Contemplative Sunday

For breakfast I made my big bowl of boiled oats, and raisins, and flaxseeds. At first the taste of flaxseeds on my oatmeal tasted weird, but I actually grew accustomed to it, and like the unique flavor mixed with the raisins.

Still endeavored to change more of my life – and in this case, my hoarding of clothes which greatly clutters my already small apartment – I started pitching away clothes I have not worn in years.

Why do I save so much? Well, I remember visiting Grandparents, and Great Aunts and Uncles and loving going through their stuff in the attic. For some bizarre reason, I feel that clothes from my past are something to hold onto – especially T-shirts and sweatshirts with logos from college, and sporting teams. Well, I still saved those. But I started purging my closet and chests, and under my bed of tons of clothes, some more than 12 years old.

I just want a cleaner start for this new endeavor. As my vegan quest comes to a close I am thinking more of how I will live my new life and not even thinking about doing cartwheels because I can eat a porterhouse steak again.

It is cathartic to eliminate the things that add to clutter in your life, and yes, clean closets and drawers, and not having piles of clothes on top of already bulging bureaus scraping your ceiling adds a sense of freedom.

Three giant bags going to charity later, I am quite satisfied with this weekend of purging! Because I am going to have to take my suit jackets in I decided to pitch some sport jackets – even ones that I have worn just this week. It is sad in a way, those sport jackets which were torn around the inside chest pocket, lining frayed, and holes in the side pockets where I hid cigars from a disapproving girlfriend years ago, well, they served me well, and it was a bit sad to say goodbye. I guess I will have to rely only on memories, and when I bounce my Grandchild on my knee and tell him stories about my sport jacket, there will be no attic to dig it up for show and tell.

It was an introspective weekend for me, and I watched two biographical documentaries about two men who could not be farther apart, but share a common problem – they never knew moderation. Sounded familiar to me, so I watched, and nodded my head. The first was about the great tenor, Opera sensation, and movie star of the 40’s and 50’s Mario Lanza who, according to an old pal, had a “voracious appetite for food, women, and wine.” He died at 38 years old of heart failure. I can go on for pages about having the aria Vesti la giubba run through my head at different times in my life.

The other bio, and on the opposite end of the spectrum, was Joe Strummer lead singer of the classic punk band, The Clash. He also had a voracious appetite for women, and wine, and 100 other things. He died of heart failure at 50.

Both were geniuses in the respective field of music, though I would be hard pressed to convince my parents (big Lanza fans) that The Clash constituted “music.”

But what struck me about these two men was that they both filled self-perceived tortured gaps in their lives, at the height of worldwide fame and fortune, with drinking, or eating, or drugs. I found both lives fascinating.

For lunch today I put a couple of whole wheat tortillas in the oven, and then covered them with left over humus and black beans. For a simple meal, it was very good.

12 Days Left!!

Saturday Purge, and Trouble with a Former Penal Colony

Saturday, still thinking about the last 24 years of my life, and this new change, I decide to make some alterations to my life beyond diet.

Although it sounds simple, it was enormous undertaking – I began to purge my clothes. Partly for the new size I wear, but mostly because I have too many clothes that I have not worn in years and years whether they fit or not.

After a giant bowl of oatmeal, raisins, and flaxseeds (by the way, I have not noticed feelings of sluggishness since increasing my seeds intake), I got to work on my shirt rack.

I filled a garbage bag of shirts alone that I will take to the Archdiocese to drop off. I still have 43 dress shirts. For those in the UK, dress shirts mean shirts you would wear with a tie, or to work. I made the mistake of saying dress shirts around some Londoners who teased me since, I suppose, “dress shirts” in England are like tuxedo shirts – fancy dress. Whatever you want to call them, I’ve got 43 of them – is that an absurd number of shirts for a man?

Saturday night I met a great friend down at the chic lounge at the recently opened SOHO Trump Hotel. I joined her, another former co-worker, and a few others. They had a significant head-start on me and were many bottles of wine deep in the evening. Being that I am not running this race, I settled in for some seltzer and joined the conversation. My friend sent me a text warning me that the group was pretty sauced, but as I have stated many times before, I can hang out easily with people who are drinking, or even eating steak. In fact it is almost insulting that I could not handle temptation right under my nose – it’s been 5 ½ months of swatting away temptation like King Kong downing bi-planes from the Empire State Building.

