More fun than dieting

I adopted a bold, new lifestyle last July. Call me crazy, but I made a conscious and sober decision to eat healthy. Salads replaced hamburgers. Fruit and smoothies replaced sweets. Fresh vegetables replaced (most) carbs. Baked and grilled replaced fried. Gluten all but disappeared and processed perished.

And you'll never believe what happened next! Thirty pounds disappeared, just like that! 

However . . . I still love to eat and I still love restaurants and I still love to eat in restaurants. So I have profound gratitude for restaurants that allow me to eat healthy when I'm tired of eating like a rabbit. Or too lazy or too bored or too busy to cook. (Hey, I never claimed to be an epicurean goddess.)

Here are my picks:

1. Vibrante Cafe and Shoppe on North Valley Mills Drive - the best kept secret in Waco, TX. Feel free to eat anything chef and part-owner Robin Jeep prepares. This is the ideal place to have lunch with friends. Before you leave, buy a bottle of Cinnamon Pear Balsamic Vinegar to use on your home-assembled salads. Order dinner before 2 p.m. and pick it up any time before 6 p.m. Everything about this place is pure heaven. When you have a little time, check out Robin's Antioxident Diet cookbook, too. The woman IS an epicurean goddess. 

2. Crave Cafe on Highway 1637 - Healthy and delicious food AND the convenience of China Spring dining. (It's worth the drive, too.) Their menu offers fattening along with healthy options, so it's culinary fun for the whole family. And when you want to cheat a little, get a slice of cheesecake to go. Take a couple of bites, then refrigerate it until breakfast. (I don't lose weight when I do this, but I don't gain it either. And believe me, this cheesecake is worth the sin -- occasionally.) Their fruit smoothies are great for lunch, and the staff won't ridicule you too much if you ask them to throw a few fresh spinach leaves in with the bananas and strawberries. 

3. Jason's Zucchini Grillini. WOW! A hot sandwich with 9-grain artisan bread (whatever that is), zucchini, onion, roma tomatoes, cheese, red pepper, olives, and hummus. I'm pretty sure I could make this at home, but why? I've enjoyed Jason's ever since their Waco location opened, but this sandwich is by far my favorite.     

4. Cheddar's Bourbon-Glazed Salmon, lunch portion, sans the deadly buttered croissants. The Grilled Tilapia is addictive, too. Be sure to order their carrots as one of the sides. Great food. Great prices. Great aquarium.

5. Light lunch deliciousness: Chicken Tortilla Soup at On The Border. If you fall of the wagon, the best place to do it is over a couple of their Chicken Empanadas. Give one to your spouse and suffer only half of the guilt -- although I don't recommend sharing these.

6. For great food on the run, I recommend Golden Corral take out. They weigh it and it's much less expensive and damaging than the buffet. And the dessert bar will not follow you home.

These are only a few of my favorites. More coming soon. Please share your healthy discoveries, too.

Random Gratitude

On my way to volunteer at a local school,  I stopped at Subway to buy a sack lunch to go. (I know, I know -- at eight months into retirement, I should have meal planning under control, but I don't, so judge me if you must.)

At 8:05 a.m., I was Subway's only customer, and since I was running a bit late, I was thankful for no line. I paid for a 6-inch sandwich (ham and turkey on 9-grain bread), a bag of baked Lay's, a diet coke, and a bottle of water, thankful the stop was quick because I was in a hurry.

Then the sandwich chef/cashier took my money and -- innocently yet deliberately -- reestablished my morning priorities.

"Have a blessed day," she said.

I paused and smiled at her. "You, too," I said. "We all need one of those."

"A blessed day? We sure do!" she said. "A month ago my husband died in his sleep, so I depend on  blessed days."

Okay. I know I possess more than my fair share of cluelessness, but I knew at that moment that I had time to slow down, that I could not just walk away from this conversation. She did not look old enough to be a widow (as if there's an age requirement), and my heart broke a little for her.

"I'm so sorry," I said, meaning it. "Had he been sick?"

"No," she said. "One night as I headed to bed, he told me to get a good night's rest and then turned on the TV to one of the Biblical channels. He just fell asleep and never woke up."

I processed her words for a moment. The fact that she looked younger than I do was not lost on me.

"How old was he?" I asked, more to continue the conversation than any other reason.

"He was only sixty. And he taught martial arts classes for thirty years." Her eyes told me she still cannot believe this. "He was in great shape." She said they'd been married fifteen years. She'd known him since she was fourteen.

Another moment to process. He was practically my age. He was seemingly perfectly healthy.

