Determined To Succeed

Day one-hundred-fifty-six.

Happy new week, my friends, and welcome to the second full week of 2011. As all of you know I live in southern New Jersey and, if you’ve kept up with the weather maps and forcasts recently, you know we here are expecting another 4″ – 8″ of snow. I know I am fond of saying this alot and throwing my Chicago-ness around, but you should see and feel the anxiety of others who live here, their “the sky is falling” mentality taking over over what will amount to less than a foot of snow.

When I was a kid, they only closed the Chicago Public Schools once (that I can remember). It was for the Blizzard of 1979 during which 16.5 inches of snow fell on January 13, 1979 alone, setting a new record for snow in one calendar day. By the end of January 14, 18.8 inches of snow had fallen. That blizzard was so powerful that it resulted in the election of Jane Byrne, the first and only woman so far to be elected mayor of Chicago. In a special election, she defeated Michael Bilandic, who took over after the death of Mayor Richard J.Daley, because of the city’s badly-planned-and-executed response to the snow.

Yes, Chicago received more than 10-inches of snow more than the most this area is expected to receive over the next 24 hours. Sigh. When I was in the store yesterday buying healthy stuff to eat like salad fixins, healthy lunchmeat and veggies I surveyed the crowds all gearing up for the threat of more snow. I even overheard that a local dentist’s office was calling patients to tell them they had already decided to close on Wednesday (our snow is expected to start tonight) in anticipation. Sigh again.

It’s all “milk and eggs” in this part of the country but I guess that’s just me. But what the hell does this have to do with my weight or weight loss? For starters, I am back up a pound-and-a-half which pisses me off to no end. Next, no matter what the snow fall is I am getting my rotundness to the gym to workout today, tomorrow and every day after no matter the amount of snow.  But I have to silently hide my origins and mask my shame as I ask the attendants at the gym if they will even be open tomorrow due to the (sigh) expected snowfall.

It’s O.K., though. Weighing in at 248.9 today I am more than happy to don my snow shoes (well, sneakers – or gym shoes as we call ‘em back home) and barrel through whatever snow falls to be able to get on the elliptical to burn off this extra poundage. One of the 40/40 I listed was to absolutely get back to my goal weight and I’m gonna do it, despite my over-zealous eating habits over the weekends.

In other words, I don’t go running to the store to buy my milk, eggs and bread afraid of what might be coming, I just deal with what is happening and what actually comes as best I can. That’s all any of us can do in this world – and in this world of weight loss.

Oh, and thanks to a good friend of mine I have a correction I’d like to make to last week’s blog.

Last week, as I told you guys about seeing bald eagles in the wild, I mistakenly called a grouping of multiple bald eagles a “flock.” This, apprently, is not the case. I actually saw a convocation of eagles. If they had been hawks I would have seen a cast of hawks. Or if those hawks were spiraling in flight they would have been a boil (funny thing to call a grouping – makes me think of soup, especially on cold winter days).  Also, owls are a parliament, crocodiles are a bask  and did you know that if you’ve got a group of frogs, it’s an ARMY!!

Awesome! See, every now and then you can learn something by reading my weight loss blog, even if it doesn’t necessarily pertain to weight loss.

Or maybe it’s just my way to mentally prepare going to the gym today?

Either way, have a great day, my peeps. Talk to you soon (hopefully lighter than I am today).

PS: A big birthday shout out goes out to my mom, JoAnn, who on January 9th, would have turned 72. Happy birthday, Mama. I love and miss you very much.

Day eighty-two.

O.K. I totally call bullshit on Gretchen Jones winning this season of Project Runway. Are they nuts? I completely agree with Heidi Klum. The judges, Michael Kors and the other one from Marie Claire, Nina Garcia, spent most of the season (especially the late season) loving Mondo’s fashions (especially the ones where he was using colors, patterns and different fabrics) only to dis him in the finale for the exact same things, saying he was designing “too young.” That being said though, it was Mondo’s competition to lose and his line was not as good as Gretchen’s although Andy had the best clothes last night.

From the beginning of the season (I have recently become a fan of the show and absolutely NO CRACKS on me liking a show about fashion – everyone who knows me knows I love to look nice) each designer was given a set of incredible tools – an HP thingamajig that allows the designer to draw a design on a tablet-like screen before going to Mood to shop. Then, they go to Mood where they are given a budget to shop for seemingly the best fabrics around. next they go back to Parsons to work in a completely polished and professional workspace. In other words, each one is given the right and best tools for their jobs. The question then becomes what do people do with those tools.

When I was in first grade Mrs. Gans, a wonderful teacher at Murray Language Academy in Chicago, said something I will never forget. She said we all started out with the highest grade which, at that point, was an “E.” Our scale in the seventies and eighties went from “E”(excellent) to “G” (good) to “S” (satisfactory) to “U” (unsatisfactory). And starting out at that highest grade it was up to each and every one of us to keep and maintain that grade. In other words, it was our grade to lose.

