Gei Shlufen

I take my sleep very seriously. It just doesn't happen. No tv past 9, at least 30 minutes of reading, dim lighting, pillow like so, loving my new position of laying on my right with my head facing up. It seems to be working. 

But then to awaken at 3? 

DOOM. 

But that feeling of terror is spitting in the eye of nature. 

I had read elsewhere how the current sleep premise of 8 solid hours is a new being, and this article reminded me.

See, before there was electricity and many avenues for artificial light, there were candles. But candles were expensive, and only the wealthy could afford to burn them at night. So what did everyone do? They went to bed when it got dark out. 

Sleeping Peasant by Zinaida Serebriakova

That sleep cycle, since it was so long, was in shifts of two. One would wake up in the middle of the night, and do some deep thinking, or potter about, pretty much relaxing. Then they would go back to sleep. 

Us techies freak out if we wake up in the night, running to the doctor to prescribe zombie-pills since being up at 2 am is unnatural. Right? Wrong.

Studies were done were the subjects were deprived of artificial light, and in no time their sleep pattern reverted to that of our ancestors. 

Instead of being expected to squeeze all of our productivity from 8 hours in bed, daytime naps should be permissible. Google, for instance, allows their employees a little shloof during the day, as do companies in China. 

Maybe that's why those ads for "Five Hour Energy" gets on my nerves. They need good ol' fashioned naptime, not a shot of caffeine.     

Battle of the Bulge: One Fiber to Rule Them All

Before I purchase any boxed, canned, or bagged food, I check out the nutritional facts. Along with serving size, calorie count, fat calories, and sodium percentage, I scan the fiber amount. 

Fiber comes in two forms; soluble and insoluble. Soluble fiber dissolves in the stomach, forming into filling gel that keeps cravings in check. Slower digestion means balanced sugar levels which staves off a number of diseases; soluble fiber also lowers bad cholesterol by binding with bile acids and removing fat from the blood, also reducing the amount of cholesterol produced by the liver. 

Insoluble fat is what keeps one "regular," binding with waste in the lower digestive tracts and removing it from the body. That discourages colon cancer, among other things.

How much fiber does one need? About 14g per 1,000 calories. That doesn't leave much wiggle room. 

I don't touch white flour anymore, since: What is glue? White flour and water. Glue in the stomach is not great for digestion, nor for feeling energized.

Looking at nutritional facts of my favorite flours and cereals, I have noticed that in most cases the majority of fiber is insoluble, which, while of course providing a wonderful service, is not the version which keeps one full and away from the fridge. 

So I did a little research to see what has the most soluble fiber. And I was told: Oat bran. 

Oat bran, eh? 

Quaker Hot Cereal Oat Ban: 1/2 cup of oat bran has 6 grams of fiber, 3g soluble, 3g insoluble (oatmeal, even old-fashioned, has at most 2 grams of soluble.) 

It takes very quick to cook—about a minute or two—which is faster than the old-fashioned oatmeal (about five minutes). And 1/2 cup, which is one serving, comes out to a lot. A brimming bowlful! 

Via thesaladgirl.com

Not only that, the consistency was lovely—like farina. Smooth, and slides right down. Perfect with a drizzle of grade A maple syrup.  

And was I full? Oh yes. Due to logistics of the day I never ended up having lunch (not a situation where I usually find myself) so I went from 8 a.m. to 3.30 p.m. with nothing but oat bran glued to my ribs. 

The oat bran hot cereal from Bob's Red Mill has the same wonderful 3 grams of soluble fiber in 1/3 cup; you get more for less. And 1/3 of a cup still makes a whopping amount. 

Since it is so finely ground, I throw some into my food all the time. Into a soup, for instance, as a thickener. Into cheese latkes. To bind fish patties. For a pizza crust. Or to coat shnitzel. 

What I couldn't understand is why I never heard of this before. TV health gurus are always yammering about oatmeal, but never mention oat bran. I tried searching for any negative effects, but couldn't find any except that oat bran used to be the primary ingredient in livestock feed, so it wasn't considered appetizing for human consumption. 

Well, I always was an animal lover. 

Eyeliner Updated

After my initial eyeshadow post, I shopped around. I tried to be open. I tried gel liners, liquid liners, pencils. 

And you know what?  

Powder liner is the best. 

Every other one I tried ended up all over my face. And I don't ever, ever, touch my eyes (rubbing could facilitate wrinkles). Yet how did I end up with black smudges on my lower cheek and under my nose? 

