What does 100 calories look like?

I love 100 calorie snacks. Be a virtuous snackist and have your fun, too. Not only that, but the marketers of these reduced packages have convinced us to pay more for the privilege.  But of course the foot pundits must spoil our fun. They may be 100 calories, but are they good calories? Being a type-2 diabetic complicates things further. I am also supposed to make sure it is balanced. I am to pack in a carbohydrate, a protein, and roughage in to that teeny tiny bundle. There are days, well, the thinking needed to put together the perfect little snack, while my body rages to be fed, is more than I can handle. On days like that, I throw the marketing model in to my lunch bag.

I got to thinking, what's stopping me from putting together my own 100 calorie wonders? I document the creations as I go, and I never have to measure a second time. A happy by-product of this exercise is I got a better picture of what a hundred calories looks like. It's little.

One Wasa rye cracker, 2 tablespoons hummus, sliced bell pepper, and five Wasabi peas (hot!)

One Kavli cracker, 1/4 pepperoni stick, two skinny cow (lite) wedges, and carrot peels.

A great bedtime snack, shared by a type-1 buddy, is half a protein bar with 125 ml of (1%) milk. This tides over to breakfast very nicely.  It comes out to about 200 calories.

An egg is fifty calories. I paired it with half a crusty bun and a little ketchup. Salsa or fresh tomato would look better. I really wanted to show off my microwave egg cooker. One minute and fifteen seconds!

Two measly dates, stuffed with Laughing Cow cream cheese. Yum, tasty; a calorie punch in a tiny package.

Ten peanuts, count them and weep. Maybe measure with a tablespoon, no cheating!

Edamame, 1/2 cup. Now this is more satisfying! Break open one end and suck the seeds out. Try with parmesan cheese or a little hot sauce.

Half an energy, protein or health bar. Taste of Nature; nuts and agave nectar. Another favorite of mine is The Simply bar, carb-free and fiber-full. These bars are handy portable snacks, but typically about 180 calories each. Cut them in half for a home-made hundred calorie treat.

Chickpeas, 1.2 cup. High in fiber and protein, low in fat. So satisfying! Roast them, munch on them like nuts. I buy dried and reconstitute them overnight in water. Here's a fabulous oven-roasted recipe by Chris Rochelle.

Bad news, cheese-lovers. Due to its high fat content, cheese is a very dense calorie choice. This is Armstrong Extra Old low fat cheese, 3 cm, 80 calories. I fleshed it out with two croutons. Cheese is still great for its protein content, and it is so beautifully portable. And tasty. To keep from over-eating, I precut my block in to squares, line five cubes along a strip of plastic wrap, and wrap them tightly. I store them all in a Ziploc in the freezer, and take out a few at a time. If I am using a previously frozen cube in baking, it crumbles rather than shreds.

Four walnuts, or eight halves.

http://frugaledmontonmama.com/2014/03/make-these-simple-chocolate-100-calorie-snacks-at-home/

Under 50 calories:
http://www.womansday.com/health-fitness/diet-weight-loss/50-Best-Snacks-Under-50-Calories?click=ht

I will post more.

Diarizing changes perception

When I was first diagnosed pre-diabetic, I indulged in three months of intensive tracking and diarizing; my blood sugars, my diet, and how I felt. This sort of furious activity temporarily impresses the professionals. I come in to my appointments with my reams of charts and graphs. So organized. So, dedicated. So... geeky. I don't keep it up forever, though. My inner hedonist wrestles free in time.

Those three months did me a valuable service, though. The connection between my eating and how I felt could no longer be ignored. I began to look at sweets and sugary drinks in a whole new way. They now blaze red flashing signals of misery. I easily pass them by.

My perception of portions and what full means were permanently changed as well. A good portion of meat shrunk to the size of a pack of cards. Vegetables swelled to half my plate. I no longer kept eating until I could hold no more. I became much more aware of my body and at interpreting it's signals.

