Rethinking Thin - By Gina Kolata

So, it turns out my new best friend, Gina Kolata from the NY Times, is actually pretty cool and here is why (besides the fact that her name rhymes with Pina Colada):

#1: I emailed her to tell her I liked her article and she emailed me right back! I'm always surprised when that happens.

Writers are nice that way. I think they're so happy that people actually read what they wrote, that they have to respond. Except when I wrote to Laura Ingalls Wilder when I was 9 to tell her how much I loved her books, and she didn't answer back.

My mom told me she was dead, and I burst in to tears. My mom thought I knew, since Laura and Mary were pioneer girls, and the dates were right there in the book. Boy, did she feel bad. I just wasn't really thinking that Laura would have been around 120 years old, or so, when I was 9. I thought she was maybe my grandma's age. I think my grandma was about 56 then.

But back to Gina Kolata: She did not even brag about how fabulous she is in real life. So, I Googled her.

#2: Lo and behold, she was on Comedy Central talking with Stephen Colbert. She looked very smart and funny on t.v.

Maybe she could be Colbert's Vice President? Oh wait, he quit. Damn. Can you imagine how much easier it'd be for America if our president could just get North Korea to laugh a little? Not snicker, but actually laugh?

But anyway, back to Gina Kolata ("and getting caught in the rain..."):

#3: She wrote a book called "Rethinking Thin: The New Science of Weight Loss--and the Myths and Realities of Dieting." I have not read it, but I think it is about being healthy, embracing the chub, and so forth and so on.

And she thinks it's okay to be chubby, and she's not chubby, so she isn't just saying that to make herself feel better, like I am. I can justify my chub all the way to the moon and back. I'd lighter on the moon, right?

I did not know about Gina Kolata's book when I said she was my best friend. If I were more organized, I would sign my blog up for Amazon and plug her book for my own financial gain, but instead I will just tell the world to go buy the book because she is nice and funny and smart.

Those are my three biggest criteria for best friends. Plus, they need to laugh at my jokes. Why have them around otherwise?

Here's Gina Kolata talking to Mr. Colbert. You have to watch an ad first, just ignore it. Then she'll come on next.

http://www.comedycentral.com/motherload/index.jhtml?ml_video=86212

See, I told you she's nice. I'm so lucky I found her!

I was so busy working on this today, that I forgot to go running. Oops. Maybe tomorrow.

Embrace the Chub!

Ah, sweet vindication...

I was delighted to read the front page article in the Bend Bulletin today titled "Health Nuts Give Chubby Another Look" while I was eating my Kashi GoLean crunchy Fiber Twigs cereal.

Apparently, being up to 25 pounds over weight isn't so bad for you after all. The writer, Gina Kolata of the New York Times, is my new best friend, I think.

She says "Chubby, it turns out, may be the new healthy. Is it the new beautiful, too?"

Yes, Gina, yes, yes, yes!

I named this blog The Chubby Mommy Running Club on purpose. In my own way, I'm embracing my softie self, and pointing out the reality of many 42 year old American moms. I'm not advocating obesity, and I'm not putting down thinness.

I'm saying I'm chubby, and I'm healthy, and it's okay.

Here are some quotes I found through links at Wired Magazine's Blog (http://blog.wired.com/wiredscience/2007/11/chubby-could-be.html?cid=89518476#comment-89518476 ) on this subject.

I think Wired is super cool, hip, and happenin' and of course I just pull out the quotes that I like, and which support my view. Duh, that goes without saying, right?

http://www.physorg.com/news113592452.html

...having a little extra weight actually seemed to help people survive some illnesses - results that baffled several leading health researchers.

"This is a very puzzling disconnect," said Dr. JoAnn Manson, chief of preventive medicine at Harvard's Brigham and Women's Hospital. "That is a conundrum."

Being merely overweight - having a BMI between 25 and 30 - did not increase the risk of dying from heart disease or any kind of cancer.

University of South Carolina obesity researcher Steven Blair, who says people can be fat and fit, is a believer. He called the report a careful and plausible analysis...

I think JoAnn Manson of Harvard needs to stop worrying about the puzzling disconnect conundrum, and I think Steven Blair is my other new best friend.

Here's the truth: some of my best friends are thin. It's not their fault, and I'm not mad at them.

In fact, I married a tall, skinny man. He's 6'6 and weighs 175 pounds. He can't really help it, he was born that way. Well, that's not true, actually. He was 23" long and weighed 7.5 pounds when he was born. He got taller and heavier as he got older.

