Potato Chip Aficionado

I love salty foods, especially potato chips and french fries. The best chips I've ever had were from a now-closed restaurant on Main Street in downtown Springfield, MA. Sean and I met for lunch once when I worked downtown, and this place made their own potato chips. It was the first time I had eaten a kettle chip, and I was hooked.

Now, let me say that potato chips aren't part of my regular diet. They are fun to munch on at parties but I really only buy them in the summer to go with a hot dog or burger on the grill.

My favorite is almost always a cracked black pepper kettle chip. Several brands make them. Some are better than others. I also love a good sour cream and onion kettle chip. I'm not interested in those weird flavors like chicken, thai food, etc. I hate BBQ-flavored anything, and buffalo chips are just weird.

Recently, I shopped at a different grocery store than my usual, and they did not have my favorite brand of kettle chips. But then I spotted a bag of Utz Mystic Dark Russet chips. They don't say "kettle" but the bag screamed my name and the rest is history.

OH. MY. GOD. Oh my god you guys, these are so dang good. Like my fries, I like my chips crunchy, crispy, and dark.

It gets better. The chips contain no preservatives or hydrogenated fats. Just potatoes, peanut oil and salt. Go buy yourself a bag. You'll thank me later. Or not, when you reach in and feel the bottom of the bag and realized you just ate the entire bag in one sitting. They're that good.

Disclaimer: This blog receives no payment or other compensation for reviews of products or services.

Don't Let Me Near Your Car

At work, we joke that we our office (which is really an old house) might have been built on some old burial ground because we have the weirdest injuries and illnesses. Out of the four (now five) of us, I probably contribute about 75% of those injuries and illnesses. For a while, one of my co-workers seemed totally safe from the office curse but alas, she got sick a few weeks ago. It almost comforted her knowing she wasn't the radioactive one making the rest of us sick.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure I have some sort of evil cloud hanging over me when it comes to vehicles. I've had a lot of car problems in the past. My first car was a 1995 Jeep Cherokee Laredo. It was the family vehicle that got passed down to me when I got my license. This car was quirky. By 2001, you could take the keys out of the ignition...while driving! We used to do this on the highway and wave them to passing cars and really freak  people out. By the summer of 2002, the AC went but I had power windows so I toughed it out. When the heat finally went during the winter of my freshman year of college, we knew we had to do something.

My parents helped me buy a red 1997 Chevrolet Cavalier. I thought it was so badass. It was a coupe.

Then, one bright sunny day in the summer before my senior year of college, I was driving back to my apartment from the mall. I don't know what happened (and I'm pretty sure to this day my parents think I'm lying) but the next thing I knew I was waking up in a LOT of pain in the driver's seat. The car in front of me - an Audi - had slowed to turn and apparently I did not. I plowed into the back of him going ~40mph. His car had some dents and scratches. Mine was totaled. The airbag deployed and since my legs are so short and I sit so close to the steering wheel, the airbag burned all the skin off my chin and part of my forearm. My sunroof shattered into the car but fortunately I was not cut. I called 911 and an ambulance came that I refused to ride in. I think one or both of my parents came and brought me to my apartment, where they proceeded to yell at me.

Insurance covered the cost of the car, so naturally I got a 1999 Chevrolet Cavalier despite learning firsthand that Cavaliers really are tin cans. It was also a coupe, but was white and looked a little more sporty. Her name was "Callie."

Over Thanksgiving weekend in 2005, my then-boyfriend and I were going somewhere on the highway. I forget. Fortunately he was driving because all of a sudden something felt very wrong and he lost control of the car. He maneuvered us over to the breakdown lane where we discovered the wheel had broken. Or the axle, or something. My dad had taken my car somewhere the previous week for I think a tire rotation, and apparently the mechanic did not screw the lugnuts back on tight. Brian made the grave mistake of blaming my dad when he came to rescue us, and any iota of warmth my dad had come to feel for him in the previous four years of us dating was quickly out of the window.