The women at the table, and one guy who just flew in from Australia that day, immediately started in on me. Basically, they were so sure of themselves, and their energy force of fun that I would quickly succumb and join them in drinking. “Oh, please, c’mon on, order a drink,” was quickly replaced with “We don’t trust people who don’t drink!” Now these were all mature, successful people, and a teetotaler was not welcome at first. Soon enough my gregariousness watered down their insistence that I drink with them. However, the Aussie was looking at me with that drunken, sleep-deprived cock-eyed look that said simply, “I don’t like you.” His mumbled insults about me not drinking were grating my nerves. Not only was my manhood challenged by a foreigner on my own turf, it was done over an activity, drinking, that I used to excel at. In fact, I am quite certain that in my prime I could out drink the entire front row of the starting Australian rugby team (Sorry, Mom, but my country needs me). But what was most annoying was that I am not some dilettante invading this table and turning my nose up to these people marching through bottles of Chardonnay. I explained myself more than once that I would love to join them but I am a mere 2 weeks from completing a six month quest. It didn’t stop. I was in the mood for something hot, so I asked the waitress to bring me some hot tea in a glass. I purposefully did not order a tea cup and all the accoutrements. I just wanted some hot tea in a water glass. When it came out the mumbling Aussie exclaimed, “Who the hell drinks tea at this hour?” Well, I snapped. I apologized for not drinking my tea at the appointed time of 4 PM, but last I checked the last time a foreigner questioned us on how we consume tea it ended up at the bottom of Boston Harbor! So I said, “Look, in three weeks time when I return from Ireland, Mr. Aussie, I challenge you to a drink up! You and me will have a drinking contest, and I will even let you bring a buddy, and I will take both of you on, and we'll see who is left standing!”

It was explained to me for the 800th time that he is Australian, like they cornered the market on drinking prowess. Well, this is New York, pal, where drinking is an art form, and I have spent the better part of 10 years mastering this hobby, and, coincidently, often with good pals from Down Under -- friends of mine from Sydney who are well aware that I am no shrinking violet and respect this new lifestyle of mine.

Now, I know this seems shockingly infantile on my part, but damn it, I hate when people cannot understand the endeavor I have chosen and are unable to just respect what I am doing, and shut your mouth. No matter how cool you think you are, no matter how much fun your group is, I am not going to deviate from this self-appointed challenge no matter how often you goad me. Deal with it! I am not an energy-suck, I am not bringing the table down, and I am not being judgmental about how other people live their lives. If anything I am envious of your rotating bottle service. My gregariousness added to the group, not subtracted from it, so if they can't stand the fact that I not hoisting my sail to achieve my three sheets to the wind, tough.

I have been taking lots of good natured ribbing since November 1, I expected it, hell, I wanted it! This lifestyle change for me, going 100% vegan for 6 months, and adding no drinking to boot, was bound to disrupt the universe in which I live, and I expected it. I enjoy the jokes, and good natured insults, but when it turns to contempt, and from a stranger no less, well, I get a little pissed off.

Other than that it was a fun Saturday night.

A Fishy Friday

An overzealous cook is ruining my vegan wrap!

Friday afternoon I lunched at the Coffee Shop and the vegan wrap was "off "- some cook thought adding a healthy dose of pesto would liven up the wrap. It made it soggy and over-powered the delicate flavors of fresh squash, zucchini, tomato, avocado, and tofu. It's interesting, my whole life I loved food more that was awash in sauce. To me it added flavor. Now, I love the pure taste of food as food with only the lightest brush of sauce, max.

Friday evening went to see the movie "Hot Tub Time Machine." It was a weak film, but being that they travel back to 1986, the year that I graduated from High School, I was curious for a few nostalgic laughs. And there were a few very funny scenes.

After the film I ended up at Merchants downstairs at the cigar bar. Actually that particular movie theatre I went to and Merchants were the sites of the beginning of the famous Hand Model story from 4 years ago. But, that's another tale for another blog.

Anyway, for dinner I went to a Sushi restaurant up the street on 1st Avenue, and I could not stop thinking about what I would change if I were to go back to 1986 and start adult life all over again. The classic thing, the honorable thing, to say is that I would not change a thing, but I would be lying. What if I chose not to go to military school my Freshman year? What if I never moved from the West Coast to the East? I was transfixed as my early adulthood played like a film over and over in my mind.

So, then, the lady at the restaurant dropped a little bombshell on me that night. Turns out that most miso soup served in Japanese restaurants use a Bonito fish base! I think of all the times I asked restaurants if their vegetable soup uses chicken stock or vegetable stock, and carefully avoid the chicken stock to stay true to this vegan quest of mine, and my favorite soup had fish stock in it all along!  I am sure the old joke from W.C. Fields would come in handy about now.

Well, I don't feel guilty, obviously, I didn't know, and in the end, the real key to healthy living is eating a majority plant-based diet.

Ohhh, Baby!

Not one to trumpet my own birthday, it went unnoticed on Monday at work, which is a good thing. I am not one for having a bunch of people I don't know very well gather around with your colleagues at your desk and sing "Happy Birthday." It's a big deal at my work!

The people in my office always go top shelf with the cupcakes, and all the ladies say the exact same thing, "Oh, none for me thanks." "Are you sure, Mildred?" "Oh, I'll take half." Soon, Mildred is taking half’s of every flavor of cupcake. By day’s end there is still frosting on the corner of her mouth and she eagerly asks everyone within shouting distance, “Who’s birthday is next?!”


