Shallow Thinker

Here are the results from the health fair. I will try to do better next year:

Total Cholesterol - 145
“Less than 200 is ‘Desirable’ and puts you at a lower risk for heart disease.” I probably still need to go to a doctor and get the different levels checked (such as LDL, HDL and CDL, which are on the DL), but either way, these results will probably make my wife mad because it’s not bad at all considering all the crap I eat. Now there’s not basis for her to fuss at me for it.

Blood Pressure - 122/68
The sheet says that the top number should be below 120 and the bottom number below 80. Since I was only 2 over on the top and I was 12 under on that bottom, it averages out to 7 under. That’s how cholesterol works….right?

Glucose - 80
Before meals, the value should be between 80-120. I was hoping that my Mountain Dew for breakfast would boost me on up there in the ratings, but sorry, 80 is as good as I could do.

BMI (Body Mass Index) - 26 (5′11″ and 185 lb)
Values between 25.0-29.9 are classified as “overweight”. That’s good because all my life I have fought to be above average and now, I can finally say that I’ve achieved my goal. Realistically, though, this calculation does not account for muscle mass. So, like my friend Lones said, I’m putting on a lot of muscle. I should stop working on the biceps because these things are getting massive.

Body Fat Percentage - 18.9%
There was no information provided on the sheet about this, so I’m left to assume that any number here is acceptable. Then I thought better of it and found a little more information. The chart below says that I’m “acceptable”. Odd, that is the opposite of what my wife says about some of the things that I do in public. The chart does, however, crush my hopes of being an athlete.

So here’s the really important question: What if I reduce my body fat down to 17.5%. It’s above the range for “fitness” but below the range for “acceptable.” It looks like I have found the twilight zone of health and conditioning. Maybe within this realm, I’m always the 17th caller and win the tickets to crappy concerts…or maybe the traffic lights all turn green…perhaps they don’t charge me for extra sour cream at Moe’s. I need to start working out more…these are things that I need in my life.

Every year or two, my employer holds a “Benefits Fair.” I think I’ve written about this before, but the general idea is to raise awareness about investments, health issues, etc. Well, tomorrow is the day. So hot off the presses and dripping with delicious irony is today’s e-mail from our HR department. These are actual passages of text directly from the e-mail:

The goals of the fair are:

- To provide free health and fitness screenings, information, and educational materials
- To promote the value of our benefit plans and to educate employees about these benefits
- To motivate the community to choose a healthy and fit lifestyle to live longer and improve the quality of their lives

Free health screenings will include screenings for total cholesterol, blood pressure, and glucose. Information will also be available to help you determine your BMI.

So awesome….they care about our health and out health choices. Later on in the e-mail, I read this:

As you exit the Benefits Fair you will be given a “meal ticket” for a free lunch of hamburgers, hot dogs and all the trimmings served in the back hall.

So let me get this straight…you want to help me make healthy choices and you’re going to serve me hot dogs “with all the trimmings” afterwards? Awesome!

I’ve always been inquisitive about how things work.  A few years ago, I even bought a book called “How Stuff Works.”  My inquisitive nature isn’t limited to machines or technology, it also carries over into the culinary industry.

One recent pondering led me to ask “what makes a Lean Pocket leaner than a Hot Pocket?” I normally wouldn’t harp on this because I’d buy the Hot Pockets and move on. But, since I’m lazy, my wife does the shopping. And, since she cares for my health, she gets the Lean Pockets. So, I’m back to spending time at lunch staring at a box wondering about what makes it so. I thought that the answer was that they simply put less meat-and-cheese-like-substance into the bread. At lunch today, I cut open my pocket to reveal the cold, hard truth. (In this case, it’s actually the crispy, warm truth):

So there you go.  It’s a pastry with a whiff of flavor inserted…that’s why it’s so lean.  The UltraLean Pockets are just a plastic bag that you open, throw away, and then eat your napkin.

Tonight, for whatever reason, I began to think about how I do some things different that the way my family did when I was growing up. Want to waltz with me down memory lane?

When I was growing up, our family attended church very regularly. If the doors were open, we were there…sometimes even when the doors weren’t open. Our Sunday routine was firm. Church in the morning,to the house for an enormous home-cooked lunch (I’m still not sure how my Mom did that.), homework or nap in the afternoon, and then put back on our “church clothes” and return for the evening service. Wednesdays were a little more rushed, but we were there when the service started at 7:30. As my siblings and I got older, we had a little bit of leeway on Wednesday nights depending on homework, but the default was church.

I’m not sure if it’s fatigue, rebellion, or apathy, but dating back to when I started college, I haven’t been a big attender on Sunday nights. The most convenient answer is that the work week creeps in early Monday. So I use Sunday nights to take a deep breath before the cycle starts again.

