Coupons For Everything---For Everyone!
Hello Couponeers!
One of the amazing women who has inspired me in my renewed fervor in my couponing/sales shopping is a woman named Jill Cataldo. She has a Supercouponning website: http://www.supercouponing.com.
When I elected to re-enter the confetti-like world of couponing, I purchased her couponing DVD. She is, and was, a profound influence on me , even though the “clip-less” system that she employed, didn’t work at all for me.
In her dvd (and I’ve heard it said in other books) she emphasizes, that if you look, you can find coupons for everything….yes…everything.
While am an industrious sort, given to spending hours,( sitting tailor fashion on my futon, in front of the TV set to QVC) exploring the internet, I kind of doubted that one could find coupons for everything. Maybe (my thought process went) SHE could find coupons for everything. Or, maybe SHE gets coupons for everything because she gets coupons for everything because she runs a couponing site and gets mountains of coupons sent to her. Two incidents—one a year ago and one today has me convinced that I am wrong about that. Allow me to illustrate.
After a rather surprising experience, I sent Ms. Cataldo this email titled “WOWSVILLE”
(I know I'm dating myself with that expression--sorry!)
Dear Ms. Cataldo,
I wrote to you earlier this week, but really couldn't wait for response.
I haven't had a lot of experience with "print from home" coupons and honestly, considering some of the posts regarding Dominicks, didn't know
if I could screw up my courage, but, I need to tell you this story.
The motivation for my venturing out beyond my comfort zone was 2-fold.
The first being watching your DVD and the second being, that my husband had lost his overtime and we've been struggling since.
I am on more than an average amount of prescription medications When I was at Dr's office last year, I was given a coupon for 6 months of a prescription at a certain price.
(draws a deep breath) So I thought, what the heck. I typed in the name of my prescription medication with the word "coupon" behind it in the search engine.
It came up with two, which will work for 12 months, one of which will cut the cost of one of my medications in half (even with my insurance card).
I, then, thought, “well, ok you've found them, will CVS TAKE them?”
Armed with my printouts, I trundled down to my local CVS--fortunately--or unfortunately, depending on which way one looks at it, they know me there very well.
I set the printouts on the desk at the drop off desk, and Eureka! It worked! No problems, no wrankling just the bliss of my medication costing less.
Sighs....Have I thanked you for your roll in my gaining the fortitude to give it a try?
Thank you, Jill. Very much!!
-Kim Danbert
Gypsyohara@gmail.com
---
OK, it’s effusive. I was excited.
Today, I’m a bit bewildered, but stunned again. This time, my journey involves Disney.
As a resident of Central Florida, like many other residents, I have a “love-hate” relationship with Disney. I hate that the prices to get into the parks (only an hour’s travel time away) seem to be so prohibitive now. But I love that Central Florida Residents can get passes (in Fall and Winter when the parks are less-crowded and the weather is lovely) at a discount. Also, like so many people my (clears throat) age-group, I was raised watching the “Wonderful World of Disney” on Sunday nights, and I can’t pass up any opportunity to see a Disney animation feature film.
Under the “Hate” category, I hated that Disney (ever since they started to produce vhs’s) have been more expensive than films marketed by other companies, and “sales” were rare (at least I thought they were). So I had to pull it up and just deal if I needed the wonders of Snow White in my collection (and yes—I needed them).
This brings me to the actual topic of this article. Most recently, Disney , released a new version of Beauty and the Beast. You know, every so often the films emerge from the “vault” (another thing I resent about Disney, but appreciate it as a good marketing strategy—I know, the hate/love swings are giving you whip-lash).
As an a-side—Where IS this Vault? Is it under Cinderella’s Castle, as other things are rumored to be?
I had to have Beauty and the Beast again. I did already have it on an older DVD (I used to own it on vhs).
Muttering to myself that I would need to shell-out the $25 (or more) to ransom the film from the vault, I was resolved to purchase it, anyway.
But then, I learned that IF I had a “previous version” of Beauty & the Beast, I could go the website, put in my upc code and get a coupon for $10 off of the dvd. OK, not just any dvd…the Diamond Edition which includes the Blue Ray disk and some new features (which I usually find myself watching about 2 years after purchasing the disk).
What genius! For me…this is like so many things that I love coming together, I found myself buzzing like a honey-bee at a hive. Beauty & the Beast (LOVE!) plus Coupons (Love coupons) which I print off the internet (God bless you Al Gore for creating the World wide web!—joke!) I do love the internet. Ok so this was too good to let pass.
I printed the coupon and this weekend my husband (a character in too many of my coupon stories, I know) zoom to Walmart to get Beauty and the Beast. I saved $10—(the cashier was impressed—always a bonus). But the story didn’t end there (and I know you wish it would).
I have a long-neglected Disney Movie Rewards account. So when I got home, I revisited the account to post my purchase and collect points, casting aside the outer cardboard wrapper. When I was on the site, I was reminded that I have other Disney films that I had not inserted the Magic number into my account and set to doing that.
