The Homecoming

I got home to Da’Burgh late Thursday night, but as familiar as life is here, I am not the same person who flew to Minnesota July 18. I’ve spent the last three days trying to figure out what’s different, and what I’ve concluded so far is that it’s crucial I take care of myself as much as I take care of others, no matter how against the grain it feels. Because when we allow others to take care of us and show their love and concern – when we are truly open to absorbing it and feeling it in our bones – only then can we understand what it’s like to walk in the shoes of those we love and care for.

Marty, me, Matthew; March 2011

My trip home began when my brother Matthew picked me up at brother Marty’s. Matthew made a wise crack about the weight of my suitcase. Marty laughed and said something about how I’d redecorated his bathroom with all my stuff for two weeks.

“Hey,” I reminded him. “Your bathroom never smelled so good!”

Then came my tears and the “I’ll miss you/I love you/I’ll call you/I’ll be back if you need me”s. He hugged me and shed a few tears, too, then Matthew poured me in his truck and told Marty, “Don’t worry. She’ll be back. Her and her big suitcase.”

Colton and me; a few weeks ago

I texted my friend Colton, who was picking me up at the airport: “I don’t like your weather out there. Are you meeting me at baggage claim or picking me up curbside?” Colton: “It’s a bit crazy at the moment, but will be gone when you are near. Get on that plane, babe. I’ll meet you as you come out of security.”

Sure enough, I got off the train from the gates and Colton was there holding a sign with my name on it. I laughed and threw my arms around him and cried. I’d missed him. I’d missed my kids. I’d missed my grandkids. I’d missed my life. I didn’t realize how much until I saw Colton’s sign and the big grin on his face. I didn’t have a lot of time for introspection while I was in Minnesota, you know?

When I arrived in Pittsburgh, I was wiped out, tired, worried, and needed someone to take care of me. That hardly ever happens. I mean, I can take care of myself no matter what, right? But you know what? Sometimes surrender is the best option.

Colton took my computer bag and we went to baggage claim. He grabbed my suitcase off the carousel with only a small “Ugh” and we walked out of the airport and to the parking lot. He opened the car door, handed me flowers and chocolate, gave me a kiss, and said, “Welcome home.”

*sigh*

When I got home, this was on my front door:

Cassie had taped drawings from the kids all over my apartment, and she left me a note:

Except for condiments, my refrigerator was bare. Cassie knew I’d need something to eat for breakfast, so she brought me 3 eggs, a half a bag of spinach and an apple. My plan had been almonds and canned carrots, but her breakfast was much better.

The next day I went to see the grandbabies. They are young – 3½, 2 and 5 months – so I worried they’d forgotten me or wouldn’t be excited to see me again. I walked in the door, expecting them to look at me like, “Um…I know you from somewhere,” but no. Luca yelled, “Grammy!” as always. I picked him up and kissed his mass of blond hair and he giggled his Luca giggle.

Claire walked up to me in her shy way and looked up at me. Her big brown eyes were so full of love. I put my hands under her arms and told her to jump. She wrapped her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck and she whispered, “I missed you, Grammy. I love you so much.” Oh...you KNOW I cried.

Miss Mae was in her seat attached to her play table and she gave me a smile as wide as the Allegheny River. Yes, I know she smiles at darn near everyone, but I like to think she remembered her old Grammy just fine.

If we all loved ourselves the way the people closest to us love us – if we treated ourselves with the same kind of innate care that others express through flowers, chocolate, notes and great big hugs – imagine how much easier it would be to make our own health goals a priority?

I’ve not been the best Weight Watcher or exerciser the last two weeks. OK…months. I’ve put myself on the back burner and my body is paying the price. No more. After such a perfect homecoming, I know I need to get back to giving my body the same kind of love and attention I did when I started this journey 6½ years ago.

It’s easy to lose ourselves when we’re caring for our families and jobs. We put ourselves on hold, saying “one day” we’ll have the time to make ourselves a priority. Marty told me that he had a hard time accepting help when he first had his seizure. Then he realized he had to allow others the same kind of joy he experienced when he helped people. He also said this experience has shown him humility.

“Humility: the quality or condition of being humble; modest opinion or estimate of one’s own importance, rank, etc.”

