computer “catfish”

English: Photo of Notre Dame linebacker Manti ...

English: Photo of Notre Dame linebacker Manti Te’o taken in 2010. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Media coverage of the Manti Te’o brouhaha continues to dominate the news. It’s up there with President Obama’s cabinet appointments, the resurgence of the Egyptian uprising against the government, and Apple’s tumble from atop Wall Street’s pyramid.

I cringe whenever the pundits recycle the Notre Dame star football player’s romance with a fictitious, Internet girlfriend.

Being from another time, another generation, it’s difficult to comprehend a serious, romantic relationship where the parties have never met in person, let alone embrace one another.

Call me old-fashioned.

The Dating Game

The Dating Game (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Just as I’d prefer to try something on for size before buying it, I’d like to spend some time with a guy before taking him home to meet the folks.

My husband and I dated for 3 years before we got engaged. Early on in our relationship, I broke off with him. For a week I vacillated between committing or quitting. I’m sure I drove him crazy, calling every day to explain my dilemma. Even as my best friend, he couldn’t counsel me as to what I should do.

Obviously, I stayed. Four decades later we’re still in love…and still best friends.

Computer dating can work. My daughter’s friend is a prime example. She struck gold on the first try. Her eharmony match is now her husband.

On the flip side, there’s catfishing. 

A malicious by product of the Internet, catfishing draws an unwary user into an intricately created web of deception. A mountain of lies ensures the victim’s entrapment. But like a house built of cards, the inevitable happens…it all comes tumbling down.

English: Native Hawaiian schoolchildren around...

English: Native Hawaiian schoolchildren around 1900. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Being a native Hawaiian, I can’t help but wonder if native folks are more susceptible to being bushwhacked? Are we so gullible as to let others usurp our land…our hearts?

…manti te’o…in love with a computerized woman…daft? or dumb?

………hugmamma.

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lose 45 pounds!!!

Last night I went to a company function with my husband. Among the usual attendees was Paul, someone I consider a good friend even though we seldom see one another. It’s just that the sight of him and his wife puts me completely at ease.

I think Paul likes when I remark on his weight loss. To date it’s an astonishing 45 pounds! How did he do it?

Juice Machine with Fruit

Juicing!

When I see Paul I’m convinced hubby and I should take to juicing. However when we’re back in the comfort of our home, reality sets in.

A diet consisting mostly of juice? Not my idea of a square meal…long term.

I’ve done Weight Watchers (3 times)…as well as the Perricone Diet…and more recently, the Zone Diet. All make good on their claims. It’s the thought of sticking to them for the rest of my life, where I go my own way.

The upside for me is that I retain a lot of good information from all these diets.

Weight Watchers

Weight Watchers (Photo credit: petit zozio)

Weight Watchers got me to drink 8 glasses of water…more or less. It also made me realize that exercise alone does not guarantee weight loss. Dieting has to be part of the equation.

The Perricone Diet, conceived by NYC dermatologist Dr. Perricone, confirmed the long-held belief…garbage in…garbage out. What we eat is reflected in how we look. While my appearance benefited from the diet, I really did it to “cure” arthritic inflammation. It worked! But I didn’t much care for eating rabbit food all the time.

My husband and I shed pounds slowly, but steadily, while on the Zone Diet for several weeks. We felt more energized. My health issues faded into the background. I literally jumped…well maybe not jumped, more like leaped…out of bed at a normal hour. I remarked on how my husband seemed longer, as if he’d spent some time on a rack, being stretched to his full 5’11”. We felt younger; we looked younger.

And then Hawaii happened. We flew back for my mother-in-law’s funeral,Hawaii Pictures Kelly's Wedding 011 and to spend time with family.

Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on Broadway in ...

Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on Broadway in the upper 40s, 1979. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I’ve always thought that were I still living in the land of my birth, I’d have ballooned to the size of a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day balloon. That’s how much I love the island food.

Loco moco, Hawaii's well-known food, at Nico's...