I know I recommended that for Shabbos one should use sealant in conjunction with loose powder liner, but I have found that just using powder liner with a little water stayed on great all through Shabbos. The sealant is more necessary for a multiple-day yontif. 

Powder liner is also extremely versatile. Below is a video where she uses Mac black eyeshadow as a liner, I'm guessing in Carbon. It's the same makeup artist in both, so I guess she's a powder liner fan.

I apply eyeliner beneath my upper lashes for an appearance of fullness, and distinctly along my lower lash line. 

I have yet to try the "winged" look myself, since I think it is hard to do get right and can end up looking deforming if executed incorrectly. Just a simple swipe of black liner along the lower lash line will make one look stunning (it's kind of embarrassing how many Kim Kardashian makeup tutorials I have bookmarked. While that gal is no role model, she has great makeup looks).

Battle of the Bulge: It's Not About the Bulge, Really

When I was in high school, I was not very aware of my eating habits; then I went to college, and my cluelessness continued. It was when I had a terrible schedule of many unoccupied hours that I noticed a trend; I was munching all the time. 

I made a decision to cease unhealthy food consumption. That step towards health begat another, then another, and so forth. It was not until I read this article that I suddenly realized—I am actually on that plant-based diet they are always yammering about.

The purpose of my "Bulge Battle" posts is not about being slender for the sake of being so; it's about eating well, which usually, in turn, leads to being lean and bouncy. 

For instance, Dean Ornish is writing here how while some diets (and by "diets," I mean those "get-skinny-quick" schemes) have amazingly thin results, they do a mean number on the human body. Like Atkins. Sure, one may have lost poundage, but one is now a ticking time bomb. 

I have realized that I don't really like red meat. If meatballs or stuffed pepper is on the menu, I actually love the tomato-y sauce more, ladling the pot dry while ignoring the cow parts. Steak? Blah. I like the birds more, especially duck (a rare treat). But for the most part, I don't really need any fleish to be happy. 

My primary foods are whole grains, along with colorful fruits and vegetables. Whenever I veer, such as by simchas or guesting, my body slows down; I feel sluggish and meh.

The benefits of a plant-based diet (with some fish) is mind-boggling. 

In 35 years of medical research . . . we have seen that patients who ate mostly plant-based meals, with dishes like black bean vegetarian chili and whole wheat penne pasta with roasted vegetables, achieved reversal of even severe coronary artery disease. They also engaged in moderate exercise and stress-management techniques, and participated in a support group. The program also led to improved blood flow and significantly less inflammation which matters because chronic inflammation is an underlying cause of heart disease and many forms of cancer. We found that this program may also slow, stop or reverse the progression of early stage prostate cancer, as well as reverse the progression of Type 2 diabetes.

Also, we found that it changed gene expression in over 500 genes in just three months, “turning on” genes that protect against disease and “turning off” genes that promote breast cancer, prostate cancer, inflammation and oxidative stress.

The program, too, has been associated with increased telomerase, which increases telomere length, the ends of our chromosomes that are thought to control how long we live . . . As our telomeres get longer, our lives may get longer.

In a randomized controlled trial, patients on this lifestyle program lost an average of 24 pounds after one year and maintained a 12-pound weight loss after five years. The more closely the patients followed this program, the more improvement we measured in each category — at any age. 

I can't stand it when people say things like "low carb." Whole grains are carbs, but they are good carbs, magnificent carbs, the carbs that keep one full and balanced. Food labels like "low fat" are a crock, since they "magically" have no difference in taste and flavor—they often replace that missing fat with mysterious ingredients, so while, yeah, it is "low in fat," it isn't the best for you.

It’s not low carb or low fat. An optimal diet is low in unhealthful carbs (both sugar and other refined carbohydrates) and low in fat (especially saturated fats and trans fats) as well as in red meat and processed foods.

It's just about teaching oneself to crave the stuff that not only will you love, but will also love you back. 

So that is why I rarely eat out, why I abstain from white-flour based breads and cakes, why sweet potato, the scourge of my childhood, is my new best friend. 

Even if someone is a size 4, it doesn't automatically mean that she's in the prime of health. Because it matters more how and what one eats rather than being a smaller dress size.

I feel Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Lentil soup, anyone?

O Sunshine

It's hard being a morning person. One wakes up at dawn, refreshed and ready to party, and then there is no one to play with. 

A guy called up to schedule a date. 

