Entrepreneurial

Dad was an entrepreneur.

He was always starting businesses, or trying to help others start them. When I was very small he operated Steve’s Lawnmowing Service. We still have the sign for this venture sitting out in the Custom Box Service warehouse. Nick loves it. So do I.

He also sold World’s Finest Chocolates. He would bring boxes of chocolate bars with him to church, and sell them after Sunday School. I can remember standing on the front lawn of the Mormon church in Canby, waiting for Dad to sell chocolate bars to all the parents. (I can also remember getting into a box of chocolate bars one day, and eating two of them before Dad found me, smothered in goo.)

He tried lots of other things, too: he was a flight instructor, he sold Shaklee (I think), he raised nursery stock.

But his first real success came with Harvest Mills. Dad started Harvest Mills in the mid-seventies. He built a wheat grinder from scratch. He like it so much — and so did his friends — that he decided to sell them. He developed a system for manufacturing them in a production line. Then, further capitalizing on the craze for health food, he developed the Little Harvey food dryers. These were an enormous success, and before long he had purchased one of the first plots of land in what was to become the Woodburn Industrial Park. Harvest Mills was a success.

Dad sold the business in the late-seventies for a large sum of money. For reasons that are no longer clear to me, he never saw full payment for the business. (My memory is: he sold the business for $300,000 payable in ten yearly installments, and that the buyer went bankrupt and somehow we only saw the first payment.)

The next six or seven years were tense. It was the early eighties, and the economic outlook was poor. Dad moved from one sales position to another: selling staples, selling industrial supplies, selling boxes. On his fortieth birthday — 31 July 1985 — he left his job as a box salesman and founded what would become his biggest success: Custom Box Service.

Died died ten days before the business turned ten-years-old, but his children (and nephew) have kept it running since. None of us are entrepreneurs, though. We don’t have that drive. Sometimes I sense a glimmer of it inside myself, but I recognize that in order to prosper as an entrepreneur, you need to be chasing a dream that you believe in one-hundred percent. Boxes are not my dream.

When I was a boy, Dad tried to get me to develop an entrepreneurial spirit, with mixed success. He encouraged me to sell seeds from a magazine. (I was too shy to knock on doors.) He tried to teach me to peel chittum bark that could be sold to god knows where for use as a natural laxative. (Carving bark from trees didn’t appeal to me.)

The only entrepreneurial bits that took hold were those that I developed myself. In fourth grade, in order to generate money for new comic books, I would take my old comic books to school and sell them to the other students. I would take my Star Wars trading cards and repackage them, selling each thick package for twenty-five cents each. I sold my Hardy Boys books in much the same way.

Now, for the first time in twenty years, I’m beginning to feel a bit of that entrepreneurial spirit. I have an idea, a plan, a vision. I know of a way to do what I love and to make money at it.

I will become an entrepreneur.

101.4

Out of nowhere, I have a cough. As near as I can tell it was caused by a bowl of raisin bran, but that makes as little sense to me as it probably does to you. I’ve been coughing all day, a cough both dry and phlegmatic all at once.

Around noon I decided that I had a headache and took to ibuprofen, but they didn’t help.

In the evening, Kris and I watched Rushmore for the gazillionth time. “Feel my forehead,” I said midway through.

“It feels normal,” Kris said. “Are you sick?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Where’s my temperature gauge?”

The temperature gauge was not upstairs, so I waited until after the movie to find it. By then I was shivering uncontrollably. I am shivering uncontrollably now. My body is cold, but my ears (and forehead) are burning. The temperature gauge says I have a fever of 101.4, my highest temperature in 4-1/2 years. (My normal body temp is between 98.0 and 98.2.)

I am cold. And coughing. And going to bed.

Coming Home

Coming home from Bend was better than the vacation itself this year.

The three-hour drive was spectacular: the sun was shining, the air was warm, the scenery beautiful. The peaks in the Santiam Pass were blanketed in white, but the Willamette Valley was verdant with new life. I drove with my window down from Stayton to Oak Grove, cutting through the countryside to take in the fields, flowers, and trees, breathing in the sweet smell of spring.