My recent flurry of diarizing, to track medication and exercise and their effect on my blood sugars, yielded similar results. Again, I'd avoided the obvious. Regularly portioned exercise directly improves my ability to process sugar. My body aches were cries for more exercise, not a call to relax.

Which got me to thinking of the value of diarizing. Not all of us can do it all the time. But it pays to set aside a packet of days to pay attention. The exercise may just change your perceptions.

A great online tracker can be found at http://thecarrot.com. Registration for the basic service is free, and you can track through your iPhone. There are dozens of trackers to choose from, and you can select those you are following now.

The Book of Odds

A new site launches, giving us the odds for everyday events. http://www.bookofodds.com/ I can build the odds of me, and the "search by odds" can give some very odd results.

Here are the "odds of me" so far.

1 in 12.28 The predicted odds a white woman aged 49 will live to be at least 97 years old are 1 in 12.28 (US, 7/2004).

1 in 12.5 The odds a woman 45 - 64 has been diagnosed with diabetes are 1 in 12.5 (US, 2000).

1 in 12.5 The odds a female 40 - 49 eats candy at least once a day are 1 in 12.5 (US, 4/1987 - 8/1988).

1 in 21.28 The odds a female volunteer will volunteer by engaging in music, performance, or other artistic activities in a year are 1 in 21.28 (US, 9/2007).

A New Day at the Eye Doctor

A year ago, when this blog was young, I documented my visit to the eye clinic. Yesterday I had my annual checkup. Experiences are vivid, maybe because the eye is so vulnerable. I am hyper-sensitive during these visits. I bring hubby along and I am grateful that he drives me home. Drops are put in my eyes that keep my eyes dilated and keep me from focusing. For a brief time, my frenetic pace just stops. Until I can see again.



I noted some improvements from my last visit. Stations are now clearly marked with large signs, POD 1, POD 2, and POD 3 (large signs in an eye clinic. What a concept). But I get ahead of myself. I must first "report to the nursing station". Like last year, I take a number. I am 99. They are serving 98. Service was very fast.



I was directed to POD 2; much easier to find this year. There was still a hand drawn sign with a bold arrow, "Put your paperwork in the basket." the nurse was brisk, placing my paperwork in the basket and redirecting me to the POD 2 waiting room. I did note that she did not spare a moment for eye contact. So, despite the improvements, I still felt like a number.



The improvements needed now are human, and not as quantifiable. How many times a day are these nurses asked the same question? I can imagine how monotonous it can become...for them. For me, all is novel. How can they be engaged in their day so the experience is humanized?



As a side note, one of my favorite bloggers, Paul Levy, promotes Grateful Nation. Apparently, gratefulness is good for me. This I believe. I must learn more.




I am grateful that the tests for glaucoma so far come back negative. I treasure my eyes. I am grateful for a patient husband, who dreads the hospital even more than I do. I treasure him, too.

Body and Mind

Well, from the declining quality of my posts, it's obvious I am tired. Then near the end of day yesterday, I got a stuffed head and scratchy throat.

No wonder.

Was the fuzzy brain the fore-runner of whatever virus has hit me now? Or is it a case of where the mind is, the body will follow? Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

I will say, the time taken to log my state of health, what I eat, when I eat, exercise, sleep, has made me much more aware of how my whole system is interdependent. I see that I pay for every foolish choice...now that I am paying attention.

I borrow the cartoon from http://www.paranormalknowledge.com/articles/tag/religion

More of that nervous energy...

The other night I caught myself spastically reaching for the popcorn. I did not stop until I gave my hands something else to do. So I pulled out my knitting. I now have a DS cover nearly done.

I don't know if my iPod and cell phone socks will take off, but it seems that they should be really cool. I do check with really cool people like my granddaughter and my neice just to be sure. My daughter scoffed at my idea until she saw a woman with a cell phone sock on the train. She, also, had balked at the cost of the iPod sock and opted to make her own...out of a real sock.