Anyway, my car suvrived the trauma. In November 2006, I was on my way to pick up the most important package of my life thus far. Hint:

I'm less than two minutes from the woman's house when I hear this horribly loud thunk and my car stops. It was cold, my dad had to come rescue me (story of my life) and take me to pick up Rags. Actually, I drove him back to work and then borrowed his huge Suburban to go pick up Rags. I remember this distinctly because I had a little carrier for him that he did not like, and so my career as a pushover began when he started crying and I pulled over to free him. I took him to Petco (no one told me you can't take 8-week-old puppies, who are not fully vaccinated, to a pet store) and he threw up all over a toy, so I was forced to buy it. And we've been the happiest little family ever since.

My Cavalier, not so much. I had blown the engine by not checking the oil. It was bone dry. It was a very expensive repair.

The Cavalier caused me problems in Florida. It managed to get five of us to and from Jacksonville for the 2007 Florida-Georgia game, including the parking lot called I-10. Traffic was so bad that everyone was getting out of their cars to set up tailgates. We set up our chairs, unloaded the cooler, and tossed a football around for a few hours.

But "Callie" was not pleased. She was in the shop on a regular basis. I was planning to drive home for a couple weeks while my then-boyfriend was in Spain and all my friends were interning around the country while I was stuck interning in Gainesville. The AC went, and I needed all new brakes, so my parents told me to repair the bare minimum and get myself and Rags safely home. We did, with the windows down from Florida to Atlanta to the Blue Ridge Mountains and then to Massachusetts. It was brutal. Once I got home, my dad took the Cavalier off my hands (and still drives it today) and I got a 1999 Nissan Maxima.

The Maxima was the luxury edition, but it was also 9 years old. I forget where the problems began, but I had a rusted out brake line, all sorts of leaks, brake problems. I have no good pictures of it, but this one accurately depicts my experiences with "Maggie."

When my dad came to stay with me for a week in November 2011, he took it and got a bunch of repairs. A month later, I realized how much money this car was sucking out of me and could die at any moment, and went and took out a car loan on a 2003 Toyota Corolla.

I LOVE my Corolla. I've had no problems aside from a weird defect where when the temperature outside falls below 20, the headlights turn themselves on, draining the battery. It took a while to figure out what was happening and resulted in a new (unnecessary) battery and several AAA calls, but then I found this Technical Service Bulletin. Instead of spending a bunch of money for something that was only going to happen a few times a year, we figured out a workaround - set the high beams on when turning off the car. The high beams don't actually stay on once the car is off, but since they are switched to the on position, the headlights wouldn't turn themselves on when it got cold. This works, although I have forgotten about it till now and I'm sure I will learn the hard way the first time it gets really cold next year.

Then, this past Saturday, I was going to scout out some tag sales (yard or garage sales for you non-New Englanders) to find myself a dresser for my soon-to-be-new Boston apartment. My car hesitated when I started it. I called my Dad outside to see if he thought it was serious. He waddled out, still in a lot of pain from Friday's hernia surgery, and said it was probably wet from the 3" of rain we'd have during the week. Makes sense. My car once stalled when I drove quickly through a big puddle that splashed onto my hood so clearly she is delicate.

I still had a bad feeling about my car, so when I went to tag sales around town, I left my car running the whole time. It was probably 45 minutes. Then I forgot and parked at Home Depot and JoAnn Fabrics while I stocked up on bridal shower supplies. When I went out to my car, it was totally dead. Would not even turn over, but I had lights and radio and even enough juice to charge my phone and call my still-recovering dad. He came down, we tried unsuccessfully to jump the battery, tested it and were told it was fine, had the AAA man knock it with a huge pipe while I pulled a muscle turning the key back and forth, and finally conceded it was a bad starter.

$360 later...good as new. Except that was supposed to go toward my new wardrobe for work. And the bridal shower. And a deposit on an apartment. I almost threw up when I heard the total. On that note, I've decided to teach myself (or rather, ask my dad when he's feeling better) how to change my own oil.  More on that experience later.