At home, when I opened the front door, I was surprised to find that it smelled the way I always think it should, like a hundred-year-old house. (When I’m home every day, I become inured to the odors of old wood and musty carpets; it takes some time away to make me notice these smells again.)

In the afternoon, Kris worked in the yard, planting geraniums, pulling weeds, and watering flowers. I sat on a chair in the sun, surfing the web. The cats, locked up for days, enjoyed their return to freedom. They bounded across the yard, chasing bugs and each other. They paused now-and-then to roll in the dirt.

We took a walk in the late afternoon.

Down the street, we passed an old woman who was washing her truck. She wore shorts and a t-shirt. In one hand she held the hose, in the other a cigarette; an open can of Budweiser rested on the rear bumper. The truck itself was not in need of washing — it was in need of demolition. It was one of those old Toyota pickups, and once had been painted grey or purple or maybe black. Now it was mostly the color of thirty years of use. A blue tarp was draped over the truck, and the woman peeled the plastic back in spots to wash her vehicle. She was in no hurry, and I calculated that it would probably take her until sunset to finish the job, which was probably her intention all along.

We walked through Risley Park, where parents played with children, and younger couples walked their dogs. A group of boys played at the base of a large maple. One boy had a rope that he was casting into the branches above him, trying to get it to come back over. The other boys might have helped him except they were too busy wrestling with each other. In the middle of the field, a teenage boy was pitching a baseball to a teenage girl. She swung her bat and missed. She picked up the ball and tossed it into the air, swung again, and missed. After another miss, she tossed the ball back to her laughing boyfriend.

We walked down Concord — a street I’ve only seen at thirty-five miles per — and admired the houses and the interesting lots. We picked up a real estate flyer for a 4,000-square-foot Tudor home ($488,000), and though the house was nice, we agreed that we would never give up Rosings Park for such a place.

We walked down River Forest Loop, past a father throwing a football to his son, past barking dogs, past towering oaks, past the empty lot that is filled with boulders, past the house that I do covet. Kris stopped every few hundred yards to smell flowers or to examine plants.

Back at Rosings Park once more, I took a cool bath, and I realized that finally, after nearly two years, this place feels like home.

Four Color Comics and Get Rich Slowly

I’m on vacation until the middle of next week.

Meanwhile, check out the status of my two blogs-in-progress: Get Rich Slowly and Four Color Comics. They’re both nearing fully-operational status; I hope to have everything completed in the next couple of weeks. (Yes, I’m insane to be trying to maintain three blogs, four if you count the flotch.)

Get Rich Slowly is my new personal finance blog. It’s a spinoff of my get rich slowly weblog entry from last spring in which I analyzed financial self-help books. This site is meant to be less about high finance, and more about daily personal finance for the average person: avoiding (or eliminating) debt, living frugally, and learning to invest for the future. I just opened the discussion forum this morning where anyone can go to post a question or to chat about personal finance stuff.

Four Color Comics is my new comics blog. I claim that it’s about “comics for grown-ups”, but really it’s just about whatever comic stuff Joel and I want to write about. Check out the comic reviews section for some of Joel’s very witty writing. Or, take a look at the daily funny pages, to which I post scans of old comic strips.

Trying to maintain all of these weblogs is a huge time sink, as I’m sure you can imagine. Because of this, I’m looking for people who have the time and inclination to contribute to them now and then. Send me links! Point me to magazine articles and books and graphic novels! Better yet, write a comic review, or send me info on how you save money by frequenting garage sales. I’m willing to take as much or as little as you give.

I’m off for a relaxing weekend in Bend. Take care.


Happy birthday, Mom!

Spring Reverie

Today, at last, the world was beautiful once more. The sky was blue. The sun shone rich and thick and warm. The trees and grass strained and stretched for growth. The tulips and camellias smiled brightly. In the late afternoon, the air was still and perfect: room temperature outdoors for the first time since last October. T-shirt weather.


