- Mainly, I would just drop the quarter of the plate dedicated to whole grains, and switch over to more vegetables, nuts and seeds. Keto calls for a “moderate” amount of protein; it is not high protein, but do make sure you are eating all the protein you need.
- I would drop out the high-carb sweet fruits and starchy vegetables, and pile my plate up with berries and low-carb vegetables instead.
- I was never hungry, and have never felt in any way deprived, on the Keto diet.
- Our grain-based diet is a horrible, harmful lie.
- A high fat, low carbohydrate diet seems counter-intuitive and maybe for some people, it is. However, for myself and several others in my family (diabetes runs in my family) have found ENORMOUS success on this diet – including all measurable blood metrics including cholesteral, tri-glycerides, HDL and LDL.
- Once you get your mind around the idea of “no white” (no rice, pasta, bread or potatoes) everything else is pretty easy.
- Tons of green vegetables are a lot more palatable when you can flavour with fats (fry in bacon fat, top with butter or toss with salad dressing). You’ll come to enjoy it!
- You are probably already eating all the protein you need; once you start paying close attention to protein (as I did) it was not hard to make sure I got enough.
- For several months, I tried to keep my daily carb intake below 20 grams. This took effort and A LOT OF LABEL READING! You’ll be shocked at all the places you find carbs, which will surprise you. (Even in sugar-free gum? C’MON……)
- You will need to give up virtually every fruit except berries. Fortunately you can get those all year (fresh in summer, frozen in winter) so you’ll be OK. Apples, oranges, melon and grapes are out, full stop.
- Juice, pop, beer, wine, Gatorade….all forms of liquid sugar will be GONE from your diet. On the bright side, water from the tap is a lot cheaper! Herbal teas (hot or cold) are also flavourful and inexpensive. Coffee is still good! And you get to put real cream in it.
- When I lost 60 pounds and reached my goal, I looked around for something to add to my diet to maintain my weight and settled on seeds: roast melon seeds (which feel crunchy and salty, like chips) and Chia seeds in my breakfast shakes. This seems to be working.
On December 10th I made the five hour drive home from the United States. Switching to Canadian radio, I was flabbergasted to find we are still discussing the lyrics to the Christmas song, “Baby, it’s cold outside.”
Why, I wondered, is a 50-year-old song about two adults cuddling in front of a fire bothering so many people? I had just left Michigan, proud birthplace of Marshall Mathers (aka Eminem), who became a millionaire writing songs about killing women and raping their corpses. Ariana Grande is singing about wrist icicles. Eeeeeew.
Radio host Evan Soloman pointed out that many listeners feel “Baby, it’s cold outside” is “rapey.” Endless ink has been spilled discussing whether it flies in the face of the #MeToo movement; some station have banned it altogether.
I suggest, once again, that we are failing young women. Why are we engaged in this debate at all, in 2018? Last time I checked, women have the power to say “no” to men and it’s incumbent upon us to do so when the situation calls for it.
The woman in this song has the power to say “no,” get up and go at any time. Why are millions of intelligent people pretending otherwise? This is not a good idea to give young women – or young men.
Here’s a 2018, common-sense version of the lyrics to “Baby, it’s cold outside.” I doubt it will crack the Top Ten, but it will be closer to reality, and it’s good news for men and women everywhere.
“I don’t plan to stay (Baby it’s cold outside)
So I’m on my way (Baby it’s cold outside)
This evening has been (Nice that you chose to drop in)
So very nice (I’ll hold your hands they’re just like ice).
I’ll call home so Mother won’t worry (Beautiful what’s your hurry?)
Father will unlock the door (Listen to the fireplace roar)
I’m not stressed by a little snow flurry (Beautiful please don’t hurry)
A drink? I don’t want any more (I’ll put some records on while I pour)
I know how to think (Baby it’s bad out there)
I said “no” to that drink (No cabs to be had out there)
I’m sure I know how (Your eyes are like starlight now)
To break this spell (I’ll take your hat, your hair looks swell) (Why thank you)
I’m sure that you heard me say ‘no’ sir (Mind if move in closer?)
At least you can say that you tried (What’s the sense of hurtin’ my pride?)
I’m not gonna stay (Baby don’t hold out)
I can handle the cold outside.
I am not a doctor – I have a high school education.
