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It might be a good idea to take a good look at the military and those whom we love who will be called to serve before you cast your vote in November for the next President of the United States. Our military forces are covering two fronts at the moment.

Mr. Putin (leader of Russia) is behaving very badly and extremely bold because he is well aware of our inability to cover a third front adequately. We can rattle our saber all we want, we can make all the threats in the world, but unless we have the troops to follow through with the threats, the Russians will not behave with any reduction in boldness. It is just the opportunity they have been waiting for, for more than 25 years.

Our sons, husbands and brothers will be the ones called upon to defend our nation next. Remember Pearl Harbor and the Twin Towers? Shame on anyone who says we deserved those attacks. When non-combatants are attacked, only a traitor to our nation would speak words of apology to those who conducted the attack!!

So, when the next hostile attack against the United States comes upon our soil, what man do you want in charge of the men you love? What presidential candidate do you trust when you consider that the blood spilt may belong to your son or husband?

Don’t pick a presidential candidate just because you feel confident he won’t send your men into harms way, pick the presidential candidate who can lead when hard choices must be made. Normandy was a tough choice, the ocean turned red with the blood of our American men who fought to take that beach, but they had to perform that selfless mission. Their sacrifice preserved our freedom.

Taking no action emboldens our enemies. You can be certain that our enemies will become bolder; the men of our nation will be called upon to defend our way of life; consider carefully who you cast your vote for, because he will be the one that leads them.

The most common statement I hear from this election year is the promise of change. Most of the problems that exist today are because of the many ways our Constitution has been amended over the years; the laws, the legislation, the judgements. I’m all for change, but the change I desire to witness would be to change back to simpler ways, eliminating much of the gray areas.

What specific changes would I want to see? I want to see a united United States. I want to see a “one Nation under God, indivisible” country. I want to see every able body person doing as much as possible not to be a burden to others. I want to see a can do spirit revived in our nation. I want to see representatives who are not interested in becoming more powerful by making our citizens more dependants upon government. I want to see change in the attitudes of our representatives demonstrating that they know the money they are spending is not their own, it is borrowed from the hard working citizens of this nation. Less taxation is a change I could live with. Less taxation for everyone, including the rich.

Maybe it’s time that everyone takes a look at where the money comes from that the government dishes out. You want free medical care and housing for unwed mothers, the working people won’t mind if you pick some money out of their pocket and give it to them. You want to send aid to foreign nations, ok, just take a couple more dollars from the workingman. You want to bail out the mortgage companies? No problem, take a few bucks from the workingman. National health care for everyone? Go ahead; take a few more dollars from the workingman again.

Better not let the workingman know what you’re doing or maybe he will stop working.
]]> http://www.joplinglobeonline.com/znewsblog/woitowitz/?entry=entry080824-214005 webadmin@joplinglobe.com Mon, 25 Aug 2008 02:40:05 GMT http://www.joplinglobeonline.com/znewsblog/woitowitz/comments.php?y=08&m=08&entry=entry080824-214005 http://www.joplinglobeonline.com/znewsblog/woitowitz/index.php?entry=entry080823-112600
What did it cost? The price I paid in dollars was pretty high, but I believe there will be a future return on that investment. The price my body paid, OH! My Goodness!! The last time my body had been pushed as hard as Sunday last, maybe boot camp back in 1980. But I was a lot younger and was unaware of the agony back then. It took three days and a full body massage to get the knots out of many of my limbs, not to mention my abdominal muscle and my oblique muscles (sides). I don’t know exactly what it would feel like to be hit by a bus, but I am seriously certain, allowing for the absence of broken bones, my stiffness and soreness was akin to having been hit by a bus and lived.

My mother came to my house Saturday to stay with the boys. Chris and I departed early in the afternoon arriving in Stillwater, OK around dinnertime (3 hour drive). I was unaware Saturday evening that I might have been partaking of my last meal. I had no idea there was a near death experience waiting for me on Sunday.