When word leaked out, thanks to Facebook, my boss chastised me for not alerting everyone it was my birthday on Monday. Had I absconded with the company’s funds, and used her car in the get-a-way she would have been less angry.

So, today was my surprise birthday “party.” I was pouring over some papers with bad news on them when they all arrived. Scowl went to smile rather quickly.

My veganism is a source of amazement with my new co-workers, and just today our head of research, a lovely woman from India, stopped me to say that she just heard I was vegan, and wanted to share the secret handshake and password. It's an exclusive club!

Like motorcyclists, Jeep owners, and Prius drivers who wave or honk at complete strangers on the rode only because they share the same mode of transportation, vegans are an embracing lot when another former carnivore jots off the field to their side of the stadium. I remember when I first started this vegan journey I would be ashamed of being a part of this crowd, either denying thrice before the cock crows, or speaking in hushed tones in the catacombs always fearful of the Roman soldiers with their dinner choice: meat, fish, or death by humiliation.

Well, now, just like the first heterosexual man to wear a pink shirt confidently in public, starting a trend, I hope to bring more people on my little Pied Piper excursion to merely take one day of meat off the calendar. Meatless Mondays? Fish on Friday? Catchy phrases to promote healthier eating promulgated but celebrities and politicians alike. That is a bit more palatable than, “No Meat, Fish, or Dairy, ‘and, yes, that includes Cheese’ Wednesdays.” A bit cumbersome, but at least we are heading in the right direction, and when it comes to changing diets that are literarily generations old we need to take baby steps.

Speaking of baby…

WOW!! As my colleagues gathered around my desk for birthday wishes out pops the requisite pink bakery box, but inside were vegan cupcakes --- not just vegan cupcakes, but the best tasting cupcakes I have every had in my life! The office mates were all in shock as to how good these were, and completely disbelieving when it was mentioned that these delicious items came from BabyCakes, and were vegan.

I can point to a few instances in the past 5 months were there was a vegan dish at a restaurant, or a vegan cookie at the checkout counter of a health food store that if taken as the only examples of veganism would have prompted me and anyone else with fully functioning taste buds to declare, “Veganism is for the birds! Or cows, but not for humans!” However, with the other 85% of my restaurant meals, and now with these amazing, mouth-wateringly great, BabyCakes cupcakes, the question is why wouldn’t you go vegan?

Now, let's be clear, you are not going to lose weight sitting down with a box of BabyCakes delicacies every day, but BabyCakes, “offers all-natural, organic and delicious alternatives free from the common allergens: wheat, gluten, dairy, casein and eggs.”

Oh, did I mention it was the greatest cupcake I ever had in my life? Next year I will be striding into my office with a giant bugle announcing my birthday, and as I bang the giant bass drum, less anyone with iPod earplugs not hear me, I will be sure the address on Broome Street and specific directions are given to the one and only, BabyCakes!

Pump You Up

When I am in eating routine, no matter how humdrum and repetitive (breakfast: oatmeal, Lunch salad, repeat) I am not hungry – I get some licorice urges some afternoons – but not hunger. Without hunger I am less likely to act on a myriad of food urges.

Today I skipped breakfast because of an early morning meeting in New Jersey. For lunch I acted on my desire for edamame, miso, salad, and a vegetable roll with brown rice.

For dinner I decided to try out health food chain Pump Energy Food. It is a basic take-out place where you order your own salads or wraps. I had a wrap with tofu, mushrooms, lentils, humus, and tomatoes. It was really good. I prefer the vegan wrap at the Coffee Shop more, however. I also ordered a blackberry, strawberry, raspberry smoothie – how the hell do you screw that up? It tasted awful! It must be the quality of the fruit, or something, but it was not good.

Today at my meeting my clients who I have not seen in a year stopped me and mid-presentation and said, “You lost weight.” “Yes, I did.” I continued on my presentation and interrupted again, “No, like a lot!”

I’ll be honest, that never gets old!

Day 165

Breakfast and lunch were fine.

Had a call with a client and friend today and she seems very eager to start veganism because of my blog. It is so surprising, and feels amazing that other people derive inspiration from things you write about.

I had a check-up today with my regular doctor - on his scale I weighed in at 250 lbs. He said that was still too heavy. At first I was surprised, and mentioned my 50 lbs weight loss - he was very complimentary. My blood work will be discussed with Dr. Fuhrman in a couple of weeks. While in the doctor's office I picked up the April Men's Health and found an interesting article on 37 year old NBA star (and Duke alum) Grant Hill. The article starts with him saying that back in his rookie year in '94 his pregame meal was always picking one of the fast food restaurants on all four corners of an intersection. It is incredible that these finely tuned athletes would eat so poorly! But the reason why he has continued to play in such an advanced age and stayed injury free is because of his new diet of mostly vegetables and fruit, and no processed foods. He also has miso soup every day!