Loco moco, Hawaii’s well-known food, at Nico’s Restuarant at Pier 38 in Honolulu: two fried eggs over two exquisite hamburger patties, two scoops rice, gravy, macaroni salad and boiled soba noodles (with cinnamon and nutmeg). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Plate lunches are commonplace in the islands. And they’re not just for lunch. They can be had any time of day…24 hours a day…7 days a week. They consist of meat…1 type or several…2 scoops of white rice…and a scoop or two of macaroni salad.

I’m salivating as I write this.

I would find it difficult to refrain from eating a plate lunch at least once a day. The scale would more than likely reflect the number of days I’d eaten plate lunches…365. I kid you not!

Perhaps over time I’d realize that my beloved island food wasn’t going to go anywhere. That I’d be able to have more of the same the next day…and the next…and the next. By then, the damage might be done. I’d become a blimp. And letting the air out would be way more difficult than…letting it in.

At the moment I’m on a hodge podge diet of sorts. The driving force behind it is the recent discovery of my sensitivity to certain foods.

If you ever tried eliminating gluten and eggs from your diet, you know the quandry I’m in.

My solution? Sometimes I pay heed; sometimes I throw caution to the wind. I’m sure the Naturopath won’t want to hear this.

I try to follow the basics of the diets I’ve attempted.

Drink plenty of water…I try.

Drink green tea daily…no problem.

Refrain from sugar in all its forms…I try.

Eat more fruits and veggies…especially the orange and green kinds…I try.

Take the supplements prescribed by my Naturopath…I try.

Keep my body moving…no problem except when it comes to a regimen of exercising…I try.

weight watchers

weight watchers (Photo credit: antjeverena)

Thankfully I’ve been able to keep off the last 10 pounds I’ve lost, despite having “fallen off the wagon”…multiple times.

I’m now doing battle with the next 10 pounds…and they’re not going down without a fight.

Fortunately, or not so fortunately, old age is on my side. My metabolism ain’t what it use to be, and things just don’t work the way they used to. So it’s adjust, or be prepared for a good pummeling.

My advice? Subscribe to whatever works for you. If juicing jingles your bells…go for it.

English: Tanioka's Seafoods and Catering Image...

English: Tanioka’s Seafoods and Catering Image was taken by webmaster of Taniokas.com http://taniokas.com/lightplate.jpg (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

…as for me…give me food i can chew…

………hugmamma.

role model…you’ll be surprised!

I borrowed this from blogger friend Jo, Chronicles of Illusion at http://jobryantz.wordpress.com/

Jo’s one of the very few Aussies I know. If she’s what they’re like Down Under, then those folks…live life large… and they don’t care who knows it.

The following is an example of Jo’s humor.

Who’s Your Role Model for 2013?

This is fun. I promise you WILL laugh when you find the identity of your role model.

NO CHEATING! I was really surprised to find out the name of my role model. Don’t scroll down yet….

To find the identity of your personal role model, do the maths below…

Then scroll down to find your hero.

It is crazy how accurate this is!

NO PEEKING!

1.) Pick your favourite number between 1-9

2.) Multiply by 3

3.) Add 3

4.) Then again multiply by 3… I’ll wait if you need a calculator

5.) You’ll get a 2 or 3 digit number

6.) Add the digits together

NOW SCROLL DOWN

And with that number, see who your ROLE MODEL is from the list below:

1. Einstein

2. Queen Elizabeth

3. Snoopy

4. Bill Clinton

5. Mrs Brown

6. Gandhi

7. Barack Obama

8. Winston Churchill

9. Hugmamma

10. Jack Kennedy

I know, I know…. I just have that effect on people.

P.S. Stop picking different numbers!

I AM YOUR IDOL, JUST DEAL WITH IT!

…hugs to jo…for making my year!!!…Nashville 09-2010 00023

………hugmamma.

…my son…

I’m certain I speak collectively for many Hawaiian mothers, especially those like me without sons of our own.

President Barack Obama addresses the House Dem...

President Barack Obama addresses the House Democratic Caucus Issues Conference in Williamsburg, Virginia. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Barack Obama makes me proud.

He may not have the blood of my Hawaiian ancestors coursing through his veins. What he does have…is the aloha spirit… which envelopes all…as ohana…family.