As I was doing that, I found….coupons…for Disney films. Pinocchio and Cinderella (which I purchased at full price) could have been mine for $3 less. Those coupons were expired. Six or more of my Disney animated features had this little booklets in them with coupons for Disney features. (I shake my head).
Here is the kicker. Picking up the cardboard outer wrapper of the Beauty and the Beast Diamond Edition that I had just purchased, I found one more treasure.
Couponers call it a “peelie” . It was a special deal adhered to the outside of the package. I peeled it off to find a “reward”. If one goes to the website mentioned and enter the code, you can print a coupon for free admittance to the new Disney animated Feature: Tangled. I did as instructed, and printed my coupon. I can’t wait to go—for free!
In summing up, what Jill Cataldo (and other couponeeres before and since her) said, is true. You can find coupons for (nearly) anything…if you’re actually looking for (or at) them. I’ve learned that as I’ve started actually using my coupons, I’ve developed a sort of Couponawareness that helps me to see and utilize them.
Anyone up for a Disney film?
Popcorn’s on me!
Kim Danbert
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Thursday, March 18, 2010
St. Patrick’s Day/Danny Boy/ Dad Day
My husband and I (compulsively) decorate and celebrate every holiday.
I think it’s because we didn’t get enough “celebrating” as children, or in our previous adult lives.
So, with St. Patrick’s day on the calendar, we got out the green patterned china, re-covered the valence in the dining room with Shamrock fabric and got out our “Irish paraphernalia” (some of which we acquired in Ireland proper).
For the past two days, as I was making Irish Soda Bread, and Corned Beef and Cabbage dinner, I found myself humming the tune “Danny Boy”.
Not really a stretch to be thinking of this song for St. Patrick’s Day, to be sure.
But the song just wouldn’t let me go.
Because it was one of my father’s favorite songs, it put me in a kind of sad/sweet state of mind.
I’ve heard so many people perform this song, and yet never performed it in public, myself.
In my younger years, I was fascinated to learn there was a second verse and chorus to the song.
Yesterday, I also dug out of my collection, a VHS that I got for my Dad one Christmas. It’s titled “Danny Boy-In Sunshine or in shadow”. It’s a documentary which includes musicians, performers and music historians, all sharing their perspective of the song.
I’d never watched it before.
Apparently, Eric Clapton’s favorite way of honoring this song is to perform it instrumentally on his acoustic guitar. Of course, he can do that and not break a sweat.
Since the song and Dad were both haunting me, yesterday, I visited Dad’s memorial on “Find a Grave” and left him a shamrock and told him I was thinking of him.
I left him the words of the second verse of Danny boy.
Then, home alone, I pulled out my 12-string guitar, and sang the entire song for him.
The lyrics still flutter through my spirit,
And remind me that, one of the two people, who have loved me most, in this life,
Is gone.
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the roses falling
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.
But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying
If I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.
And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be
For ye shall bend and tell me that you love me
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.
Until next time,
Eat something wonderful
And live a life worth loving.
-Kim
I think it’s because we didn’t get enough “celebrating” as children, or in our previous adult lives.
So, with St. Patrick’s day on the calendar, we got out the green patterned china, re-covered the valence in the dining room with Shamrock fabric and got out our “Irish paraphernalia” (some of which we acquired in Ireland proper).
For the past two days, as I was making Irish Soda Bread, and Corned Beef and Cabbage dinner, I found myself humming the tune “Danny Boy”.
Not really a stretch to be thinking of this song for St. Patrick’s Day, to be sure.
But the song just wouldn’t let me go.
Because it was one of my father’s favorite songs, it put me in a kind of sad/sweet state of mind.
I’ve heard so many people perform this song, and yet never performed it in public, myself.
In my younger years, I was fascinated to learn there was a second verse and chorus to the song.
Yesterday, I also dug out of my collection, a VHS that I got for my Dad one Christmas. It’s titled “Danny Boy-In Sunshine or in shadow”. It’s a documentary which includes musicians, performers and music historians, all sharing their perspective of the song.
I’d never watched it before.
Apparently, Eric Clapton’s favorite way of honoring this song is to perform it instrumentally on his acoustic guitar. Of course, he can do that and not break a sweat.
Since the song and Dad were both haunting me, yesterday, I visited Dad’s memorial on “Find a Grave” and left him a shamrock and told him I was thinking of him.
I left him the words of the second verse of Danny boy.
Then, home alone, I pulled out my 12-string guitar, and sang the entire song for him.
The lyrics still flutter through my spirit,
And remind me that, one of the two people, who have loved me most, in this life,
Is gone.
Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side
The summer's gone, and all the roses falling
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow
Oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.
But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying
If I am dead, as dead I well may be
You'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an "Ave" there for me.
And I shall hear, tho' soft you tread above me
And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be
For ye shall bend and tell me that you love me
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.
Until next time,
Eat something wonderful
And live a life worth loving.
-Kim
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
Weight-Loss Ritual
I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes in 1998. I know, that’s a long time ago.