This morning I could not get up - I just could not get out of bed. Maybe it was a sugar coma. Anyway, I got to the gym after work and put in a solid hour of weights with the arms and chest, abs, and cardio for 30 minutes.

For dinner I went over to P.J. Clarke’s and had the Third Ave. Chopped salad (double order) as well as a side of grilled brussel sprouts – I can’t believe how much I enjoy them!

As I sat down tonight to write I looked at the remaining tiny handful of jelly beans I had left. I will leave it up to you to guess what I did.

You know, while at Clarke’s I would watch seemingly fit people order cheeseburgers and deep friend shoe-string onion rings. It’s like when I go to a state that still allows smoking in bars and it looks so shocking to watch people light up inside. Watching people eat this incredibly unhealthy food makes me shake my head. However, I am very much the libertarian and would never tell someone that they shouldn’t eat so poorly, or smoke, or any other legal, but unhealthy habit.

It is bizarre that I now can’t even imagine eating so poorly!

Starting a Weak Week

Why is it that when it comes to feeding a large group of people - over one hundred - the food is generally poor tasting?

Today was an advertising industry luncheon event - the kind I have been too many many times over the years. No matter the event it is always either at the Hyatt on 42nd Street or the Hilton on 6th Avenue. Both hotels have scores of conference rooms for events in the thousands, or less than one hundred. Another thing that they have in common -- every luncheon serves rubber chicken.

Today's event had a chicken and a salmon filet - both looked horrendous, and my colleagues confirmed my suspicions - why break with tradition and serve something edible? No matter, I don't swim in those waters anyway. I grabbed a waiter and asked for a vegetable platter which they accommodated. Peppers, asparagus, lettuce, tomatoes all in oil. Not great. But, I don't expect lunch at those events; I choose to eat before or after. And for lunch I grabbed a salad and edamame, but cut back on the miso!

Dinner was at a fabulous tiny old ramen noodle place on 56th Street called Menkui Tei, but the dirty yellow awning says Larmen New York. It’s a simple, tiny, cheap eatery with the two chefs behind the counter straight out of Central Casting. These two very old Japanese men look like they walked off the sets of Bridge Over the River Kwai, Sands of Iwo Jima, and Tora, Tora, Tora (or maybe out of the island jungles of the real thing) moved to New York City and opened up the greatest ramen noodle shop I have ever been to, hands down. Not only one of the best meals I have tasted, I had the vegetable ramen, but the single greatest meal under $10 in the entire world!

"What a minute!” you say. "What about your 'sprint' this week? Noodles and not vegetables?" Yeah, I know, I know! Throw in some damn jelly beans, and you've got a weak start to the week! My dear friend from Boston called me tonight all I did was bitch and moan about my choices today, and my blueberry smoothie did not make me feel any better either.

I know some of you have that knee-jerk reaction of, "Hey, it's OK, everyone falters." To me that excuse is like telling a great golfer, "Hey you screwed up Sunday, but you played so well Thursday through Saturday."

In a word, that excuse doesn't wash.

The closer I get to the finish line, the more apt I seem to reward myself with technically vegan, but off script from the Eat to Live screenplay.

I'll turn it around tomorrow, Wednesday. And if I don't I'll confess, but I would welcome some old school, pre-Vatican II penance!

Tomorrow's goal - fruit and vegetables ONLY, and a vigorous work out before work.

Looking Back to April 12, 1968 - Where were you?

Saturday I was up early (for a Sat.) and went to the gym. Had a good work out, and was very happy to see my weight slip below the Mendoza Line to 248 lbs. I have not strung together a great week of complete and utter nutrient dense eating void of all bad carbs (bread and white rice), fried food (falafel wrap), and excess salt (miso soup) in quite some time so I am merely inching toward my goal instead of sprinting. This week I will sprint and see what happens. Although I keep from weighing myself too much, I will today and at the end of the week while being as incredibly strict as possible.

Although I ate pretty well this weekend, even squeezing in large salad and water in the middle of a raucous Saturday afternoon drink-up at Doc Watson's Irish Pub, it was uneven. For most of the weekend I was glued to the TV to watch the Masters (great job Phil). However, I did have a giant pasta dinner last night at Becco's on Restaurant Row celebrating a friend's birthday - I hope my work out today, and this week, are enough to get over my guilt even though we were given plenary indulgence yesterday.

Speaking of birthdays - shameless plug - today is mine.

Born: Good Friday, April 12, 1968 at Mather Air Force Base Hospital, Sacramento, CA.

I decided to look at the April 12, 1968 edition of TIME magazine for some historical corollary that is also relevant to this blog.

Obviously, in this issue the world was a different place and the news of that week alone so altered our history that it is still discussed today. How can you compare the week ending April 12, 1968 to the week ending April 12, 2010? There are only two similarities - War and The Masters. Additionally, 42 years ago this past week saw: 1. The surprise renunciation of the presidency by Lyndon Johnson who would not "seek, nor accept the nomination" for another term. 2. The shocking assassination of Rev. Martin Luther King. 3. False hopes, folly, and heroism lost in the shuffle in Viet Nam.