At this point, I realized not only why I had just finished reading the book of Job, but also why I was still the only customer in Subway. Words seemed so inadequate, but this stranger now mattered to me. I needed to say something, so I offered the most positive reaction I could.

"At least you will always know God's word was the last thing he heard."

"Oh yes!" she said, smiling. "He was a Christian. We always prayed together. Read the Bible together. I know he's in heaven now, but it still hurts. I feel lost without him, but everything would be so much worse if I was lost in my heart."

She was just getting warmed up. "I pray all of the time, and every time I pray, I can see his face, telling me to get out there, keep my faith and keep living."

I got chills. She kept talking. "We have to really live every day because we never know what's going to happen."

Then, comfortable that she had said everything she was supposed to say, she stopped talking. I've bought sandwiches at Subway for more than twenty years, and this morning was a first: my sandwich chef/cashier taught me a daily devotional; she reinforced a major life lesson. Things had become personal; I wanted to pray for her.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Mary," she said, smiling again.

Of course it is, I thought as I walked out the door, thankful that God's everyday wisdom often shows up in the least likely places and comes from people who are -- anything but -- random. All I have to do is slow down and pay attention.

The 21 Days of Gratitude Challenge

I just started reading a book titled "The 21 Days of Gratitude Challenge." OK, Shelley Hitz, I accept. 

First and always, I am thankful for God's love, even (especially) when I don't deserve it, which is most of the time. I am also thankful for the way He works in my life every single day, which is a manifestation of His love. In the past few months, He has changed the entire focus of my existence from seeking success in the workplace to cherishing a much simpler life focused on the relationships He created and continues to bless. I'm thankful that He has shown me the value of spending quiet, meaningful time, first with Him and then with the people He has placed in my life. 

Today in Job 38-41, I read God's incredible description of how he manages creation on a daily basis. It's not his nature to just "fix it and forget it." His careful, constant watch over both animals and man is ongoing. My favorite passage today was God's description of the horse in Chapter 39: "Do you give the horse his strength or clothe his neck with a flowing mane? Do you make him leap like a locust, striking terror with his proud snorting? He paws fiercely, rejoicing in his strength, and charges into the fray. He laughs at fear, afraid of nothing; he does not shy away from the sword." 

As I read this, my first reaction--as a horse lover myself--was to love God's love for horses, but then I realized God's power of suggestion and the symbolism of His words. As humans, with the capacity to know God's strength and the ability to understand that He is our protector, we should be as fearless as the horse and ready to mirror God's love and strength as we "charge into the fray" of the world each day. God might even be implying that if we take the time to consider Job's plight and God's power, our fears are somewhat silly.

Overwhelmed by God's power and majesty, Job replied, "I am unworthy -- how can I reply to you?" I totally get it, Job. I am unworthy. We are all unworthy. But thankfully, God doesn't see us that way. In God's eyes, we are His creation, His treasures. His love for us can't be measured in human terms. He wants to walk with us, live with us, give us the desires of our heart. He knows our names; he knows our children's names. He wants us to know we can trust Him with everything we have. 

As part of this gratitude challenge, I will write about the people who give my life meaning, but today...and every day...I am thankful for God, our loving provider, the author and finisher of our faith.

A Test for Governor Perry

"Local Control." Seriously, Governor?

Maybe it's time for you to take a state-mandated test. Please answer the following questions.

In what universe should Texas educators carry guns to their workplace, which happens to be  classrooms filled to overflowing with innocent young minds?

Should educators create an atmosphere that encourages learning or a prison-like police state that implements scare tactics?

Budget cuts have resulted in ridiculous work loads, leaving teachers with no free time to attend concealed handgun classes. Should these classes, along with target practice, become scheduled inservice days?

Who should supply the guns? The underpaid teachers who already buy school supplies their districts can no longer afford? Or should school districts stop wasting money on books, buildings, and technology and start purchasing more weapons?

Where would these guns be stored during the day? Will underpaid teachers have to provide their own safes to keep their weapons away from students who might steal them? Or should each teacher just strap a holster onto his or her belt, just for effect?

What happens when an overstressed or under-medicated educator with an overcrowded and/or under-motivated class has access to a gun to brandish to "get the students' attention"?

Don't teachers have enough responsibilities to juggle already? Do you know what teachers and administrators already do on any given day?

Is this your idea of a cost-cutting measure? Are you trying to tell our students and teachers their lives are not really worth the cost of hiring at least one well-trained law enforcement officer -- armed with a gun (or two) and a taser -- per campus to protect lives?

How do you feel about vigilante justice?

