But much of my writing these past two months has been falling into the “untold stories” pile. That’s where I grapple with the darker side of my psyche and soul. That’s where I process the grief I hold as I watch my father struggle to keep his balance or get up out of his chair for a meal. That’s where I process the sadness that consumes me when I look at a client, a beautiful young woman who cannot see her own beauty, only the “number” on a scale or the protrusion of her belly. No matter how hard we work on the nourishment piece, embracing our bodies and DELIGHTING in the transformation in our skin when we begin to nourish it from the inside out, we always come back to . . .

T H E  S C A L E

I thought about taking a little writer’s hiatus. Perhaps I could just go back to my weekly newsletter for a while and talk about the carotenoids in carrots. Yes, that’s safe. Everyone likes a good carrot ginger soup recipe. I thought perhaps I could buy a little time while I crafted the next approach I could take in guiding some of these women into a more nourishing, compassionate place around food and their bodies.

And then this video landed on my facebook page. It reminded me why I do this work. It reminded me that I can show women how to make green smoothies, juice kale, prepare an elegantly easy meal, maybe even SIT DOWN at the table and enjoy that meal with their families

BUT THERE IS A MUCH LARGER ISSUE AT HAND HERE.

There are photographs everywhere, ads depicting images that no healthy woman or girl should aspire to. And there are times I feel woefully ill-equipped to make a difference when these industries are so powerfully built to woo us into the seduction of “skinny”.

Skinny jeans, skinny love, skinny girl margaritas, Skinny Bitch. How about if we take the positive charge out of the word “skinny” and really expose that word for what it is? What if the cultural message we promote is NOT skinny. How about healthy, robust, strong . . .  Will you help me brainstorm a list of life-giving words?

So here is what I need from you. I want to capture the “untold” stories. I want to illuminate the struggles and encapsulate them in a form that speaks volumes. Will you help me? Will you share with me YOUR STORY? Our stories need to be voiced. They may flow through you or with you in words or in print, in poetry or in prose. I would like to bring these stories to light, to GIVE VOICE to the WOMANgirlCHILD in us who needs to be heard. They can be stories of hope. They can be stories of despair. Together we’ll decide where they will live and in what form.

Begin with this video. Tell me what it evokes in you? Anger? Fear? Shame?

Then, SHARE THIS POST. Share the video. Bring the conversation to light. Perhaps we’ll write a new script. For ourselves. For our girls.

Leave a message here. Tell me what came up for you when you viewed the video. Send me a personal message if you want to share a deeper story. I will hold those stories in a very sacred place.

And finally, head over to Medicinal Marzipan to see how you can participate in …

It’s a little embarrassing.

I had just decided it was time TO GROW my very own vegetables. The conventional produce was beginning to outweigh the organic produce at my local market and, frankly, I eat FAR MORE produce than my CSA basket could provide. GREEN smoothies. GREEN juices. Winter GREENS. Seriously simple GREEN salads.

I should have been a rabbit.

Besides, I wanted to get my hands in the soil. I wanted to nibble the greens straight from the garden. I wanted to bite into a juicy red, ripe tomato warmed by the sun. I wanted to FEEL the juice trickle down my chin.

Yes, for me, eating beautiful food is a sensory experience.

From the snap of a bean.

To the scent of Grandma’s homemade soup simmering on the stove top.

I want to embrace every nuance of the process

from soil … to plate.

And so I needed the perfect accoutrements. My husband lovingly constructed raised garden beds lest a stray chemical from a neighbor’s ‘chem lawn’ seep into my soil.

The families of my frolicking first graders gifted me with a huge cold frame. (They had probably seen me nibbling from the first grade garden plot after hours, sunlight fading as I combed my classroom for one more project to complete before heading home.) They knew me well. They knew NOTHING would excite me more than …

MY.VERY.OWN.GARDEN

Even though I would sorely miss the delightful sound of the “little voices” of my first graders as they tumbled through the classroom garden screaming, “Mrs. Gleason, Mrs, Gleason! I think I found the salad dressing!” a white foamy substance seeping from the giant weeds in their eager little hands.

Yes, MY garden would be pristine. MY garden would be ORGANIC. And for that, I needed just the right soil.

I searched the local nurseries. No luck. Not organic.

I scoured the internet. You can find ANYTHING on the internet. I found Seven Springs Farm in Floyd Count, Virginia. I placed an order.

A few days later I heard my cell phone ringing on the desk. Teachers don’t take phone calls. Teachers barely have the opportunity to take potty breaks.