I don’t profess to speak for all islanders of my native land. I can only speak what’s in my own heart.

Barack Obama loves his family…his country…and all those who share in his passion for both.

Barack Obama goes about his work without the fanfare of his powerful Office.

Barack Obama does not gladhand…or backslap…or coo sweet nothings in the ears of his challengers.

Barack Obama invites all to sit down at the table, knowing that is the way of a good host. Remembering all the while that he is…the host under whose roof all sit. As such, it is his duty to uphold the…law of the land in justice…and concern for those who are the least among us.

Barack Obama took up that for which he was destined…the Presidency of the United States. He did not flinch in his duty to his fellow Americans. No obstacle was too great that he could not overcome.

Barack Obama is a son of Hawaii. No piece of paper can substitute for the acceptance of a woman born and raised on Maui.

Barack Obama is Hawaii’s son…and therefore…my son.

Stanley Armour Dunham, Ann Dunham, Maya Soetor...

Stanley Armour Dunham, Ann Dunham, Maya Soetoro and Barack Obama, mid 1970s (l to r) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

…what mother…wouldn’t be proud…………hugmamma.

weekly photo challenge:beyond

This summer our family hiked a trail which wend its way around this lovely pond. The sun warmed our backs as the soft breeze cooled our cheeks. Gazing beyond, the majestic mountain range embraced all.

IMG_4361…an unforgettable day…an unforgettable memory…

………hugmamma.

stepping outside…

…my comfort zone.

Fred Astaire and a chorus of Fred Astaires per...

Fred Astaire and a chorus of Fred Astaires performing “Puttin’ on the Ritz” in Blue Skies (1946) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It seems in 2013 I’m steppin’ out and…”puttin’ on the ritz.” Since top hat and coat tails won’t ward off the chill, I’m doing it in…wool hat, scarf and mittens.

My mantra for the New Year? “Go big or go home!”

And so yesterday…

I drove 45 minutes to the next town to attend a Level One yoga class!

Yeayyy for me! I’m still patting myself on the back. 

A yoga class.

A yoga class. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Having pondered the idea of taking yoga for some time now, my body decided it was…now or never. “Shut up…or put up!” It seemed to say.

When I undertake a project, I research it to the nth degree. I never do anything half-way.

There were a couple of in-town sites which were ideally located. However I opted to venture farther from home  for a variety of reasons, not least of which was to learn from someone who would be a nurturing guide. I didn’t want to risk injury hurrying to keep up.

English: Bikram Yoga

English: Bikram Yoga (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Classes at one local operation are held in 95-100 degree temperatures. The practice is called “hot yoga.”

I’m positive I would have passed out before drawing my first breath. And the rule is…once the door closes and class begins…everyone stays put. Those who can’t stand the heat are required to sit on the sidelines and watch…the entire time.

Another yoga venue seemed too small…spatially…and politically. “How’s that?” you ask. Yoga political?

I’ve learned over time that politics is part of everyday life. The smaller the community, the harder felt the politics. Negative vibes are difficult to overlook. You either do. Or you don’t…and move on.

The logo of Red Flag Linux

The logo of Red Flag Linux (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A third business never responded to an email I sent, even though their website ensured me they would. That stood out like a “red flag” signalling a lack of organization or worse…promises not kept.

My research efforts always include reading reviews. ALWAYS!!! They tell me more than all the flowery words written on websites.

One review indicated the yoga owner/teacher of the business cancelled class, deciding to breakfast with a friend, even after one student showed.

A review for a second, claimed that a promised refund never materialized.

 Unlike the others, Discover Yoga  was exactly as depicted on its website.main studio

The manager/instructor was knowledgeable, patient and helpful. In its understatement, the facility, had a calming effect. No bells and whistles here! Just yoga. It suited me to a tee.

After learning that my first class was free, I got more good news.

I’m still a young chickadee at 63! Were I a couple of years older, I’d get a senior discount on future classes.

There’s always a silver lining. We just have to…

…look for them…

English: This is, in fact, why I quit my yoga ...