Also, there were three interesting articles from the otherwise explosive TIME issue of 1968.

The MASTERS Golf Tournament

TIME Magazine (4-12-68): The lucky fellow who wins this week's 32nd annual Masters Tournament at Georgia's dogwood-dotted Augusta National Golf Club will receive a check for $20,000...and a green blazer.

Yesterday, Phil Mickelson took home a check for $1,350,000 for winning The Masters...and a green blazer!

Side Note - Actually, the 1968 Masters is quite famous because at the end of the tournament both Bob Goalby and Roberto DeVicenzo were actually tied, meaning they would go to a playoff. However, DeVicenzo's playing partner Tommy Aaron wrote the wrong score for him (giving him an extra stroke by accident), and DeVicenzo signed his incorrect scorecard. By the rules of golf that score stands, and there would be no playoff. Goalby was declared the winner.

HEALTH

TIME Magazine (4-12-68): The greater the ambition and stress that is part of continued job promotion, so the "Executive Heart" myth goes, the greater the incidence of heart trouble. Last week...the American College of Physicians and London's Royal College of Physicians...reported the results of a five-year study that makes the opposite point: the more successful the executive, the less heart trouble he is likely to have. Behind the statistic there appeared to be a significant difference in family health and diet patterns that persisted throughout the employees' adult hood. Most of the college men came from smaller, healthier families. They were slimmer, taller, smoked and ate less. Their fathers lived longer. The differences may have spelled better care for themselves — and their hearts.

Just 42 years ago we were still trying to figure out the cause of heart disease - although they were on the right track (diet), the point that most people assumed it was "stress" is shocking.

BUSINESS

TIME Magazine (4-12-68): I wish I were an Oscar Mayer wiener. That is what I'd truly like to be. 'Cause if I were an Oscar Mayer wiener, Everyone would be in love with me.

Musically accompanied by 101 pieces of the Vienna Symphony Orchestra, that jingle is now appearing on U.S. television. It is making a pitch for an old, redolent, profitable—and fascinating—company.

In the 1880s, in the back room of their neighborhood meat market on Chicago's North Side, the Bavarian Mayer brothers—Oscar, Gottfried and Max—worked hard stuffing sausages…

Today, on the same spot where the immigrant Mayers lived and labored stands one of the main plants of Wisconsin's Oscar Mayer & Co., the U.S.'s seventh largest meat packer, with sales last year in excess of $400 million…   (In 2009 it was $4 Billion)

Emphasis on processed-meat products (over 60% of total sales last year), which carry greater potential profit margins than fresh meat, partly explains the company's high earnings…

Today, all five of Oscar Mayer's processing plants across the U.S. have two-story contraptions where uninterrupted battalions of 36,000 wieners an hour glide toward their destination, untouched by human hands…

The money Oscar Mayer & Co. has spent on research, at an annual rate of $2.2 million recently, seems to have paid off. The company is also devoting some $4.5 million to advertising, so that everyone will really love an Oscar Mayer wiener.

Although the article is a celebration of American ingenuity, I can't help but marvel how differently that story would be written today.  Looking back we had unhealthy processed meats, but skinny children. Now, today's kids definitely exercise less than 40 years ago, but, are processed meats even less healthy today? Or, do moms serve it more to kids? Both?

Well, here’s to my new lifestyle ensuring at least another 42 years!

Food Choices Not Great; Fitted Shirt Is

Friday lunch was at Haru, and as proof that I go there too often - sitting at the same spot at the end of the sushi bar, the manager (an over-exuberant woman) whom I exchange pleasantries with, bought my lunch. Same: edamame, miso, salad with very little ginger, and a avocado and asparagus roll. I tried to cut down from those white rice carbs by having it made with seaweed on the outside (as oppose to an "inside out" with additional rice on the outside). Still, if I want to reach my goal as quickly as possible I should cut all of those carbs from white rice out.


Staying with my weakness I ordered a Turkish salad and falafel wrap from Taksim for dinner. The fried falafel is really not a good idea, in fact it is a very poor idea -- I hope I can wean myself off.

I fall back on my Japanese, and Turkish fare out of laziness (not feeling like walking a an avenue and a few blocks out of the way to go shopping), and, well, I really like the taste.

On a positive note I bought a couple of polo shirts from Penguin. Being a traditionalist, and preferring most things "old school," I love the old Penguin style shirts made popular in the 1950's and 60's, and now popular again with the young, slim, hip crowd. I emphasize slim because these shirts are made to the same specifications as they were 50 years ago - meaning a slim tailored fit in the midsection. In other words, a cut that would look like a sausage casing on most American adult males. They do have a size XXL, but they are really on par with the average XL, and they are fitted. I got a couple of XXL's (I bought one about 4 years ago, and it was obviously way too tight), and they fit quite nicely!