I grabbed the phone and said hello, children chirping and dancing all around me giggling, “She’s on the phone! Mrs. Gleason’s on the cell phone! Who are you talking to, Mrs. Gleason?”

There is no privacy in a first grade classroom.

“Hello, Sue Ann?” I have a price for you. It was tough to hear the voice at the other end but it sounded something like, “How does $240 sound?”

“Yes, yes! I said, “That’s perfect.” I had no idea how much one paid for a dozen fifty-pound bags of organic soil but that sounded like a deal. That would be about two weeks worth of groceries and I was looking forward to an ENTIRE SUMMER of vegetables spilling out of my garden. I hung up the phone, a look of blissful anticipation crossing my face. I couldn’t wait to get my hands IN THE DIRT..

Weeks passed and finally they arrived. The pallets sat at the end of my driveway, huge bags of soil, too heavy to lift. (Oops.). That was A LOT of soil, probably far more soil than I actually needed but I didn’t care. I was ready to PLAY. Seeds were planted. Sprouts emerged. Mint multiplied. I was having a ball.

The tomatoes? Well, admittedly, the tomatoes were a little weak.

And then, the bill arrived. $642.98. Oh my. That was the SHIPPING price he had quoted on the phone. I was now the grateful recipient of the most expensive potting soil on the planet. My peers chuckled. My husband groaned. But me? I just smiled knowing that I had vegetables grown with my own hands in my own space and I was delighted!

This year, I found a local distributor. This year I’m going to try the Abundant Veggie Patch System. Check it out. It’s rich!

Abundant Veggie Patch System

Do you have a garden story? Will you be planting anything this year? Leave a comment and lets plan a play date in the dirt.

driven by passion, yes.

But also, intention.

I began my Chocolate for Breakfast adventure with the intention of building a community of chocolate lovers who shared similar viewpoints on pleasure …

and permission.

But much to my surprise (and delight) the chocolate journey took on a life of its own. As my facebook fan base grew, chocolate makers from all over the world started sending me samples of their chocolates hoping to tease my palate and claim a space in my Top 12 Chocolate Finds ebook. Or, at the very least, on my fan page.

I sampled.

I studied.

I redefined the word sumptuous.

You see the more chocolate I tasted, the more refined my palate became. Pretty soon I was choosing my chocolate by origin, much like a connoisseur of fine wine develops a more informed and discriminating taste for the grapes of a particular region. It’s not that there is anything wrong with a varietal, it’s just that I became rather enchanted with the nuances of flavor that I had never before experienced in chocolate.

Sumptuous became the hints of citrus in the chocolate of Madagascar. I learned that Criollo cacao trees were brought from Venezuela to the island of Madagascar at the turn of the century. I wondered if I was drawn to this particular chocolate because my grandmother, who was raised in Sicily, imbued my life with lemon. Over 90% percent of the world’s cocoa is bulk production, mostly from the Forastero bean. The remainder is fine/flavour cocoa, from most of the Trinitario and all of the Criollo varieties.

Sumptuous became the complex flavor notes in a bar of chocolate that whispered raisin. I stopped choosing chocolate for the ingredients “added” to it: salt, cacao nibs, peppercorns, pecans. I wanted to taste the

chocolate.

I wanted to see if I could discern notes of tobacco in cacao beans sourced from the Dominican Republic. I wanted to experience the deep chocolate flavor in cacao from Ghana and the fruity notes in chocolate sourced from Indonesia. I wanted to steep myself in chocolate. I wanted to really understand the words single source. Was I becoming a chocolate connoisseur?

Or a chocolate fanatic.

Maybe a little of both.

There I was, happily enthralled in this world of chocolate lust, when I got a call from the agent of a jazz singer in New York City. They were getting ready to cut a new CD and one of the songs was called, “Wake up and Live.” He thought it would be fun to send a Chocolate for Breakfast sample with the first two hundred CDs.

“Hi Sue Ann, I’ve been following you on facebook. I love your fan page. Do you make chocolate?” he asked.

“Absolutely. “ I replied, the words spilling out of my mouth before I could catch them and send them scurrying back to the

Safe place where reason lives.

“Let me get back to you in a few days.” I said, thinking surely I had lost my mind.