Perhaps the most compelling reason for me to stay home, though, is a bit of the guilt I have as a father. I’m gone for a majority of the hours that my girls are awake during the week. When I get home in the evening, I try to absorb as much of them as I can, but it’s never enough. Saturdays are usually spent trying to cram in all the things that we need to do as a family…usually involving fun and requiring exhaustion. Then on Sunday mornings, we devote ourselves to worship while others help teach our children some of the basic truths. The afternoon requires naps and rest, and then the evening service beckons us to come and be released right before bed time. I feel like I’m constantly splitting time between my girls (the Queen included) and all of them end up short-changed.

Sunday nights are a chance for me to have Ladybug 100% to myself. Butterfly loves and attends preschool choir and Kelley helps out with the children’s choir. If I went to the service, Ladybug would play contently in the nursery…but I would not sit contently in the pew. I value that hour as a chance to fully devote myself to Ladybug, to enjoy her giggles, welcome her hugs, and watch her personality blossom. I absolutely delight in her company.

So there, I admit it. I skip church. I guess I’m just not a good person….but Ladybug doesn’t mind.

I saw this sign today while I was eating lunch:

Have you thought of donating your boat to charity?  There are a lot of homeless people out there who would love a 65 footer with twin 350’s.  Go on, have a heart.

Today, I was driving down the road and a car with a bumper sticker passed me. This happens everyday, but this one was a bright yellow pasted onto a dark car, so if caught my eye. I don’t remember exactly what it said but the general point was something like “I’d rather believe in God creating things than to believe that we all came from chaos (evolution).”

So, like always, my small mind got to thinking…and this is dangerous.

I wonder if this car has ever passed a vehicle carrying someone who believes in evolution and caught this person’s eye. And while they’re sitting there, they read this bumper sticker and then think to themselves. “You know what, I’ve devoted a lot of time debating evolution and creation, and I’ve poured over scientific facts for years and years. But this bumper sticker has used wit and crazy fonts to change my mind. I hereby yield to this alternate line of thinking!”

I guess the main question is what the purpose of most bumper stickers are. I can sign-off on the ones that alert you to a cause, like fighting cancer or adopting pets. It’s those that take a stance on some controversial issue. Are you trying to win your argument with your sticker? What about voting…have you ever selected a candidate because you saw their sticker on a car? “Vote for McFly….I think I will!” Maybe our candidates for the next election should skip the debates and drive near each other with bumper stickers. Eventually one of them will give because of the other’s choice of color and graphics.

When Butterfly was 2, she ran through this period of time when she was waking up entirely too early in the morning. (Of course, now it’s more the norm that she do so.) So, early one morning, when she came traipsing into the room asking her mommy to fix her breakfast, I had an idea. I picked her up, carried her into her room, and started to get her dressed. She protested and I simply said “Well, we have to get dressed if we want to go to Special Breakfast!” She was definitely interested.

That morning, she and I went to McDonalds and shared a Deluxe Breakfast (pancakes, eggs, sausage, hashbrown, and a biscuit) and then played on the play area. It’s amazing how you can have that place to yourself at 6:30 in the morning. When we got home, she ran in to tell mommy about the wonderful time that she had. The hardest part of it was teaching her that we can’t do that every day. We went pretty regular for a while, but haven’t been in a few months…I’m not sure why.

Yesterday morning, Butterfly climbed into out bed (again, too early) and declared “Hey, Daddy, I have an idea…maybe today we could go get special breakfast!” Fortunately she permitted me to take a rain check and this morning, we made another adventure to McDonalds. She had a blast and I enjoyed my time with her.

Most days, breakfast includes toasting waffles and pouring extra milk for Butterfly long before the sun rises. But Butterfly greets those boring days with unbridled enthusiasm. Ladybug is always served the same ‘ole Cheerios and banana, but she squeals with delight when we offer them to her. I know it’s sappy, but what makes my breakfast special isn’t the place where we eat it or the playground that’s available, it’s the little smiles that shine long before the sun does.

Gas is getting expensive, there’s no denying that. So, I took a little time this month to do some research regarding methods to increase fuel efficiency. After reading as much material as I could find, I came to the conclusion that by far, the most talked about way to reduce your fuel consumption is to change your driving habits. Almost every website and news article that I read had that ranked as #1 or #2. And, since I drive like my hair is on fire, I figured this was definitely worth a try.

For the last two tanks of gas, I have driven very conservatively. I’ve accelerated slowly, driven the speed limit or lower, and tried to keep my engine RPM as low as possible. And let me tell you, this wasn’t an easy thing to accomplish…you could get killed out there driving the speed limit.

At the end of my experiment, I calculated my new fuel efficiency, estimated gas at $3.50 per gallon, calculated the number of miles I’d drive each day, blah, blah, …..more math, some equations, and a sandwich later, I calculated my cost savings….$10 a month.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME!! The “experts” recommend that I drive like a 96 year old lady to save gas and this is all I get for it? I could make that back by driving crazy, getting to work early, and making it back. Of course, I’m not going to do that, but I could.