It’s an, often losing, battle that is a daily struggle to get the “right numbers” on my fasting reading on my morning glucometer reading. Did I just sound like one of those commercials for Liberty Mutual?
Here’s what’s also been a struggle, all my life; my weight.
When I was diagnosed, I weighed 194. At 4’ 10” tall, I resembled one of those weebles (you know, they wobble, but they don’t fall down).
Over the years, I’ve tried all kinds of “diets”, but haven’t really been successful at losing all the weight I’ve wanted and needed to.
I have been successful at losing weight at a snails crawl and keeping it off.
So, in 2006, when I stepped on the scale at my Endocrinologists’ office, and the assistant weighing me said “184” (I never look, why torment myself) I was stunned.
A year later, when I was STILL that weight, I dared hope that maybe there were ways to work on this issue for myself.
I’ve had a trainer and friend who was a body builder, who, then, helped me to break the stigma (in my mind) of going to the gym (thank you, Doug). I learned that a lot of bodybuilders have had “self-image” problems, and any effort is better than no effort.
I learned that I have really good legs too.
I learned not to be afraid to “try” in a gym.
Back then, I started a ritual, which I had to put by the way-side when caring for my mother.
I needed a “reward” for myself in meeting some of my goals that was not “food based”. So, for each pound I lost, I put on one of my bracelets. I have a large collection of sterling and (some) gold bracelets that are the little chain types. You know the kind of bracelets, merino links, snake chains, facetted beads, etc.
But I had to take them off, because, I washed my hands so often, soap got caught in the links, so I constantly had a rash on my wrists.
Well, last Friday, I did it again. I weighed myself. The dial on my scale read 169.
Of course that was wrong…wasn’t it?
I recalibrated the scale, set it on the bathroom floor and weighed again…..169.
Another stunned moment.
It’s not everything I need to lose, but it’s a giant step from where I was.
I decided, in the light of this glowing news, to re-institute my ritual/reward system.
So Walt helped me to choose bracelets from among my collection, and divide them between my wrists.
I decided to “re-claim” the initial ten pounds I lost, because I did lose them, and I kept them off.
I know this isn’t the kind of story that is going to invite hoards of sponsors of weight-loss products and services with their ripe pens to sign me on as spokesperson. Who really finds it amazing to hear “I lost 24 pounds in 12 years!”
Actually, to answer that question….I do.
At first, the bracelets kind of bothered me on my right wrist.
But now they all just sort of feel like “part of me”.
As I look at them they remind me I’ve done something big for myself.
24 bracelets is quite a collection to have on one’s wrists.
They remind me that I can succeed at things that I consider futile.
They remind me that even if I never lose another pound, I did do this.
They remind me of my Gypsy soul.
They remind me of who I was and who I want to be.
Until next time:
Eat something wonderful
And live a life worth loving.
-Kim
It’s an, often losing, battle that is a daily struggle to get the “right numbers” on my fasting reading on my morning glucometer reading. Did I just sound like one of those commercials for Liberty Mutual?
Here’s what’s also been a struggle, all my life; my weight.
When I was diagnosed, I weighed 194. At 4’ 10” tall, I resembled one of those weebles (you know, they wobble, but they don’t fall down).
Over the years, I’ve tried all kinds of “diets”, but haven’t really been successful at losing all the weight I’ve wanted and needed to.
I have been successful at losing weight at a snails crawl and keeping it off.
So, in 2006, when I stepped on the scale at my Endocrinologists’ office, and the assistant weighing me said “184” (I never look, why torment myself) I was stunned.
A year later, when I was STILL that weight, I dared hope that maybe there were ways to work on this issue for myself.
I’ve had a trainer and friend who was a body builder, who, then, helped me to break the stigma (in my mind) of going to the gym (thank you, Doug). I learned that a lot of bodybuilders have had “self-image” problems, and any effort is better than no effort.
I learned that I have really good legs too.
I learned not to be afraid to “try” in a gym.
Back then, I started a ritual, which I had to put by the way-side when caring for my mother.
I needed a “reward” for myself in meeting some of my goals that was not “food based”. So, for each pound I lost, I put on one of my bracelets. I have a large collection of sterling and (some) gold bracelets that are the little chain types. You know the kind of bracelets, merino links, snake chains, facetted beads, etc.
But I had to take them off, because, I washed my hands so often, soap got caught in the links, so I constantly had a rash on my wrists.
Well, last Friday, I did it again. I weighed myself. The dial on my scale read 169.
Of course that was wrong…wasn’t it?
I recalibrated the scale, set it on the bathroom floor and weighed again…..169.
Another stunned moment.
It’s not everything I need to lose, but it’s a giant step from where I was.
I decided, in the light of this glowing news, to re-institute my ritual/reward system.
So Walt helped me to choose bracelets from among my collection, and divide them between my wrists.
I decided to “re-claim” the initial ten pounds I lost, because I did lose them, and I kept them off.