We’re not so important that we can’t find a way to take care of ourselves as much as we take care of ers. When I put myself on the back burner, I can’t give my best attention to the people I love. It seems counterintuitive, I know, but taking care of ourselves is the best way we can take care of others. Like MizFit reminded me, you have to first put on your own oxygen mask on the plane before you can help others.

I’ve got my oxygen mask on. Do you?

Where There’s Fish, There’s Tartar Sauce

Many of you probably saw this photo on Lynn’s Weigh on Facebook: pickled herring at a salad bar. Only in Minnesota. And apparently Wisconsin. And maybe even North Dakota, but that hasn’t been verified yet.

I love herring. Grew up eating it out of the jar, same way I slugged orange juice from the container with the fridge door open. Of course at the herring salad bar last week, being the good Norwegian vegetarian I am, I put together a salad sans fish. The dressings weren’t marked, so I put a few that I recognized – or thought I recognized – on a plate to dip my salad in.

I walked back to the table, where my brother was cutting into an egg (over-easy). It was the first day he’d been hungry in weeks due to an adverse reaction to an anti-seizure drug. He’d developed every side effect known including mood swings and lack of appetite – two things Minnesota Norwegians are not known for. So the whole wheat toast, sausage and hash browns that lined the periphery of his plate didn’t bother me one bit. The man is 6’1, weighs 150 pounds, and hasn’t enjoyed a bite of food since his 12-hour brain beating in late June. He’d earned some food love.

Uncle Bonehead with our niece Michaela

I dived into my salad, dipping forkfuls into a little of this dressing, a little of that dressing, a little of…what the…? 

“Oh my gosh,” I exclaimed in my reacquired Minnesota accent. “That’s tartar sauce!”

Marty looked up from his plate and, without missing a beat, said, “What did you expect? Where there’s fish, there’s tartar sauce.”

Since arriving a week ago, I’ve felt a little like herring at a salad bar. Something not expected, but when you look at it in its context (Minnesota = herring), it makes sense.

Recently I’ve been struggling with a changing body and changing metabolism; gaining a bit of weight and not working out like I want to because of physical issues. The “salad bar” that is my maintenance got thrown a big old herring last week when I flew out to Minnesota to help take care of my brother. It’s not that I can’t eat healthy on the go. I’m the queen of eating healthy. But that herring – my Achilles Heel – is that when I get stressed and totally focused, I tend to eat haphazardly or not understand or care how something’s prepared, and...holy crapola…I consume the white flour. I wake up every morning with the intention of eating clean, but sometimes I end the day wondering what the hell I ate.

But where there’s fish, there’s tartar sauce. And today, that surprising “dip of the salad” was a bike ride through the hidden places behind tree-lined neighborhoods and out of sight from the freeways I’ve driven a million times.

My brother is (not at the moment, but will be again) an avid biker. He has a kickass hybrid, and its just the right size to accommodate my long legs. He brought it out for me and made sure the air pressure was right. The seat was a piece of heaven on my butt, and the grippers on his pedals are what I’ll be asking for when my birthday rolls around in a few weeks. I started out on the Cedar Lake Trail and ran into a whole lot of others. Marty doesn’t have an odometer on his bike, so I don’t know how far I went, but it took me 70 minutes to do it. It was the best bike ride of my life.

I saw this:

And this:

 And this:

And I rode underneath the walkway to Target Field, where I was yesterday on the comfy club level, thanks to tix from a very nice boss :)

Yesterday at Target Field on a much needed break with my awesomely cool sister-in-law:

This has been a challenging week for me, no doubt. But it’s way more challenging, of course, for Marty. He’s been thrown a herring the size of a Volkswagen, and those of us involved with his care are trying…trying…to find him some tartar sauce. Strange analogy, I know. But we’re Minnesotans. We get it, don’t ya know? Yah…I’m sure you do, eh.

Thank you so much for keeping Marty in your thoughts. Seeing him cry is killer. Killer. Marty's a good guy who just needs a break and a whole lot of time to heal. We're all just praying his brain cooperates.

It's More Than A Food Trip. It's A Family Thing

Hello from my camper bed/office at my Norwegian Bachelor Brother’s house in Minneapolis, a house in which the bathroom has never looked or smelled so girlie.