The designers on Project Runway all start out with the exact same tools and resources and it is up to each one of them to outwit, outlast and outplay the others (oh, wait – that’s from the other reality show, Survivor). Anywho, it’s up to each designer to not only keep up with the other designers, from freshness of designs to the work in creating the clothes, but also to use the tools they are given to do so. The right tools level the playing field so that the only difference is the individual, her or his talents and, most of all, imagination. In my opinion, Mondo was the best designer. He was the most crative and talented overall and most consistently. Gretchen, who really was a bitch saying one thing to her castmates and then something different to the cameras, really designed clothes monochromatically and for such a niche audience (her) that they showed how two-dimensional she is. But that is just my opinion on the show.

It was Mondo’s to lose, and his line wasn’t as good as other stuff we’ve seen. So he lost. Meanwhile, Gretchen stepped up and won creating clothes that were more wearable. But in their case, and Andy’s, they all used the right tools to get to their goal of showing their line at fashion Week.

My friends, weight loss works the same way as Project Runway. We do not need fancy-schmancy gyms or equipment (or HP design and draw thinkpads). We do not need Jillian Michaels yelling at us and making us feel like shit on her latest DVD for we all start out with the right tools – our own bodies, energy and determination to get to the goal. None of us need a gym to do sit-ups or push-ups or jumping jacks or to go for a walk. We do not need DVDs telling us this and that to know we eat like shit sometimes. I know I do and when I do it shows on the scale. When I don’t, my weight comes down like it did yesterday.

All I am trying to say is that you are only limited by you in your quest to lose weight. You are the only one in your way. So don’t be, and don’t be intimidated by the amount you want to lose or by the atmosphere of a gym if that is where you want to go to workout. Just remember the tools you have are the right ones and the perfect ones with which to start because they come from you and those are the best tools of all. Have a great weekend.

Day fifty-one.

This morning I am thinking about demons. Demons that seem unstoppable and invincible. Demons that, no matter what, can stand up to even time itself, the supposed great healer of all. Well, there are some things that time doesn’t take away, like pain. For example, it’s been almost a year and four months already since my mom, JoAnn Larson, passed away and I still feel that moment as if it were yesterday. I still feel the absence of her on this earth and, from what I hear from others who’ve lost parents, always will. Sure, time takes away some of the immediate sting but it never takes away the memory of the pain itself, and oh, how I wish it did.

When I was a child I was so ashamed of how I was living the shame became a tangible thing I touched every day. I felt my surroundings not only around me but inside me. I became saturated by the sights, sounds and smells of where I was living. I felt the roaches crawl on my skin. I could almost feel the gritty dirt on the faded light green of the walls. I smelled the accumulated smells in the carpet in the long hallway of my apartment building floor as the building passed into decrepit oblivion – the dust, garbage, people, old food, must and rodents all part of a gigantic trap from which I felt no release. Hell, I am also quite sure I went to school smelling of old cigarettes, since my mother loved unfiltered Pall Malls and we did live in one very small room. To this day I cannot stand the smell of old cigarette smoke which does get everywhere instantly no matter what a smoker might tell you to the contrary. That is a pain from which I have been removed for more than twenty years but which still helped define me, both in good ways and bad.

The pain and shame of that place, combined with burying that pain and numbing it with X, Y and Z helped to create an addict, one that became seriously addicted to food as part of a cycle that led me to my life’s rock bottom. Then, lump on other unhappinesses, disappointments, anger, the inability to express myself, job stress, relationship bullshit and more and, over the years, the pain and shame became sentient, a living breathing demon who still inhabits parts of my brain and soul.

When you train yourself to numb things it is very hard to not numb them anymore. Food tastes good. I love good Chinese food (notice I said GOOD Chinese food, like Chicago good not Jersey/Philly so-so), I love sweet rolls (good bakery sweet rolls like my mom and I used to get on Sundays to eat while reading the paper), I love ice-cold Coca-Colas which at one point were bottles of ice-cold Pepsi, I love mashed potatoes, fried things, chocolate things, buttery things, Italian Beefs, cheesesteaks, french fries…I love it all. But I was “using,” using all that and more to numb a pain and truth which I have only recently come to grapple with and understand. Once I did that I was truly able to see food and other things weren’t enjoyable, they were the heroin I injected into my veins to make the world and its reality go away for just a little while.

That is addiction. That is food addiction. When using what is normal, everyday, commonplace pleasurable and warping it into something that not only is bad but also feeds the demon(s) born from long days ago. That is how demons can withstand the test of time.

I am doing my absolute best to curtail these demons and live a healthier, happier life. In fact I’m gonna fight the food demon as soon as I am done posting today by working out in the gym (since it is quite rainy today in southern New Jersey). Fifty-one days is truly a blessing and one on which I intend to build a foundation of good for my life and those wonderful people in it. I won’t let them down because I won’t let myself down again. Not like that. Not ever.