I know this isn’t the kind of story that is going to invite hoards of sponsors of weight-loss products and services with their ripe pens to sign me on as spokesperson. Who really finds it amazing to hear “I lost 24 pounds in 12 years!”
Actually, to answer that question….I do.
At first, the bracelets kind of bothered me on my right wrist.
But now they all just sort of feel like “part of me”.
As I look at them they remind me I’ve done something big for myself.
24 bracelets is quite a collection to have on one’s wrists.
They remind me that I can succeed at things that I consider futile.
They remind me that even if I never lose another pound, I did do this.
They remind me of my Gypsy soul.
They remind me of who I was and who I want to be.
Until next time:
Eat something wonderful
And live a life worth loving.
-Kim
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Random (?) acts of kindness
Just today I received an email titled “The cab ride”. It’s one of those sentimental emails about a kindly cab driver and an old woman, most likely taken from the pages of “Chicken Soup for the soul.”
I know some people find those stories trite and doubt their veracity. I don’t.
In my “map of the world” (as my counselor used to call it) there is an entire army of philanthropists, just looking for someone to bless.
I think there is an entire brigade of people with stories, like I have, having touching (little) moments every day. Reading this email inspired me to offer one of my own stories, in hopes that people close to me will tell their stories too.
Several years ago, my husband was in the hospital. He wasn’t eating well, so I went to one of the local ice-cream shops to get him a shake.
When I walked in, there was an older woman (I think in her 70’s) ahead of me.
The (very young) lady behind the counter went to dip the woman some ice-cream (in a to-go cup). As she popped open the ice-cream freezer she asked me “What did you want?” I drew a breath, and said “I need a coconut shake, and I want to pay for this woman’s ice-cream.”
The young lady didn’t bat an eye, really, she just smiled and said “yes ma’am”, as she was scooping cool mounds into a small to go cup. The older woman swiveled around so fast, I thought she was going to slap me.
She said “You want to pay for my ice-cream?” I flinched a bit and shrugged my right shoulder and said “Yes ma’am. If you’ll allow me, I need to do a good deed today.” She was stopped for a long moment and looked into my eyes. Her eyes started to dew-up, and I didn’t look away. She said “Do you know what I’m doing?” “No ma’am, I don’t.”, I responded.
The well-dressed woman said “I’m taking ice-cream to my husband. He’s got cancer and the chemotherapy. He can’t swallow much because his throat is so sore from the treatments, so I buy him ice-cream.” The worker handed the woman her ice-cream. I said “I hope he feels better soon.”
The woman took her bag, wiped at an eye and left.
She didn’t say thank you. I wasn’t looking for one.
Looking back all this time later, I think I might have a sense of perspective.
It’s not that the older woman couldn’t carry the burden of her sick husband.
It wasn’t (probably) that she couldn’t pay for the ice-cream.
I think, it’s that someone offered her a kindness, and for an instant, it lightened her burden. For a split-second, she lived in a world tinted with compassion and smelling of whipped cream.
I think there a great many people offering acts of kindness to strangers.
I don’t for a moment believe these acts to be random.
Until next time: Eat something wonderful
And live a life worth loving.
-Kim
I know some people find those stories trite and doubt their veracity. I don’t.
In my “map of the world” (as my counselor used to call it) there is an entire army of philanthropists, just looking for someone to bless.
I think there is an entire brigade of people with stories, like I have, having touching (little) moments every day. Reading this email inspired me to offer one of my own stories, in hopes that people close to me will tell their stories too.
Several years ago, my husband was in the hospital. He wasn’t eating well, so I went to one of the local ice-cream shops to get him a shake.
When I walked in, there was an older woman (I think in her 70’s) ahead of me.
The (very young) lady behind the counter went to dip the woman some ice-cream (in a to-go cup). As she popped open the ice-cream freezer she asked me “What did you want?” I drew a breath, and said “I need a coconut shake, and I want to pay for this woman’s ice-cream.”
The young lady didn’t bat an eye, really, she just smiled and said “yes ma’am”, as she was scooping cool mounds into a small to go cup. The older woman swiveled around so fast, I thought she was going to slap me.
She said “You want to pay for my ice-cream?” I flinched a bit and shrugged my right shoulder and said “Yes ma’am. If you’ll allow me, I need to do a good deed today.” She was stopped for a long moment and looked into my eyes. Her eyes started to dew-up, and I didn’t look away. She said “Do you know what I’m doing?” “No ma’am, I don’t.”, I responded.
The well-dressed woman said “I’m taking ice-cream to my husband. He’s got cancer and the chemotherapy. He can’t swallow much because his throat is so sore from the treatments, so I buy him ice-cream.” The worker handed the woman her ice-cream. I said “I hope he feels better soon.”
The woman took her bag, wiped at an eye and left.
She didn’t say thank you. I wasn’t looking for one.
Looking back all this time later, I think I might have a sense of perspective.
It’s not that the older woman couldn’t carry the burden of her sick husband.
