For as long as I can remember good food has had a bad rap. And I don’t mean food that tastes good but food that is good for us and likely tastes good, too.
If you ask me, it is time for a change. In this month’s Huffington Post blog, I have a look into the matter.
Read Rebranding Heathy Food for a Rocking Result and have your say, too.
In the Georgia countryside where I grew up in the US, gnats were part of the landscape and surely still are. As a child, I remember that they were prevalent in the summer time, causing great disruption to play and picnics.
Having moved to the city, I thought gnats were long behind me. Not a chance.
Since the weather has begun to warm up in London, I have experienced swarms of them on the Thames Path, although they go by the name of midges, here.
Midges, gnats, they are all the same, if you ask me or pretty close kin anyhow. The thing is, however, I don’t remember gnats biting and swarming in the forefront all the time. Surely they crashed barbecues and ballgames regularly but either bored fairly quickly or sensed that they would be penalised if they didn’t leave. Away they went.
I have this image of seeing them in the distance, a part of the landscape. How very idealistic.
Realistically though, midges stake out in the path of walkers and runners and fly right along, until the next best thing happens by. So if you happen to be the only thing, so to speak, on the path, you’re fair game.
Apparently, midges live near water, which explains why I’ve only started to notice them lately.
Short of staying away from rivers, streams, etc. what are walkers, cyclists and runners to do? We could go out in only cold, rainy weather, but that wouldn’t do our attitudes or our physical health any good, would it?
So here are some tips gathered from gnat and midge dodgers around the world.
1) Wear sunglasses at all times.
2) Pull on a hat, too.
3) And cover arms and legs if you can; apparently midges don’t bite through clothing.
4) But wear light clothing instead of dark.
5) In any case, spray on a bit of insect repellent.
6) And by all means keep moving.
7) But if you do get bitten, don’t sweat it. The best thing to do is to soap it to avoid bacteria.
Very well, I’ll give the tips a go. Still, who would have ever thought it—gnats in the city? Actually, they are midges. Whatever! They are all the same rotten lot. And if you ask me, they are best left in a hazy memory, far, far away in the distance. Now that’s idealistic.
By 2030, there will be more elders to care for in England than there are people to care for them, says a recent Institute for Public Policy Research study. The main problem, the study surmises, has to do with no children living nearby.
I ask what about when there are no children, at all, or children that don’t see caring for their elders as their responsibility.
Check out my latest Huffington Post blog: Who is Going to Take Care of You in Old Age?
Big question. What is your answer. Comment here on Facebook, Twitter, Google Plus or on the Huff Post directly.
I went to the gym this morning. So what, right? Working out is the big thing nowadays. Beats lying in, that is if you wear a Nike Fuel Band like I do. That’s why I take to the Thames Path three times per week and spend one hour weekly training with an expert.
Of course, racking up fuel points is not the only reason for exercising, but it sure is a good motivator for it.
Admittedly though, after hearing on BBC Breakfast this morning that the UK air might not be the best place about now for anyone, let alone asthma sufferers, I stalled.
For the last several days, high winds have brought dust from the Sahara Dessert to England and Wales. A haze, for instance, hangs over Birmingham today. Yesterday, many Londoners found their cars lightly coated with red dust.
No wonder I couldn’t see the Thames for the smog yesterday and I was a stone’s throw away from it.
Umm… with low-grade asthma and sore muscles that hadn’t recovered from yesterday’s intense work out, I pulled on my kit, warmed up, and begrudgingly headed for the gym instead of the Thames Path.
Wrong answer, I thought as I laboured for thirty-minutes on the treadmill. As soon as I was done, I rushed outside to the nearest bench and went into an extensive stretching regime, using any breathing techniques I remotely knew of.
As I took in the seemingly fresh air, it got me thinking about the environment.
How is it that dust from the Sahara could settle in the UK? What, if anything, does this have to do with climate change? And is running in a haze of dust actually worst than toiling and sweating in a stuffy gym.
While I don’t have the answers to the former two questions, I have my opinion about the latter one. I’d much rather run outside any day than in a sweatbox, no matter how swish and roomy it is. But if the air is polluted, I have to be realistic, don’t I.
Fortunately for me, the air is expected to clear by Friday. Even so, environmental issues won’t flee.
While the Sahara’s dust will soon pass over the UK, it will sweep into another country and other issues will crop up or flow in here—something for us all to think about wherever we are. What does it all mean and what can we do about it? No soapbox or scare tactics here, just plain on realistic questions.
In the meantime, I am lagging in fuel points; I need to get going, perhaps for a short walk, even if it is hazy outside.
Shush! Never ask a woman her age. And certainly don’t expect her to volunteer it. In my grandma’s day, this was definitely the case.
And while there are women now who still prefer not to talk about the matter, many of us are happy to let the cat out of the bag.
I have my say on the subject in my latest Huff Post blog. Not only am I happy to talk about my age, but also happy to tell why.
Check out the full blog here and do have your say or keep quiet. It is a woman’s prerogative, irrespective of age old beliefs or new ones.
Being an expat has its upside, exploring a new world, but there are downsides too, not that I want to dwell on any of them. Most are just trivial things such as finding a new doctor, hairdresser, etc.… Once cracked, no need to dwell on it.
But there is one downside that simply can’t be cracked—missing one’s family and friends. I don’t dwell on this either, as I try to live my life where I am, and fortunately, I get back to the US quite often.
