, yes, just a few grocery items. He requested the piano be tuned. What can I say? The kid has perfect pitch.

Thanks Mom, for making me practice all those years. There is such joy in being able to sit down and tickle those ivories. Especially REAL ivories. Gram’s piano.

Have a great week!

A Weighty Matter

Well I did it. I finally broke down and bought a new scale. It’s so pretty. It’s glass. Kind of a smokey gray. Goes well with the bathroom floor where it will live. For now.

I haven’t been jumping on and off the scale a lot lately. The horrendous summer humidity has been so awful that I feel like a beached whale. Still down 4 sizes since Jan. 2, so I know I’m doing ok.

So here’s this new scale waiting for me. I climb on. It’s telling me I’m down 10 more lbs. than my OLD scale. This is kind of sketchy. So I take two 4 lb. dumbbells and put them on the scale. It’s right on. 8 lbs. Um. Ok. So I get on the scale again. If I stand dead center with my feet together it reads one thing. If I stand with feet slightly apart it tells me something else. And if I breathe it tells me yet something else. I need a PhD to figure out how and where to stand on the scale. This is a nightmare.

On the other hand, if it’s really true that my OLD scale was 10 lbs. off, I’m quite thrilled. Not so much at what the numbers say now, but the knowledge that I have less weight to lose to reach my goal. That works for me. Skinny jeans here I come!

As of this posting I’m down 65 lbs. (29kg) I think.

Have  great week!

Extra, Extra

Ah, the newspaper. Breathe it, hold it. Get that smudgy newsprint all over your fingers.

I have to admit, I’m not the biggest newspaper fan. I mean I look at the headlines..but…I’d prefer hearing my news via radio, TV, reading it online or listening to people talk about and debate it.

Growing up in New York we had THE NEW YORK TIMES, which to my father was the bible of all newspapers. He read it religiously front page to back page every single day. On Sundays we kids got to share in the glory with the funny pages. Daddy also got the local paper, Newsday, which was a small, easy to digest edition (and had better funny pages). Even when we traveled my father read the local papers and searched (and usually found) a NY Times. I never understood the attraction of the NY Times. OK, the book review is great, the travel section is great and the arts section is great. Of course, all that is included in Sunday’s edition. Oh, and the crossword puzzle. Books, travel, arts, crosswords…you can see where this is going. News? What news?

I see the NY Times every day. I see it. I don’t read it. We carry it in my bookstore in Boston’s Logan International Airport. Along with The Boston Globe, The Boston Herald, USA Today and the Wall Street Journal. The Globe and Herald are big sellers. NY Times somewhat, WSJ is a big one with the weekday business travelers. I have one colleague (who shall remain anonymous) who insists we stock 20+ copies of the Times every day. A bit much. After all, we ARE a bookstore and there are 6 newsstands in the terminal. Of course, at the end of the day we have 15 NY Times left over to schlep out of the store. On Sundays it’s a nightmare. To this anonymous colleague, the Times is like the Bible. To this anonymous colleague I’d like to…well, you get the idea. 

I remember several years ago, hearing a rumor that newspapers would be obsolete by the year 2000. Obviously, that’s not the case. Most newspapers are available in hard copy and online. Even the small local papers. I like that. I can pick and choose the stories I want to peruse without getting my fingers smudgy. In the old days there were little white cotton gloves to wear while you read the papers. Cool concept. I’d like those gloves now when I have to schlep 15 NY Times out of my store.

 I think that writing a column for a local newspaper would be an awesome job. I’d do it in a nano second. Anyone hiring??

Be informed. Read the news. Even when there’s nothing worth reading there’s always the funny pages.