It wasn’t (probably) that she couldn’t pay for the ice-cream.
I think, it’s that someone offered her a kindness, and for an instant, it lightened her burden. For a split-second, she lived in a world tinted with compassion and smelling of whipped cream.
I think there a great many people offering acts of kindness to strangers.
I don’t for a moment believe these acts to be random.
Until next time: Eat something wonderful
And live a life worth loving.
-Kim
Monday, January 25, 2010
You don’t realize how much pain you’re in
Until your therapist tells you!
Over the last year, I’ve been through all kinds of changes. One of those changes was sort of forced upon me. I’ve suffered from occipital neuralgia for (at least) 10 years. I was diagnosed by a Neurologist and went through months of excruciating deep massage.
Over the years, I’ve kind of learned to adapt to varying levels of pain, slowly creeping up the pain scale.
During the last year of caring for my mother, the demands on my physique (such as it is) seemed to create increasing amounts of pain and fatigue.
My method of coping: Darvocet. I would take one (or two) at night to (hopefully) get a few hours sleep.
My blood sugar levels increasing with my pain levels, the cycle abruptly stopped about two months ago, when, my primary care physician refused to refill my RX unless I went in for a pain management consult.
I did try to get a course of massage therapy, which my insurance provider refused to cover.
I had my first consult with the Physical Therapist last week. Prodding, poking and an odd impersonation of an optometrist (Better this way, or that way? How about now?)
Two hours later, I was in crippling (but not unfamiliar) pain. By the next appointment (the next day) I had recovered and was ready for another round, when I got---the exercises. Ow…oh my aching…everything!
(sighs) OK, I have the weekend to recover. Did the exercises on Saturday and by Sunday, I had this blinding headache (also familiar) which knocked me off my feet the entire day.
Today, I was once more into the breach and now, two hours later, am beginning to recover from the torturous adventure, the young and size 5 “therapists” call “Physical Therapy”.
I am remembering something I learned early on in my life. Suffering can sometimes bring me “clarity” in a way that few things can.
I’ve been abusing and neglecting myself for so very very long.
It hurts me to think that, to know that.
The path of healing is painful (often).
The pain that I’ve been enduring has been effecting my never-ending struggle with my blood-sugar, with my life.
But I sort of feel now, in an odd way….I’m kind of “in Training” (like Rocky).
I’m drinking the gross, raw- eggs, I’m starting to run-walk-crawl up the steps.
I remember Rocky, saying (in Rocky V---the one no one likes) “If you’ve got a strong heart-beat and two fists, you’ve got a chance”.
I’m learning to make a fist, I think.
Until next time:
Eat something wonderful
And live a life worth loving.
Over the last year, I’ve been through all kinds of changes. One of those changes was sort of forced upon me. I’ve suffered from occipital neuralgia for (at least) 10 years. I was diagnosed by a Neurologist and went through months of excruciating deep massage.
Over the years, I’ve kind of learned to adapt to varying levels of pain, slowly creeping up the pain scale.
During the last year of caring for my mother, the demands on my physique (such as it is) seemed to create increasing amounts of pain and fatigue.
My method of coping: Darvocet. I would take one (or two) at night to (hopefully) get a few hours sleep.
My blood sugar levels increasing with my pain levels, the cycle abruptly stopped about two months ago, when, my primary care physician refused to refill my RX unless I went in for a pain management consult.
I did try to get a course of massage therapy, which my insurance provider refused to cover.
I had my first consult with the Physical Therapist last week. Prodding, poking and an odd impersonation of an optometrist (Better this way, or that way? How about now?)
Two hours later, I was in crippling (but not unfamiliar) pain. By the next appointment (the next day) I had recovered and was ready for another round, when I got---the exercises. Ow…oh my aching…everything!
(sighs) OK, I have the weekend to recover. Did the exercises on Saturday and by Sunday, I had this blinding headache (also familiar) which knocked me off my feet the entire day.
Today, I was once more into the breach and now, two hours later, am beginning to recover from the torturous adventure, the young and size 5 “therapists” call “Physical Therapy”.
I am remembering something I learned early on in my life. Suffering can sometimes bring me “clarity” in a way that few things can.
I’ve been abusing and neglecting myself for so very very long.
It hurts me to think that, to know that.
The path of healing is painful (often).
The pain that I’ve been enduring has been effecting my never-ending struggle with my blood-sugar, with my life.
But I sort of feel now, in an odd way….I’m kind of “in Training” (like Rocky).
I’m drinking the gross, raw- eggs, I’m starting to run-walk-crawl up the steps.
I remember Rocky, saying (in Rocky V---the one no one likes) “If you’ve got a strong heart-beat and two fists, you’ve got a chance”.
I’m learning to make a fist, I think.
Until next time:
Eat something wonderful
And live a life worth loving.
Monday, January 18, 2010
A trip down memory…Beach?
My family moved down to Florida (from St. Louis, MO) in 1965. My father worked for McDonald Douglas, and the Space Center was his dream.