Anyways, that's how I kept my hands busy. When I am dieting, I am overwhelmed with frenetic energy, searching for an outlet. It is my hungry cells looking for their ambrosia? What will it take to get them to open up?

A Repast of Vegetables

The numbers don't lie. Bread kills. Me. After weeks of monitoring, on Saturday morning I get a "good morning" number - 5.4 mmol/l. What did I do differently? I ended my evening with a crisp and nutritious vegetable stir-fry. Flavored with ginger, honey, and chillies (no salt), it bursts across the palate. This is now my favorite way to serve sweet potato. It filled, it satisfied, and it was a meal without bread.

(Added November 13, 2008 - well, I'm fresh back from diabetic training and it turns out I was only half right. The nurse told me the culprit was FAT. Fat gets processed the slowest, so it will stay in my system, being broken down and stored, for over 24 hours. The list of food "good guys" gets shorter and shorter....)

This morning, I wake up to one of my worst morning numbers, 8.0 mmol/l. What did I do differently? Hubby and I indulged in a large pizza with bread sticks last evening. I ate the equivalent of five servings of bread in a single sitting.

The numbers don't lie. Bread kills. Me.

I mustn't give up carbohydrates altogether, of course. The stir fry was nearly all carbohydrates, too. But they were at their most complex. There was nothing complex about that pizza. I can all the toppings I want, it is still a very, very simple answer to my cravings (fat, salt, and bread).

It is obvious there is more work to be done in our family to change our eating habits and our preferences. I have an image of me in a monk's cowl, sitting down to a plain meal of vegetables and barley or perhaps a little soup, parsimonious in my sips, withering to a shadow of my former self, a veritable living prune...

Energizer Bunny

A few day ago I was at my lowest, in a real funk because of a real problem at work. But I tackled it differently this time, giving myself only a few days to lick my wounds before I reached out for help. It was such a relief to talk about the problem, as I was encouraged and I know I will not be alone in dealing with it.


These latest changes in the way I deal with problems are part of a bigger change in perspective, spurred by a little coaching from my boss. The simple idea is that we can get stuck because of small irritants or barriers that drain us of energy and keep us from moving on. Spurred on by her example, I tackled some of those personal energy-drainers in my life. Shortly after that I got a good doctor, and shortly after that I was diagnosed with diabetes.


You'd think that would be bad news, but it's something that's been hanging over my head for years. With a solid diagnosis, there are solid programs I can get join to make a change in my life. Seven weeks ago I joined Weight Watchers. I've lost over seven pounds since I joined. Last week we joined the YMCA, and I've gone over to swim at lunch time. The difference in my energy levels and my mobility, well, they are life-changing. I am bouncing around like the energizer bunny.


This got confirmed yesterday as I chatted up my weekend students at NAIT. I had casually mentioned throughout the course, by example, my experience as an Income Tax volunteer, my time as a Condo Board member, a discussion board moderator, an artist, my knitting, the joys of being a grandma and a Sunday School teacher. All of this besides being a very busy manager for my corporation, where my days are crammed with meetings. Someone asked when I sleep?


Well, that's another issue altogether, as madame menopause imposes her own disruption to my schedule. I am up very early most days, involuntarily. But I do sleep deep and long every night.


And I do manage my crowded schedule very well. I tell my colleagues at work that I manage by being "freakishly organized". I credit my years as a single parent on how to use each moment to the fullest. Before the days of PDA's and Blackberries, I kept a Day Timer to keep track of all my appointments. I live by my calendar. My latest innovations include the dreaded To-Do list, and a Tickler file. At home, we keep a "Punch List" on the white board for errands that need to be done around the home. I am in charge of my toys, by the way, they don't control me. I spent several days turning off all the buzzers on my Blackberry, for instance. By comparison to my days as a single mother, my simple life these days with a calm man at my side, my evenings mostly filled with family and entertainment, feels like plenty of time to do a few more things.