The morning was cool and white. A thin mist hung over the newly-plowed country fields. Turning from Gribble to Oglesby, I slowed when I saw the bowed outstretched wings of an enormous bird: it swept over the pond, dipped, rose, and then landed on the muddy bank. The bird cocked its head and, for only a second, seemed to be looking directly at me. A tall and willowy blue heron, perched on reed-thin legs.


McLoughlin Boulevard skirts lower Oregon City, hugging the edge of the bluff which overlooks the river. In the morning, people gather at the side of the road to fish. They cast their lines from the short stone wall to the Willamette River below. They’ve been doing this for decades. (One of my earliest memories is stopping here with my grandfather to watch people fish.)

Today as I drove through Oregon City on my way to work, I smiled to see a burly white Alakaskan Husky sitting near his master, lounging at the side of the street, in the parking area, scrutinizing each passing car. It owned the place. It seemed perfectly content.


Arriving home last night at ten, I stopped to rub my hand over the bark of the dying clarendendron. The tree is a shell. Half of it has split and fallen away; the other half is hollow, clinging to what remains of its root system. I closed my eyes and took pleasure in the warm night air. I inhaled the sweet scent of freshly cut grass. (When I had left for the writers group meeting, there were at least five lawnmowers humming in chorus throughout the neighborhood.)

Something moved in the rose garden. “Hi, Simon,” I said, but he didn’t respond. He slinked away. His collar didn’t jingle. “Simon? Flash?” I walked over to see which cat was there, and the garden erupted in motion: dark striped figures slid into the boxwood hedge. One made its way to the sidewalk, where it stopped in the open. A raccoon! Several, from the sounds of it.

I backed away. I let them be. I strolled through the darkened yard, examining strawberry blossoms and budding pears. The raspberries are a riot of new growth. I stopped to piss under the locust, which is just beginning to leaf. Rounding the corner of the house, Simon bounded from the ferns. He trotted beside me as I finished my inspection of the yard. On the sidewalk near the fron steps, he rolled and flopped, begging me to pet his belly.

Spring is here.

Sesame Street Video Clips

Update: Foldedspace reader Dennis has found a popularly-requested video. Here’s Loaf of bread, a container of milk and a stick of butter. Thanks, Dennis!

Update #2: Dutch has posted a bunch of YouTube clips for toddlers, including what seems to be additional Sesame Street clips. Right-click and open in a new tab, folks. You’ll want to go there next…


I state quite confidently that this is the best entry I’ve made in five years of weblogging. Go away if you have work things to get done. This is an enormous time-waster.

Below you’ll find a fantastic collection of Sesame Street video clips. These are great. I remember many of these from when I was a kid. I’ve tried to organzize them as best I can. If you know of more Muppet/Sesame Street clips, please let me know.

Let’s start with a song we all know by heart: “one two three FOUR five, six seven eight NINE ten, eleven twelve…”

Next we have a random selection of number and alphabet clips, as well as random skits:
Letters versus numbers.
Telephone rock
Look at this
The alligator king and his seven sons
Yakety yak
I remember liking this one as a kid: sounds
My martian cutie (number nine)
Jake the snake — body parts
King Minus
Fishing for the alphabet
Animal department store elevator
Song about riding the subway.
The rhyming song
Count it higher
Robert DeNiro imagines he’s Elmo (the spawn of Satan)
For Kris: the mad goat
Funny farm
The ladybug picnic
The number painter (and Stockard Channing! — I always loved this)
Mahna Mahna
We all live in a capital I
Choosing a national bird (hilarious!)
The villain in the panama hat

How about a collection of popular songs done Sesame Street-style?
Johnny Cash and Big Bird: Don’t Take Your Ones to Town”
R.E.M. and the Monsters: “Furry Happy Monsters”
Stevie Wonder: “1-2-3”
Ray Charles (and Patrick Stewart?!?): The Alphabet Song”
The Beetles: “Letter B”
Norah Jones (and that spawn of Satan, Elmo): “Don’t Know Y”
“Born to Add” (minus Bruce Springsteen)