Boston, You're My Home

Well, almost. For those of you who know me personally, you know that last week I accepted a position at a Boston hospital. This has been my dream for a long time, pretty much ever since I finished grad school at UF, but even before that I always knew I wanted to settle down in Boston. When I took my current job, a big reason was to get me from Florida back to Massachusetts. My family and closest friends knew I considered it a stepping stone to get to my ultimate goal of doing PR for a Boston-area hospital.

My dream has finally come true. I will be doing media relations for a large Boston cancer hospital and their official charity. I started interviewing for the position in May, and accepted an offer on Wednesday. I start July 15, which means my last day at my current job will be July 10 so I can have a few days to wrap up my life in western Massachusetts, move and settle in.

I still haven't found a place to live yet. It was such a crazy week that by this weekend, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I have spent hours looking online, calling and emailing about possible apartments, and even Skyping with a potential roommate. I'm going to be in the city this Saturday to try on bridesmaid dresses for Julia's wedding, but I have crack of dawn and late afternoon appointments to see a few places. One is a room in a 2br, 1ba apartment in a Mission Hill house with a girl in her mid 20s. The other is a room in 3br, 1.5ba condo in Woburn (yes, where my best friend Julia lives - right around the corner actually!) with a professional male in his early 30s. And then there's a potential room in a 5ba, 2ba apartment in Brighton. One of the roommates is a friend of a friend, but four girls is a lot of estrogen. I think Rags needs somewhere really mellow and quiet, because that's what we had when we lived alone in Florida and he was so well-behaved. His crankiness is either due to his age (he's almost 8) or - the more likely culprit - living with two male adults and another dog, so he really never has any personal space or down time. I think one roommate would be ideal, and no other pets.

Actually, living alone would be ideal but since I am working for a nonprofit and have not much in the way of savings, a roommate is a must at first. I'd also rather bunk up with someone before signing away my life on a year's lease when I may hate the person, the neighborhood, etc.

Julia has extended "my bedroom" to me in the event that July 15 arrives and I still don't have a place to live. Or if I find a place that isn't immediately available. The Mission Hill apartment is available before I am (July 1) and the Woburn condo is available Aug. 1, so either of those would work out.

Money was actually the only thing that caused me to hesitate on accepting the offer right away. I negotiated my salary for the first time and am happy with the offer, but then I started thinking about rent and buying a new wardrobe (they wear suits to work every day, it's business casual at the college until summer and then it's just summer casual - I don't own suits) and I started to freak out. My best guy friend Sean said, "You'd be doing something you enjoy and you'd be near people you like to spend time with, and I think that adds immeasurably to your happiness." He was right. At that point, my mind was made up.

It's no secret to most that I have been miserable at my job. I like my officemates, but people outside of our department are downright nasty. Working in higher education without a doctorate often means being looked down upon, and for people with as much experience as we have, that's just not OK. I have been made to cry in meetings, referred to as a line item on someone's budget, been told I have no experience, been embarrassed by a faculty member in front of a reporter for no reason other than said faculty member's power trip...it's just been too much. And also, I miss healthcare. Working in sports made me sure I didn't want to work in sports. Working in higher ed made me sure I don't want to work in higher ed. Working in an agency made me sure I didn't want to work in an agency. I have yet to deal with the corporate bs, but I'm pretty sure I wouldn't like it. Healthcare is where I'm meant to be.

I also don't love western Massachusetts. Nor do I love admitting that at 28, I live with my dad and brother. In my defense, I had two weeks to quit my job and move from Florida to Massachusetts to start my current job, so of course I just moved back home. And then, when I was ready to get my own place, I was scheduled for major surgery that could have very well left me on disability from work for six months or longer, and even if it didn't, I was going to need round-the-clock care for a week or two while recovering. So I stayed. And then I started seriously applying for jobs in Boston and knew it would be silly to move out during that process when I could be saving.

Except it all happened much more quickly than I was expecting and I didn't really get to save. Four weeks from today, I will be at my first day at my new job. My new office is not in the hospital (boo), but it's directly across the street from the Yawkey Way entrance to Fenway (um, awesome!).