Still I miss a big chunk of day- to-day life, particularly in the lives of nieces and nephews. So often I hear through other family members about their successes and the doting aunt I am, offer up my congratulations privately.
On this one occasion though, I have to publicly commend my youngest niece on her latest success.
Since December, Miss J and I have become as thick as thieves, so to speak, talking on Face Time weekly. Together, we are working on an all-around better Miss J health-wise and girl oh girl, this kid is excelling.
But that is not what I want to brag about or congratulate Miss J on for now. We’ll celebrate this in a few months. In the meantime, I must commend this straight A student on being a multi-talented softball player.
While softball has been around for as long as I can remember, I do think the professional women’s league is starting to take off. And with girls like J on the scene, pitching at 55 to 58 miles per hour at age 10, softball is sure to command big league attention. On average, girls her age pitch at about 45 mph.
This past Saturday, J struck out nine players. And that is not all. This kid was responsible for six of the seven points her team made for a 7 to 3 win. She made two runs herself and also brought four people in with her batting. I am told these are called RBIs, thus she made four RBIs.
J is not only making history, but she is also making a difference in the way young girls approach sports. She demonstrates beautifully what a girl can do through sports as well as academics.
No pressure kiddo and don’t go getting the big head. Just keep focused and you will no doubt set new trends and change the face of women’s sports someday.
Let’s hear it for the girls.
Ever been lost and though you had either a paper or digital map in hand, you were none the wiser. I have!
For those of you who haven’t and intuitively ‘go west’ no matter the conditions or the diversions, you, my friends, actually have a functional animal instinct. Go figure!
As for the rest of us, we apparently have one too, but not so functional. In fact, ours is dysfunctional. We must keep moving, however, even if we are way off course.
The experts say that there might be a way, moving forward, to activate this instinct.
In the meantime, check out my latest Huff Post blog to find out more about how sense of direction might be determined in the human brain and what it has to do with the big picture anyhow.
The more I think about getting rid of bad thoughts, the more I’m convinced that this process is about reinvention, particularly when it comes to fundamentals.
How many times have you reinvented yourself, whether it had to do with career, fashion, family and so on? Sounds flippant to a certain degree, but reinvention is what we do when something becomes passe or no longer useful or beneficial.
Otherwise, we are stuck.
So why not do the same with thinking? In my latest Huffington Post blog, I take a look at moving forward, Getting With the New Programme. Another way to put it is to leave limiting thinking behind.
In doing so, we don’t abandon our fundamentals, rather we understand them more thoroughly, and use them appropriately to spring forward.
Sounds like a bit of reinvention to me. Nothing wrong with that! Happy reinvention.
I’ve been running again. And though I haven’t signed up for the next road race, I’m up to 12 miles per week, even if a little old lady is faster.
Never mind her, the younger runners or the cyclists whizzing by, I’m in my own world and rarely come out for anything less important than crossing the road. That’s one of the things that I love about running; it’s just me.
On the rare occasion when I do come out of my thoughts, I catch some interesting sights. This week I saw a barefoot runner, life on a luxury houseboat and calm commuters making their way to the river bus.
Bear with; there’s more to this than meets the eye.
First things first, when I was a kid, I thought barefoot running was great. No better place for it than the Georgia countryside, vast plains if you will, and warm red clay underneath my feet. Never mind the odd thorn, bramble or rock.
But fast-forward forty something years and I wonder ‘why on earth’ or shall I say ‘why on concrete’ would anyone do it, especially on a frigid, damp day in London. No wonder the fellow in question was sprinting.
Still, he seemed to be having a blast. Maybe there was more to it than I could see. All the same, I’m not up for it. But I’ll tell you what I am up for—the river bus, but I’ll save that for last.
For now let me tell you about the luxury houseboats, which are moored between Battersea and Putney. According to one estate agent, the boats have two reception rooms and four bedrooms. Not your average narrow houseboat with a low ceiling, is it? Quite surreal to be honest, which is why I chalked them up as permanent exhibitions or river homes for the rich and famous.
This week, however, I caught a glimpse of a person on one of the floating luxury apartments. And suddenly, it dawned on me that this could be a regular person who had carved out an ideal lifestyle—idyllic views, fresh air and their own river bus. Yes, the river bus.
Just then, I heard it, tooting a rather composed horn. I looked up and watched it near the port. Meanwhile, very orderly commuters gathered and then made their way down the gangway. What a vast difference to London’s train stations and bus stops during rush hour.
Breaking my run, I watched in amazement until the last passenger was on and seated. And then observed the bus move off into the Thames and cruise towards central London uninterrupted by traffic or signalling delays.
Though river buses are not as plentiful as trains or regular buses, there are several connections from Putney to Greenwich.
In the meantime, I re-set my running App and got back to the task at hand. Soon I shot past my building and headed towards the heliport, a helicopter coming in for a landing. With serenity in the distance, I remembered another thing that I love about running.
Soon it would be over and it would be coffee time, which is croissant time for me, just me. More than meets the eye? Interesting, indeed.
Tall order!
Kicking the habit of sibling rivalry, especially for adults.
All the same, in my latest HuffPost UK blog, I urge siblings around the globe to give it a try.
Read the full blog for more info on why siblings rival in the first place and get some tips on how to kick the habit for once and for all.