For Jeff — the ‘yip yip’ Martians:
The Martians meet a telephone
The Martians meet a computer

Guy Smiley
The Remembering Game
Beat the Time
Mystery Guest

Oscar
It’s Not Easy Being Green
I Love Trash

Grover
Grover is surprised
Grover examines Kermit’s teeth
Grover’s echo
Grover takes a bath
Grover takes a day off
Grover goes to bed
Grover the waiter: big or small?
The monster in the mirror
Grover and the butterfly

Cookie Monster
Disco Cookie
Casey McPhee
C is for Cookie!
Cookie Monster raps about healthy food (boo! sell-out!)
The mystery box (with Kermit)
Rhyming (with Kermit)
Cookie steals Ernie’s cupcakes
Cookie steals Ernie’s pillow
Cookie and Ernie sing about D
One of these things is not like the other
Eatin’ Cookie (a parody of “Makin’ Whoopee”)
Six cookies
Monsterpiece Theater: Chariots of Fur
Monsterpiece Theater: The King and I
Monsterpiece Theater: Twelve Angry Men

My favorite has always been Kermit
It’s Not Easy Being Green
A-B-C-D-E-F-Cookie Monster (very, very cute)
The mystery box (with Cookie Monster)
Rhyming (with Cookie Monster)
Muppet News Flash: Santa Claus
Muppet News Flash: The Six Dollar Man
Muppet News Flash: Cinderella
Muppet News Flash: The Beanstalk
Muppet News Flash: The Wrong Seven Dwarves

And now for the grand finale, a collection of Bert and Ernie videos!
Bert and Ernie go fishing
Ernie does the laundry
Bert’s favorite number
Ernie can’t sleep
Bert can’t sleep
Bert and Ernie remember (and can’t sleep).
The ‘la la la’ song (This is a classic.)
Bert is locked out
Artwork by Ernie
Ernie and the chocolate cake
Ernie and Bert at the beach
Ernie goes rock hunting
Bert and Ernie explore a pyramid
Bert’s brother, Bart
Ernie quizzes Bert
Bert and Ernie play tag
Ernie breaks the cookie jar
Ernie has a banana in his ear (One of my all-time favorites.)
Bert and Ernie and the ice cream man
Bert and the National Association of W Lovers
Cookie steals Ernie’s cupcakes
Cookie steals Ernie’s pillow
Cookie and Ernie sing about D
Rubber Duckie!
Ernie and Lefty
Lefty and the painting
The broken ukelele
Natalie Portman (hubba and hubba) and Elmo (spawn of Satan) play the princess and the elephant

And, finally, the Muppet tribute to Jim Henson: Just One Person.

If you love these video clips, check out the complete first season of The Muppet Show, which is now available on DVD. (Also, this Songs From the Street boxed set features many of the songs above. Teach your children the songs you love!)

After watching some of these, I groused about Bert: “Bert is so lame. Who likes Bert?” “I like Bert,” mumbled Kris. “Why? How can you possibly like Bert?” I asked. Kris was firm: “Bert is sensible.” I just shook my head.

[all of this madness is via Metafilter, of course]

A Map in My Heart

I had dinner tonight with two of my favorite people.

Kris had been invited by the Willamette University Chemistry Club to participate in a panel discussion about careers in chemistry. I drove her to Salem and then joined my friends at The Great Wall, a Chinese buffet.

I love Asian food. If I could, I would eat Asian food for every meal: three meals a day, 365 days a year. I love it. A Chinese buffet is a dangerous place for me, especially when I’m on a diet. Earlier in the day, I had the following exchange with one of my friends:

F: We are big fans of Asian food too. It’s probably worth a trip to the Great Wall if you have never been. Their food isn’t the best Asian food we’ve ever had, but the spread is quite impressive.

J: Sounds excellent. I’ve had 500 calories today, so will have 1500 to spare for Chinese food!

F: You’ll need about 15,000! It is a very large buffet.