I hung up the phone and immediately called Meredith Cohrs of MC2 Confections, a local chocolatier whose handcrafted chocolate truffles I adored. I asked her if she would be interested in a joint venture. She jumped at the opportunity and our culinary expedition began. Meredith is a truffle artist. I’m a purist. She taught me about tempering. I taught her about “source.” Together we produced what is likely to be one of the most unique products to hit the chocolate market in a very long time We began with …

“the cluster”

Think dark chocolate morsel studded with crunchy cacao nibs. Think 72% cacao, less sugar, more chocolate. We want the sweetness of sugar to tease the taste buds, not hijack the chocolate.  Now, add single origin: Madagascar. Yes, hints of citrus—you’re catching on. Finally, a dusting of Vietnamese cinnamon to tease out the subtly complex flavor of the chocolate. Can you see how this little adventure brought me back to the kitchen? I am a trained culinary nutritionist. I know just enough about the culinary arts to pleasure both my clients and me without vying for Top Chef acclaim. I play with the elements of taste the way a writer plays with words, trying them on for size and then watching how they play on my tongue or in my throat. Merideth has the same foodie sensibility plus a rich background in the art of truffle making. Our partnership and and enthusiasm produced “the cluster.” And yes! You can purchase it! Right here.

Then came …

“the bar”

We’re still playing with this one. What size will it be? How will we package it so that the artistry of the bar is illuminated? Are people ready to bite into the actual cacao bean? Will they be surprised by the delicate crunch or dismayed because it “looks” like an almond and they weren’t expecting the actual bean. Half the fun is pondering the outcome and playing with the mouth feel. But the true delight? That occurs when we watch someone bite into the bar, and witness the look of chocolate rapture cross their face.

And finally,

“the bite”

Every day I get the question, “How much is too much? How much chocolate should I actually be eating?” Merideth and I decided to create “the bite” for people who wanted to enjoy a tasty little “bite” without worrying about serving size or fear that they might devour an entire bar. This delightful little square will be a miniature version of the bar. But even more important than portion size, is the quality of the chocolate. When my clients ask me what kind of chocolate they should consume, I show them what to look for so that they can make an informed decision. Here are my suggestions:

Consider the Number: The percentage shown on many dark chocolate products refers to the percentage by weight of all ingredients derived from the cacao bean. This is the total of chocolate liquor or cocoa powder (the cocoa solids) and cocoa butter. The cocoa solids contribute flavor, and the cocoa butter contributes the smooth texture.

So the percentage is really the percent of actual chocolate in the product. A higher percentage means more chocolate, and less of the remaining ingredients, primarily sugar. A higher percentage also means a more intense chocolate flavor.

Consider the Source: Is it ethically sourced? Much of the commercial chocolate you find in the grocery store comes from slave labor. You want to keep your eyes wide open here. Not all chocolate is created equal. The questions I ask a chocolate maker are, “Where do you source your chocolate? Is it organic? Is it fair trade?”

There is No Joy in Soy: Lecithin isn’t a necessary ingredient in chocolate, but its use allows manufacturers to more easily blend or “emulsify” ingredients that would otherwise behave like oil and water. It also allows them to reduce the amount of cocoa butter in their chocolate bar and replace it with other vegetable fats in order to save money. That’s reason enough to stay away from chocolate that has soy lecithin on the label.

Ditch the Dairy: Dairy binds with the antioxidants in chocolate and prevents them from nourishing your cells. If you want to get the best antioxidant bang for your buck, you want to invest in dairy-free dark chocolate. Yes, I have all kinds of science to support the benefits of including a beautiful piece of chocolate in your daily food repertoire.

Choose with Your Palate Instead of Your Head: I get this question a lot: Is raw chocolate healthier?

Not at all. Finding the best chocolate for your palate is largely a matter of taste.

If we limit ourselves to raw chocolate only, we miss out on some exquisite taste and texture sensations. I’m more concerned with the quality of the chocolate and the intention of the chocolatier. We should never assume that just because it is raw, it is going to be a superior bar. In fact, not all raw chocolates are created equal. Plus, they have a completely different mouth feel and flavor profile. As with all chocolate, look for small batch operations, pay attention to the ingredients, pay attention to your palate. My favorite raw chocolate is Gnosis. Vanessa Barg is a phenomenal chocolate maker and she knows her source, intimately. Here’s a review of her products.

But even more important than all of the buzz words and phrases (gluten-free, soy-free, dairy-free, fair trade, antioxidant-rich, raw, vegan) learn to appreciate the artistry and intention that goes into the crafting of chocolate that is worth savoring.

Sample, sample sample. There are lots of beautiful hand crafted chocolates for you to discover and enjoy. And be sure to keep your eyes on my chocolate for breakfast site so that you can watch our products unfold.

There are no distractions in this line of chocolate … just pure, unbridled intention.

There’s the formatting.
And the photos.
And the links.

There’s the, “Hmmmmmmmmm, how will this look in another browser?”

And don’t forget the recipe. Everyone loves the recipe!