Penguin was the golf shirt for everyone from Jack Nicklaus to Bing Crosby. It's the only shirt I remember my father wearing when I was a little kid.

Too Many Sweets in the Suite

Tonight I hosted clients in my company's luxury suite at Citi Field to watch the Mets.

Watching a professional sporting event in a luxury box is always a great treat - it is like hanging out in your living room with a wall knocked down to watch the live action. No waiting for the hot dog vendor, or the beer man - the fridge is stocked, and the food is laid out before you.

The suite had big trays of chicken wings, hamburgers, chicken filets, and hot dogs. Oh, and there was a nice cheese plate too. So basically, nothing I can eat.

Now, did I want to eat some of that food? In a Pavlovian way, yes. I was at a game, and in a suite, it is the natural thing to do. It was what I have always done, like popcorn at the movies.

Yes, the temptation was there, but was I really craving the taste of meat, or cheese? No, I really don’t think so; it was more the theatre of it all. Actually, although the suite was nice, the food looked to be on par, quality-wise, with the hot dogs and hamburgers found under a heat lamp at a Hardees at 2 A.M.

There was a bowl of fruit salad that I enjoyed, but being in the suite as everyone feasted on baseball fare, and gobbled down beers, I was drawn to snacks. Fistfuls of popcorn, soda and a few handfuls of candy. All in all, it did not reach 12-year-old Halloween night levels, but it was more sugar than I should have ever had! I felt gross shortly after and still do. I was craving a salad! I was craving something healthy! I was pissed I ate so poorly! I had a choice, I could have gone to another level of the stadium and ordered a salad, but I chose to flirt with my former diet sitting in a luxury box. I drank forty gallons of water to offset my less than healthy meal, but I still feel crumby.

It was a good time, and I take it as a positive that I feel gross snacking on 4 fistfuls of popcorn, and 3 handfuls of candy, and a soda (The Department of Weights and Measures has determined that a “fistful” is about 3 oz. more than a “handful”). My body is totally conditioned for nutrient dense food, and any deviation makes me feel awful.

Oh, and the Mets lost – not that I care.

The Headline that Caught My Attention

I found this article below in the New York Times about last years Master's winner, Angel Cabrera, a decidedly non-vegan (nor healthy) Argentinean. I publish it without permission - but, being that the NYT building is next door to my gym they know where to find me if they have a problem with it. I publish it because it is an amusing story that also illustrates the unique challenge of men to change their eating habits - specifically meat - around other guys in a sports and club atmosphere!

Not a Morsel for Vegans at Cabrera’s Masters Feast

By BILL PENNINGTON

AUGUSTA, Ga. – It is an annual dinner at a very long rectangular table, a custom begun in 1952, when Ben Hogan suggested it might be fun to get all the living Masters champions together for dinner before the tournament. So at a famously exclusive golf club, a more selective society, one based on golf achievement, meets on the Tuesday of the first full week of each April.


The Masters champions gather in their green jackets inside the Augusta National Golf Club clubhouse to reminisce and tell stories. Sam Snead was known for delivering a long string of ribald jokes. In 1998, 22-year-old Tiger Woods and 96-year-old Gene Sarazen compared golf grips, using dinner knives for their clubs.

The most famed tradition is the selection of the menu served, which is at the choice of the defending champion, who also picks up the tab for the dinner.

The menu selected by 2009 champion Angel Cabrera was a source of amusement in the hours before this year’s dinner. Cabrera promised a “good Argentine asado,” which he described as a five-course barbeque of meat in various forms including blood sausage, pork sausage and beef ribs. Cabrera’s swing coach and sometimes interpreter Charlie Epps listed another item, mollejas, which he said was the thymus gland of a bull......

3 Weeks Left

That sounds so bizarre to me!

Three weeks? I have three weeks to go to accomplish one of my goals? Honestly, it has gone by so quickly as I reread my posting when I was only three weeks in! For you faithful readers it was the night I went to the Devo concert and watched relatives and friends scrounge for slices of pizza to settle their booze bloated bellies at 4 AM. And I thought to myself, "I like this new me," shunning all temptation.

Well, the other goal - to lose 75 lbs total will not be achieved within the remaining 3 weeks. Yet, I will probably only be between 10-15 lbs off that mark. No matter, I am going to achieve that weight goal even if it extends past the May 1 deadline.

The constant question is obviously how will I continue to eat. Stay tuned!

Today I had a plate of pineapple, strawberries and red grapes. For lunch I piled up my salad but chose not to include my typical giant scoop of humus. I added an extra helping of sunflower seeds and peanuts to my vegetables hoping to stem my sluggishness.

Tonight I made a blueberries, and banana smoothie, and dug into some leftover humus with some broccoli, zucchini - I was full...and happy watching the Yankees beat the Red Sox!

Buttons - And a 38 Special

Within the last, say, 3-4 years there as been only a few weeks that my suit jacket looked appropriate while buttoned, and I will say that was back in December.