I should have known the day was not going to go easy for me when I mistakenly read the clock 5:45 am when it was truly 4:45 am. I had Chris set the alarm for 6 am before we went to sleep, so when I woke on my own, looked at the clock and saw it was 5:45, I decided to get up, get ready and get an early start on breakfast so it would have a little while to digest before the first exercise session began at 8 am.

I showered, dressed and took care of all the other things the average female does before she is ready for public viewing. I put on a pot of coffee that is complementary in the room and then sat down to put my shoes on. Chris was still sleeping when he heard me moving around he asked me, “What are you doing?” I told him, “ I’m getting a head start by waking up a little bit before the alarm goes off.” He then informed me that it was only 4:55 am.

I sipped coffee and watched various channels on the television until around 6 am when the hotel began serving breakfast and Chris was up and dressed. At around 7:30 am, Chris drove me to the site of my near death experience, the Stillwater YMCA. He returned to the hotel to clean up and gather our things and check out prior to noon. At 8 am the instructor led us down into a basement to a smallish mirrored dance room and commenced the torture session, she called it the “Master’s Program”.

I only heard of Zumba two months before, I had spent approximately 20 hours drilling and practicing the routines from the videos I had purchased for two weeks prior to the workshop; I had never attended even one Zumba class. I was concerned about many things, but my biggest concern was whether I could tolerate a full day of group exercise. The Master’s program was one hour long. I made it!! The workshop guide I had printed informed me there would be one hour of dance followed by one hour of lecture, alternating back and forth between dancing and lecturing until approximately 6 pm. I was pretty confident I could tolerate four or five hours of dancing, as long as there was a decent break between each so I could regain my senses.

The instructor didn’t enjoy reading or lecturing, she preferred to use our time together dancing. OK, I can handle this. I’ve given birth five times. I have completed Navy boot camp. I have survived many things harder than dancing for an entire day.

After her announcement of no lectures (met with applause from some of the others in our gathering), we returned to the basement to resume our dancing practice. It’s still a blur what we did in the basement, I was the only one who did not bring a change of clothes, so when she dismissed us at noon to go to lunch (warning to eat lightly), I climbed out off the basement weary to find Chris sitting at the front entrance. His first statement, “Are you going to be OK?” I answered, “I don’t know.”

He had brought me a combo meal from Wendy’s. I took the hamburger with ketchup only and told him he could have the rest because the instructor had warned us to eat a light lunch, we will be right back on the dance floor immediately after lunch.

I don’t recall much after he brought me back after lunch. I know we danced and danced and danced. Then she told us to bring our completed critique form to the front when we hear our name called and we would be given our certificate and we could then depart.

I was starving when Chris walked me out to the car. He parked at the furthest point of the parking lot next door to the YMCA. He kept asking me if I was going to be OK? I kept telling him, “I don’t know.” We went to Josepi’s Italian restaurant near the hotel we had stayed at before we headed home. God has an incredible sense of humor. In all honesty I didn’t fully appreciate the humor in what happened next until Monday, but it was really hilarious. We were seated almost immediately, luckily because I wasn’t going to be capable of standing for long. After we were seated and handed menus, I tried to focus and select a dinner. I must have taken a long time, because the waiter came by the table three times asking for our order before I could tell him what I wanted and even then I wasn’t ready to order but I picked the “Mediterranean Chicken” pasta dinner because is sounded good. He brought an appetizer and beverages. Then our meals arrived. Chris ordered lasagna. I scooped up a fork full of bow tie noodles and chicken, I placed the bite into my mouth, then shock and awe nearly overwhelmed me when I discovered this was hotter than five alarm chili!! I cannot and never have been able to handle spicy hot food. I lived in the Mediterranean for six years and had never discovered any spicy foods at any restaurant I went to there. Lots of garlic, but no “worse than five alarm chili” flavors. I insisted that Chris taste it and make sure I wasn’t suffering from some sort of malady from the extensive exercise session (delirium). He tasted it and said, “Woo Hoo, that’s spicy.” I asked him if he would trade me dinners? He said, “I don’t think so.”