And just when I was about to finish up and join my husband for New Year’s Eve celebration, I hit the spell check button and the whole newsletter changed to HTML, right before my bleary eyes.

OMG, where are all the WORDS I crafted so carefully? Where are the links? Where is my sanity??????????????

Well, this is my year to LISTEN. I’ve gotten VERY good at listening to the wisdom of my body.

I honor my cravings.

I honor the fluctuation in my weight from season to season, year to year.

I honor the food on my plate.

This year I am going to focus on embodied intuition, the ever present knowing that we all have. And I’m going to make it a game. I am going to look at the world through a “what is the universe telling me” lens.

Today, the universe is telling me to abandon newsletter list and play with “the best.” So here goes. . .

Sue Ann’s Best of 2011

Best Health Tip
Eat Only What You Can Savor
(Conscious Bites Nutrition)

Best Foodie Find
Rozendal Vinegar: Macerated with green tea, chili, carob, lavender, kelp, sweet pepper & grape must

Best Local Restaurant
Market Table Bistro
Lovettsville, VA
(Stay tuned for a blog post titled: Not All Farm to Table Restaurants are Created Equal)

Best Endeavor
365 Days of Gratitude Journal on facebook

Best Collaboration
MC2 Confections (Stay tuned. . .)

Best Chocolate Find
Piece, Love & Chocolate
Boulder, Colorado

Best Insight
Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one. ~Jane Howard

Best Advice
Eat, Play, Sleep
(Conscious Bites Nutrition)

Best Radiant Life Tip

DANCE
(Conscious Bites Nutrition)

Do everything with grace
Act on your intentions
No is a complete sentence
Cultivate a sense of gratitude sprinkled with curiosity
Embrace your body

Best Compliment
Sue Ann, you streak across the firmament of your life like a comet, a blaze of learning, healing, and initiative in your wake. Everything you undertake becomes the only thing, the focus of your tenacious concentration, to the delight and enrichment of everyone who falls within the light cast by your fire. Your conviction that anyone can be more than they ever imagined is your gift and your legacy. Your word is Enterprise.
~Bonnie L. Casey, Author of Growing in Circles: My Struggle to Make Peace with God, Myself, and Just About Everything

Best Playground
Chocolate for Breakfast Fan Page

Best Music Find
Kitchen Door
written and performed by Wolf Larsen

Best Gift
“Introduction to Toning” teleclass with Kat Fulton, music therapist extraordinaire. Join me?

Best Intention

Learn something, try something, do something NEW each week in 2012

Will you join me? How does the YOUR best of 2011 inform your intentions for the new year?
P.S. I’m not very fond of the word resolution so I’m trying intention this year. How about you?

That was me this past week.

I hit a wall. It felt like steel. Cold. Hard. Blue.

I’m a force in the world. A happy, resourceful, tenacious, spirit-rich woman. I don’t hit walls.

I move through the world like

FIRE.

I love my life. I love my work. I love feeding people and inspiring women to enter their kitchens with new hope and new enthusiasm.

But this week, I couldn’t find the motivation to color my own plate.

“That’s what you’re having for dinner?” he asked, glancing at my cauliflower.

“It looks a little white.”

Me, who teases him when everything on his plate looks a little

White

Mashed potatoes (he’s Irish)

Chicken

Cottage cheese (?)

And here I was, the culinary rock star eating a bowl of cauliflower for dinner. Nothing rocking on my plate that night.

I call it the self-care slump. It doesn’t happen often. I have great tools. I’m trained in the art of pull-yourself-up by your bootstraps.

But even super heroes have their self-care slump days. Here’s what I learned from mine:

Give yourself permission to feel . . . tired, sad, lonely, angry, quiet (you fill in the blank).

Feelings are energy. They move through you.

And with you.

They remind you that you are human, that you’re alive. Give yourself permission to feel.

Don’t try to figure it out. Sometimes a self-care slump sneaks up on you. Stay out of your head and move into your body.

Get curious.

Be compassionate.

Give yourself a hug.

But please, don’t try to figure it out. Because then you might be tempted to “fix” it.

Pull out your nourishment menu and do something on that list. What? You don’t have a nourishment menu?

Compose one, TODAY, over a cup of tea and chocolate

Me? I made a pot of soup.

With some delicious magic mineral broth that I had placed in my freezer

For

A

Rainy

Day

It worked.

Like magic.

How do you nourish yourself? What do you do when find yourself in a self-care slump? Leave a comment. Don’t be shy.

Who hasn’t struggled with money—finding it, keeping it, saving it 



sweeping it

under the carpet

My husband experiences buyer’s remorse when he goes through a tollbooth.