"So how about 8 a.m. on Sunday morning?" 

I was so excited. "Sure!" I burbled with glee. 

"Um, I was joking . . ." 

Oh. 

I am surrounded by night creatures who surface with the advent of the dark, whilst I, the morning robin, nests herself into bed. 

"Are you interested in a self-defense class?" 

"Sounds cool! When is it?" 

"Tuesday nights at 9." 

"Sorry, no can do." 

It's hard enough being a lonely early bird. Try explaining it. 

"What is wrong with you?" 

How do I describe the willies that take me over when the evening creeps out? The fantasy that abominables lurk behind bushes? Also that I am dead tired by 10 o' clock since I've been up before 6? 

I shrug helplessly instead. 

FB bombards me with photos of contemporaries basking in the night life. Doesn't anyone go out for breakfast anymore? 

I've noticed how some teenagers force themselves to become night people. My young cousin is still pottering about the house close to midnight despite the fact she has nothing to do, since high school "rules" dictate late hours. My high school tried that on me, but I held firm to my principles. 

"Don't call her house past 9! Because she'll be asleep!" they would laugh hysterically.

Ha ha, very funny. You know what is also funny? Sleep deprivation during formative years probably led to your stunted growth. What a hoot.

I found one sympathetic soul who understands what I'm going through. "When I was dating," she told me, "I told the guys I can only do motzei Shabbos or Sunday. I know myself; I couldn't function if I had a date on weeknights. One guy even started yelling at me! We never ended up going out." 

By the way, she's long married. Her children considerately tuck her in. 

We aren't weird, just different. Can you understand that? We didn't choose to be this way, having alternate time zones to the rest of you. 

We just ask for a little kindness and understanding. 

Vacational Dating

Since my one out-of-country date was a raving lunatic, I have not experienced that which Eve Fairbanks relates in this article. 

She claims that it was on vacation that she always fell madly in love. One of her theories is that when visiting strange places, one is open to all sorts of meaningful insights. 

We’re primed, on vacation, to recognize such messages in what we see, hear and eat, and in the people we meet. These strangers often seem to carry important information about what is valuable in life, and this makes them incredibly alluring.  

What she seems to be saying is that when one is "away," one is living in the moment. Except, even in the boring mundane can one find enlightenment; if one holds out until one sees the Grand Canyon to find meaning in life, they need to get a life. 

But her other thoughts are rather intriguing. Such as, this idea when on vacation one can pretend to be someone else; Fairbanks offers it is, rather, our true selves surface, unbound by our familiar surroundings and responsibilities. 

The idea prospers that vacation flings are an escape from our real selves. But maybe what’s really happening is that they draw out selves that are real but suppressed. When we’re young, we stifle many possible selves to channel our energy into one, but the others can probably never be fully smothered. They merely wait for a trigger to revive. That can be a new place, a new person or, most powerfully, both. 

And another possibility: 

The ultimate truism in our understanding of vacation romance is that it’s exciting because we don’t see our new lover’s flaws. Again, I think the opposite is the truth: on vacation we stop judging and allow ourselves to relish another person’s quirky imperfections. 

"On vacation we stop judging." Consider: When one is on their own turf and see someone munching on grasshoppers, that is too much to handle. When in a foreign country, amongst locust-eaters, one will laugh and gamely try a six-legged snack. 

But what if we simply transferred that feeling of camaraderie to life at home? That we dated with open minds first, and see where it takes us? 

She relates how she met a waiter while traveling in California. He was dapper, he was educated, and his teeth were crooked. 

The makers of Persian rugs know that an imperfection makes a beautiful carpet more winsome. We are drawn to the cracks in a wall, the cake with a slight droop, because these are what make something — or someone — individual. We indulge our natural attraction to imperfection more freely on vacation.

Away from home we don't complain that the shower doesn't work right or the food isn't like Mom's or that the bed is softer at home. That's the whole point of being on vacation; seeing the day-to-day of other people, and relishing instead of criticizing it. We don't visit the Leaning Tower of Pisa and say, "Someone should fix that." Superman did that when he was in his evil stage; when he reverted to his intrinsic goodness, he tipped it back over.

At home, though, in our ordinary lives, imperfections are liabilities. We repaint, we replace. We tolerate flaws in our partners but rarely cherish them. Partly this is the inevitable shift to a longer-term calculus. Those crooked teeth: will my children have them?