I should have heeded the warning. The Great Wall does, indeed, have quite and impressive spread. Row after row of steaming treats: General Tso chicken (of course), grilled salmon, bacon-wrapped crab, BBQ spareribs, black pepper chicken (my favorite), sweet and sour pork, spicy steak, fresh fruit, sushi, and that traditional Chinese dessert, tapioca pudding.

I didn’t eat 15,000 calories, but I certainly had more than 1500.

It felt great to spend time alone with these friends. I mostly see them in group situations now, and I miss the time we used to spend together, the four of us. Those were some of the happiest days of my life. For two years, Kris and I had been quite close to with them. Over dinner, we talked about our house and their house. We talked about pets. We talked about vacation plans. But we also talked about stuff closer to my heart.

We discussed how cultivating friendships is a lot like dating, but even more complicated in the case of couples. For one thing, all four people must get along well in order for the group to have a chance. In order for the group to thrive, every person must really like every other person. If the group can have fun together, can talk and laugh and play, then the friendship has a chance at real growth. We talked about how the addition of children adds another dynamic to the group, often makes a couple more inwardly focused. Our former intense friendship was never explicitly mentioned, but it felt like an implicit subtext to me, adding depth to the discussion.

It was a good meal. I’m glad we were able to get together.

“…every man has a map in his heart of his own country and … the heart will never allow [him] to forget this map.” — Alexander McCall Smith, The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency

After dinner, I returned to Willamette. I walked around a little, revisiting old familiar places on campus: the library, the botanical garden, the quad. As I entered the University Center, I stopped to inahled the old, familiar smell, and was swept away by a flood of nostalgia: a hundred different memories washed over me at once. Inside was worse. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of remembered faces, names, events.

Upstairs, in the Cat Cavern, I found a table against the back wall and waited for Kris to finish talking with students. I took out a piece of paper and began to write. But then I was no longer drowning in memories; I was living them.

In the back of the room, pen and paper in hand, writing, I might have been composing a paper for class. No — I am composing a paper for class. In a few minutes I will make my way to Eaton Hall for a study session with Heather James. I will spend an hour reviewing for the Psych final. Heather will just not get it, so I will play the role of the professor. She will sit three rows back. I will stand at the front of the lecture hall and scrawl psych terms and concepts on the board. She will be caught up in remembering every little detail about Maslow’s Heirarchy of Needs, and I will not be able to convince her that what is important is the Big Picture, understanding what it means. When we have finished, I will walk to Doney, or to York, where Andrew and Dane and I will spend two hours bickering about comic books and science fiction. And then, when I’ve had my fill of friends, I will find Kris and we will spend the night together, secreted in her room.

Pen to paper. It’s liberating. To hell with the computer — it’s been too long since I’ve written this way.

Madworld

I hate seeing the pop songs of my youth co-opted for advertising. “Our House” by Madness used to advertise Maxell House coffee?

Jesus wept.

“I Melt With You” by Modern English used to promote Ritz Crackers?

Don’t break my heart!

What’s next?

U2’s “Sunday Bloody Sunday” in a V8 commerical? “Forever Young” by Alphaville used to sell knives?

Dietary Resource Page

Today’s entry is a dietary reference of sorts, listing recommended intake levels for fat, protein, carbohydrates, fiber, alcohol, and more.

Kris and I have begun a shared diet. It’s been several years we attempted a joint weight loss plan; it’s fun to work together toward a common goal. I’ve created this entry as a set of notes regarding recommended consumption levels, etc.

I seem to start several diets a year, but rarely see them through. (Or, equally as common, I’ll lose twenty pounds, then fall off the wagon and gain all the weight back.) The good news is that mentally I’ve already bought into this one. I’m committed. I want to lose this weight.

My goal is to lose fifty pounds in ten pound increments. I want to lose the first ten pounds, to drop from 210 to 200, by June 1st, which will require an average weight loss of 1.5 pounds/week. Kris wants to lose ten pounds by August 1st. My current daily intake target is 2000 calories; Kris is aiming for 1500 calories. The first few days of a diet are tough for me, and this time is no exception. Yesterday was hell, though I’m pleased to report things were easier today.

