Et Tu Pancakes?

I work with the awesome youth at my church. Saying that is nearly synonymous with saying, "I have worked at a pancake breakfast!" Church youth groups and pancake breakfasts go together like youth pastors and facial hair. (Trust me...it's a thing.) Anyway, I can't even begin to recall all the breakfasts that I have helped put on. But I can remember, in great detail, the two I was part of where I wasn't allowed to eat anything myself. The first was a number of years ago and it was for a good cause. The second was about 2 weeks ago, and I did it to myself.

Like I said, the first was for a really good cause. Our youth group raises money by doing "The 30 Hour Famine" just about every year. It is a very good program where everyone involved gives up food for 30 hours to help you reflect on those who don't have enough to eat. It raises awareness among the kids about the affluence that we are accustomed to and we get donations to help programs all over the world feed the hungry. The famine is developed by World Vision. It is a great organization and they help with suggestions for what to do to keep the kids, who are essentially locked into the church's gymnasium for a day and a half, busy and their minds off of food. It could be work projects or raising awareness games and activities or you could just sit around and listen to everyone grumble about how hungry they are. Well our old youth pastor Matt, who does have facial hair, had a bit of a mean streak. He decided that it would be a great idea (ha ha) to hold a pancake breakfast as one of our community service projects to raise money for the organization. It was tough. We survived. We were all in it together. All you had to do was look to your left or right and you could see anguished hunger on the face of the person working next to you. It was manageable.

This year I did not have similar support. Since I agreed to join this weight loss program, I was going to give it my all and get back to a body that could fit into places like airplane seats, movie theater seats, and occasional outdoor arena (not the seats...the whole arena). I was not going to sabotage myself this early in the process and undo the small but emotionally satisfying progress I had made. I showed up wearing my bravest face.

There was a hum of activity and it already smelled delicious (darn it) so I jumped right in. I was hoping to get assigned a job that wouldn't tempt me. Cutting cantaloupe? No temptation there. Pretty sure if I were stranded somewhere, desperate for food, I would crawl past a field of cantaloupe to see if there was anything left on the questionable zebra carcass that the lions were finished with. Nope, somebody already there. (good thing...the smell...yuck) My son was on scrambled egg duty and doing a fine job of it. Tables were being set. Pancake Bob was in his element. Not too much to do. "Here Jeff...you can take care of the sausages." (insert sound effect of cartoon cars crashing)

Sausage are a weakness of mine. Next to bacon cooking, the smell of sausage cooking is maybe number three. Anything cooking with garlic is number one...I am Italian after all. So here I am hungry, having eaten a healthy smoothie for breakfast, and I have to cook a favorite that I will not be allowed to eat. Press on! It's for a good cause!

As pancake breakfasts at churches go it was pretty standard. Lull, lull, lull, lull, UNBELIEVEABLE CROWDS, slowdown, lull, lull... In all that time, while having multiple opportunities to "sample" the sausages I was making, I never tried one. It was ridiculously difficult at times. The main problem is that they are so easily grabbed and treated as finger food. We had enough to feed our church as well as the next three closest churches. Nobody would miss it. Nope. I didn't want to write it in my food log.

Then came the clean up. There was another group using our dining room about a half hour after we were done so time was of the essence. I ran in and grabbed the first thing that I thought would make a significant cleaning impact. I grabbed all the syrup containers from the tables. You know the type. Glass jars with a silver handle and a thumb button that allows the sugary liquid heaven to pour seductively all over the pancakes. (OK, so I've got a thing for syrup too...sue me) Anyway, I grabbed about six in each hand trying to get as many handles in my grips as possible. I looked like a waiter at Octoberfest...if it was being held in Canada. The syrup had to be emptied from the containers back into the bottles and I took on that job. There's something satisfying about watching that rich, thick, artificially flavored and colored treasury of high-fructose corn syrup ooze from one container to another. True confession time: If I were stranded on an island surrounded by a maple syrup sea, not that stuff from trees...the good fake stuff. Then imagine that the trees were made of sausages. I would fashion a raft out of the "logs" to escape...and then promptly drown before getting out of the lagoon. But I would go under with a full belly and a smile on my face.