Time may heal some things but it doesn’t heal others. That’s O.K., because it’s what we do with today that matters. We may not be able to change what happened before but we sure as hell can control what happens today, tomorrow and in all the tomorrows yet to come.And so far I have fifty-one of them. Of all the things I’ve collected in my lifetime, days of sobriety are what I want a treasure trove of in the future.

Whenever you visit a new city or country I think it’s absolutely imperative to sample some of the local culinary fare. If any of you have ever been to Chicago, which is a great food town whichever way you slice it (ha, I made a food joke), it behooves you to sample some foods that us Chicagoans can point to and say “yep, that is uniquely Chicago.”

There’s a “stuffed” pizza, a pizza so thick with gooey cheese and other ingredients you HAVE to use a fork and knife. There’s also the Italian Beef sandwich, made up of slices of rump roast beef marinated in a gravy of its own juices and spices, placed on an Italian roll, covered with sweet or hot peppers (maybe even cheese) and dipped whole back into its gravy of savory juices. Yum. But the most delicious (and portable) Chicago food is your good old-fashioned, classic Chicago-style hot dog.

I know what you’re saying, “there are hot dogs everywhere. Why not make or get one where you live?” My friends, the answer is simple. You can’t have a Chicago-style hot dog just anywhere because only in Chicago can all the proper ingredients be found, not to mention you’d then be enjoying it in the town that made it famous. Everyone has their favorite place to get their dogs (mine is Portillos or Superdawg), but throw a rock anywhere and you’d most likely hit a place that serves Chicago-style hot dogs especially if you get out to explore Chicago’s wonderful, eclectic and amazing neighborhoods.

The “Chicago Style” hot dog got its start from street cart hot dog vendors during the hard times of the Great Depression. Money was scarce, but business was booming for these entrepreneurs who offered a delicious hot meal on a bun for only a nickel. Thus, the famous Chicago-style hot dog was born! They’d start with a Vienna Beef hot dog, nestle it in a steamed poppyseed bun and cover it with a wonderful combination of toppings: yellow mustard, bright green relish, fresh chopped onions, juicy red tomato wedges, a kosher-style pickle spear, a couple of spicy sport peppers, cucumber and finally, a dash of celery salt. This unique hot dog creation with a “salad on top” and its memorable interplay of hot and cold, crisp and soft, sharp and smooth, became America’s original fast food and a true Chicago institution.

The Chicago-style hot dog is one of my favorite foods and is definitely “worth the splurge.” When I tried to find the calorie count for a typical Chicago-style hot dog I couldn’t find a consensus from one place to another, one website to another. So, erring on the side of caution, I am going to most-agree with the highest calorie count I found simply because this column is called “worth the splurge” and I want you (and your waistline) to be prepared. But even if this calorie count is true, at almost 400 calories you could do far worse in terms of eating, I think, especially given all the non-unique food choices we face every day.

• Calories: 377
• Total Fat: 19.7g
• Cholesterol: 30mg
• Sodium: 2387mg
• Total Carbs: 38g
• Dietary Fiber: 3.3g
• Protein: 12.4g

If you go, the legendary Superdawg is on the corner of Milwaukee and Devon (pronounced de-VAHN by us natives), while Portillos is a chain whose location in the heart of downtown is on the corner of Ontario and Clark. That’s tasty eatin’, indeed, so enjoy!

I don’t know if you guys have ever visited Chicago around the last week of June/first week of July but there is a world-famous food festival that takes place during that time called Taste of Chicago. It is a foodie’s Mecca, where 70 or so Chicago restaurants take over downtown and you can sample everything from alligator (which I have tasted – it’s rather chewy) to frog legs (they DO, indeed, taste like chicken – just fishy chicken) to good old-fashioned BBQ, hot dogs and cheesecake.

When I was a kid, that same festival was called Chicagofest and it was nowhere near as renowned as it is today. In fact, it was in the days when Chicago was a much grittier, grimier city than it is now. But I’ll tell you what the food, especially to a kid who didn’t have money at all, was always spectacular. But food costs money, money we never had in abundance and money that was always in short supply.

But leave it to my mom to come up with a brilliant plan.

Usually with big city-wide festivals there is some sort of sponsored promotion involved and Chicagofest was no exception. At the time they were sponsored by either Maxwell House or Hills Bros. Coffee (I can’t remember which) and the promotion stated that if you brought one of the giant metal coffee cans (like the kind you’d find in a workplace kitchen) you’d be able to trade that in for food tickets.

Leave it up to my mom to hatch an absolutely brilliant plan.

You see, JoAnn Larson loved her coffee. Loved it, I tell you. Cream and no sugar, that’s how she took it (which to me still is icky since I like my coffee as sweet as possible, crunchy even, with sugar). Anyhow, she loved coffee and so did her co-workers at the old (long since shuttered) Sears Roebuck & Co. warehouse on Homan and Arthington in Chicago. They went through tons of coffee at that place, or it least it seemed like they did because one day this brilliant and beautiful woman brought home about twenty or so of these giant, clangy metal coffee cans.