Other than that, I looked better with it unbuttoned.

For the past 3-4 years I kept my jacket open because when I buttoned my sport coat I looked like a python who swallowed a pig. More than thrice I had to have buttons replaced because of the taut strain on the thread. And then, for the past 3-4 months buttoning my roomy jacket made it look like two schooner sails held together with a safety pin. The time for basking in the glow of my two-sizes too big clothes is over, I am beginning to look like a clown.

Today I picked up a few clothing items at Filene's Basement, mostly for my golf trip. I found some golf trousers and went to the dressing room. I had butterflies in my stomach like it was the silent moment before the opening kick-off. For years I was fitting into a size 42" waist for trousers, and often size 44" to ensure appropriate roominess. I brought in a 40" and a 38."

My goal is to wear 38" again. Years ago, any sort of brand name pant topped out at 38," but in more recent years 40" became quite regular, and the maximum being 42." Some store brands started to stock only 38"s in the store, but 40"s and 42"s were available on their website. I first noticed this with Eddie Bauer brand trousers about 8 years go when 38"s on me went from cutting off the circulation in my waist to impossible to even touch button to eyelet. I remember being totally fine with this clothing discrimination since shame on me for getting so large, and no man, no matter how tall should ever have greater than a 38” waist. Well as the years went on and the American waist became steadfastly rotund it was not hard to find 42”s in even the highest end of brands.

I pulled on my Callaway golf khakis, size 38” – I was bold enough to try these on after a full lunch – and they fit! They were tight to be sure since I still have another 20 lbs to go, but I can’t remember the last time I buttoned a size 38”! For golf trousers I like them very loose, so I went with the 40”s, but they are still two sizes smaller than my last purchase!

I went to the suit jackets - a steady size 50 Long, I fit into a 46 Long in that European fashion snug look. The 48 Long was just a bit too roomy.

Since the 38”s were fasted around my waist, though tight in the thighs and rear end, I have no doubt I will be in the 38”s for my regular trousers in a few weeks, and my new goal is 36”! In fact, on suspicion I dug into my old rugby kit bag, and pulled out my tattered 20 year-old game shorts – yep, 36”.

New England Escape

I remember once thinking to myself, "Will I make it to Christmas?" Well, it's now past Easter.

Saturday morning I went down to the Village to Birdbath, the Neighborhood Green Bakery. I picked up some vegan cakes and cookies which were amazing, and then hopped a train to CT, outside Hartford to spend Easter with my cousins, and Goddaughter.

On the train I grabbed one of Amtrak's famous salads from the bar car – it was hermetically sealed, and tasteless. Oh, well, the nutrients were still there.

My cousin has problems with dairy, that plus her solidarity with my endeavor had her eating on my side of the table. Her husband grilled cheese burgers, vegan burgers, and some VBites sausage. I also brought some VBites cheese which my 14 year old Goddaughter said, “Wasn’t bad.” Had I not said it was vegan cheese I am sure her taste buds would have been more welcoming.

My cousin’s shopping list in anticipation of my visit was taken straight from my blog – raisins, humus, and seltzer waters. It was great, but the bowl of jellybeans hanging around did pull my hand in there a couple of times. I’ll say I had ten all told. Saturday night was a bonfire party at a neighbor’s house where even in suburbia, as it has been done for thousands of years, the men sat around the fire, with each man throwing more wood on as the fire dimed below roof peak level, and the women sat inside and chatted about who knows what. I sat there as our various war stories about childhood shenanigans, or sporting exploits were too often eclipsed by discussions about mortgages, effective weed killers, and the sheer daily exhilaration and Heavenly joy of marriage. And three things constantly rolled through my thoughts -- how different my life was compared to these guys; how desperately I wanted a beer while sitting with my fellow man around this bonfire; and why the hell was no one eating my homemade guacamole?

Earlier that evening I slaved over making the perfect bowl of guacamole, and it just sat there on an iron picnic table in the dark. Do these guys know how much work I put into this dip, and now the only people enjoying it are the mosquitoes? OK, sorry for the digression, where do I queue up to hand in my man card?

Easter Sunday, after fulfilling my Godfatherly duty with my cousin, we drove out to their camp – a great, warm wood, rustic cabin on a beautiful, but terribly named lake (Leadmine Pond? Really?) in Sturbridge, Massachusetts. On a gorgeous day lake side I forgot everything I love about New York City…except for the Yankees, and my $5 bet with these misguided Boston fans.

I brought along a VBites Beef Roast – Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, am I starting a tradition? The pasta dish, fruit salad, and vegetables were plentiful, and the beef roast rounded it out. One of the older guys there (read: resistant to change), and a dictionary entry for a meat and potatoes guy, was undoubtedly unaware what it was and helped himself, “pretty good.” And the vegan cake and cookies from Birdbath got rave reviews!