I'm trying to be positive today, so I'll save my recent car troubles for another post, and also until I know how much the repairs are going to set me back. Because I don't want to think about until I have to.

Hello Stranger

So, I've been terrible about posting lately. I've been so busy that I honestly forgot I even had a blog for a little while.

Let's see, where shall we begin?

The most exciting news on the health front is that my thyroid has been consistently on good behavior since March. And and and and! My cholesterol is finally on the way down! It's still far from ideal, but it's getting a lot better. I still have the flushing reaction to the niacin, but I got smart and now take it just as I'm about to fall asleep, so most nights I'm already asleep before the reaction happens so I don't notice it.

I had a successful trip to Florida in mid-May. Lauren and Keith got married, so I took Thursday-Monday for myself. Of course, I'm still paying for all my expenses but it was so good for my mental health. I got to catch up with my former co-workers, visit with friends, work on my tan, cheer on my Bruins with plenty of Boston fans and transplants, and of course, see one of my favorite girls tie to the knot. Proof I was there:

I missed Rags a LOT, and it was the longest we'd been apart since 2008. I kissed him goodbye before I went to work on Wednesday morning and didn't see him again until I got home from work on Tuesday evening. Now, he look like an ewok and spent all week and weekend sweating and panting because I'm a horrible dog mother and haven't had him groomed in months. In my defense, his haircuts cost three times what mine do, so I do try to get as much mileage out of each one as I can. Then, when I finally returned from Florida and realized how badly he needed a haircut, the mobile grooming van we use crashed and was out of service for several weeks. We finally have an appointment this evening, so he will be recognizable again in about nine hours.

While in Florida, I noticed a giant bruise on my foot. I've noticed the same bruises on both feet before, maybe about six weeks earlier. I had gone out the night before and assumed I tripped or danced too hard or something. But this same exact bruise was back, but only on one foot. When I touched it, it was excruciating but also not really a bruise. It was some sort of mass that moved when I pushed on it. I got it in my head that it was a blood clot, and spent the next few days worrying about it. When it came time to fly home on Monday, I was in pure panic mode. I knew flying with a blood clot could turn into DVT which could kill me. Normally a cool, calm, collected traveler, I took my window seat at the last possible second before they closed the cabin door, and kept my foot/leg in motion for the entire three-hour flight to JFK. My chest was tight and painful, my heart was racing, and I was shivering yet sweating. I now understand what it's like to have a panic attack. I had a quick layover then a puddle jumper to Logan, where Juls picked me up and I could finally relax with a glass of wine.

I went to the doctor the next day, and she confirmed it was in fact a blood clot–actually a superficial thrombophlebitis. She said to take ibuprofen three times a day for a week (normally longer but with my ulcer history, that's the last thing I need) and keep it elevated when at rest but to stay active. That sounds like great advice, except it became so painful and swollen that I could no longer wear a shoe that touched the top of my foot. I was walking Rags two days later in the rain, and my foot hurt so dang bad that I had to take off my sneaker and walk the rest of the way barefoot in the rain, on pavement. The pain comes in waves and spurts, so I finally got an ultrasound on it Friday to ensure it wasn't moving or enlarging. Not at all shocking given my health history, the tech could not find the clot at all. She could clearly see how dark and swollen that part of foot was, and noticed how I flinched when she touched it, but it was now 4:30 p.m. on a Friday and I was told the doctor would review the report and call me Monday. It's Tuesday. Time to figure this foot out. Because my workout routine has taken a serious hit due to fact and cannot wear a shoe.

In other news, I am officially the 2013-2014 Junior League of Greater Springfield, MA Vice President of Membership. I'm busy planning summer socials, recruitment events, and trying to form our new member class for the fall.