She said to me, “Son, we’re gonna eat good this weekend,” and she laughed with an exuberant “whoohoo.” That’s when I knew she really was happy. Turns out she’d been planning this for months, asking her co-workers to save her the coffee cans so she could take her son to eat at Chicagofest. My mama was loved by everyone, so they did. They saved her twenty or so cans and she lugged them all home one Friday afternoon (since we couldn’t go during the week because she had to work).

Now to a child, any child, anything that looks weird is potentially embarrassing. So imagine my chagrin to learn we had to then take all of these cans on the 6 Jeffrey Express all the way from Hyde Park to downtown, walk a couple of blocks – IN PUBLIC – to just be able to redeem them. I was mortified. I knew we were poor but now we were gonna look it, too. But mama said “trust me,” and I did and that next day we got on the bus and headed downtown, cans and all.

Damn those things could “CLANG!” I felt mortified being on the bus with those things. I could feel eyes on me as I grasped my giant Hefty garbage bag of cans while my mom, confident as a peacock grasped hers. She knew something, I could tell. So I took that strength from her, shut my eyes (standing up) and blocked out the world.

When we FINALLY got there (can I tell you again how absolutely embarrassed I was?) we approached the ticket trade-in booth and mama said “we’ve got a lot of cans to trade in.” The lady behind the counter was shocked that one person would be trading in all those cans, not because of the cans but because of how many tickets she had to give us for them. I don’t remember how many it was but it was a TON! Back then, there were no limits of how many you could bring and my brilliant mom took full advantage of that allowing us to eat like royalty that day.

We ate anything and everything and, most importantly, she didn’t have to tell me “no, son. I don’t have the money for that.” It was amazing! Absolutely amazing. And what capped off this culinary caper? The infamous Chicago BBQ turkey leg. We each got one, a giant piping-hot turkey leg hand-dipped in a sweet and savory BBQ sauce. It was awesome. We ate all day and into the night when the Chicago fireworks would happen over Grant Park (Chicago used to for years and years and years have their major fireworks display on July 3^rd instead of July 4^th). And thanks to my mom I knew what it was like to have money that day.

On the way home she looked at me and smiled in an ever-so-slightly sly smile and said “you didn’t believe me when I said it would be O.K., did you.” I shook my head and said “no,” but from that moment on I never doubted her brain. In all my life I never met a woman who had moments of brilliance that would stun Einstein like my mom did. She smiled her smile and knew she did good that day for us both, and I was happy just being near her sharing in that love – and that food.

Mama, I miss you so much but when I need a smile I think back to that time and how well you did for us. How much food we had and how it was all because of you and you not being ashamed of bringing home simple metal canisters. Those cans became our gold that day and you made me feel like a prince. Thank you for that, Ma. But truth be told, you always made me feel that way, food, money or coffee cans or not.  I was your son and that was all that mattered in the world and that was one of those time where you were so smart it lit up the sky – like the stars or 4^th of July fireworks.

I love you, mama, and thank you for keeping and bringing home all those coffee cans for us. Who knew a little coffee could go such a long way?

You did. That’s who.

How many of you went to your 20-year high school reunion? Show of hands…anyone…anyone…Bueller…Bueller… Two years ago in August was my 20th anniversary of graduating high school and I didn’t go primarily because, one, it was expensive, and two, because of Facebook. Yes, that nifty little thing called Facebook connected me with so many wonderful people from those days I thought it would be unnecessary to attend.

Well, that was then and this is now.

Recently I learned that good ‘ol Kenwood Academy was hosting an all-class 40-year reunion today, actually held at the school. You know, just like in the movies. In “Superman III,” “Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion,” “Zack and Miri,” and so many more the heroes go back to their respective high schools and the wackiness ensued from there. I always secretly thought that was cool since I was nerdy enough to like certain aspects of my schooling particularly the bricks and mortar that made up my “homes away from home.”

So it was with (mild) reckless abandon that I quickly packed a bag and headed to Chicago today to attend tonight’s festivities. Another thing that is making me happy is the fact that the monies collected actually go to programs at the school, not some cheesy banquet hall, hotel or other facility (and it’s cheaper – God, I am getting old).

Now as you guys know, Chicago food hits you as soon as you get off the plane, but I was good and avoided the temptations of my sweet home Chicago Chicago-style hot dogs (and no offense intended toward my friends in and around Philly. Hot dogs, Italian Beef sandwiches, pizza and Chinese food is all different – and better – here, like when you guys get a cheesesteak from your favorite places). However, I didn’t avoid that temptation for long and had a couple, with everything, fries and (sigh) a Coke.

But it was goooooooooooood!