Here’s a breakdown of my average daily calorie consumption from the past week:

[chart of calorie consumption, which actually looks okay

Because I’ve attempted so many diets during the past decade, I’ve done a lot of reading on nutrition and fitness. I can recite many of the bullet points by heart. Here’s some of what I know:

Calories
Calories measure energy consumption. In nutrition, calories measure the amount of energy the body releases when breaking down food. For example, when we say that one gram of protein has four calories, we’re really saying that the body needs to use four calories of energy to process that gram of protein. Confused? Basically, the body has to process everything you eat. It takes energy to do that, and your body can only process so many calories at a time. If you consume too many calories, then the body has to store the excess as fat, energy stores for later use. But if your calorie consumption is low enough, your body says, “Aha! I have some free time. I’ll go work on breaking down this fat I’ve stored.”

How many calories can the body process? A general rule of thumb is that the body of the average man is able to break down calories equal to about twelve times his body weight every day. The average woman’s body can break down calories equal to about eleven times her body weight every day. Active people are able to process more calories; sedentary people can’t process quite as many.

Weight loss is achieved when you run a calorie deficit, consuming fewer calories than your body can process every day. Weight gain is caused by a calorie surplus, consuming more calories than your body can use every day. As a general rule of thumb, one pound is equivalent to 3500 calories. This is a convenient number: altering your calorie consumption by 500 calories/day thus produces a theoretical swing of one pound per week.

In my case, I’m starting at 210 pounds. Using the above formula, my daily requirement is 2520 calories. Thus, if I were to reduce my calorie consumption to 2000 calories/day, I would lose about one pound per week. (Notice that as I shed weight, I’ll need to reduce my daily calorie consumption to maintain this 500 calorie/day gap. For every ten pounds lost, I need to cut my energy consumption by 120 calories.)

Also note that it’s possible to pump up the other end of the formula. That is, by exercising, one can cause the body to burn more daily calories. My rule of thumb (and this is only roughly accurate, but it’s close enough) is that traveling a mile on foot, whether running or walking, burns 100 calories. Biking for ten minutes also burns about 100 calories. So, if I take a three mile walk during the day, I know that my body will burn roughly 300 extra calories that day.

When I diet, I generally aim to maintain a calorie deficit of between 500 and 1000 calories.

Fat
One gram of fat contains about nine calories. Fat from all sources should make up no more than 30% of your daily calories. Our foods contain a variety of fats. Some, such as those from nuts, olives, and fish, are “good fats”. Others, such as saturated fats and transfatty acids are “bad fats”. Transfats should be avoided completely. Saturated fat should make up no more than 10% of your daily calories. Put into numbers, in a 2000 calorie diet, daily fat consumption should be limited to about 65g or less, no more than 20g of which should come from saturated fats. (Cholesterol should be limited to less than 300mg per day.)

Alcohol
One gram of alcohol contains about seven calories. I only have vague notions of alcohol and its relation to diet. I was a teetotaler until about five years ago. I did some research tonight, and was surprised to find that moderate alcohol consumption actually is considered acceptable, even healthful. I’d thought such claims were bogus. Moderate alcohol consumption seems to mean the equivalent of one drink (ten to fifteen grams of alcohol) per day for men, and half a drink (five to eight grams of alcohol) per day for women. (One drink is a bottle of beer, or a glass of wine, or a shot of whiskey.) If you consume twice this much alcohol, you begin to be susceptible to various health risks. If you consume four times as much alcohol, you’re considered a heavy drinker. If you consume 80 grams or more of alcohol each day (about six drinks), you are doing severe damage to your body.