The breakfast was a success! We did make a significant amount of money. We did, we did, we did. But I didn't. I didn't eat any sausage. I didn't eat any pancakes. I didn't pour myself a cup of syrup. I didn't eat any eggs, toast, or butter. And I especially didn't eat any cantaloupe. I was good. I continue to be good. And I am happy to say that I am currently down a little over 16 pounds from my starting point. I'll just keep plugging away.
Far far away....from IHOP.

Heavy Hair!

I've probably said about a dozen times that I was going to try to lose weight...by going to get a haircut. I know. It's as dumb as when I say that the room we just painted seems smaller or the Grand Canyon seems a tiny bit deeper than the last time I was there....but I say it anyway.

I've been cranking along losing weight for a little over a week now and I was feeling pretty good. Maybe it's the extra energy I have from the better food I'm eating. Maybe it's the focus on a goal that keeps my mind occupied. Maybe it's even the placebo effect. I don't care.  But with feeling good in so many areas of life I started taking stock in another often forgotten one; my hair.

Whether or not you think it's unfair, I have a thick head of hair. My brother lost his hair while he was still in high school. Many people I went to school with have become follicly challenged. I, am not. Personally I think it was God's blessing through a natural sunblock otherwise I'd look like I had been sitting too close to the toxic waste section of the local dump. You see, I once got a 2nd degree burn from a picture of the sun!

Whatever the reason, I've always been the envy of any hairdresser I  use. If I had a dollar for every time someone said, "I wish I had this thick head of hair!" I would be a very rich man. And just like the woman with curly hair who always wishes she had straight...and vice versa....I really am unimpressed with my hair. It's not that I hate it or that I even wish that it was curly I just wish it wouldn't grow so darn fast! I honestly feel like one of those ancient dolls my cousin had that had hair that could be different lengths. If you wrapped your hand around the base of the ponytail at the top of it's head and yanked, out came more hair! It was the most terrifying thing I'd ever seen! Who thinks of these things! I am unaware of any people who are yanking on my hair so I don't think that's what happens to me, but still it comes. Yes, it's unfair, I know. I should appreciate the gift that has been given to me. I do. I really do. I suppose what it boils down to is that I wish I didn't have to keep paying someone to tame it. I'm generally really cheap.

And another thing! Rarely do I get the hairdresser who actually listens to what I say! I have never been satisfied with the first round of snips on my hair. I haven't found the magic words to say yet...but I keep searching. They ask, "How do you want your hair cut?" and I say, "I want it short! I was just here a few weeks ago and it's already in my eyes. It grows so fast you can't even believe it! I want the number 2 on the sides (unless it's been especially warm and then I'll get the number 1) and the rest just shorten to match. Someone once called it a 'fade' but I have no idea. Short. Don't be afraid. Really really short!" They act like they're able to understand and start spraying my hair. "Wow your hair is really thick!" (cha-CHING$!) And then she'll grab the hair between her fingers and let it slide all the way to the end so about a half inch is left to snip..."Is this enough?" I even had one person, after I said, "No. That is not nearly short enough. Keep cutting. If you cut too much you can just yank on it and it'll get longer!" say "But it will look better like this." Excuse me!?! I seriously think that next time I'll just tell them to pretend I am ex-military and I really miss the haircut. If anyone has anything I could say that would help me...I'd appreciate it.

Anyway, back to my weight loss. Feeling good. Weather is getting warmer. I need to get steps tracked for my program. My hair is once again hanging in my eyes. Something deep inside triggers that little part of my imagination that thinks, even for an instant, "Hey, if you cut your thick hair...you'll weigh less!" I laughed it off as a silly joke I could maybe tell someone in the future...if I get desperate. Then I hear myself say, "Hon! I'm gonna walk up to go get my hair cut!" Here's hoping!