Marty may be forgetful, but he still has an innate sense of quality. He didn’t go cheap when he bought this air mattress. Usually when I sleep on these things I wake up flat on the floor. Not this one. Hasn’t lost air yet.

We went to the grocery store yesterday and wandered around for an hour. I injected a few “Do you like ____?” to gauge his taste, but mostly I listened and watched which foods he was drawn to. I’m going back to the store alone to make a list of the foods I recommended and the ones he seemed interested in. This will hopefully help him make better choices when he goes grocery shopping with someone else after I’m gone. Highlights of our grocery party: He said he’d swap out his Stouffer’s meals for Amy’s, and he likes asparagus, bananas and eggs made any way.

This was also a grocery shopping trip for me. I got in late Monday evening, so there was no time to hit a store before hitting the sack. I’d packed some almonds, PB2, and a banana in my suitcase in anticipation of nothing in my brother’s house for breakfast. I confess I was pretty excited when he gave me the tour of his cupboard and I saw the bag of Frosted Mini Wheats. Only a box of Froot Loops would have made me feel more like I was 8 again. I indulged the next morning and loved every bite.

I threw my staples in the cart – veggies, fruit, Greek yogurt, pita, hummus, Boca burgers, et al – and he bought milk, OJ, paper plates, plastic cups, and laundry soap. After putting our groceries in the truck, I asked him where the nearest Starbucks was. It took him a few minutes to consider my question, but his memory didn’t fail him when he said he thought there was one in the Super Target. Score! When I hopped up into the driver’s seat of his F-150 with my venti non-fat latte (yes, venti), he was staring at the grocery receipt.

“This is the longest receipt I’ve ever had,” he said. “I’ve never bought garbanzo beans before!”

Last night we went to my parents’ house for dinner. My sister-in-law and niece joined us. A small gathering, but still a social interaction nonetheless. My mother is hard of hearing and so we need to talk loudly for her to hear us. She, by nature, is a boisterous woman with a hardy laugh, so their small townhouse was familiarly chaotic with conversation, something I am used to and can handle, but I’m not the one with a brain injury. I kept a close eye on Marty, and found myself talking to him quietly, not unlike you’d talk to anyone within your care, inquiring how he was doing and if he needed anything.

I cooked some chicken in olive oil and garlic powder for folks to put on their spinach salads. I chopped onions, carrots, peppers, cucumbers and tomatoes, and found some cheddar cheese to sprinkle on top. Marty ate a salad and a piece of bread, and Mom surprised him with his favorite dessert – vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce. As his resident “dietician,” I was happy with that.

When we got home, he settled into his recliner with a bottle of water and put on the Twins game. I went outside to make a few phone calls. They were short calls, however, because even at 7:30 the heat index was still 118 degrees and the dew point a record-breaking 82 degrees. My hair hates me.

When I came back in, Marty got all big brother on me.

“It’s hot out there,” he said. “You can make your calls in my room and shut the door. It’s OK.”

I assured him next time I would, then he suggested I sit down and put my feet up, and so I did. And we spent the next few hours talking and laughing like the siblings we’ve always been. I went to my camper bed after brushing my teeth in his girlified bathroom feeling like if I did nothing else but be here to remind Marty who he is and always has been, then I will have done more than I could ever have originally hoped to accomplish.

Before going into his room across the hall, Marty stood in my doorway and smiled.

“I know you’re missing your family, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“But you’re my family, too, and I want to be here.”

“I know,” he said, “but I’m still glad you’re here.”

Help Wanted: Cleaning Up A Diet

Twenty-some years ago, my Norwegian Bachelor Farmer brother, Marty, attempted to make himself dinner.

“I made spaghetti, but…” he started.

“You cooked?” I interrupted, dropping the phone on the floor.

“I figure I can’t eat McDonalds every day,” he said. “But how…”

“Hold on, I have to write this date on the calendar,” I said. “This is bigger than our birthday.”

“I’m serious! I made spaghetti,” he said. “But how do you get the noodles cooked without the water boiling all over the stove?”  

Now my brother is a smart guy. Best salesman his employer ever had. He can fix almost anything, and he’s so patient he doesn’t swear when he plays golf.

“I’m not sure what you’re asking me,” I said, perplexed.