Oddly enough, I remember living a bit of a “dream” for the first several months that we were down here. We were staying in an apartment/efficiency right on the beach. These apartments were in Cocoa Beach, that’s right, the land of “I dream of Jeannie”.
During that time our family lived a page from Hawaiian Eye. My sister Dee found two hula-dancer dolls, whose hips actually did the Hula.
These adorned the hotel-ish chest of drawers.
Nearly every day, we walked down the steep, sandy stairs to the beach.
There, I learned about sun-burns, sand castles, wading in the surf and what my parents looked like in bathing suits.
But there was another phenomenon I experienced then, that was most vexing to me. After we found an actually house to live in, we got company.
I think it was the first two or three years after we moved down, we had a never-ending parade of “relatives” who came to visit. Most of them were people I didn’t recall seeing before and probably haven’t seen since.
Mom would dutifully explain to me who they were…well, the first year of the visitations she did. After a while, everyone was “Aunt-something-from-Michigan” and “Uncle-who-its-from-Ohio”. I recall an older couple visiting, and showing them our new litter of kittens. I remember mom telling me to “put them away”, that “your Grandpa’s had enough”. But when I questioned her later about him, she told me that both of my Grandfather’s were deceased. To this day, I don’t know who he was.
In the days before Travelocity and Priceline, if you “knew” someone in Florida, your vacation was made, I think. It’s “pack up the four door station wagon”, head south. No need for hotels and hospitality would dictate that you would be fed (at least one meal) per day during your stay.
This was also before the looming, encompassing and entertainer of ALL visitors to Florida…the Orlando theme park. No Disney world (started building about 1974) No Universal. There were two, much farther away. One was called “Six-Gun Territory” –a western town with shows and rides. The other was Bush Gardens, over by Tampa.
But on the barrier Island of Satellite Beach, which is an hour (traveling time) south of Cape Kennedy (it was then), an hour east of Orlando and about 20 years behind the rest of the world, there was very little to entertain guests. So we developed routines. We would take the visiting family to LUMS…a pub-type eatery, which boasted huge hot dogs (steamed in beer) and it was on the ocean side of the main high-way, so after dinner, we’d walk down so the visitors could see the Ocean.
I remember wading into the lapping surf and the saline air filling my lungs along the sea shore.
There was one summer that I remember the family that came to visit. Mom was SO excited. “Shirley” was coming to visit. “Shirley” and my mom had spent a great deal of their youth together and by my mother’s accounts, “Shirley” was “hell on wheels”. I remember a story she told me about Shirley and her going into town to get some cigarettes. While they were on this trip, they ran into a friend (male) who was driving his “hot rod” and asked if they wanted to go for a ride. Apparently, they didn’t get home until 11 that night. Ah..Rash youth!!! (sighs).
Anyway, Shirley and her husband , Jack (his name is Edward but everyone called him “Jack”) and their two daughters, Shantelle (who was closer to my sister and brother’s age) and Michelle (who was a “t’ween”, older than me, but younger than Shantelle and Dee and Bobby.
We took them down to the pier in Cocoa Beach, where there was a live band and soft drinks and I guess there was food (I don’t remember eating any thing). What I DO remember was that after several days in the Florida sun, Shantelle (a fair skinned red-head) got so sun-burned she was peeling and oozing and leaving pieces of herself on chairs when she sat.
I felt so badly for her.
When my mother became so ill, I went through her address book to make some calls and I called Shirley Bradley. She talked to me as though we had just talked last week. She talked to me that way when I called to give updates. She told me about Michelle’s ongoing illness and that “uncle jack” wasn’t getting along so well.
When mom passed away, she was so sad and so sympathetic. She called several times just to “check on me”. She made me feel like family.
Just before Christmas, her husband Jack ended up in the hospital and compound complication upon long illness, he passed away last Friday.
I remember him as a tall, lumbering man. He was kind, but gave me lots of skirt room, I think because He thought he intimidated me.
I was able to say some things that, I think, gave her some sympathetic comfort.
We sent them flowers.
Walt promised we would get up there this year to see my family.
I hope I get to see Shirley again.
I pray God keeps the whole family in His care.
Until next time,
Eat something wonderful
And live a life worth loving!
-Kim
Oddly enough, I remember living a bit of a “dream” for the first several months that we were down here. We were staying in an apartment/efficiency right on the beach. These apartments were in Cocoa Beach, that’s right, the land of “I dream of Jeannie”.
During that time our family lived a page from Hawaiian Eye. My sister Dee found two hula-dancer dolls, whose hips actually did the Hula.
These adorned the hotel-ish chest of drawers.
Nearly every day, we walked down the steep, sandy stairs to the beach.
There, I learned about sun-burns, sand castles, wading in the surf and what my parents looked like in bathing suits.
But there was another phenomenon I experienced then, that was most vexing to me. After we found an actually house to live in, we got company.
I think it was the first two or three years after we moved down, we had a never-ending parade of “relatives” who came to visit. Most of them were people I didn’t recall seeing before and probably haven’t seen since.