What we often perceive as "fixer-upper" can be wonderful as is. As Voltaire said, "The better is the enemy of the good." Our "flaws" is what makes us who we are; without them, we aren't ourselves.  

But I also think our aversion to imperfection is amplified by today’s Match.com dating philosophy, in which compatibility is king, smokers are excludable by checking a box, no weird tics and take care of your body, please.

Of course, we all have our lines in the sand. But people are one package, not a list of traits to be compared on a clipboard. 

On vacation, we fall in love less by logic than by instinct. The question then becomes: Should we be trying to love in regular life more like we love when we travel?   

The New Normal

Things must be really bad if I entered my local supermarket in bunny slippers and no one batted an eyelash. 

After a week+ of no power, a song from my childhood began to play in my head: 

And yet, I am still incredibly thankful that the damage was not as bad as it could have been. I doubt I would feel the same way if I had little children to take care of (I feel for all the parents out there. I really do). 

I Liiiiiiiive!

Despite the fact that posts have been going up regularly this week, I have not had power, ergo no internet access. 

And, yes, I have managed to cling to my last vestiges of sanity. 

I think. 

Hoping to catch up soon to comments! 

The Plight of the Bad Cop

Modern Family, "Good Cop Bad Dog":

Phil and Claire are typical parents of a typical family. One morning Claire is demanding that the teenage daughters finally clean their bathroom, while Phil is making faces behind her back, attempting to downplay her strictness.

Claire's had enough of being the bad guy; she wants to be fun for once. She takes the son, Jake, and his step-uncle (he's the same age, ergo Modern Family) go-carting while leaving a reluctant Phil in charge of the girls. 

Phil halfheartedly asks the girls to clean up, and they do a slapdash job, stuffing most of the mess in the cabinet then scurrying out the door. Phil is so furious that they tried to make a fool of him that he launches himself on the hood of the moving car. 

His anger and despotism increase as he has them scrubbing the bathroom all day with no food as he duct-tapes their laptops shut. 

Meanwhile, Claire is determined to be fun. She lies about the boys' ages to allow them to go-cart, and as soon as the race starts she swerves her cart into theirs, shoving them out of the race. 

She insists they stuff themselves with hot dogs and milk shakes, and when the son Jake gets carsick she protests that he can't be, because they're having fun. The boys arrive home miserable.  

"I'm twelve! I need limits!" Jake tells her.

Claire returns home to find her daughters starving and exhausted, and Phil intends to send them out to the car to clean up Jake's barf. 

Claire tells Phil to call this off; she was not meant to be the good cop, he was not meant to be the bad. We have our inherent roles, and we cannot be anything else.

 

Well, I can relate. I'm the bad cop with the kinfauna. Ma was the bad cop with me and my siblings. 

A psychology professor in college once told the class that fathers are the disciplinarians, mothers are full of mushy-gushy love. I wondered what she was smoking. 

It makes no sense for fathers to be the bad cops; no man I know wants to come home after work and belt the kid with a strap (so to speak). The men I know mess up the mothers' plan of getting the kids into bed by hitzing up the offspring. 

Claire and Phil realized that there is a place for the good cop and the bad cop, and they must respect the other's abilities as such. Phil shouldn't think that she is the cruel overlord; Claire shouldn't think he gets to goof off. 

I'm not meant to be the fun one. And I'm cool with it.

Homemade Tinted Moisturizer

While I was desperately searching for a tinted moisturizer and had not yet found my beloved Nars, I dabbled with DYO. After morosely searching the internet with plummeting hopes, this link piqued my interest.

My word! Make Your Own tinted moisturizer? Can it be done?

I am not one to turn down a cosmetic challenge.

As for the SPF moisturizer? I always wanted to try Devita Solar Protective Moisturizer SPF 30 Plus. It has over 100 five star user reviews on Vitacost, and is equally loved on Amazon. Non-comedogenic, which is great for me, and the reviewers say it is not too moisturizing, which is what I need. 

It's not remotely complicated. Take a dab of SPF, a dab of foundation, and presto! It provides sheer coverage while protecting skin. 

For my foundation I used a sample of Bobbi Brown Natural Finish Long Lasting Foundation SPF 15 in Warm Ivory.While it is not my choice for all-the-time foundation, the pigment is fine for this experiment.

Always select a lotion with SPF when making your own tinted moisturizer, since the skin must be shielded at all times. This way one can select whatever moisturizer or lotion they like, whether it be heavier or lighter, depending their complexion's needs.