“Well, I kept having to lift the pot off the stove when it boiled over,” he said, exasperated.

Silence.

“Why didn’t you just turn down the stove?”

Silence.

“Oh.”

Silence.

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“Man, I’m a bonehead.”

Last week, we learned Uncle Bonehead (as he calls himself to his nieces and nephews) has a lesion in the hippocampus region of his brain. Marty has suffered from temporal lobe epilepsy for 40 years. Three weeks ago he had a severe seizure and is still experiencing some amnesia caused by the lesion. His neurologist outlined his recovery plan on Friday and one of the laundry list of line items is to clean up his diet.

That’s where we come in.

I’m heading out to Minnesota tomorrow (Monday) and I’ve outlined a few things I’d like to do to help my brother with his recovery. I need your help with #8.

1.      Take daily walks, preferably around the lakes
2.      Bike several times, preferably around the lakes
3.      Celebrate our birthday early (we were both born on August 14, 10 years apart) by going to a Twins game
4.      Get him out golfing. I’ll caddy.
5.      Teach him the fundamentals of shopping for healthy food. No more Slim Fast shakes! Seriously, the man drank them for breakfast every morning for years. He needs supplemental protein, but not with that garbage.
6.      Inventory and upgrade his kitchen with basic cooking utensils and spices.
7.      Teach him some fundamental cooking techniques.
8.      Put together a binder filled with recipes for simple, healthy meals and snacks.

Marty isn’t a vegetarian, he likes a fairly wide variety of foods, and yes, he figured out how to make spaghetti without boiling over the water *grin*. I would appreciate it if you could share a favorite healthy meal (breakfast, lunch or dinner) that is easy to prepare and doesn’t require exotic spices. Healthy snack ideas are welcome, too. You can leave a comment here or send me an email at lynn.haraldson@gmail.com.

Marty is a horse being led to water, and together maybe we can help him drink. I’ll keep you updated from the road. Thank you for your help!

An Oldie But Goodie: What Is Your Deepest Intention?

“There’s nothing you can make that can’t be made.No one you can save that can’t be saved.
Nothing you can do, but you can learn how to be you in time – It’s easy.
All you need is love...” John Lennon

There’s nothing I can say about weight loss or maintenance that hasn’t already been said by someone somewhere at some time. While we each experience weight loss and maintenance on our own terms and view it through our own lens, nothing we do or feel is unique. Someone somewhere has felt it, thought it, been there, too.

That someone for me today was…me. Me from February 2009.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my intentions as I work on a plan for the next phase of my professional life. When I searched the word “intentions” in my computer files, this little gem came up. And so I share it with you once again with the hope that it will spur or reignite your own intentions. Rereading it reminded me how much better I function when I focus on my intentions (being proactive) rather than just let life happen to me (living defensively).  

A Cherokee Legend

A grandfather is talking to his young grandson about life. He tells the boy, “I have two wolves inside of me, struggling with each other. The first is the wolf of peace, love and kindness. The other wolf is fear, greed and hatred.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, “Which wolf will win, grandfather?”

The grandfather replied, “Whichever one I feed.”

If I look at these wolves through the lens of weight loss and weight maintenance, I see how I feed them both.

The first wolf is at peace with my body, and loves and is kind to my body. The second wolf fears weight gain and doesn’t trust that I know how to stay thin; it is jealous and compares my body with other people’s bodies, and hates its shortcomings – its skin and stretch marks and other vestiges of morbid obesity’s abuse.

In a recent talk on the Buddhist view of sense of self, Insight Meditation Center teacher Gil Fronsdal encouraged participants to spend some quiet time alone reflecting on what their deepest intention is. When I examined this question in terms of weight, I thought about those wolves living inside me, and I realized I’ve been guided through my weight journey by one deep intention. I just hadn’t appreciated it in those terms before.

Often we’re motivated to lose weight on the spur of the moment. We see a get-thin-quick diet in a magazine or just get fed up one morning when our jeans are zipping tight. Maybe the thought of losing weight buzzes in the back of your mind and you dabble for a day or two in reducing calories or you go for a few walks, but you haven’t given real thought as to why. In a week or even a few days, you’re back to the buzzing.