I, on the other, hand think nothing of dropping $89 on a designer stash of chocolate

from France

hand painted with vegetable dyes

too pretty to eat

divine and dignified chocolate

Now, I don’t want you to think I lack money scruples. Admittedly, I’m not a bargain shopper. But then again, I’m not a shopper. Unlike many women who love to shop for beautiful clothing and designer handbags, I get a little overwhelmed when I walk into a department store. 

Too much stimulation, too many choices. Too much. . .

STUFF

Leo Babauta, in his book The Power of Less, tells me to identify the essential, eliminate the rest. His book is my bible.

Now food, that’s a different story. . .
For me, a well-appointed grocery store is a kaleidoscope of inviting colors, textures, scents and sounds. Yes, I even manage to find markets with the sound of Billy Holiday’s soulful, sultry voice singing softly from the speakers.

I learned the art of grocery shopping from my dad. Instead of looking for bargains, he’d travel the city from butcher to bakery (with about six stops in between) seeking the freshest, tastiest, most interesting ingredients. He had many friends in those shops. When the grocer saw my dad coming, he knew exactly what to pull from the display case, “Sam wait until you see the ricotta salata I’ve been saving for you!” My dad taught me to shop for quality. I learned at a very early age, “You get what you pay for.”

My dad also had a great respect for money. I learned from him that you
don’t
spend
money 
you don’t have.

So even though my husband and I have very different spending habits, we have very similar values. We have no credit card debt. We don’t acquire a lot of “stuff.”  And, like my dad, we don’t spend money we don’t have.

So why am I writing this article about money?

I just completed Bari Tessler Linden’s Tools for Financial Transformation Course. It was brilliant. Not only did I gain valuable insights into my relationship to giving, receiving, spending, and saving, I saw beautiful parallels in our work.

Bari is teaching people how to stop, look, and listen—to bring awareness to their money story or their patterns around money. I’m teaching women to pause and get curious about their food stories. What are they telling themselves about food, body image, digestion, weight and hunger?

I called Bari, my chocolate-loving friend and colleague, for a “virtual” tea and chocolate date.

I am always on the lookout for ways to enrich or expand the experience of my Inner Circle participants. Bari’s work seemed like the perfect fit. She has a Master of Arts in Somatic Psychology from Naropa University. She wrote a 150-page thesis on helping young women listen to their bodies using authentic movement. Can you see why I would want to interview her in the context of my Body Wisdom Boot Camp?

The holiday season can be a very stressful time of year for many reasons. Especially around finance.

I wanted to design a teleclass that would give my tribe some powerful tools to carry with them into the season of merriment. Sometimes we are faced with traditions we didn’t choose or the financial burden of purchasing all of the gifts on “the list.”

Pretty soon I found myself telling Bari about my own experiences around money and holidays, the boundaries I now have in place, and the fear I experienced when I began to examine my patterns around giving and receiving. The release I experienced when I tapped into my wisdom and found my voice.

And, in her infinite wisdom, Bari named it.

“Yes, yes, that’s your holiday money story,” she exclaimed, laughing.

Pretty soon we were talking and laughing and planning our collaboration: Your Holiday Money Story.

The concept became richer and richer. The chocolate sat untouched on our desks, pretty rare for two self-proclaimed choco-goddesses. This interview will serve both of our communities, in a big way.

Who doesn’t have a holiday money story?

So, grab your calendar and in big bold letters, fill in:
Tuesday, December 6th, 8 pm (eastern)
Your Holiday Money Story with Bari Tessler Linden
You can register right here

Grab a cup of tea and and hop on the phone with Sue Ann and Bari for a delightful look at food, money, choices and, of course, chocolate.

Oh, and be prepared to write a new script.

What’s YOUR story? Do you struggle with money matters during the holidays? Has your relationship to money shifted over the years? How do manage the season of giving and receiving? Leave a comment. We’d love to hear from you.

The marketing director ushers us into her office, heels clicking. She assures us that my dad will be well cared for here. “The staff is warm and dedicated.” She doesn’t tell us they are overworked, underpaid, and for the most part, completely ignorant of the specialized needs of the aged.

Next comes the tour. There is a great big white board covered with activities. “We keep our residents stimulated. There are activities throughout the day. Some are here in the assisted living wing. Others are in longterm care.” We walk the halls. The silence in the corridors is deafening—no sign of life anywhere—certainly no sign of the activities that are plastered all over the bulletin board.