But here is a partial list of things I have seen in my lifetime that result in human beings taking part in behaviours which are completely out of character for them:
- extreme stress including bankruptcy or massive personal loss
- mental illness, mood disorder or brain disorder including brain tumour
- blood chemical imbalances including diabetes
- medications, new medications, or medication changes (brand or dosages)
- concussion & untreated concussion
- small stoke or untreated stroke
- Alzheimer’s, especially Early Onset Alzheimer’s, and other forms of dementia
- heart condition which includes reduced blood flow to the brain
- food allergies, undiscovered or developed later in life
- supplements and steroid medications. Creatine taken to build muscles, which is available over the counter, has caused enormous problems for some men that I know who have taken it
- Substance abuse
And, added after conversation with a very smart woman:
- Addiction, including addiction to social media
These situations occur so consistently in my life that I have learned that when someone does something utterly bizarre and out of character, I should just stand back and shut up until I can determine what is actually going on.
Through the mental health training I have been fortunate enough to take, I have learned that often the most devastating consequence of a breakdown or psychotic break is the shame with which the person lives afterward. I would hope never to add to such shame but only be patient and understanding until all the facts are known; I hope I would be afforded the same consideration in a similar situation.
“Alpha: The Movie:” Spoiler alert!
It’s not what you might think. It’s true that as a dog owner, I was surprised that the main character Keda had less difficulty taming an aggressive, fully-grown wild wolf than the typical Labrador Retriever owner has potty-training history’s most docile breed.
I was a bit bemused that a teen-aged boy who can’t start a fire, won’t kill a hog and doesn’t want to leave his mommy to go hunting with the men was being groomed to be Leader of the tribe; but it’s fiction, after all, so I suspended disbelief.
(“He’s not ready!” his mother frets. “He leads with his heart, not his spear!” Geez, I thought, I hope she’s ready to run fast if a hostile tribe descends under Keda’s leadership…)
The crucial plot turn – Keda lacks the good sense to get out of the way of a charging bison – leaves him wounded and abandoned to the elements. He rallies, tames a wolf in no time, and starts the long, cold hike back home. It’s a good thing he has Alpha, the tame wolf, to look after him, protect him, and provide him with food. Why, Alpha looks after him almost as well as his mommy did!
So that, by movie’s end, as Keda (who nursed Alpha back to health, cleansed his wounds, dried his fur, and spent months sleeping next to him) realizes that Alpha is actually a FEMALE dog only when she gives birth to a litter of puppies, it’s hardly a surprise at all. What teen-aged hunter WOULDN’T notice the extreme lack of penis and testicles on an animal?
So, “Alpha” is not the alpha-male, leader of the pack. Alpha is a female. That’s not the surprise. It’s 2018, after all.
The real jaw-dropper was watching the credits roll at the finish of the movie. Out of curiosity, I stuck with them right to the end – watching, watching, watching, watching, got a coffee, watching, went to the bathroom, watching, checked my email, tried to estimate how many dozens – no, hundreds, no THOUSANDS of people worked on the worst movie I’ve ever seen – watching watching watching until there it was: my suspicions were justified.
Funded by taxpayers.
I paid $17.99 for this movie. An episode of “The Littlest Hobo” would have been more entertaining, and more realistic.
Oh, and for good measure, Alpha the Female Alpha is played by “Chuck.”
Click here to view the credits. Get a coffee first.
I was working for the Government of Ontario when we reached 3.5% growth for several consecutive quarters, eliminated the deficit, balanced the budget and created 1,000,000 million new jobs. I remember getting the newspapers from the front door to see the headline that Ontario had created 45,000 jobs the previous month.
I ran upstairs, pounding on Dave and Tom’s bedroom doors and shouting them out of bed:
“WAKE UP! WAKE UP! THE WORLD IS YOUR OYSTER* – YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU WANT!!! THE WORLD IS YOUR OYSTER – GET OUT THERE AND DO SOMETHING!”
I will never forget the feeling of joy and elation, optimism and energy I felt pounding through my veins. I had worked like a dog for my entire life to keep Casa Des Smiths up and running, lights on, food in the fridge, bills paid, in our Greektown house close enough for the boys to take the subway to University of Toronto. When Mike Harris pulled off everything he promised he would – including enough university spaces for the Double Cohort, which included Tom and Dave – and I could see they could have any future they wanted if they were willing to work for it, I honestly felt like all of my dreams had come true.
All three of my kids worked an incredible daily grind for years, going to school full time AND working full time (how did they do that??) and have landed on their feet in good jobs, with wonderful partners and happy lives. The world is indeed their oyster!