Been there, done that, and have the receipts for the dozens of sacks of fat and thin clothes donated to Goodwill.

I’ve lost weight hundreds of times in the past, always with the “intention” of being good enough for other people. Four years ago, when I started losing weight the final time, I’d spent the good part of the year before wondering whether to lose weight or accept myself the way I was. It was a series of sh*t or get off the pot conversations I had with myself. I’d reached a point where I couldn’t vacillate between the two sides anymore.

Ultimately I decided to lose weight, mostly because my health was sinking fast. I had near diabetic sugar levels and my blood work indicated I was a walking heart attack. I had to decide if I wanted to eat my way to an early death or live the healthiest life I could for as long as I could. That decision became my deepest intention.

Did I falter once in awhile? Yes. But ultimately, I always went back to the intention.

That intention continues to guide me in maintenance. Without it, I’d behave the same way I always did when I got to some weight goal: by not paying attention to my food intake and slacking off on exercise. After all, my “intention” was merely to be good enough in someone else’s eyes. Once that was accomplished, I could go back to “normal.”

With my deepest intention being to be the healthiest person I can be physically and emotionally, I’m better able to pay attention to what my body and mind need and to work with them as a unit and not separately.

When I forget my deepest intention, I feed the second wolf – the wolf of fear, greed and hate. When I am focused on my intention, I feed the first wolf – the wolf of peace, love and kindness.

Which wolf do you feed? Which wolf do you want to win? What’s your deepest intention? I’m not asking so that you’ll tell me. You owe me or anyone else none of your thoughts. But they are good questions to ponder before or during a weight-loss or maintenance journey. As Gil said in his talk, it can help clarify how you find your way.

Review, Recipe, Regift: A Blogging Trifecta!

How did it get to be the middle of July already? Wasn’t it just Memorial Day? Yikes! My blog to-do list keeps getting longer and the time I have to write keeps getting shorter. So I’m tripling up for this blog, offering a review of the new Amy’s Light & Lean frozen entrees, an enchilada recipe, and a giveaway of a pack of three stress-relief DVDs. I love trifectas!

Review

Bottom line, the Amy’s food is good stuff. And you know how skeptical I am about frozen entrees and processed foods.

The company – which didn’t pay me to do this – asked if they could send me some samples of their vegetarian fare, which impressed the heck out of me that someone there actually NOTICED that I am a vegetarian and very conscious of what I eat. You should see some of the emails I get from food companies. *eyeroll*

Anyway, the new Light & Lean line includes Spinach Lasagna, Pasta & Veggies, Soft Taco Fiesta, and Black Bean & Cheese Enchilada.

A friend and I made the lasagna and the pasta dishes for dinner, and we both agreed they were pretty tasty. The lasagna noodles were surprisingly delicate and the spinach had body and a fresh taste. My friend really liked the asparagus in the Pasta & Veggies and preferred the taste of the sauce over the lasagna. He also said that when he eats it again, he’d add a few more veggies to give it more texture. I agree. As with any frozen entrée, it’s always a good idea to add additional veggies since there are only so many things companies can stuff in those little boxes.

I ate the Soft Taco Fiesta the other day after a 90-minute bike ride. It had great flavor, and the beans and rice hit the spot after burning 650 calories. Coming in at 220 calories, 4.5 grams of fat and 7 grams of protein, I was pretty satisfied, although I did eat a side salad and a peach to round off the meal.

Cassie loves enchiladas and makes them every week (her recipe is below). She agreed to try the Black Bean & Cheese Enchilada, but wasn’t as impressed as I was with the other three. Cass isn’t a fan of cilantro and she said the meal was heavy on cilantro and could use more beans and cheese. She said if she were to eat this one again, she’d add sour cream, salsa, and possibly some tortilla chips to mellow out the flavor. I plan to buy this one on my next trip to the store because I love cilantro, so I’m curious.

The sodium content for each meal is just inside my comfort zone at around 500 mgs each, and each meal is 6 Weight Watcher’s PointsPlus points. The ingredient label reads like my grocery list, and there are no MSGs or GMOs (bioengineered ingredients).

I’ve never recommended a frozen entrée before, at least nothing beyond Boca veggie burgers, but I will certainly buy these and would be curious what you think of Amy’s Light & Lean line.