After a 2 hour and 50 minute bus ride home (Amtrak cancelled, or delayed a number of trains because of the previous weeks flooding still creating havoc in New England), I was exhausted, but instead of heading home, I headed for temptation island. Some pals were at the sports bar Blondies to eat chicken wings, drink beer and watch the first game of the Major League Baseball season – the New York Yankees vs. Boston Red Sox. It was just days into this vegan quest that I saw the Yankees end the baseball season with a World Series Championship – now, five months later watching baseball again in a sports bar I have changed. Back then I was solemn and defensive in that crowd, questioning my sanity, and counting the days until I could eat “normal” again, but now I was happy, quietly confident and looking forward to reaching my goal.

A couple guys I just met who were with my friends really thought I was joking when I ordered the vegetable platter, and water. Even after I started munching on the carrots and broccoli they were waiting for the gag to be over and for me to fill up my plastic cup of beer, and paint my cheeks with hot sauce as I nibbled a chicken wing. But to their credit, the conversation went essentially like this: “Dude, you’re joking. Dude, you can’t be serious. No way, seriously, are kidding? Dude, you’re joking. Wow, you are serious, that’s pretty cool.”

After five innings, and with the Yankees up 5-1 I headed home, and tucked into bed listened to the game on the radio as the hated Red Sox kept scoring runs, and my $5 slowly slipped out the window and into an envelope bound for Massachusetts.

Adjusting My Swing

Today I played golf.

I was eager to see how I would swing a club now that I was no longer resembling President Taft.

My game will surely get better, but I had become so accustomed to swinging the golf club with all that extra weight that my swing with 50+ lbs less fat was awful. I played poorly, but that just means that my game will get much better as I relearn to swing a club with a normal body structure.

We got to the course around 8 AM and had breakfast in this very old club house. I had the lumpiest oatmeal not seen since Oliver Twist, but it was fine. My buddy had an egg and cheese and bacon sandwich, then after his hot dog after the 9th hole this fellow Catholic felt quite guilty inhaling all that meat on Friday, Good Friday no less!

I last played this course in Paramus, New Jersey exactly a year ago, and my friend reminded me how we tackled the 19th hole with reckless abandon back then, and the stories made me fell embarrassed and ashamed for a moment (the next morning I had called the Port Authority and New Jersey Transit in a panic since I left my clubs on the bus I took back into the city...until my friend reminded me that I left them at his house after our raucous time in the club house - I had forgotten) but, you can't change the past, and I am choosing the celebrate the present and look forward to the future. These little mea culpa's in front of hundreds of strangers, no matter how embarrassing, about my past is part of being honest about the poor food and drink choices I made before to clearly delineate from my life now. Completely changing one's lifestyle is serious business.

I hope everyone has a great Easter, and weekend.

Of Course I am Not Quitting

Just a little April Fool's tease.

However, I must say that being in the home stretch has made it that much harder for me to eat a completely nutrient dense diet! Obviously, veganism is no sweat, but staying true to Dr. Fuhrman's playbook to squeeze every last ounce out of me before May 1 is proving difficult.

Case in point: this morning I did not go for breakfast until 10:30 or 11:00. By then the cafe was preparing for lunch so there was no fruit, and no oatmeal. I went to Green Symphony on 43rd Street next to the old New York Times building and across the street from where once stood one of the greatest bars in NYC, a dusty place called Gough's - the bar, and the building are long gone, but my memories are still fresh. I learned how to drink at Gough's back in 1993-94, and how to be a New Yorker by the men behind the stick who first started bartending there in 1947. I think of that place every time I walk by and I dream of my "good old days" until I remind myself that that was when I first started to eat and drink without a care in the world to its healthiness. The memories may be rose-colored, but the actions were like toiling in the minor leagues before my eventual big league heart disease.

So, I had their oatmeal and then right at the counter was "Homemade Vegan Pecan Pie." First, I used to love pecan pie. Second, its vegan. Third, It's calling my name. Fourth, it's a sugary snack that should not be crossing my lips! I ignored number four. Oatmeal, and a vegan pecan square...for breakfast!

For lunch I stopped by this hip place with lots of buzz, The Breslin. It is a very cool, rustic looking bar and restaurant, and the New York Times said in their review: Nowhere in New York right now is the fetish for pork fat and dairy flavor more on display. Sounds like a great place for me, huh?

I chose lunch at the work cafe - the same salad and legumes. Ate late, so was not hungry - having only smoothie for dinner. My buddy and I went to a cool little Austrian-Scottish party with good whiskey and bratwurst. I love the temptation! We then met other pals at a notorious "cougar" bar , TBar, and sipped my seltzer while my good friends swam deeper into intoxicated bliss.

The first day of my last month of the vegan quest was OK, not as disciplined as I hoped. Also, felt pretty tired today, but no reason why I should.

C'mon on final month, temp me more!

April 1st Entry

Well, today, April 1, my friend Sidd Finch convinced me to stop this vegan quest, so I did. With a month left, I decided to quit today, April 1st.