Seeing today’s 4.1% growth numbers from the United States of America – coupled with virtually full employment – I feel like pounding on the door and shouting the whole continent awake:
““WAKE UP! WAKE UP! THE WORLD IS YOUR OYSTER – YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU WANT!!! THE WORLD IS YOUR OYSTER – GET OUT THERE AND DO SOMETHING!”
*One of my favourite memories from this period was the time I celebrated receiving a large cheque by taking them to Barberian’s Steak House for dinner, where they were allowed to order anything they wanted (“Can we have, like appetizers and dessert too, or just dinner?” they asked me. They were conscious of budget from an early age…)
Looking at the menu, David noted “The ancient Romans used to pay for oysters their weight in gold, because they believed they had an aphrodisiac effect and improved their performance with women.”
“Good God!” Tom exclaimed. “What did they pay for the WOMEN?”
We laughed so hard. It was such a fun night.
Friday the 13th turned out to be quite a special “Dog Day” here at Rita’s Rest Home for Wayward Dogs.
Forest, Leia, Rosie and I paid our first visit to the Bowmanville Leash-Free dog park, where we met up with Dalmations, Labs, a Bassett Hound and a Mastiff presciently named “Ruckus.” Tiny Maltese Rosie held her own with all of them.
The highlight of the adventure, however, was definitely meeting Nikita, a born-and-bred Alaskan sled dog who is actually one-quarter wolf.
I need to preface the Nikita story – very sad beginning, very happy ending – by offering a belief that I have long shared with my brother Pete about dog souls.
Human beings only think they are the ones in charge when it comes time to find a dog; in fact, somewhere out in the Universe a dog’s soul is looking for YOU. When that soul and the dog in which it resides (albeit, temporarily) locates you, you may persuade yourself that you’ve reached a logical, rational executive decision to acquire a dog.
Meanwhile, that dog soul has been looking for you, has located you, and has no plans to let you get away.
Upon arrival at the dog park, I scanned the perimeters of the field for other dogs; Rosie is very small and sometimes a bit nervous, although that passes quickly. When I spotted Nikita laying in the shade with her owner all the way across the field, I was automatically a bit worried about whether or not she was friendly to other dogs, as not all Husky/Malamutes are.
Wandering along the fence, pre-occupied with picking up dog poos, I did not even notice quiet, stealthy Nikita cross the field; when I looked up, she was sitting in front of Rosie and wagging her bushy tail furiously. With one bright blue eye and one brown, she has an exotic, mysterious look. She seemed to know better than to run or jump around Rosie the way a more obliviously enthusiastic dog would.
Before I had time to get anxious, her owner walked up.
“What a beautiful dog!” I exclaimed sincerely. “She looks like she is part wolf!”
“She is 25 per cent wolf,” he nodded. “I had her DNA tested when we got home. Nikita is from Alaska.”
“How did she get here?” I gasped.
“I stole her,” RJ shrugged philosophically.
Fascinated already by the idea of a wolf/dog from Alaska finding her way to Bowmanville, Ontario, I asked RJ how he came to “steal” her and this is the story he told me:
“I was in Alaska, fishing with a buddy who has a boat there. One day we were sitting high up on a hill, and I could see a fenced-in property below us.
‘What is that?’ I asked.
‘That’s a breeding and training business which raises sled-racing dogs,’ he told me. ‘It’s not a nice place.’”
RJ went on to explain that dogsled racing is a huge business and important part of the economy in Alaska; Nikita had been bred and was being raised to race in the Iditarod, the world-famous race which takes place between Anchorage and Nome every year.
“Humans seem to love it, but it is a cruel and awful life for the dogs,” he said. I could feel the anger starting to rise in his voice.
“They spend the first four months of their lives chained to a post on a chain about 3 feet long…they are not pets. Every so often, the owner walks through the yard with a taser and shocks them, to keep them mean. Dogs die running the Iditarod. Nobody cares.
“Coke and Exxon and other corporate sponsors….they pay money to be part of it. Nobody cares about the dogs.”
I nodded sadly: “I caught about an hour of the finals on TV last year,” I agreed. “It looks just brutal for the dogs. Walt Disney even made a movie about it, ‘Snow Dogs,’ it was so happy and looked like so much fun.” In the real Iditarod in 2017, four dogs died of exhaustion. In 2016, one was run over by a snowmobile.