Protein
One gram of protein contains about four calories. A diet should comprise at least 10% protein, though more is better. If I recall correctly, protein shouldn’t make up more than 30% of your daily calorie totals. Thus, assuming a 2000 calorie diet, you should eat between 50 and 150 grams of protein per day. High protein diets are not necessarily more healthful for the body (in fact, the opposite is likely true); high protein diets work because they encourage a feeling of fullness. Protein satisfies. It’s possible to apply this principle to a healthy diet without going overboard. If you’re trying to lose weight, maximize your consumption of beans, rice, and lean meats. (Actually, now that I think about it, rice always makes me hungrier. I wonder why this is…)

Carbohydrates
One gram of carbohydrates contains about four calories. The bulk of your diet (40-60%) should come from carbohydrates. Carbohydrates are essentially sugars. There are different types of carbohydrates, from simple sugars to complex carbohydrates. Simple sugars are easy for the body to process and provides little or no nutritional benefit. It’s quick energy. The body is forced to break down complex carbohydrates (think “starches”), so the energy from a potato, say, generally isn’t available for the body to use right away.

Two carb-related notes: added sugars (refined sugars), such as those often found in candies, sodas, and sweetened cereals, should make up less than a quarter of your total calories, the fewer the better. (It’s my understanding that these sugars are easily identifiable on nutritional labels because they’re the ones labeled “sugar” under the carbohydrates section.) Also, fiber is technically a carbohydrate, though mainly it’s just bulk that the body does not process. The old guideline was that 25 grams per day ought to be consumed for a 200 calorie diet, though a brief web search reveals that the new guideline is 38g/day for men and 25g/day for women.

Other Nutrients
Sodium intake should be restricted to less than 5000 mg/day, and preferably half that. (Past reading leads me to believe that sodium intake isn’t as critical for people who are not sensitive to it. I’m not sensitive to it, which is a good thing since I eat a hell of a lot of it.) Potassium intake should be greater than 3500mg/day (and closer to 5000 mg). I’m not clear on the reasons for these levels, though I do know that the body burns some amount of sodium (1500mg? 2500mg?) every day, and thus the need to replace it.

[chart of nutrient consumption]

Water
Women should consume roughly 2.5 liters of water per day. Men should consume roughly 3.5 liters of water per day. Some of this water is taken in naturally through the other things we eat and drink. In general, the rule of thumb seems to be “drink when you’re thirsty”. Do that and you’re fine. (Note that drinking extra water each day is great for dieting. It promotes a feeling of fullness. If you are like me and often eat or drink simply to have something in your mouth, water is a perfect replacement. If you drink cold water, you expend a small amount of energy in bringing the water to body temperature.)

Excercise
The basic rule is: Just do it!

Doctors suggest a minimum of one half-hour of physical exercise every day, though an entire hour is recommended. Exercise has been proven to have enormous health benefits beyond weight loss and fitness. Exercise improves mental fitness. It encourages sound sleep. It enhances self-confidence.

Aerobic exercise, exercise that requires heavy breathing, is good for burning fat in the short term. Weight-lifting and other exercises that build muscle help in a different way. Adding muscle mass increases your metabolism, the low-level fat burning that occurs all day long, even when you’re asleep. A good exercise regimen includes both muscle-building and aerobic exercise. Unfortunately, most people prefer one or the other. (I prefer aerobic exercise.)

When I diet, I never count the exercise. I don’t track it. I do try to exercise, but any exercise I do is “bonus calories”, extra unexpected weight loss. It’s a subtle psychological game I play with myself, but it works.

Conclusion
I admit that most of this entry was composed off the top of my head. The information here could be inaccurate, or out of date, though I think it’s reasonably correct. This page is meant primarily as a resource for Kris and me to access over the next few months as we attempt to lose weight, but perhaps it can be of use to you, too.

One key point that I didn’t make above is that your diet should derive most of its calories from fruits, vegetables, and whole grains. Fats, oils, and sweets should be used sparingly. This means: don’t butter those peas, don’t eat that candy bar, and don’t use that salad dressing. Season the peas with salt and pepper, eat an orange, and use lemon juice on your salad.

Finally, if you haven’t already signed up for a free FitDay account, give it a look. It’s a simple yet convenient site for tracking calorie consumption, exercise, and weight loss.