I'm also busy planning Julia's bridal shower. I've been a maid of honor in a wedding before, but it was my cousin's wedding while I was in grad school at University of Florida, so I literally came up the day before the wedding and left right after the reception. My cousin and I haven't been close since we were little, so it was a nice honor but I told her up front I couldn't afford to throw her a shower or do any of the traditional bridesmaid things since I was busy with grad school 1,500 miles away. Now I get to redeem myself! I've received compliments on the invitations, and have been spending a lot of time talking to Julia's mom about ideas, since she's co-hosting with me. We're having it at a family friend's new home in a few weeks, and I just can't wait for everyone to RSVP so we can start really getting down to the nitty gritty details. The theme is a garden party, and we're using the three colors of our bridesmaid dresses–mint, pale blue, and, depending on who you ask or what you're buying, rosemary/aqua/teal, as seen below.

I'll do a full post of everything we make for the shower afterward, but the large pots will be for utensils, and the small ones will have a tiny foam ball that a wood skewer will stick into. I'll then affix food placards to the skewer. It'll look like a doily or flower, keeping with the garden shower and antique wedding theme.

The Early Bird Gets...Less Sleep

Eating healthy has been going really well. I've kind of stalled out at my 12-pound weight loss, however, and I know it's because I'm starting to get bored with my workouts. Fortunately, it's been absolutely gorgeous out lately. I think spring is finally here to stay. So that means no more basement workouts after work. A. Because it's nice enough to work out outside and B. it's too nice after work to spend it sweating - I'd rather be sipping wine and grilling my dinner. Which means I need to start exercising in the mornings, before work.

That's fine. When I did this regularly at my apartment in Ft. Myers, I felt great. It made me want to eat really well throughout the day (albeit eat often), I had more energy at work, and I slept great at night. And the best part - I had free time after work. Which is challenging for people like me who go to sleep before it gets dark out.

However, in my old age, it's become increasingly difficult to get up early. I still can't usually sleep past 8 a.m. on the weekends, but I can't get up before 6:30 unless my life depends on it. So I've decided to start setting my alarm five minutes earlier every day this week. 6:45 has been my usual wakeup time for a while, since I shower at night after working out and don't have to be at work until 8:30. Tuesday, I got up the first time my alarm went off at 6:45 instead of snoozing. Yesterday, I got up at 6:40. Today? 6:35! And guess what? My natural alarm clock has been waking me up around 5:30 all week. I check my phone, see that I have plenty of time to go back to sleep, and still end up waking up completely before my alarm goes off. I walk Rags awake and coherent, and have more time each day to eat or watch the morning news. It's kinda nice. My eventual plan is to be up early enough to go to my gym's 6 a.m. small group training sessions, which are kind of like CrossFit but safer since there are physical therapists, certified strength and conditioning specialists, and exercise physiologists. And it's a lot more affordable yet personalized than a gym membership. They offer a 5:30 p.m. session and an 8.a.m Saturday session, but as I mentioned, I really want to enjoy my evenings now that's finally nice out.

I already go to sleep early and have no trouble falling or staying asleep, but any tips as to how to get up earlier? I seem to thrive on 8-10+ hours of sleep.

Niacin Nightmare

Here's how my Sunday night went. How was yours?

My physician and the pharmacist were not kidding - niacin flushing is a nightmare. I took my 500mg pill around 9:45 p.m., knowing full well what I could expect. For about 14 minutes, I thought I was in the clear. Then suddenly I grew very, very warm and my skin began to crawl. I looked down at my arm and saw the proof. Naturally, I stripped to see if it was everywhere and oh boy was it. By 10:15 I was miserable, and by 10:30 I was inconsolable. It felt like a third degree sunburn - hot hot hot skin, burning, and chills. Fortunately, no itch. I was wide awake (another problem in itself) so I popped some Benadryl and within 45 minutes, it was finally taking the edge off. I fell asleep by 11:30, but the Benadryl still hadn't worn off when my alarm went off at 6 a.m., so I let myself go back to sleep unti 8:30.

Tonight, my plan is to some baby aspirin about 30 minutes prior to taking the niacin, but still keep the Benadryl close by. The aspirin reduces the flushing. However, the flushing means it's working, so hopefully my body starts adjusting to this new bedtime routine soon.