Recipe


Reading "I Spy" with Claire & Luca. Mae prefers to drool and laugh.

Yesterday I was at Cassie’s, and I dug out the pan of leftover enchiladas for the grandkids for lunch. I’d never had Cassie’s enchiladas before, so I took a bite. Oh. My. It was awesome. I confess I was glad when Claire and Luca left a little in their bowls when they were done. Grammy was all over that.

I think what made them so good was the Trader Joe’s taco seasoning. Much lower in sodium than other packaged taco seasonings, it has a nice spice to it without a lot of fire. I have a recipe for homemade taco seasoning that I might use when I make them to see if the taste stays the same, but I’m pretty sure it’s the TJ’s that makes them so good.

Anyway, here’s Cassie’s recipe for Lentil Enchiladas:

Place the following in a crockpot:


1 C brown lentils
1/2 cup brown rice
1 15-ounce can diced tomatoes in juice (do not drain)
2 C water or veggie broth
Half a packet of TJ's taco seasoning


Cook on low for 6 hours or until the lentils are soft and the liquid is absorbed. About 30 minutes before stuffing the enchiladas, mix in 4 ounces of light Mexican cheese, ½ to 1 cup frozen corn and a can of black or pinto beans, rinsed and drained.


Using 10-12 whole wheat tortillas, stuff them with the mixture, top them with an additional 4 ounces of cheese and enchilada sauce (you can use salsa if you'd prefer since enchilada sauce is high in sodium) and bake in the oven for 30 minutes at 350 degrees.


A pan of these is about 8-10 servings. They’re heavy on the carbs, I realize, but they pack a good protein and fiber punch. I’ll probably cut the recipe in half, use Tumaro’s Gourmet Tortillas (they’re low in carbs), and freeze them in individual portions so I’m not tempted to eat more than a serving. Not that that ever happens…

Regift


Ugh...Blogger won't turn them right. Sorry!


As you know, from time to time I receive exercise DVDs to review and give away. Because today’s blog is in three’s, I thought I’d combine three closely related DVDs and offer them as one packaged giveaway.

If you’d like to throw your name in the hat to win this package, leave a comment below or send an email to lynn.haraldson@gmail.com. I’ll draw a winner on Saturday, July 16.

The package includes:

“Yoga for Stress Relief & Flexibility.” As someone with multiple joints affected by osteoarthritis, I found this DVD to be not only doable (I struggle with most yoga moves), but relaxing. This is an excellent DVD to do just before bed or after vigorous exercise. The instructor, Ashley Turner, is calming and doesn’t rush you through moves.

“Tai Chi for Beginners.” While I understand the purpose of Tai Chi, I just can’t get down with the moves. I’m too self-conscious of my knees to trust them to guide me through the moves fluidly. I get frustrated doing Tai Chi, which defeats the purpose of breath and energy flow. If you don’t have major knee issues and have been curious about Tai Chi, this DVD is a good first-timers instruction.

“Spine Balance Training.” Again, with my joint issues, I wasn’t able to perform many of the moves in this Pilates-based DVD, but if I could, I would be all over this one (and probably not be giving it away…lol). With this DVD, you’ll learn “exercises that are useful to avoid backbone, back, neck and shoulder pain, reconstruct balance of the body and soul, fill you up with energy and reduce stress in the whole body.” Whew! That’s a lot for a 45-minute DVD, but Marianna Szoke makes it work. At least the parts I could do worked.

Good luck! And I promise to write more...much more...before July is over.

Vacuums and Bodies Work Better When You Consult the Owner’s Manual

I bought a Dirt Devil canister vacuum when I moved to Da’burgh 8 months ago. It’s not quite the dog-hair-sucker upright Kenmore – with what seemed like 382 settings and attachments – that I left behind, but it is more portable and gets the job done.

At least it used to.

The double D came with an owner’s manual, which I promptly put in the junk drawer along with the microwave manual and the toaster oven manual and the range manual and the Cuisinart manual and Harrison Township’s 2011 garbage and recycling schedule. (I know it’s garbage day when I look out the window. If the neighbors have their garbage out in the morning, I slap on my sandals and roll the can to the curb.)