OK, with the craving for hot dogs out of my system I have to both go for a workout today AND avoid over-indulgence. The latter shouldn’t be too hard, although I do want to eat before I get to the reunion which is tonight because I need to avoid the sweet food temptations of my old neighborhood (Harold’s Chicken or Valois anyone?) as well as the foods being served at the reunion, itself. While I am sure the food will be good, I get in trouble with all-you-could-eat situations like that and want to avoid that if I can.

So where is the middle ground?

Middle ground (and I don’t know why but Middle Earth somehow came to my mind – my PRECIOUS!!!) comes in the form of egg rolls from my favorite place in the world right now for Chinese food. It’s on Michigan Avenue downtown called Sixty-Five Seafood and they have egg rolls, bbq pork noodles, kung pao chicken and pepper steak to die for. They are PRECIOUS!!!!

This means I will be swinging by there later today for a combination late lunch/grab some hometown egg rolls/stave off the other bad foods run. I am so looking forward to it. Then I will be off to the reunion.

I am feeling a bit goofy today. I feel younger. I think about so many things from those many long-put-away days from 1984 – 1988 especially food, when I ate whatever I wanted seemingly without consequence. I think about what I wanted to do in life. I think about where I’d thought I’d be…

…I think about my mom, JoAnn (and you can bet your bottom dollar I will be swinging by the park where I spread her ashes to say HI).

Most of all I think about time and how precious (no reference intended…this time) a gift it is. I may be slightly more than two decades removed from gym period, english class, history, driver’s ed, biology and (ick), trigonometry, but I nowe have a grasp on one thing I didn’t back then – myself and how I eat. I want to be around for a good, long time and losing the weight I did has dramatically helped me prolong my life. It helped me not goive into the self-fulling prophecies of obesity – poor quality of life, immobility and potential sudden medical “episodes” like strokes and heart attacks. It also helped me become more active so I can enjoy things I never could before – like even sitting on a plane, in the middle seat (it was what was available) and not have to worry if I’d be making people uncomfortable on either side, and dancing and bopping to my favorite 80s songs from time to time (I hope they play some tonight).

That is why I am no longer worried about food when I come home. Sure it’s better (it’s always better in your hometown) but nothing – NOTHING – is better than the taste of adding years and quality to your own life.

Now, bring on that reunion and let’s “Wang Chung” tonight, and I will tell Clark Kent, Romy and Michelle, Zack, Miri and Ferris you say HI.

Ah. I am back and have survived another excursion to the Big Apple. I swear to God that city was, is and always will be the biggest, busiest and bad-ass-iest city EVER! And I don’t mean in just the sheer magnitude of its energy or the “enthusiasm” of its inhabitants (more on them later). No, I mean in the way it tempts with food, constantly and unapologetically.

I know I might be a bonehead for doing this but I like driving there from South Jersey. Sure it might be easier to take the train but I like being in my own little bubble both before I have to brave the big city and after, to help me wind down from it. It’s my “safe zone,” if you will, and on my way in I kept repeating to myself “I will not eat badly. I will not eat at the Halal cart. I will not eat a tremendous amount.” “Safe zone” bubbles are good for that kind of meditation, especially when you can meditate by yourself and not with hundreds of your best friends packed against you on a train that may or may not have the best odors.

I had five destinations to hit this time around and I knew I would be doing a fair amount of walking (something I was totally looking forward to doing as my exercise for the day), so I parked one block away from Destination One and, thus, began my day.

I swear, walking in New York City is an Olympic sport. Two reasons: one, most blocks in the city represent just a fraction of the addresses that other city streets do (i.e. a block in Chicago typically will jump from 100 to 200. In New York City, you can have one monster block have numbers 100 to 140, another block have 140 to 180 and a third that goes 180 – 200). Two, it’s a “kill or be killed” bloodsport walking there. You can get easily runover or rundown if you don’t match the “exuberant” pace of others, even if you go with the flow of foot traffic. That’s what makes walking in New York such great exercise – it’s lead, follow or get the hell out of the way. And if you don’t like it you can suck it.

This is exactly the reason I decided against a suit this time around and donned jeans, t-shirt, blazer (although that got ditched because it was so freaking hot) and my trusty Chuck Taylor Converse All-Stars. A trendy look, to be sure, but a practical one for hitting the streets hard.

After Destination One I knew I was in for it, as going from Destinations Two, Three and Four had me, literally, walking about five or so miles. From 57th and 5th to roughly 36th and 6th or 7th and back again. I don’t remember how many blocks it was (remember, blocks don’t have the same meaning they do in other towns) but it was a lot. And damn, it was hot. I knew I had to walk with purpose, too, and that made it even hotter. It was almost as if stopping for a red light was me taking a nap, then instantly waking up to run again. So when I tell you I downed a bottle of water in just a few gulps I am not exagerating. I did. I did, I tell you.