Mom would dutifully explain to me who they were…well, the first year of the visitations she did. After a while, everyone was “Aunt-something-from-Michigan” and “Uncle-who-its-from-Ohio”. I recall an older couple visiting, and showing them our new litter of kittens. I remember mom telling me to “put them away”, that “your Grandpa’s had enough”. But when I questioned her later about him, she told me that both of my Grandfather’s were deceased. To this day, I don’t know who he was.
In the days before Travelocity and Priceline, if you “knew” someone in Florida, your vacation was made, I think. It’s “pack up the four door station wagon”, head south. No need for hotels and hospitality would dictate that you would be fed (at least one meal) per day during your stay.
This was also before the looming, encompassing and entertainer of ALL visitors to Florida…the Orlando theme park. No Disney world (started building about 1974) No Universal. There were two, much farther away. One was called “Six-Gun Territory” –a western town with shows and rides. The other was Bush Gardens, over by Tampa.
But on the barrier Island of Satellite Beach, which is an hour (traveling time) south of Cape Kennedy (it was then), an hour east of Orlando and about 20 years behind the rest of the world, there was very little to entertain guests. So we developed routines. We would take the visiting family to LUMS…a pub-type eatery, which boasted huge hot dogs (steamed in beer) and it was on the ocean side of the main high-way, so after dinner, we’d walk down so the visitors could see the Ocean.
I remember wading into the lapping surf and the saline air filling my lungs along the sea shore.
There was one summer that I remember the family that came to visit. Mom was SO excited. “Shirley” was coming to visit. “Shirley” and my mom had spent a great deal of their youth together and by my mother’s accounts, “Shirley” was “hell on wheels”. I remember a story she told me about Shirley and her going into town to get some cigarettes. While they were on this trip, they ran into a friend (male) who was driving his “hot rod” and asked if they wanted to go for a ride. Apparently, they didn’t get home until 11 that night. Ah..Rash youth!!! (sighs).
Anyway, Shirley and her husband , Jack (his name is Edward but everyone called him “Jack”) and their two daughters, Shantelle (who was closer to my sister and brother’s age) and Michelle (who was a “t’ween”, older than me, but younger than Shantelle and Dee and Bobby.
We took them down to the pier in Cocoa Beach, where there was a live band and soft drinks and I guess there was food (I don’t remember eating any thing). What I DO remember was that after several days in the Florida sun, Shantelle (a fair skinned red-head) got so sun-burned she was peeling and oozing and leaving pieces of herself on chairs when she sat.
I felt so badly for her.
When my mother became so ill, I went through her address book to make some calls and I called Shirley Bradley. She talked to me as though we had just talked last week. She talked to me that way when I called to give updates. She told me about Michelle’s ongoing illness and that “uncle jack” wasn’t getting along so well.
When mom passed away, she was so sad and so sympathetic. She called several times just to “check on me”. She made me feel like family.
Just before Christmas, her husband Jack ended up in the hospital and compound complication upon long illness, he passed away last Friday.
I remember him as a tall, lumbering man. He was kind, but gave me lots of skirt room, I think because He thought he intimidated me.
I was able to say some things that, I think, gave her some sympathetic comfort.
We sent them flowers.
Walt promised we would get up there this year to see my family.
I hope I get to see Shirley again.
I pray God keeps the whole family in His care.
Until next time,
Eat something wonderful
And live a life worth loving!
-Kim
Friday, January 8, 2010
Eat Differently. Eat Better. Just EAT!
I have been a victim of the Hollywood/Commercial media sell-job of the religion of THIN. Of course my parents (God Bless them) telling me that I was “fat” didn’t help my self image. I remember my first “diet” being before I got out of high-school and I weighed 100 pounds.
In my early 20’s I became a vegetarian, eschewing salt, white flour, white rice, white sugar.
From there, I became a Fruitarian for 6 months. Not good for me. Collapsing from lack of protein and hallucinating from high blood sugar was not a good life plan for me, as it happens.
I’ve tried fasting diets, shake diets, the Adkins diet , the South Beach diet, the Over-eaters Anonymous diet, the Jenny Craig Diet or the Nutrisytem Diet , can’t remember which (too much salt).
The American Diabetes Association diet, the Healthy Exchanges Diet,
I‘ve done Juicing, Detoxing, sweating, anguishing and weeping. I had a workout coach, at one time, who was a bodybuilder.
I’ve toured the inner depths of my “food issues” and my eating disorders.
Over the last 4 years I’ve lost 20 pounds. How? I became a caregiver for my mother, and (for the most part) stopped taking care of myself at all.
Through all of these different and sometimes painful journeys I’ve learned some things that I think are helpful to me and might serve me.
One thing I learned, since the diagnosis of type 2 diabetes, is that stress effects blood sugar (in a negative manner).
It has been mentioned to me that stress “effects one’s blood sugar” , it’s been mentioned in books about stress causing “high readings”. What I’ve heard, mostly is “don’t eat sugar. Watch what you eat and lose weight” from my (former) doctors.