Last Saturday, Cooper the Wookie came to visit for the weekend. The boy is a very hairy Flat-Coated Retriever you can groom and groom and groom again and still leaves a silhouette every time he gets up off the floor or couch. When he went home yesterday, he left behind enough fur to stuff several accent pillows.

After he left, I took out DD and started to vacuum. I’d noticed a few months ago (yes…a few months ago…*hanging my head in shame*) that it wasn’t picking up as much as it used to, but I lived with what it could do because I wasn’t curious enough to find out why it wasn’t working at her highest potential. But yesterday, when it was merely moving Cooper hair around and not sucking it up, I gave it the attention it needed months ago.

Of course by “attention” I mean I assumed I knew what was wrong. First I checked the hose for a clog. That wasn’t the problem. I cleaned out the dirt cup, which – surprise, surprise – wasn’t very full. That wasn’t the problem, either. Finally, I disassembled part of the canister and gave it a shake – a vacuum version of a smack on the TV when the screen goes wonky. But when I reassembled the canister and turned on the power, it still had little suction.

That’s when I reluctantly walked to the junk drawer and dug out DD’s owner’s manual buried under the batteries, the loose-change bag, the matches, the box of birthday candles, an extension cords, a Clorox bleach wand, a bag of thread, a first-aid kit, an address book and a hot water bottle. I turned to page 9 and began reading the troubleshooting guide.

Problem: Cleaner tools won’t pick-up. Possible reason: 1. Hose clogged (“Nope.”); 2. Dirt container full (*eyeroll* “Duh…no.”); 3. One or both filters are clogged (*sigh* “I clean the filter all the…wait… BOTH filters? There’s a second?”

(For some reason, at that moment, I started hearing Darth Vader in my head, “So, you have a twin sister... Obi-Wan was wise to hide her from me. Now his failure is complete. If you will not turn to the dark side, then perhaps she will!” Mental note: rent “Return of the Jedi” this weekend.)

I flipped back to page 2 and the diagram of the vacuum. Sure enough, there is a second filter located inside the first filter inside the dirt cup. I unscrewed the filter and took out the most gawdawful dirty filter I’ve ever seen. I mean, that baby was filthy. I brought it to the kitchen, and it took 15 minutes of brush scrubbing and butter-knife-poking to get all the dirt out of the folds. Once it was dry, I reassembled the filter and put it back in the dirt cup, sealed up DD and pressed the power button. Holy suction, Batman! My DD was alive again.

Understanding the functionality of a vacuum or a microwave or a car isn’t innate, even though we like to think so. The whole point of an owner’s manual is to educate us on the use and care of whatever it is we bought. However, it’s often easier to assume we know what’s wrong, even though it takes us into a frustrating maze of “you have no idea what you’re doing, you idiot.”

The same thing’s true for our bodies. We weren’t born with personal owner’s manuals, but by virtue of our experiences we write our own owner’s manuals every day. Yet how many times do we hesitate to take out that manual and learn from our experiences for how best to correct whatever’s wrong? It’s easier to assume.

God knows I’ve been making a lot of assumptions lately about my body. I get caught in that perpetual cycle of thinking, ‘I know what’s wrong,’ and not stepping back and analyzing what works for me to stay fit.

For instance, the muffin top thing I’m sporting. I was looking at it the other day while eating a fistful of melba, wondering – even though the melba was in my calorie allotment for the day – where it came from.

“Um…duh, Lynn. Carbs like that cause you to gain in your belly,” said the voice in my head.

But here’s the deal. I wanted those melba in the moment. They sounded good, looked good and so I ate them, despite copious amounts of evidence in my food journals that, to the contrary, they’re not a good choice for me. You all know I’m all about living in the moment, but eating in the moment? Not so much. That’s not what being mindful is about.

My owner’s manual, when I stop being complacent and assuming I know everything about everything, teaches me to “clean the filter,” so to speak; to remember that when I eat a smoothie before a workout, I perform better, or when I lay off a few workouts to give a sore joint a chance to heal, I don’t hurt later.

Too often I am content to work with what my body can do in the moment, even when it throws out warning signs that its filters are dirty. So my goal? To be less reluctant to consult the past and instead, work with my experience to help my body perform at its peak. Complacency and assumptions can have no place in maintaining my weight loss.