But then the inevitable happened. I was hungry. I knew I would have to stop somewhere to eat. But where? Remember when I said New York City was unapologetic in its food offerings? Well, it’s the only city I know of that has food carts on practically every corner, and those are positioned in front of other restaurants, some of whom sell the same types of Mediteranian food. Amazing and overwhelming at the same time. There are American restaurants, the best Jewish delis, fusions restaurants and Halal carts everywhere. You can get dizzy (or have a panic attack) just trying to figure out where to eat. But I knew I wanted to eat cheap AND satisfy my craving for the taste of the Halal. So I compromised and had a grilled chicken shish-kabob from one of the Halal carts.

Because I went to the Big Apple midday I hit everything right in terms of timing. Most of the food vendors were winding down from their “rush hours,” so I was able to walk up and order. I got no special sauce on it. I got no side of rice with it. Just the kabob, and another bigger bottle of water. As the chicken was cooking on the grill you could smell the flavoring in the steam. It was enough to whet anyone’s appetite and you bet your butt it sure did mine. I ate it on a hot dog bun. An interesting choice but a handy one since I didn’t want to impale my mouth on a pointy stick while walking like Bruce Jenner or Carl Lewis.

When I finished that and rested for a few minutes that’s when my energy began to dwindle. I knew I would be toast soon. I also knew Destination Five was too far to walk and I wanted to try (TRY!) to beat rush hour out of the City. So I got in my bubble, took care of bid-ness and set out home. Alas, I was later than I thought and I hit rush hour traffic at its worst – Broadway (a major thru-street) closed off with everyone being redirected and crammed into designated lanes to get to the tunnel.

I hate to sound cliche as I conclude but no trip to New York would be complete without either hearing or being involved in a verbal altercation of somekind. And yes, both happened to yours truly. For those who don’t know, if you “block the box” (have your car in any part of the intersection against your light making you block traffic) you are subject to fines and points on your license. Having seen, first hand, how NYC cops lie in wait to spring those traps there was no way in hell I was gonna “block the box.” But that pissed off some effing guy who offered me the most colorfully-metaphored (and enthusiastic) diatribe out his van window about how I should go back to so-and-so and quit driving so slowly, blah, blah. But that same ass-munch didn’t have to pay three (THREE!) parking tickets the last time he visited town so screw him and his freaking delivery truck. Then I heard two women, one pedestrian and one driver, go at it for the driver almost hitting the pedestrian even though the driver was in the intesection – blah, blah. It is cliche, I know, but it ads even more flavor to a city that is as wonderful as its food.

So yes, once back in my bubble (and safely back in New Jersey on the Turnpike) I breathed a sigh of relief. I survived the trip, culinarily speaking. My grilled chicken and water, and my speed-walking exercise helped me keep focused so I didn’t get tempted by the tasty rice, grilled pita bread, gyro meat, dirty water dogs (which I do like), pizzas, pastrami sandwiches and more in the City.

It is totally possible to focus and not be so consumed with food no matter how hard it is. It is hard for me, trust me. I love eating. And while it was tempting to eat, especially when one’s blood pressure is eleated (again thanks to the afore-mentioned ass-munch), it was me taking a bite out of the Big Apple and not the other way around.

Hey there and happy Monday. Did you all enjoy your holiday weekend? I hope you guys got a chance to re-juice the batteries a bit, at least. I know I did.

One thing that amazes me about the Fourth of July is how much holidays turn into food expos. Think about it (and we are putting Thanksgiving, Passover and Christmas aside for this), we make all our holidays – and “holidays” – about food in one way or another. It’s Memorial Day/Labor Day/Fourth of July? Let’s BBQ! It’s St. Patrick’s Day? Let’s eat corned beef and cabbage! It’s Cinco de Mayo? Let’s fiesta! Mother’s Day/Father’s Day? Let’s take ‘em out to brunch! It seems like eating’s all we do, especially in this country.

The grillin’ and eatin’ I did over this long 4th weekend wasn’t about “filler,” the meals you and I can have at cookouts (like a hot dog or hamburger, potato and macaroni salad) that fit in-between your “real” meals of lunch and dinner. No, it was about three things – eating things that were healthier (steak and chicken grilled not fried). It was about trying to be frugal (saving money by buying food to make instead of going to a restaurant to eat out). Finally, it was about staving off the urges to eat badly when going to do things over the holiday weekend (like attend fireworks and go to the movies).

Boy they know how to get ya’ going to the movies, don’t they? As soon as you open that big glass and steel door the smell of hot buttered popcorn hits you and it’s all over. You are almost helpless against it’s alluring aroma. As you then make your way over to the concession stand like a zombie you then see all the candy, Coke and other food treats that await your hard-earned money. But I always do my best these days to go to the movies on a full stomach so I can thwart their evil plan and just go be (hopefully) entertained for a few hours.

AMC Theaters even offered kick-ass coupons if you went to the movies yesterday (because typically it is one, if not THE, lowest attendance day in the movie biz all summer). You could get a popcorn and soda, any size, for a buck each. Awesome idea, awesome deal. But I did my best and ate a good breakfast before hitting the cinema (I like trying to sound British every now and then).