Grandpa’s Woods

When I was a boy, the neighborhood kids roamed the countryside seemingly at will, and from an early age. Perhaps our parents were watching, but we never noticed. We were six miles from town, traipsing over farmland in rural Oregon. No harm could come to us except that of our own devising. And we did devise ways to hurt ourselves: dirt clod fights, near drownings, accidents with horses, etc. When our parents wanted us home, they would phone around the neighborhood, or, if that failed, they would stand outside and shout: “TOH-rey! DAY-vid! SHAW-un! JEH-uf!” and we would make our way home. (Shawn used to have extended shouted conversations with his mother, from half a mile away; that was pretty funny.)

Often we met the other kids at the Big Tree (which was, alas, cut down last summer), where once we found a stash of porn mags. Sometimes we rode our bikes the mile down to Charlie’s Market to buy Wacky Packs and Bottle Caps and taffy and Dr. Pepper. We romped through the filbert orchard, where we raced our bikes down rows of trees, scaring ourselves with stories of Homer Knopp’s shotgun (which he kept loaded with rock salt to shoot kids). We rode our bikes back to Grandpa’s Woods.

My grandparents lived a quarter-mile from us. Behind their house grew a stand of oak and pine and fir, a thicket we called Grandpa’s Woods. We spent a lot of time in Grandpa’s Woods. We built forts. We played hide-and-seek. We played in Sputnik, the rusting hulk of a car left behind by Uncle Stan and Aunt Virginia. There were often other miscellaneous pieces of farm equipment in the woods with which to play: plows and implements and tools of all sorts.

For a long time, Grandpa kept his cows in the woods. There was a lane that led from Grandpa’s barn, back past a small field, and into the trees. The front half of the woods was thick with all sorts of trees, but dominated by towering oaks. The back half of the land had fewer trees, and was generally open, covered with grass and weeds and blackberry brambles. Grandpa’s cows grazed in this grassy area. To keep them contained, Grandpa had an electric fence. We used to play games trying to see who could hold the fence the longest (despite the shocking pulses), what objects we could use to touch the fence without being shocked, or how quickly we could crawl under the fence. Being boys, we considered a mark of honor to urinate on the fence.

One year, on my birthday, Jeff and I took Sean and Cory Brown back to Grandpa’s woods. For some reason, we had a hatchet. The winter had been harsh, and several trees had fallen. One had been arrested mid-fall, and lay at maybe a thirty degree angle to the ground. The Brown twins climbed the tree and started hacking at it, trying to cut off the top. “Let me try,” I said, and I climbed past them. I was a little nervous to be so high above the ground (twenty feet? thirty?). I was happily hacking away when the trunk snapped and suddenly I was in free fall. I hadn’t anticipated that sitting on the wrong side of the cut might be dangerous. Fortunately, the trunk fell away from me, and my fall was slowed by a thick growth of branches all around me. When I hit the ground with a thud, Jeff rushed to my side. “Are you okay?” he asked. I wasn’t sure at first, once I realized I was in one piece, I proclaimed: “That was fun!”

When we were older, we played “life-size D&D”, a game we made up as we went along, the rules of which were relatively fluid. (This is years before we were aware of the concept of live-action roleplaying.) We played with Jeremy Martin and Torey Lam. (And maybe Dave — Dave did you ever play with us?). We would run around with stout limbs as swords and axes. If we were magicians we would carry pine cones or oak puffs and throw them at our targets as we shouted, “Magic missile! Magic missile!” (Similar to this but without costumes, and with far fewer people.) Even in those formative years, priests were valued party members, capable of restoring our dwindling health.

Eventually I cast aside my youthful ways. I no longer went back to Grandpa’s woods to play. When I was in high school and college, I’d sometimes walk back there to be alone, to think, to write. It also became a fun place to take girls I was dating, a fun place to make out. (For some reason, they never thought it was as fun as I did.)

The last time I was back in Grandpa’s Woods was for a photography class. The land isn’t in our family anymore, but I felt no compunction about trespassing to make some pictures. While I was working, somebody came along on a four-wheeler and stared at me for a while. I waved, but the watcher did not wave back. Soon after, several new signs appeared announcing “private property — keep out”. Somebody new may own the woods, but they do not own my memories.