I think I was born with the chubby gene. I've seen pictures of myself when I was five. I was chubby.

No one gives my husband diet tips, though. When he goes out for beer with his friends, they don't discuss eating and exercising strategies, and lament on how they want to lose at least 5 pounds before their birthday. They just accept him for who he is.

I wish my chubby girlfriends and I could accept ourselves. I wish America could. I wish, I wish...


I'm not advocating unhealthy lifestyle and obesity. I'm saying chub is not a dirty word. Unless your a Jr. high school boy who just discovered the phrase that means...well, you know what it means. And that's not really dirty, that's just nature.

Nature vs. Nurture? You be the judge, but if you're a bit pudgy, embrace the chub, and spread the word!

Marvelous Sally Heatherton, Where are you?

Speaking of Susan Taylor and Awbrey Butte, has anyone heard from Sally Heatherton lately?

Some Bend blog readers may recall her sad, but hilarious story. She started her blog a couple of months ago to explain her view of what was really going on up on the "Butte." She said that nice people like herself who lived on Awbrey didn't dislike Susan Taylor, they just didn't want to see her clean laundry hanging outside on a clothesline. Especially since the blatant clothes hanging act was against the clearly stated CC&R's of the upscale neighborhood.

Sally was a successful realtor here in Bend, according to her, and, well, things just went from bad to worse for Sally and her husband, Bob the Builder. Last we heard, she left Bob, moved to Portland, and put her Awbrey Butte house on the market.

Then, it seems, her blog got hacked, and someone put pictures of scantily clad women up there, which must be very embarrassing for Sally. I think the women look tacky. I wonder how many Black Rope Martinis they had?

Here is Sally's blog:

http://marvelousbend.wordpress.com/2007/09/23/hello-world/

We'd all like to think Sally's real, since she's so nice, but most of us fear she's someone's parody of Bend's ongoing struggle with over-priced housing in a national real estate market slump.

If Hollywood's looking for a new screenplay, since all their writers are on strike, Sally's story would be a marvelous movie. If only we could find her!

Someone must know something about Sally.

Anyone?

Why Neil Young makes Me Cry

Neil Young - "Rust Never Sleeps" Pocahontas Lyrics

Aurora borealis
The icy sky at night
Paddles cut the water
In a long and hurried flight
From the white man
to the fields of green
And the homeland
we've never seen.

They killed us in our tepee
And they cut our women down
They might have left some babies
Cryin' on the ground
But the firesticks
and the wagons come
And the night falls
on the setting sun.

They massacred the buffalo
Kitty corner from the bank
The taxis run across my feet
And my eyes have turned to blanks
In my little box
at the top of the stairs
With my Indian rug
and a pipe to share.

I wish a was a trapper
I would give thousand pelts
To sleep with Pocahontas
And find out how she felt
In the mornin'
on the fields of green
In the homeland
we've never seen.

And maybe Marlon Brando
Will be there by the fire
We'll sit and talk of Hollywood
And the good things there for hire
And the Astrodome
and the first tepee
Marlon Brando, Pocahontas and me
Marlon Brando, Pocahontas and me
Pocahontas.

Movie Stars

I met the actors and I went to their first big party last night at McMenniman's. There are bunch of them in Bend now. Actors, producers, directors, voice talent, makeup artists, and even some of those "key grip" type people. I didn't ask what key grips do, but I will. How many keys really need gripping in a movie, anyway?

Apparently, moving from Hollywood to Bend is becoming a trend. Imagine. Trading smog for snow. They want to live here, and they want more movies to be made here so they don't have to fly back to the dreaded city of Angeles to go to work.

So they made a nice non-profit called Film Oregon Alliance: http://www.filmoregon.org/ where they can network and organize. Seems there are over 200 people here in Bend signed up already. And they have a business plan and everything. Actors are smart. Some of them just play dumb on T.V.

The thing about actors is they're fun. I'm sure some of the super-duper movie stars can be a pain, but all that starvation and plastic surgery can't be much fun, and I'd be crabby too if I were a super star.

But the regular actors, the working guys and gals who plug along for years making movies and T.V. who are here today and here tomorrow, they're fun. They have the "goofball" gene, which is the biggest compliment I can give anyone. If you take yourself too seriously, you're boring.

I like these actors and writers. I'm glad we've got so many here. I wish some of them would write a sit-com about the clothesline issue on Awbury Butte. Seems like some good material in there, for a Wednesday night show. Maybe it'd be a drama, though, not a comedy.