English: This is, in fact, why I quit my yoga class. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

………hugmamma.

let your spirits…soar

Storytellers abound. All we need do is pause, breathe deeply…and listen.

Sometimes it also helps…to open our eyes.

As with the story of an 80 year-old, deaf Canadian whose canvas is the sky and whose paint brushes are…kites.

His “artwork” draws applause…in the form of hands held high…so he can see and know…that an appreciative audience is thrilled by his artistry.

One kite in each of his hands…and one tied to his waist…the “artist,” skin leathery from hundreds of hours in the sun…”paints” like the great master he is.

The accompanying music combines to create…a beautiful ballet, whose movement…even my daughter would relish applying to dance.

…simply…breathtaking…

………hugmamma.

please…take care…

Saturday Morning: Cartoons' Greatest Hits

Saturday Morning: Cartoons’ Greatest Hits (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It’s Saturday morning!

What got me out of bed so bright and early?

Another post…what else!

Before I go there however, I’d like to explain why my flaws are often the jumping off point for my writing.

It’s because I’d really like to help you learn from my mistakes or inaction…if possible.

So back to the story at hand.

My previous piece…“Wellness”…got me thinking about my mom.

Raising a large family as a widow meant we lived from paycheck to paycheck. As a result my mom’s needs came last.

I never remember her visiting the doctor. She could barely afford to take us. We were lucky to have a kind physician minister to our health problems. Dr. Fleming never pressed my mom for payment, allowing her to pay what she could…when she could.

My mom suffered greatly from arthritis, especially in her knees.

Her sorrowful groans would awaken me in the early morning hours. The floor boards creaked as she paced back and forth. Until the pain subsided, she could not sleep.

I’d lay quietly, praying for God’s help, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Not even her arthritis could keep my mom from going to work, an hour’s drive from home.

She was the laundress for a Catholic orphanage…The Children’s Home. She often helped in the kitchen, and sometimes chaperoned the older kids, driving them to school functions on the weekends.

It’s difficult to understand how my mom dealt with her health issues, including high blood pressure and diabetes, without the help of doctors. As sole breadwinner, she had no time for self-pity. My mom took care of herself, and us, as best she could.

Comparing our lives would be like comparing apples and oranges.

I’m extremely fortunate to have my husband of 42 years by my side. His generosity has been a blessing for my daughter and me. We are truly grateful for his loving care and support.

Whenever I think of my mom it is with deep regret that she could not have enjoyed a better life. One that included a lifelong companion.

Someone of her own to love…and love her.

Someone who would have helped shoulder the burdens…and kiss away her tears.

Someone with whom she might have shared secrets…and belly laughs.

My mom might have been spared much of the physical and mental anguish she suffered throughout her life…had she someone to help pay for her medical care.

Alzheimer’s stole whatever remained of my mom’s indomitable spirit…when she died at 86.IMG_4143

It’s never too late…

…to look to your own well-being…and that of a loved one…whatever their age…

………hugmamma.

wellness…

It might seem to some of you that I’m forever making reference to certain failings of mine.

Why is that you ask?

Some time ago I read a small, thin paperback on how to write well. One piece of advice stood out from the rest.

Write what you know. That’s just what I’ve tried to do.

For some time now I’ve had health concerns…from chronic inflammation…to digestive issues.

A firm believer in alternative medicine, I see a massage therapist monthly and a chiropractor as needed.

Within the last year or so, things have gone haywire.

naturopath

naturopath (Photo credit: mugley)

I chalked it up to old age and moved forward as best I could.

I sought help from everyone in my bag of medical practitioners….family doctor…hand orthopedist…gastroenterologist…chiropractor…massage therapist…physical therapist…and most recently, a naturopath.

I credit all of them for bringing me along physically, mentally, and even emotionally.

What I’ve learned from all of them…and from my daughter, a professional dancer…is that life makes perfect health...impossible!

The experts do their best to get my body functioning again. However a resumption of my normal activities eventually erodes the progress made.

That’s life…in a nutshell!

Every now and then, however, there are “aha” moments.