For the most part I did O.K., and I even had a sandwich from Wawa for dinner with milk (and alright, alright, a small bag of chips) just before fireworks. That helped me resist things like hot dogs, hamburgers, funnel cakes, sodas (pops).  And speaking of hot dogs, going to the movies made me miss the Nathan’s Famous International Hot Dog Eating Contest (thank God).

Have any of you ever seen that, um, spectacle? People from literally all over the world (including one who just wanted to “crash” the event and compete without following the rules set forth by – get this – Major League Eating) compete to see who can down the most hot dogs (and buns) they can eat in ten minutes.  The winner, Joey “Jaws” Chestnut, took the “mustard belt” for the fourth year in a row, gulping down a whopping 54 dogs! 54! That’s approximately 16,038 calories!

In my crazy life I once served as judge to a hot dog eating contest and it is the grossest thing you ever want to see. These guys dip the whole hot dog and bun in water to shove it down their gullets and it’s nasty. The thought of wet bread makes me gag and if you ever want an appetite suppressant watch this thing once. Ick! It truly will kill whatever appetite you might have for hot dogs for quite a while (I think I just threw up a little in my mouth just thinking about it).

And while I know most of us – O.K. safe to say 99.9% of us – won’t shovel in hot dogs at a rate of one every 11 seconds (the rate the winner of the Nathan’s contest winner) I hope you did try to eat better this 4th of July. It is totally possible to still enjoy the sights, smells and tastes of the Fourth without eating too much bad stuff in the process. And that is truly a great way to celebrate freedom…

…freedom from the extra calories and unwanted pounds, that is.

P.S. – One food fest I miss, though (and is “worth the splurge”) is Taste of Chicago. Held the last week of June – July 4th(ish) it is a downtown Chicago street food festival like no other. Over 70 local Chicago-area restaurants set up shop and you can sample everything from alligator (yep, and I’ve tried that once in my life. ONCE!) to veggie platters. It is amazing! I do miss it, even though you sooooooo need to workout before and after because you will consume a lot of calories. I try to do it every few years, especially now that I’ve dropped weight. That’s all my poor body could handle. And they do have small “Taste” portions you can try so you don’t get a full order of something, which is good.

Well, here it is. Sunday (thank God). The Oprah “Win Your OWN Show” live audition is over and I am slowly recovering from a very physically draining (sitting, standing and walking all day in the hot sun tends to do that to you) and mentally draining day. I wish I could sum up how wonderful, cool, scary, amazing, screwed up and taxing it all was but I will give you the highlights (laced with some cool weight loss-related things, too).

I arrived on-site at the Kohl’s in Linden at roughly 2:00 a.m. and there was already a line of people (some there since 9:00 a.m. Friday morning). Even though they didn’t let us park in the Kohl’s lot all of us parked in the adjacent TGIFridays parking lot and formed a very nice and orderly line (which wouldn’t mean anything in the end, but I’ll get to that later). People were jazzed, even that early, and you could feel the electricity starting to build, while off in the distance the glow of the nearby White Castle called to me like a beacon to a ship…

The early morning dragged on, and the parking lot was feeling like a concert ticket atmosphere – a cross between Deadhead and Parrothead shows. The “line” grew and was respected and we all became more and more nervous. The woman next to me dared to run to the White castle and brought back french fries. They smelled so good…

But I had to keep one thing in mind – I WAS NOT – I REPEAT NOT – GOING TO USE A NASTY ASS BATHROOM, whether it be at the White Castle, the gas station on the corner or the port-a-potties trucked in for our benefit. Ick. Just ick. So I was determined not to eat or drink too much, at least until the Kohl’s (and their decent bathroom – yes, I checked) opened at 7:00 a.m. So I snacked on the granola bars I brought. At about 4:30 a.m. or 5:00 a.m. I broke down and had the first of five Gatorades.

The problem was that Oprah’s people on-site had no clue how to handle the wristband situation and when the time came they had close to a thousand people clamoring for spaces in line and later, wristbands. And the ways we lined up were so bloody disorganized it didn’t matter whether you were there at 9 a.m. on Friday or just rolled up, you had just as much chance to get one of the first bracelets as those who had been waiting. It was the worst situation I have ever seen, and potentially dangerous, too.  I so made me want to run and hide in that beacon of delicious White Castle comfort food delight…At several points, including our makeshift early “line,” they had us in great position to begin handing out wristbands to avoid that mess. But noooooooo. At least I had my cooler of water/Gatorade, granola bars and my dream.

At least they said everyone was guaranteed to be seen.

The day wore on and my number, #837, wasn’t going to be seen until the afternoon – like 3 or 4 in the afternoon so I hung out and hung around. People watching was priceless. Like the “rhinestone cow”girl,” a 50-something woman who (no kidding) wore sequined disco boots, sequined western-style vest/jacket, cowboy hat who had a portable karaoke machine singing, of course, “Rhinestone Cowboy.” Or the two hoochie-mamas in their sequined “Daisy Dukes” (so high you could see the bottoms of their asses), low (LOW) cut tank tops and 5-inch (no kidding) heels. Or the older 60-something lady dressed head-to-toe in bright pink with a hat that would make anyone at the Kentucky Derby jealous (bless her heart), or the…oh I could go on. It was awesome entertainment, which kept my mind off one thing – nervously eating.