I wonder who'd play Susan Taylor. Julia Roberts did such a nice job in that Erin Brakovich movie, she'd probably capture the clothesline neighborhood angst thing pretty well. Maybe even earn another Oscar.

I'd like to be a key grip on that job!

By the way, the photo of two famous actors, above, was taken by Bonnie Morrissey, a famous photographer.

Ooops! I forgot to diet...

I got on the scale this morning. The good news is I haven't gained any pounds. The bad news is, I haven't lost any. Two weeks ago I promised myself I'd lose ten pounds before my birthday. My birthday's in ten days.

I don't usually lie to myself. I prefer to think of this lack of pound loss and a broken promise as more of a misunderstanding.

Seriously, I just forgot.

Maybe I could lose five pounds before my birthday. Maybe if I start running every day again, that would help. And I haven't eaten any Halloween candy in about...23 hours. If I stop eating candy and start exercising, you never know. It could happen.

I'll tie a string around my finger, and hopefully by the end of the week, it will be loose.

Licorice Martini

I just made a new drink: Licorice Liqueur with vodka. Stirred, not shaken. I think it is my new favorite drink. I think I will name it "Black Rope Martini." But if anyone has a better name, please share.

I let my husband taste it. He made a face like a 5 month old baby makes when you give it strained spinach for the first time.

He said "That's terrible!" and his arms went up in shock and surrender, and he shuddered, like a kid who has to take nasty medicine that has a bad after taste.

Good. More for me.

I haven't had vodka at home in about 4 months, and I keep hearing about Martha Stewart's festive Halloween cocktails with black vodka, so I decided to get some. In honor of her. She works so hard on those holiday parties for her magazines, it's the least I can do.

So, at 1:00 p.m. on Halloween, shortly before the children were due home for a fun-filled evening of begging for candy, I went to Ray's Market.

Ray's is great. It's a high-end grocery store where you can buy broccoli, bread, gourmet salad dressing, milk, and close-out chubby mommy sweat pants for $6. But Ray's has a wonderful secret bonus: a fully stocked liquor store in the back corner, with its own separate door. This is handy for people like me who still feel a certain shame about driving up to an icky, low-life liquor store in some non-descript mini-mall looking for vodka 'cause she's too cheap to go out to bars.

Ray's is nice. It's a tiny bit snobbish. It has those wonderful cement floors that have been stained dark burgundy and polished. It has an amazing wine selection. It almost smells like Wild Oats, in that organic, high-end vegetarian way. And the check out lines are short.

Alas, Ray's liquor store was all out of black vodka. I should have shopped for it weeks ago, apparently.

So I asked the girl at the counter if she had anything black I could put in a martini. We looked and looked, and she finally found this Licorice Liqueur on a very low shelf, at ankle level. "This might be black..." she said, as she swished it around and tried to look through the dark bottle. It was the best she could do.

It was 1:20, at this point, and I still had to buy leeks for my potato-leek soup, make the soup for my party later, and get my husband some lunch, since he's working so hard on our start-up company. So I bought that Licorice Liqueur and zoomed home with his hot slice of pepperoni from Pizzacato, the fancy-schmanzy pizza place next to Ray's.

I'm nice that way. I buy him special lunch sometimes. "I'll get you some lunch," I say, as I run out the door, on my secret mission to look for black liquor. "I'll work on that business plan when I get home. And I'll do the dishes, so don't worry. You just keep programming..." I'm so helpful and nice and such an indispensable helper in this start-up business. And I get half when we sell to Google for $16 Billion.

I was going to take my Licorice Liqueur and vodka over to my friend Marla's house so we could have martinis while our husbands took the kids out to beg for candy. It was going to be a surprise hostess gift. But for some weird reason, I got sleepy, and didn't feel like drinking much. So I brought her the potato leek soup, drank some of her red wine and called it a night.

I didn't even try the Licorice Liqueur until tonight, which is no longer Halloween, but is officially All Saints Day. So in honor of the saints (is there a patron saint of Licorice?) here's my new famous recipe for a "Black Rope Martini:"

Get the vodka out of the freezer. Pour some in a martini glass. Pour in some Licorice Liqueur. Swish it around with a clean fork. Viola and yum.

If you have two or three, you may understand the "black rope" part of the name. It would be very un-ladylike of me to talk about it on my blog.

I will be serving this at all my parties now.

It's kind of black and it's kind of purple at the same time. It is a marvelous brew, plus I like saying Licorice Liqueur. It seems like something Martha would say.

Cheers, and bottoms up!