What did you learn from the Sandy Hook tragedy?

It's time to talk

We must address mass violence now -- while our hearts are broken, while the faces of those precious, innocent children and heroic adults are etched in our minds, while our emotions are raging -- because we tend to forget too quickly.

Here's a reminder: 54 people in the United States have died in mass shootings in the past nine months. 

Some of the shootings were in schools; some were not. And since the vast majority of schools have never and will never experience violence, the odds of never facing a crazed gunman are in our favor. However, playing the odds is no longer enough. The life of even one first grader is too much to risk. We need to step forward and become the adults, the innovators, the leaders who deserve our children's trust. 

I am not anti-gun or anti-NRA, but I have a few thoughts: 

1. Ban assault rifles. They are not handguns, nor are they hunting rifles. We do have a Second Amendment right to protect ourselves, but no individual needs a military style assault weapon to fulfill that right. Apparently we need tighter controls on gun shows and individual sales, too, because no one should be able to buy a gun without a background check. When kept in homes, guns need to be secured in places children, adolescents, and "mentally or psychologically disturbed" young adults cannot access. Our tragic reality demands such measures. 

2. Address mental health issues and and upgrade treatment for those who need it. I'm no mental health expert, but the dialogue needs to begin on political, professional, and personal levels. Congress needs to talk. Medical professionals need to talk. Individuals need to talk. Identifying those in need is everyone's job, i.e. if we know someone who needs counseling or medication, we become proactive. We talk to their family members even if it feels awkward or uncomfortable. We make sure we talk to the people who are in a position to secure that help. If necessary, we resort to talking to law enforcement officials about individuals who set off our internal alarm system.

3. Rethink the way we commercialize violence in the media and in video games. Devise more stringent rating guidelines. While violent movies or games will never influence most of the people who enjoy them, they do warp some minds, and too many of our mass murderers fall into the latter category.  Financial gain should never trump public safety. The creative and gifted writers, producers, and programmers can surely find ways to produce entertainment that does not have the potential to damage minds or perceptions. 

4. Do our job as parents. Be the parent; raise the kids. Know what they're up to, what and who they're involved with, how they spend their time, how they think. If they need an intervention, provide one. If you need an intervention, find one. Discourage all teen drug and alcohol use. Science has proved that the teen-age brain is not developed enough to handle these substances. Teach them to respect other people, young and old. Forbid profanity. Push them to be involved in an activity they love. Know who they're spending time with; check out their friends. Monitor and limit their computer use. Eat together as a family as often as you can. Say grace. Take them to church. If they need counseling or rehab, find a way to make it happen. Err on the side of caution. Model character and integrity. Listen to them. Laugh with them. Hug them. Tell them how much you love them.

On behalf of Sandy Hook Elementary School, we must find answers or we lose this very real war. We cannot forget this weekend and we cannot survive in fear. Most of all, we must protect our children's innocence. Until we take action, all we can do is grieve. 

J.K. Rowling has nothing on me

OK. Maybe she does.

But best sellers and movie royalties notwithstanding, Ms. Rowling, other writers, and I share the incredible feeling that accompanies this photo. And today this makes me happy.

Six months, 90,000-plus words, a couple of revisions, and 356 pages later, this is what a "finished" manuscript looks like. I'm still seeking the perfect title, but now I can finally begin query and synopsis writing, agent hunting, and probably another round or two of revising.

Content has already changed significantly; even the protagonist has undergone a name change. And since I'm already second guessing the ending, I guarantee additional revisions are more than a mere probability. No matter what happens next, I find immense happiness in the journey.

Life's a dance

October 26 is the anniversary of the Shootout at the OK Corral.

Legend has it that the Earp brothers and their friend Doc Holliday spotted members of the Clanton-McLaury gang buying supplies in Tombstone, Arizona. Apparently they had an axe to grind because the ensuing gunfight left three dead and three wounded, including Holliday. The local sheriff charged the Earps and Holliday with murder, but a Tombstone judge declared the men "fully justified in committing these homicides." Go figure. 

Theodore Roosevelt, Hillary Clinton, Keith Urban and Mollie Brown (the unsinkable philanthropist) all entered the world on this day.

And so did my granddaughter, Olivia Grace McWilliams. Today she turns three, and I daresay her colorful personality rivals that of any of the individuals listed above. Let's just say she knows how to work a room, not to mention her grandmother. Her spunk, feistiness, friendliness, and independent streak remind me of her great grandmother, Zaidee Mildred Watson Brittain, daughter of Hilliard Watson and Mildred Holliday Watson -- And yes, there is a connection to Doc, but my genealogy is fuzzy. 