Today I had a followup appointment with my naturopath. I left her office with a lot of good, useful information.

I discovered I’m sensitive to certain foods…almonds, walnuts, peanuts, sesame, wheat, eggs and egg yolks (from chickens…I can eat the ones ducks lay), pineapple, green beans and lima beans, cauliflower, mushrooms, garlic, both baker’s and brewer’s yeast, cheddar cheese, and yogurt.

How will I ever forgo…peanut butter slathered on a slice of bread? Asian food cooked in sesame oil? The occasional glass of wine or fruity martini?

Only time will tell, I guess.

Then there’s the fact that the level of the good bacteria in my stomach is too low to offset the effects of my bad bacteria. As a result, sugar intake increases the growth of the bad bacteria.

Oy vay!

These lips will never taste sugar again. It’s a good thing I got my fill of holiday candies and cookies when I did.

My thyroid is slightly elevated. “Why the concern?” I asked. “It affects your metabolism.” I was told. No doctor had ever…in my 63 years…mentioned my thyroid. Let alone test it.

Now for a little good news. The ratio of my good cholesterol to my bad cholesterol…HDL to LDL…is 1.8. Well within the acceptable range of 0.0-3.2.

As a result of what we learned from my blood tests, we discussed the diet I should follow over the next several weeks. After that I’ll check back to discuss how it affected my overall health.

If the news is positive, I’ll  reintroduce some of the questionable foods to see how well I tolerate them. Eggs being the first challenge, according to my naturopath.

Following that eye-opening appointment, I had another one with the chiropractor.

Since my favorite practitioner had the day off, I was treated by a doctor who had recently joined the staff.

After an adjustment that took roughly 20 minutes, I left the office talking to myself.

“WOW!!! Oh, my God! I feel great! My back feels great! My hand feels great! My hips don’t ache! I feel taller! I can stand up straight! I don’t feel so fatigued! My head isn’t fuzzy!”

On and on I mumbled, unable to fathom that all my symptoms could be completely cured in such a short time.

Upon “returning to earth,” I knew it’d take a day or two for my body to settle into the adjustment. Another visit with the chiropractor on Monday will ascertain whether or not he needs to do any tweaking.

Chiropractor

My faith in alternative health practitioners has grown steadily over the years. They have helped me understand my body. From them I have learned to take precautionary measures to ensure…quality of life…as I continue to age.

…i write about…what i know…

………hugmamma.

weekly photo challenge: illumination

A visit to the newly opened Chihuly Museum in Seattle left me breathless. With mouth open, I wandered through the rooms oohing and aahing at the fantastical glass sculptures which were a testament to Chihuly’s genius. Could the inventors of glass ever imagine the majestic heights to which their creation would one day soar?

Awed by the creations at Chihuly's Museum in Seattle.

Awed by the creations at Chihuly’s Museum in Seattle.

 

…i wonder…don’t you?

………hugmamma.

guilty…as judged?

I visited a new blogger friend today, Jennifer at http://enjoylifeforonce.com

Judgment!

Judgment! (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A post she’d written, 32 Flavors of Judgment, got me thinking about the ease with which we seem to judge ourselves…and others.

Why is that do you suppose?

Might it be that knee-jerk reaction to throw the first punch…at ourselves…or others?

Over coffee with a friend today, we commiserated at feeling the need to explain our actions to others. Especially in light of the fact that we’re both middle-aged mothers of adult children.

Why is it that we dictate to others…or allow others to dictate to us?

Having spent years digging out from under low self-esteem, I’ve never been inclined to tell others what to do. After all, I might be wrong.

In any given situation, however, our reactions can differ. Chalk it up to individual DNA.

When you come right down to it we’re all in the same boat…striving to validate our own existence.

It’s a struggle to command the spotlight…to be heard above the din…to distinguish ourselves from the crowd.

We’d all like to feel good about who we are…what we’ve become…what we’ve done. But surely it needn’t be at anyone’s expense…our own…or someone else’s…

Jennifer’s explanation was thought-provoking…in a wonderfully delicious…Baskin Robbins, banana split sundae sort of way.