Overall I did extremely well. I did grab a much-needed sausage, egg and cheese sandwich and coffee from Starbucks at around the time my body told me it was way-past lunch time (in actuality 9:30 a.m. or so). I also just grazed all day on granola/breakfast bars with the saving grace being my Gatorade. The sun, when it came out from the clouds, made it at least 15 degrees hotter and more intense. I sweated like a pig and smelled just as bad by the end of the day. But I did burn off an extra pound so, believe it or not, my friends, I am at my goal of losing that two pounds before June 9th.

What? What did you ask? How did my audition go? It went great. Turns out the casting director I met with in-person was the same as the one who took a gander at my video so he was impressed I showed up to do both. He totally appreciated me coming out (as they all had to know what a cluster-mess it was in the beginning) and said “look for a phone call soon.” So I am so keeping my fingers, toes, eyes, arms, feet and hands crossed for that call. Lucky number 837.

And what? What else did you ask? Did I avoid the White Castle? I sure did. It would have been far too easy to give in and grab a 10-pack to go, with fries and a drink (what I frequently used to eat as I used to have one 5 minutes from where I lived) but I didn’t. Did it tempt me? Hell yes, it did, especially since I have fond memories of me and my mom going to get White Castles on some weekends when we felt like hopping the bus to 79th Street in Chicago.

I am exhausted, wiped out and sort of brain dead, but I feel juiced and great. It was an awesome experience, like waiting in line for concert tickets. It is in lines like that that the best of humanity comes out. Totally. Through that immediately-shared experience people talked to one-another and it was awesome. That alone was worth the hour-and-a-half drive, the damn-near 20-hour day (when it was all said and done), the waiting in the heat and sun, the incredibly interesting and entertaining sideshow of characters…

…and the foregoing of White Castles, no matter how good they taste any time of day.

Did you guys see the Edward Norton movie version of “The Incredible Hulk?” In it we see how long Norton’s Dr. Bruce Banner has gone without turning into The Hulk by displaying on-screen an electronic tally sheet that lists “days without incident.” Of course you wouldn’t have much of a movie if Banner’s “days without incident” kept going. It would be like watching paint dry or watching a pot of water and waiting for it to boil.

Boring.

Well, I sort of feel like that crossed with the commercial where the cell phone coverage area pops up above someone’s head. It is Day Two of my re-engaging my routine to lose weight and shed these two additional pounds before June 9.  Day Two – That’s what my electronic “days without incident” meter is displaying. I did well yesterday. I exercised and ate really well. I had a chicken breast for lunch with water (yep, no Coca-Cola) and I had a protein-filled steak for dinner with green beans. Totally tasty.

Now before you start saying to me “Bill, you really should lay off red meat,” I know that. I do, and I have been eating more chicken these days. But I am a Chicago boy, born and raised, and I like me my steak. I have also been eating more veggies, too. Green beans, tomatoes, asparagus and salads.  And now that I am trying to re-engage I am realizing how badly I had been stress eating lately.

My newly re-found routine also helps me with this coming weekend, too, and vice-versa. I found out yesterday by taking my long-ass drive to Linden, New Jersey (for the Oprah “win your OWN show” audition) that they will not be allowing camping out overnight and that the line starts at 6:00 a.m. Saturday. Yeah, right. I know I need to get there a few hours before that but at least I will not be homeless for a day or two wondering if/how I will get to continue eating healthily while waiting in line. I get to keep my routine going.

It also answers the question of how I will be able to exercise. I was thinking I would borrow one of my gym’s padded mats and actually do sit-ups, crunches and push-ups in front of the other peeps like me in line. At least I would have been illustrating my show idea in a way.

Today is June 2. This day last year was the last full day my mom, JoAnn, spent in the hospital before being transferred to hospice care. I try not to let sad thoughts enter my brain and I try to concentrate instead on a few other things – the beauty of the blue sky, birds singing and the goal I have set for myself, not to stress eat anymore and lose this two pounds by June 9.

The last thing I want to do is turn into my own food version of “The Incredible Hulk” and yell out “food good” instead of “Hulk smash.” It really is easy to just walk into a store and order up anything. The people behind the counter don’t know you from Adam and don’t know you are trying your best to stay on a weight loss journey. They just do their job and punch in the amount for whatever badness you’re going to consume and call it a day.

That’s why I have to remember my own “days without incident” / phone coverage map above my own head. Others may not be able to see it but I sure know it’s there and I do want its number to increase more and more so I know I’ve learned how to control the raging beast that dwells within me (and yes, that was a nod to the old Hulk TV show of the 70s).

Have a great day.