You see, Zaidee loved lots of things, but she especially loved to sing and dance. From ballet and tap to waltz and two-step, she was always happiest when life included a dance. I am more subdued when it comes to dancing in public, but like Zaidee, Olivia loves to dance, and she dreams of the day she can begin ballet lessons. Meanwhile, any time she has an opportunity to perform, especially when a stage is involved, she is in her element. 

After a long battle with Alzheimer's, Zaidee passed away on Sept. 4. Shortly after a wonderful memorial service on Sept. 8, Olivia led me back into the church sanctuary. Everyone else was in the large foyer visiting and reminiscing, so just Olivia, a sound technician, and I were in the huge room. She walked me to the front of the church and showed me to a seat on the front row, and then she proceeded up the steps to the pulpit area. Since there was music, she did what came naturally to her. She danced.  

After her impromptu performance, she walked back down the steps and came to where I was obediently sitting--and applauding. 

"It's your turn now," she announced, smiling at me expectantly, as if dancing in the pulpit area of a Southern Baptist Church after one's mother-in-law's funeral were the most natural thing in the world. 

"Oh honey, I can't do that," I said softly, hating to deny my only granddaughter's sincere wish. 

"Try it. You might like it," she smiled, capitalizing on her version of peer pressure. 

I shook my head no, but I knew I was in trouble. 

Then she took my hand, smiled, and in her sweetest coax said, "I know. Let's both do it together?"

So, I did the only thing I could possibly do. I stood up, followed her up the stairs, and we danced. In front of the empty Baptist sanctuary and the sound technician. After my mother-in-law's memorial service. 

I'm sure Zaidee is still laughing about that one. Truthfully, I am, too. 

And I can't wait to follow this little girl's timeline. It's certain to be as impressive as those of any of her predecessors.

Oh and by the way, have a spectacular third birthday, sweet Olivia.

Anyone can do this, right?

I am retired.

I have looked forward to saying that for months (read years) now. With free time and a meager monthly check, retirement represents an opportunity to live in the moment, to explore new options, to dream new dreams. Truth be told, however, retirement also means letting Kaiser, our 12-year-old miniature dachshund in and out of the back door about eight or twenty times a day, answering calls from telemarketers who have somehow acquired my cell number, and feeling a bit guilty about having so much free time.

For any 30-year veteran of teaching journalism and PreAP and AP English, slowing down is difficult, and grasping the concept of freedom might prove impossible. Therefore, not wanting to disappoint my colleagues by becoming a non-productive slug, I have created a new job for myself. At some point during the past year, I realized I want to write a novel. No lightning bolt, no epiphany, just a growing desire that eventually turned into a dream that consumed my imagination. (English teachers can never have something as simple and straightforward as an "idea.") And now, 27 days into retirement, I am 80 pages into my first masterpiece.

But is it a masterpiece? Nobody knows. It's grammatically correct and well punctuated. It has characters, conflict, description, rising action, dialogue, mystery, even a bit of romance. But I keep wondering, "Is this any good?" And for the first time in years, I have no clear opinion. The so-called experts advise first-time novelists to just keep writing, to not worry whether your story is fabulous or pathetic. Just get something on paper, even if it's garbage.

Do these experts realize they could be giving advice to former English teachers who have revised almost every word as they graded the essays of more than a few students through the years who have unashamedly given them garbage. Unabashedly. With aplomb. Do these so-called experts expect us to become those students of our nightmares? the ones who could produce garbage with clear consciences?

Nevertheless, I persevere, traveling through Neverland as my proverbial plot thickens day by day. At the very least, writing is an inexpensive hobby that occupies my free time between having lunch with friends, taking trips to visit my granddaughter, reading other people's masterpieces on my Nook, and wasting time Facebook stalking on my iPad. Writing keeps me away from the mall, online shopping, my kitchen, and my car. Writing challenges me, keeps me focused, preserves my aging brain, makes me want to keep writing.

Rejected or accepted, my eventual novel will be mine. Meanwhile, I have rediscovered that writing is incredibly fun. I killed three people this afternoon, and I never had to leave my laptop. Not too shabby for someone who was educated using typesetters, darkroom chemicals, galley proofs, process cameras, waxers, t-squares, and light tables. When I remember those days, novel writing pales in comparison. After all, I've read about five million books in my day.

But I am naive. I am green. I have never finished a novel. I can't even honestly call myself a writer, at least not in public, at least not yet.

But I am determined and persistent. I'll let you know how it goes.