Stop Blaming McDonalds

I just finished reading the study done by  New York University.  The article states that just because we put calorie count labels on fast food, McDonald's in particular that kids don't pay attention to them.  It is not until the end of the article that they answered my first question.  Where are the parents?  Apparently they are right there buying the Happy Meals.

I am NOT fat.  I AM OBESE!  That is what my scales say and that is what my doctor tells me.  Because of that fact I am increasing my risk for High Blood Pressure, Diabetes, Cancer, Cardiovascular Disease, and Stroke.  All of the above mentioned health issues run in my family.

I wish I could blame McDonald's.  I can't.  I don't eat there.  I am not a snacker.  I cook most of our meals and watch what we eat and what goes into the meals.

Genetically I am at risk.  However, the real issue is that I drink!  Lots of empty calories in those beers and that wine.  I have friends that drink more or as much as I do.  Some of them don't eat.  I can't or won't give up food.  I love it too much.  I should cut down on the alcohol.

Not only do I drink, I don't get up off my ass enough!

So there is no one to blame but me.  The government can put all the labels on food that they want.  They can tell me how bad alcohol can be and how good exercise can be.  Nothing will change, until I change.

The ball is in my court now!

A Day with the Dead

I have become a volunteer photographer for Find-A-Grave.

I received my first assignment the other day.  There was a request to photograph a headstone in Needles, California.  That is about 20 miles from me so I said okay.  I found out there were 13 other request for the same cemetery so I accepted them also.

Print out and camera in the car off Michael and I head for Needles.  Betty, the GPS got us there without a problem.

It turns out that there isn't anyone there full time.  There is no map of the cemetery so we decided to walk the cemetery.  We did walk the entire cemetery.  We looked at every headstone.  Some were not readable.  Most of the headstones were horizontal.  You could see on some that the blade of the mower had taken chunks out of headstones.  Some were sun faded.  Some were fancy and some were plain.  A few had photos of the individual were on the headstones.  Some of the headstones were military issue.  Some were out alone with no one else around them.   Some were in the shade of trees and some in full sun.   Some had full concrete slabs over the casket area.  Most did not. Some were so sunken over the casket area that I was a little nervous about walking over them. Some were hand written in wet cement.  Most were carved.  Most were in English, but a few were in Spanish (I understood it), and one was written in I think Chinese.  Wish I could have read that one.

There appeared to be sections.  There was an area that the names were mostly Hispanic, or Irish, or English.  You could tell family plots that must have been bought as a group. 

The baby graves were the hardest.  They had toys engraved on them.  It made me think of all the children that had died and not been able to live out a life.  It reminded me of my son and my brother who predeceased me.

But no matter what the headstone looked like some  touched me more than others.  If I saw a family name I wondered if they were related.  I took a photo just in case.

Personal Courage

We just got back from watching The King's Speech.  I am blown away.

Yes, it is very British.  It is the British at their best.  Stiff upper lip you know.  Truly though, we forget that these were real people facing incredible world crisis.

Here is "Bertie" the Duke of York that has a terrible stutter.   His brother, the heir to the throne is enamored with Wallace Simpson, the American soon to-be- divorcee.

It must have been terrible lonely to always be the second son.  The one that the nanny didn't like.  The one that was just suppose to be just a Naval Officer.  It didn't matter at that point that you couldn't put two words together.  Now suddenly you are to be KING!

George VI, was not just King.  He was a man troubled and tortured by the lack of familial love.  The treatment of his brother and King George V was heartless, but that was what was expected.  Just be a man and talk!

The truth of the story though is the FRIENDSHIP that develops between the soon-to-be-King and Lionel Logue.  Lionel is a self taught speech pathologist.  Lionel knows that all the mechanical exercises will not truly help Bertie.  It is only when we face the emotional damage that we can begin to heal.

What a difficult task to break down the barriers of royalty and commoner.  Because of the courage of these two men, England survived the war.  But most importantly two men forged a life long friendship that crossed all class lines.

We should all be lucky enough to have a Lionel Logue in our lives.