My Cholesterol Needs to Take a (Downhill) Hike

Want to be baffled? Then read on...

First of all, refresh your memory by reading out my annual physical in February. Yeah, numbers all over the place. So here are the steps I took at my physician's recommendation:
1. A bowl of low sugar oatmeal every morning with a tablespoon of ground flaxseed.
2. Six days a week of exercise.
3. Cut back on meat - I gave up all meat for five weeks. I couldn't make it through all of Lent, but I came within 10 days and still only ate meat a few times since then.
4. Limit dietary cholesterol - I ate a whole egg some mornings, or just egg whites other mornings. I still never came close to the 300mg/day limit my physician set even with the occasional slice of pizza, shrimp, or processed foods containing high amounts of cholesterol.
5. Reduce my beta blocker (propranolol) from 10mg/day to 5mg/day. This drug has been prescribed to me since February 2010 when I was diagnosed with Graves' disease to control my rapid heart rate. However, it is known to increase LDL (bad cholesterol), so I have been weaning off of it.
6. Increase intake of nuts, beans, olive oil, fish.
7. Decrease intake of sweets.

And what was the result eight weeks later? My total cholesterol went up by 14mg/dl. Are you f-ing kidding me?! I knew something was up as soon as my physician walked in the room. She gave me that, "Aw, too bad," look and said, "Well, at least your thyroid levels are good." Which was encouraging for about .2 seconds until I realized that they have been good before, but that never lasts for more than 6-8 weeks because my now-deceased thyroid is still a motherf****r.

The breakdown:

So, my triglycerides came down by a whopping 1mg/dl, but my HDL (good cholesterol) went down by 3.1 and my LDL went up by 17. How is that even possible, given all I've done to improve it?

Well, my physician and I are just as dumbfounded as you probably are.

My mom's side of the family has high cholesterol. However, almost everyone on my mom's side of the family has a poor diet and does not exercise that I am aware of. So I'm not going to accept that it's just genetics. It's bullsh*t is what it is.

I sat in her office and cried while she looked up every possible link between Graves' and radioactive iodine ablation and omeprazole and Synthroid and GI issues. Nothing.

So my options are 1. have a heart attack at 28 and croak. 2. start taking a statin. or 3. find other ways to lower my LDL. Taking a statin really is not an option as a woman of child-bearing age. Statins cause birth defects, in addition to a whole host of serious side effects on the individual as well. So my physician prescribed (well, recommended really, since it's OTC) 500mg/day of niacin, which is a B3 vitamin that has been proven to improve cholesterol. I am reading different articles on how it lowers LDL, and others about how it increases HDL. So I'm not really sure which it is, but I am willing to try anything that isn't a prescription drug. I've also decided to go meatless Monday-Friday lunchtime, and chill out on egg yolks and shrimp and other cholesterolly (yup, that's a word now) foods.

The niacin scares me a bit. It causes flushing, and is known to cause more extreme flushing in people with fair, sensitive skin. Not blushing, but flushing. Redness, itching, pure discomfort for anywhere from 15-30 minutes to two hours. So since I had three drinks (over the course of six hours, but still) last night trying to drown my sorrows, I decided it was best not to take the niacin, at least not for the first time, with alcohol in my system. I'll try it tonight.

I'm about as dejected as I could possibly be. This was the week from hell with work and my huge Junior League project being tossed out because of possible EPA violations and serious health risks. Not anything we did, but the organization with which we were planning to work, and there's no way in hell I was putting myself and my members at risk. It's unfortunate because it was six weeks of planning and going to take up my entire weekend - in a good way - but not anymore. Instead, I went out with a few of the ladies last night and have booked myself a $40 90-minute massage thanks to Groupon. I'm leaving shortly, because if I can't be making a difference in the community, at least I can try to ease away some of my stress because that ain't good for the ol' cholesterol levels either.

Oh, and for anyone who's counting, I've lost 11.2 pounds so far. I'm trying to end on positive notes whenever possible, since they seem to be few and far between lately. So there ya go.