As we walk through the longterm care wing I find myself hoping my father doesn’t live long enough to enter these halls. It looks like a hospital. Curtains between beds provide the only privacy for the residents in longterm care. White spindly legs peek out from under the covers. It’s 3:00 in the afternoon but it may as well be midnight.

Back to the stuffy little office overlooking the “courtyard.” We spend almost two hours crafting my father’s care plan. How many showers would you like him to have each week? Three? No problem. We can’t guarantee the days you request, but we’ll do our best to fit him into the schedule.

What were his interests? Did he have any hobbies? Oh, he was a watercolor painter? We’ll be sure to make time each day for Sam to draw in his sketchpad. What are his favorite foods? Oh, he likes pork tenderloin? Spaghetti? Chicken? Great, we’ll make a note of that.

We leave the office feeling hopeful, clutching the care plan, a promise that dad will be nurtured in his new abode. The room is ready. It’s time to get him settled in. I imagine this is what it feels like to send your child off to his first day of school. Only this isn’t kindergarten. This isn’t a room full of frolicking children dancing around a loving teacher, cheery music playing in the background. This is a lonely little room with a tired armchair and a hospital-like bed with a mattress that is a foot too short for its frame. The heat is stifling. There is no thermostat in the room.

This is the first time my dad has spent a night alone in over sixty years. I think back to the one time my mother went away for a weekend to visit her cousin in Connecticut. My father slept with the light on the entire weekend. I plug in his nightlight, crack open a window and prepare my dad for his first night at the Peaks.

It has been seven months since we placed my dad in an assisted living facility. It has been a long and arduous process. Each visit brings new challenges and new frustrations. I am so grateful to the many people who actively participate in my father’s care, particularly the folks at the Homestead, an adult day care facility that my father attends two days per week and Family Hospice, the most competent, loving group of individuals one could hope to encounter.

Nothing could have prepared me for this process and I feel compelled to share with you, both a piece of my story, and a collection of tips to tuck away somewhere for the day you encounter a similar, heart-wrenching task.

This is a very short list of observations and suggestions. There are beautifully written, comprehensive books on this subject matter. Start with the two books I mention below, and use the comment section below to share with us any others that you have found helpful.

What You See Is NOT Necessarily What You Get

Undoubtedly, you will have some choices as you begin the process of finding the living situation that best meets the needs of your loved one. Hang out in each facility before you make your decision. Walk into the bowels of the building. Remember, lobbies are deceptive. Anyone can stage a lobby. Do the gathering rooms resemble the lobby? Are they cheery? Would you spend time in the “library”?

Find out if there is an activity director on staff—someone who is invested in keeping the residents actively engaged in meaningful, age-appropriate activities. See if the activities are, indeed, activities or just a collection of words on a chart or a schedule. Our brains need to be stimulated. Science has proven brain plasticity improves cognitive ability.

Movers & Shakers

I had the privilege of spending a day with my father in the day care facility he was attending before we moved him to the Peaks. It was a joy to see him actively engaged in in some sort of movement every single day. Find out if the facility offers a daily stretch or physical activity session. Then, show up and see if it actually takes place. If not, ask to have your loved one seen by a physical therapist.

The body needs daily movement for strength, flexibility, and mobility.

Would You Eat It?

Take a look at the food being served. Would you eat it? Are there fresh fruits and vegetables on the menu? Don’t fall for lines like, “Fresh fruit is hard to come by in the winter months.” If a grocery store can obtain fresh fruit, so can a facility for the aged.

If your loved one has dietary restrictions, be sure the kitchen staff is informed. I discovered the “care plan” doesn’t always make it to the kitchen.

When we communicated to the kitchen staff that some of the meat (?) was too difficult for my dad to chew, hence a ten pound weight loss over the course of seven months, the response we got was, “We offered to grind it.” Would you eat a ground pork chop? Be sure to check the menu daily and request an alternate meal when you know your loved one can’t eat it and cannot speak up for himself.

The Most Essential Element

If your loved one does not know enough to stay hydrated, get a doctor’s order to “push fluids” and then check to be sure the water isn’t just sitting in a cup on a nightstand. How long does it take to watch someone drink a four ounce cup of water?

Water is especially important for people who are constipated and don’t eat sufficient fresh fruits and vegetables.

And speaking of water, ask to see the shower schedule. Pop in at the designated shower time to see if it actually takes place. In just four days I could see a noticeable decline in my father’s appearance. We all deserve the dignity of a shower or a shave.

Aging Services

Get the name of the aging services Ombudsman and have a conversation with him/her. Stay in touch. If you do not live in the area, find an advocate to help you navigate the system.