I'm thinking, with my renewed energy from the weight loss, I will be a bouncy, bouncy lady. Perhaps my weight gain and my eating was a way to self-medicate a tendency towards hyperactivity. But I don't remember such energy since I was a six year old child. After that, I mostly hid in books. I think I must have been hiding for a very, very long time.

Visiting Dad

Dad called for a surprise visit at lunch. He's in town for tests. He rolls his eyes for giving his new wife new things to worry about. His lung function is rated something like "extreme" which means they have an upper time limit. "Five or ten years", dad says.



I saw shades of myself as we talked, because he and I were more interested in the advances in technology, and the relative efficiency of the office. Or perhaps those things are a little easier to talk about. Dad was impressed with the speed they got him through his tests. In for a CAT scan at nine, they promised he could see his specialist by ten. And they did. Dad credits the speed to the small office with a few people managing several tasks. The same lady who gave him his wrist band reviewed his chart and fast-tracked him to the front of the line. Dad says he sat in the waiting room only a minute. It was obvious the counter staff knew the doctor who was ordering the tests, and knew what they had to do. Dad was similarly impressed that his doctor had all the test results in front of him when they talked.



It was a lot easier talking to dad this time. I've lost some of my old defensiveness, and he seems to have mellowed a bit. Or perhaps he's always been mellow and I've finally stopped striving to meet some imagined standard. He still worries about me, drilled me about the state of my home, my children, my work. It's all good, really. Very good.



Dad will do just fine, too. We compared notes on the "ideal" diet and the trials of reducing salt. Funny, how much more I taste the food now.



It's like, Naomi taught me to see the blue. Now dad's example is teaching me to savor. Every berry bursting it's own gift as I eat my oatmeal and milk.

A day at the eye doctor

I've just been diagnosed with diabetes, which leads to a whole bunch of other appointments and tests. That includes an eye exam. I couldn't help compare the intake experience at this very commercial enterprise, compared to the visit to the mental health clinic only a few days before.

The place is set up for profit. The architecture, the furnishings are all sleek and modern. Glass walls and chocolate walls sweep around in sleek curves, with little cubes to show off the merchandise. The cute little reception chairs were ordered in a perfect row. Instead of a coffee table, cushions. The fabric was worn in a spot and I couldn't help wonder, "Gosh, that fabric is going to be hard to match."

Anyways, the receptionist was pleasant enough. We had to lean close to talk. All those hard surfaces, and the space echoed with loud chatter. I asked her if it was like this all the time. "It comes and goes. Sometimes it is real quiet. When there's lots of people like now, yes, it is hard to hear." I make a mental note, "Put in some soft wall coverings." To the technician puffing air on to my eye, I complain about the absence of magazines. "Oh, but we have the big screen for that." What do you know. I completely missed the big screen on the wall, playing endless loops of instructional video on... you know what... the eye.

I'm not sure I am keen on all these instructional videos showing up all over the place. The Edmonton courthouse has the same thing. But I must say the courthouse video lady gives very practical advice. Advice that a live clerk of the court must repeat dozens of times a day. Most people (we hope) don't go to court that often. There's no way we could pick up all we need to know to keep ourselves straight, in the right place, and out of trouble in the short time we are there. I am grateful for the courthouse video lady. Though the courthouse is not so nearly as sleek and polished as that eyeglass store.

Should a public building pay as much attention to it's intake? What impression is it trying to build? Rather than prosperous, modern, and professional, what image is the intake office attempting to portray? Is it calm and efficiency? Or is it like the courthouse; authority and order? How does joe taxpayer feel about money being spent on a sleek and polished intake gallery?

The mental health clinic had patient artwork on the wall, which was very good. There was a great deal of random clutter, however, including the inevitable collection of ratty notices. Those notices, I swear, don't have nine lives. They are immortal. No-one ever reviews them or dares to take them down.