“The breeder didn’t like Nikita – she is small and too submissive, not mean enough,” RJ continued, obviously upset now. “One day I saw him kick her through the air, right across the yard. That night, I hopped the fence and stole her.
“I’ve never had a dog before,” he noted. “She is the first dog I’ve ever owned. She is the sweetest, quietest, most obedient dog I could ever have wanted. Now, I can’t imagine life without her.”
I shared with RJ the “Pete & Rita Theory of Dog Souls in the Universe.”
“You think you rescued Nikita,” I pointed out. “Actually, she rescued you!”
“That’s very true!” he laughed, ruffling her head and ears as she gazed up at him adoringly.
I read once about the fact that there must have been something very special about wolves, because aeons ago human beings were inspired to share their food and the warmth of their campfires with them as the very first domesticated animals. Not cats, not bears, not birds, not deer. Wolves.
Humans have been providing food and shelter, and the descendants of wolves have been sharing love, loyalty, companionship and protection ever since. Our souls have been entwined for a very long time.
Stop to imagine: every single dog in that dog park, whether sleek Dalmation, jolly Labrador Retriever, massive Mastiff, baying Bassett Hound, or lap-dog Maltese – traces its ancestry back to the wolf. Vastly different in size, in intelligence, in personality and in demeanor, all those dogs came from the same original dog, the wolf.
It was very special, to have Nikita there to remind us of this miraculous fact. In a symbolic way, she represents the Mother of all Dogs.
It was a nice Friday the 13th.
 As far as I know, it is not legal to own a wolf hybrid in Ontario, although they are very common in the north where unsprayed female dogs breed with wolves on a regular basis. They are less common in other areas. In Alberta, owners with a special license are allowed to own wolf hybrids.
Congratulations to the United States for preparing to move to a merit-based immigration system, which Canada and Australia have used for decades.
As an immigrant to Canada myself, I have first-hand experience of the thoroughness of the process. It was stressful and nerve-wracking; but it also makes me appreciate the work that goes into vetting legal immigrants to Canada.
This is not an unkind process: organizing a productive and prosperous society allows Canada to take good care of its citizens. We contribute considerable sums of money to international programs; we take in a lot of refugees.
I’m dismayed to hear media pundits in the US claiming that a merit-based system is racist: it is exactly the opposite of racist. An engineer from India or Africa who speaks English or French and has a relative living here will quickly move to the front of the line ahead of an applicant from England or Ireland with less education and no relative living here.
An applicant from China who plans to start a business and create jobs will be considered before an American simply looking for a job.
Canada’s immigration program is not perfect, but it’s one of the most successful on the globe.
My family moved to Ontario from Michigan when I was 13 years old; I arrived as a Landed Immigrant.
I got married and had three kids, started a business and was hard at work and paying taxes. Imagine my shock when, returning from a trade show in San Francisco, I got pulled out of line at airport Customs and moved to a small room where I was grilled for what seemed an eternity.
Officers wanted to know where I lived, what I did, and most importantly, why I had never applied for Canadian citizenship.
Eventually I was told: “OK. We believe you live in Toronto. But, you should get your citizenship. You have been here for 20 years. Canada expects you to make a commitment.”
I applied, and thus began the most nerve-wracking six months of my life. I almost never slept, wondering what would happen if I failed the test: would Canada make me leave?
The test was 50 questions long, but there were five different tests you could get, so I tried to memorize all 250 possible answers. I kept a copy of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms in the bathroom so I could review it on every visit.
I had to do two interviews, one with a bureaucrat and one with a judge. I was so nervous at the first interview that I actually lost my vision, walked off of the curb on St. Clair and stepped directly in front of a car – which fortunately stopped before it hit me.
When I passed and was sworn in as a citizen, we had a giant family celebration.
After the 2008 recession, my American nephew asked me about immigrating to Canada. I went onto the Citizenship and Immigration Canada website to check it out, and was thoroughly impressed: there is actually a pre-questionnaire to fill in, to determine if you should bother applying for the full process.
Why do you want to come to Canada? Which French or English test have you passed? Do you have a relative in Canada? Do you plan to work or start a business?
Canada’s merit-based system has served it well. It is hard but fair, and it works.
Good luck, America! Welcome to the 21st century.
This process can be used for virtually any fruit jam: blueberry, raspberry, peach, pear….all the instructions are provided in the pectin box.