It Takes a Village

Put together a care team. Gail Sheehy in her book, Passages in Caregiving writes: “Don’t be shy about asking for assistance from neighbors, coworkers, your church, your community college, or social organizations. Find students from your local high school or college who need to do public service. Surrounding your loved one with a circle of love is the best medicine of all. There is now scientific proof of this obvious human instinct.”

Recharge YOUR Batteries

Don’t forget to take care of yourself. We read a lot about self-care but we seldom take the time to craft our own nourishment menu. Make a list of things that nourish you. Make a commitment to partake of at least one thing on your list each week, preferably each day.

Explore Longterm Care Insurance

We have options today to plan for our own needs when we reach this point in our lives. I have learned so much from this process. Don’t assume the government has your best interest in mind. There is a huge discrepancy in institutions that are publicly funded and those that are private. Start planning now.

Do you have stories or suggestions to share? Leave a comment or share this post with a loved one.

Casual Stroll? Not Me. . .

I took a walk in the park yesterday. It was very different from the kind of walk I used to take. There was a time in my life when a “stroll” through a park would have seemed like a lost opportunity. I could have been burning calories or getting my heart rate up. In fact, the word “walk” is really an oxymoron for the kind of exercise I engaged in. My exercise routine was more like a mini triathlon. I “warmed up” on an exercise bike, followed by a vigorous race walk, and then, weather permitting, I’d go for a swim to “cool down.”

I am so grateful I now have both the wisdom and the science to abandon the faulty belief systems that had me engaged in extreme fitness regimes. I missed a lot of natural beauty on my “walks.” Yesterday I felt the sun warm my face and the breeze tickle my ear as it swept through my hair. I listened to the rustling of leaves below my feet.

I’d like to say it was science that liberated me from the weight loss war zone I grew up in. But instead of discussing the cardio myth or the parasympathetic nervous system, I’d like to talk about the deeper reasons that propel us into extreme diets or punishing exercise routines.

I collect scary statistics. They remind me of how far I’ve come and why I do this work.

Scary Statistics

* The average woman worries about the size and shape of her body EVERY 15 MINUTES. That’s more than men think about s.e.x, which is every 20 minutes.

* 9 out of 10 women dislike and even hate their body

* 92% of women say they want to change some aspect of their appearance, mostly body weight and shape

* 8 out of 10 women are on a diet

* 86% say they routinely avoid pleasurable activities such as shopping for clothes, swimming or having sex, until they lose weight.

And, perhaps the scariest statistic of all. . .

* 40% of 9-year old girls claim they are dieting, or have dieted.

I shared those statistics with my Inner Circle participants and I could almost hear the collective sigh that radiated through the telephone lines.

Here are the questions that keep me up at night:

What has us look in the mirror and see only our faults?

What has us starve ourselves skinny or engage is extreme forms of exercise until our knees give out and our bodies say, “No more.”?

What has us go weepingCREEPINGsleeping through life because we are not confident enough in our skin to dance?

I hear all kinds of stories in my work with women, but the one that tugs at my heart is this one: “I’m afraid my husband, boyfriend, lover won’t find me attractive if I gain weight.” Really what they’re saying is, “I won’t find me attractive if I gain weight.”

I don’t think it’s the guys in our life that we have to worry about. I think it’s our thoughts that hijack our mind and keep us locked in patterns that do not serve our health or our vitality.

Take a few minutes to read this article. It’s a life-altering, life-affirming perspective we all need to embrace. I want to read it to every woman who looks at herself in the mirror and sees only her flaws:

What Men Really Notice When They Look at You

Leave a comment and tell me what you think of Aaron Traister’s perspective. Then, share it with every woman you know. It’s that good.

It’s been a long time since I gave up my morning dose of caffeine in a cup but I do remember the experience. Vividly. It was like a week-long hangover—dull aching headache, a when-will-I-wake-up-and-smell-the-roses again feel as I viewed my surroundings through the low-lying fog in my brain. I was traveling with Elizabeth. Elizabeth gives new meaning to the word vivacious. She leaps through life, dancingLAUGHINGorchestrating the next adventure for anyone willing to accompany her on the ride. Elizabeth had enthusiastically adopted a raw food diet and was convinced that I should adopt it, too.

Why not? To me dieting was a hobby. Dieting was an art. When I wasn’t following the latest trend, I made up my own—the M&M Diet, the Diet Coke & Peanut Butter Crackers Diet, the Little Debbie Diet, and the Don’t Eat Anything ‘til Dinner & Then Eat Everything in Sight Until Midnight Diet. Pretty scary coming from a fitness instructor, yes?