Somehow the “stress factor” (as I’ve come to call it) is sort of “skimmed over” in the ongoing lecture of my self-destructive diet. I’ve really had too many of those conversations from “health professionals” . Me sitting there, feeling like a puppy being scolded for messing on the floor, and doctor holding the rolled up newspaper in a threatening manner, telling me if I “lose weight, this all goes away.”
All of my medical involvement and my experience with alternative diets and therapies had made this amalgam of nutrition “soup” of my brains and total terror of my eating habits. So this year, I’ve decided to apply some of the things I’ve learned…really learned, about myself , my constitution and my wants and needs. I thought sharing them in this forum would clarify some of them for me.
So here goes:
Number 1) Stress is a MAJOR factor my blood sugar rising.
Two corollaries: I am not as good as I could be (involving my diet).
But I’m not nearly as bad as I have been,
and not nearly as bad as some people are, involving their diabetic diet.
Number 2) I take all my meds every day, without exception.
Number 3) Watching the Food Network is good for me (in some ways because it inspires me to cook & eat).
Number 4) DON’T DEMONIZE THE FOOD!
Number 5) Eating (nearly) anything, is better than eating nothing.
-I learned this one from my bodybuilder, coach and friend Doug,
my husband and lover, Walt
and my endocrinologist, Dr.Ojha.
Number 6) Eating something that you’ve made at home (even if it’s not something quite on my diet,) is always better than anything I can eat out at a Restaurant.
Number 7) Walt and I don’t drink (alcoholic beverages) nearly enough. (see observation #1)
Number 8) If I’m craving it, have it and eat it.
Corollary: Walt will not judge me for eating something.
Number 9) Exercise is good for me. (sighs-as much as I hate to admit this one)
Until Next time;
Eat something wonderful
And life a life worth loving.
-Kim
In my early 20’s I became a vegetarian, eschewing salt, white flour, white rice, white sugar.
From there, I became a Fruitarian for 6 months. Not good for me. Collapsing from lack of protein and hallucinating from high blood sugar was not a good life plan for me, as it happens.
I’ve tried fasting diets, shake diets, the Adkins diet , the South Beach diet, the Over-eaters Anonymous diet, the Jenny Craig Diet or the Nutrisytem Diet , can’t remember which (too much salt).
The American Diabetes Association diet, the Healthy Exchanges Diet,
I‘ve done Juicing, Detoxing, sweating, anguishing and weeping. I had a workout coach, at one time, who was a bodybuilder.
I’ve toured the inner depths of my “food issues” and my eating disorders.
Over the last 4 years I’ve lost 20 pounds. How? I became a caregiver for my mother, and (for the most part) stopped taking care of myself at all.
Through all of these different and sometimes painful journeys I’ve learned some things that I think are helpful to me and might serve me.
One thing I learned, since the diagnosis of type 2 diabetes, is that stress effects blood sugar (in a negative manner).
It has been mentioned to me that stress “effects one’s blood sugar” , it’s been mentioned in books about stress causing “high readings”. What I’ve heard, mostly is “don’t eat sugar. Watch what you eat and lose weight” from my (former) doctors.
Somehow the “stress factor” (as I’ve come to call it) is sort of “skimmed over” in the ongoing lecture of my self-destructive diet. I’ve really had too many of those conversations from “health professionals” . Me sitting there, feeling like a puppy being scolded for messing on the floor, and doctor holding the rolled up newspaper in a threatening manner, telling me if I “lose weight, this all goes away.”
All of my medical involvement and my experience with alternative diets and therapies had made this amalgam of nutrition “soup” of my brains and total terror of my eating habits. So this year, I’ve decided to apply some of the things I’ve learned…really learned, about myself , my constitution and my wants and needs. I thought sharing them in this forum would clarify some of them for me.
So here goes:
Number 1) Stress is a MAJOR factor my blood sugar rising.
Two corollaries: I am not as good as I could be (involving my diet).
But I’m not nearly as bad as I have been,
and not nearly as bad as some people are, involving their diabetic diet.
Number 2) I take all my meds every day, without exception.
Number 3) Watching the Food Network is good for me (in some ways because it inspires me to cook & eat).
Number 4) DON’T DEMONIZE THE FOOD!
Number 5) Eating (nearly) anything, is better than eating nothing.
-I learned this one from my bodybuilder, coach and friend Doug,
my husband and lover, Walt
and my endocrinologist, Dr.Ojha.
Number 6) Eating something that you’ve made at home (even if it’s not something quite on my diet,) is always better than anything I can eat out at a Restaurant.
Number 7) Walt and I don’t drink (alcoholic beverages) nearly enough. (see observation #1)
Number 8) If I’m craving it, have it and eat it.
Corollary: Walt will not judge me for eating something.
Number 9) Exercise is good for me. (sighs-as much as I hate to admit this one)
Until Next time;
Eat something wonderful
And life a life worth loving.
-Kim
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