32 Flavors Of Judgment…

If I judge myself based on the eyes of society, I fail because there are too many opinions.
If I judge myself based on my own criteria, I still fail because my mind changes moment to moment.
But if I learn to identify and recognize the particularly sour flavor of ‘judgement’ as it arises, I can spit it out and take a sip of water, savoring the complicated colorful glorious mess of perfection that takes judgement’s place. And then maybe I can do something from the heart.

Banana split

Banana split (Photo credit: jumbledpile)

Banana Split

Banana Split (Photo credit: amanky)

Birthplace of the Banana Split

Birthplace of the Banana Split (Photo credit: J. Stephen Conn)

Wouldn’t you rather wallow in confectionery goo up to your eyeballs…than in opinions that don’t really matter in the end?

………hugmamma.

wordpress…i’m impressed!

I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve done a little retooling of hugmamma’s mind, body, and soul. The look may appear the same but subtle changes, and some not so subtle, have been made in the placement of items.

You must think I’m a genie…a magician…a technological wizard! Truth be told…I’m no such thing.

I’m a fraud! And those who know me well know I’m the least savvy when it comes to gizmos and gadgets.

Everything you see before you is due to the genius that is Word Press. Their consistent  behind-the-scenes tweaking continues to enhance my blogging experience.

“Go big or go home!” seems to describe Word Press best.  Recently, my daughter said the same of me…

NASA Watching Atlantic Tropics: Katia, Tropica...

NASA Watching Atlantic Tropics: Katia, Tropical Storm Lee and System 94L [detail view] (Photo credit: NASA Goddard Photo and Video)

…go big…or go home!!!…

………hugmamma. 

changing things up…2013

Now that a dusting of snow has settled upon us like a wintry blanket, and holiday memories fade into the background, the time has come to think of new beginnings.

Of course some things never change. We can only hope to manage them better. Such as the arthritis in my lower back and at the base of my right thumb.

Travers in his most memorable role, as Clarenc...

Travers in his most memorable role, as Clarence Odbody in It’s a Wonderful Life (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

It’s about aging gracefully…until “a bell rings”…and this broad’s wonderful life becomes…heavenly. I’m thinking of George’s guardian angel, Clarence, of “It’s A Wonderful Life.” Having saved George from committing suicide, Clarence is finally awarded his wings.

I’ve so much more of life to sample. Older age is not…a death knell.

However doing nothing to revitalize ourselves can deprive us of sunshine and passion. And I’m not referring to citrus fruits. Although I’m hell-bent on downing more of them each week.

Promises! Promises!

With the advent of the New Year, however, I have kept one long-standing resolution.

I’ve gone back to college! Who’d have thought?!?

Yesterday was my first Creative Writing class.

I must admit to being slightly intimidated, uncertain as to the level of writers I’d encounter. Fortunately I met a fellow classmate in the hallway prior to entering the room. She calmed my nerves considerably.

A fixture in the class for 15 years, 74 year-old Gail assured me that I would be nurtured, not judged, by our instructor Doris and the other students.

Two hours flew by, unlike my younger years in a classroom. I can remember watching the clock in those days, willing its hands to pick up speed.

Interesting how age reverses our perception of things.

Listening to others read what they’d written, was akin to feeling the rush of cold, fresh air bursting through unlatched windows.

Yanna, a musician, wrote the most soulful piece about her beloved dog, the surrogate child unto whom she pours all her pent-up, maternal feelings.

Helen, who recently returned from visiting her native South Africa, shared intimate memories of a 95 year-old friend who died. Through Helen’s writing, we came to know a woman whose life had resembled a precious gem…preserved in its natural beauty, not having yet been mined.

I have deep admiration for an 88 year-old who has been Doris’ student for the last 5 years.

Pat is writing her memoirs, hoping to publish them in a book. Her story promises to reveal her family’s hardships and heartaches in the aftermath of their mother’s death, and the subsequent inability of their father to parent.

To write is to tell one’s story. We are all storytellers. We are all writers.

…resolve to write your story…make it your new year’s resolution

………hugmamma.   🙂