Gimme that lighter fluid…I need to start a flame on my head and cruise the Z.

My friend Mrs. Sheri has an interesting outlook on Saturdays. As much as possible, she doesn’t make plans. She goes where she thinks she needs to go and gets done whatever she feels like.

Yesterday we gave that a try. In the morning, we chased kids around the house. When Ladybug went down for her nap, Butterfly and I fluttered off to find me a wheel barrow. We returned with on perfect for my work…and one that’s just her size.

Mrs. Sheri and Mr. Rickie, whom we refer to as our girls’ adoptive grandparents, joined us for sandwiches, chips and some of their famous pickles. Butterfly has loved Mrs. Sheri’s pickles since she was one year old, so today she ate enough sandwich so pacify us and filled the rest of her belly with pickles.

After lunch, we all took off for Wesleyan College. Saturday was their annual “Wesleyan Market” where a few local vendors set-up shop and peddle their wares. But, since Wesleyan has a beautiful campus, we spent the first hour walking around the lake and trying to catch some of the wildlife. (The pictures shown here are were all taken on our adventure. Mrs. Sheri is chasing a butterfly in the top picture and a turtle is chasing a duck in the second one.) Once we finished that, we headed over to the market where the girls shared awesome chocolate-chip cookies and I devoured some hot-boiled peanuts. And then the girls were tuckered-out, so we headed home for some rest.

After getting the girls a little supper and letting them get all of their energy out at Chick-Fil-A, we took them home and got them into bed. I headed off to Carabba’s to pick-up food for our “candlelight” dinner. Queen Kelley and I enjoyed an awesome dinner and watched a surprisingly decent movie. (If you’re interested, Kelley had the Mezzaluna with an Italian Salad and I had the Rigatoni Martino with a cup of Sausage and Lentil soup.)

When the day drew to a close and I was resting my head on the pillow, I thought to myself. “Mrs. Sheri seems to be on to something with her Saturdays.”

I have this “unidentified friend” who has been working on his weight for a while. On occasion, he’ll post about his progress and from what I can see, he’s trimming down. (And from what Chuck can see, he’s shaping up!)

I’ve been working on getting in shape a bit myself. I haven’t really been trying to control my weight, but I have been keeping an eye on it just out of curiosity. The results?

In the past year, I’ve put on 5 pounds. In the past three years I’ve managed to gain 10 pounds.  When Butterfly was born, I was in the mid 170’s, but now I’m sitting around 185-187.

So where is this weight going? Have I been working out so much that I’m getting really muscular? Maybe I’ve eaten so much that I’m getting fat. Maybe I’ve taken in too much iron and my bones are getting heavier. Oh, I know, I have a goatee and I need a haircut…maybe that’s most of it.

Better yet, I’ll ask you, the random people of the internet. Where is the weight going? Even if you don’t know me, you can feel free to answer.  Here are your choices:

• A) Wow, you’re getting muscular! Is it legal to carry those guns?
• B) Dude, you’re getting fat. Three chili dogs at one meal is enough.
• C) It’s probably all added mass in your brain. You seem smarter every time I talk to you.
• D) I don’t know you, but judging by your blog, you’re a handsome fella.
• E) Maybe you should try brushing some of that plaque off your teeth.
• F) While A and C are very true, I think you’re just getting old…like Lance.
• G) This post was very boring and I didn’t even make it this far down.

Sometimes, when you go into restrooms, they have instructional signs such as “Do not spit in urinals” (I saw this one while on a Mission Trip in Illinois) or “Do not throw paper towels into commode“. In a Piggly Wiggly last month, I actually saw instructional signs on how to wash your hands. (I took a picture of it for an awesome blog post, but accidentally deleted the file while uploading it from my phone…I hope you’ll be able to sleep tonight now that you have that information.)

Several months ago, I had to go out of town on business. On the way, I stopped to use the facilities at the rest area near the Florida/Georgia state line on I-75.

This fancy-schmancy restroom had the following sign posted above the urinals:

Since I’m a good citizen, I tried to obey the posted instructions, but the results were not pretty.

My little girls are an endless source of delight.  This morning, for instance, Ladybug wanted her daddy.  She did not want her mommy and she did not want to play on the floor, she wanted her daddy.  It made going to work tough, but it is a good feeling to know that she longs to spend time with her father.  And when I finally broke free, Butterfly demanded that  I receive her hug and kiss.  Without a second though I obliged and received a great big hug and a mid-waffle kiss.  The maple syrup dripped from my cheek as I closed the door behind me.

This evening, though, I think that I had one of my proudest moments as a father.  There we were, all sitting at the table enjoying a nice meal prepared by my wife.  Suddenly, an ominous, low, rumbling sound filled the room.  Ladybug looked up at me, grinned from ear to ear, and said “Poot!”

Now where do you think she learned such a thing?