I told myself I was trying to achieve optimal health, but really? I was in search of the  “perfect” nutritional system that would somehow lead me to that ever-elusive “perfect” size or “perfect” shape. The raw food diet promised glowing skin, too. I jumped right in.

“No more coffee,” she warned. “You can’t adopt a raw food diet and drink coffee at the same time.” I was game. I don’t do anything half way. If Elizabeth said no coffee, I would give up coffee. It made perfect sense to me. Those were roasted beans in that hot, steamy cup of java. And I trusted Elizabeth. She was the queen of green. I jumped in with the same joie de vivre I embrace any new culinary adventure.

San Francisco

My initiation took place in a truly remarkable restaurant in San Francisco owned, by Chef Juliano. There were no ovens in this raw food restaurant. I was struck by the pristine cleanliness of my surroundings. A giant stem of prickly aloe protruded from a great big colorful array of organic fruits and vegetables, as if to say, “Bet you can’t guess where I’ll show up in the meal.” Glowing faces (further proof that raw food produced glorious skin) and enthusiastic smiles greeted me as I entered.

There is no doubt in my mind that fresh, ripe, raw organic foods contribute to beautiful glowing skin. But looking back on that evening, I’m convinced the dining experience played an even bigger part in the glow. This was San Francisco. People linger over a meal. They even bring their dogs to the restaurant. The only other city I had seen this many people dining with their dogs was Paris. I believe the glow comes with the lingering, luxurious quality of sharing a sumptuous meal for hours on end. That’s why we order so many courses, right? Surely we don’t need an appetizer, a salad, an entrée, AND dessert. We’re not that hungry. We simply don’t want the meal to end.

The menu was spectacular. We started with Samurai Pizza on a living buckwheat crust. I wrote dehydrator on my mental list of kitchen toys I couldn’t live without. Then came a rich and creamy avocado soup. I remember thinking, “Oh my. How many avocados can I be eating in this bowl of creamy, dreamy goodness? (i.e. How many grams of fat?) As if she could read my mind, Elizabeth looked at me and said, “It’s good fat. David Wolf eats avocados all day. He calls himself David Avocado Wolf.” Well, if David Wolf can eat that many avocados, surely I can, too. I had no idea who David Wolf was at the time but he was undoubtedly a raw food expert so I trusted my latest food guru and enjoyed every morsel of that meal. This was 1997, long before the raw food lifestyle made its debut and became the sexy new diet.

Raw Food Rapture

Pretty soon people at adjoining tables were blissfully falling into raw food rapture. It looks something like this: eyes close, head tilts back, rapturous look ensues. Then you hear “Oh my God!” Or, “You’ve GOT to taste this salad, it’s the most amazing salad I’ve ever eaten.” And it was. The food in this restaurant was exquisite. People were getting up from their tables, sharing their dishes with total strangers. My mother would have been mortified. You ate off a stranger’s plate? In San Francisco? Have you lost your mind? She would have been even more aghast had she seen the hair on this chef, pony tail popping out of a tightly wrapped bun on the top of his freshly shaven head.

Was it the raw food that had me captivated? Yes. And no. I was caught up in culinary ecstasy. The food was that good. I love to see people combine textures and flavors in new and interesting ways. This was new. And it was most definitely interesting. I bought Juliano’s cookbook, I ordered a dehydrator and I jumped into the raw food lifestyle with both feet and an enthusiastic palate. I prepared raw food treats for my beloved. He wasn’t sold. I prepared raw food treats for my friends. They appeased me. “Here she goes again,” they mused. “At least she’s off the macrobiotic kick. Anything is better than the seaweed stew she prepared for our last gathering.”

That was my first raw food journey. It didn’t last. The minute the temperature dropped below 50 degrees, I was craving Grandma’s soup. Enzyme killer? Maybe. Dead food? Absolutely not. At the very deepest level, I knew the love I put into the preparation of that soup and the memories it evoked far outweighed the nutrient value lost in the simmering. Somehow, blending Rejuvelac (fermented wheat berry water) with raw vegetables in my shiny new Vitamix and calling it soup just didn’t satisfy my foodie sensibility. I kept the cookbook. I enjoyed many of the recipes, even the Sun Stew with twenty-six ingredients (NOT counting the Rejuvelac). But pretty soon, I returned to a more flexitarian approach to nourishment. I include an abundance of raw and living food in my diet and when the cold winds blow, I simmer a great big pot of Grandma’s soup.

How about you? Do you listen to your body? Are you choosing foods that nourish you at every level? Are you honoring your urges or “curbing your cravings”? Leave a comment and tell me about YOUR journey.