The waiter stopped by to ask if everything was ok? I told him that my dinner was so hot it was burning my tongue, lips and inside cheeks. I was nibbling pieces of bread and gulping my tea to put out the fire inside my mouth. The waiter fetched a menu and pointed out to me the previously overlooked mention under the dinner “spicy”. I asked him to take my plate away; I could no way eat it. He asked me if I would like another one without “spicy”. I said, “Oh, yes, please, bring me one of these that won’t set my mouth on fire, I am so starving, yes, please.” I continued to nibble on pieces of bread and gulping tea trying to get the fire out. It didn’t take very long, but when the waiter came to the table with the new version of the dinner and set it in front of me, I couldn’t eat it. I was stuffed with bread. I was still so, so hungry, but I couldn’t eat it. I went to the bathroom, Chris got a to go box and we took my dinner home uneaten.

We arrived home some time after 10 pm. I made it up the stairs to our bedroom. I showered, finally getting out of the dried, formerly sweaty, soak and wet clothes I had been wearing all day. I crawled into bed and did not remember what an alarm clock was when it went off sometime before 4 am.

If life were a sitcom, last weekend would have been a laugh fest episode. It now cracks me up when I think about it. I love ironic comedy. Lucky for me, my life is full of ironic comedy. For example: I was never going to get married and have kids. I began saying that when I was a young teen. Chris and I just celebrated 20 years of marriage and we have five sons!! That’s irony. Chris doesn’t enjoy ironic comedy as much as I do, actually he doesn’t enjoy ironic comedy much at all, so he is always telling me that something I think is hilarious, isn’t funny at all. I try to explain it to him, but when you explain it, it isn’t funny. He’s more of a “Three Stooges” kind of comedy. Maybe it’s a guy thing. Daniel, my 11 year old, came down to the laundry room this morning laughing like crazy because he had looked at the political cartoon in the news paper and saw Winnie the Putin holding Piglet by the neck in his left hand and a fork in his right hand saying, “I’m rumbly in my tumbly.” Of course he didn’t understand what the cartoon was depicting, he thought Putin was pronounced Puttin. That is the kind of comedy the guys like.

Now you all know why there was no blog entry last weekend. I lived. I’m back. I’m certified and I will be leading my first Zumba class September 2nd!!
]]> http://www.joplinglobeonline.com/znewsblog/woitowitz/?entry=entry080823-112600 webadmin@joplinglobe.com Sat, 23 Aug 2008 16:26:00 GMT http://www.joplinglobeonline.com/znewsblog/woitowitz/comments.php?y=08&m=08&entry=entry080823-112600 http://www.joplinglobeonline.com/znewsblog/woitowitz/index.php?entry=entry080810-095538
I dread attending industry events like this one because I am always the oldest and biggest one present. My friends tell me that I look great now and I will be the same size as everyone else there this time, but I know better. It's bad enough to stand out because I look different, but it becomes even more uncomfortable if I also were to stand out because my skill level was inferior to everyone else's present.

So, Thursday I spent four hours drilling the Zumba moves and strained my right knee pretty seriously. It was swollen and painful all day. I only practiced a little more than 30 minutes Friday. Yesterday I viewed the DVD routines and let my knee rest. Later today, after church, I will spend a couple 2 or 3 hours working on it again.

I hope to be an ambassador when I attend the workshop. If I do turn out to be the oldest and biggest one attending, if I demonstrate skill and ability superior to what the other's would expect out of someone my age and size, then maybe when they return to their own home areas, they won't discourage an older, overweight woman from trying their class because they saw what I was able to do.

Overweight people need to move more, but stigmas and judgements by others are a constant obstacle. We have to reduce the number of obstacles that exist if we are ever going to beat the overweight problem in our country.]]> http://www.joplinglobeonline.com/znewsblog/woitowitz/?entry=entry080810-095538 webadmin@joplinglobe.com Sun, 10 Aug 2008 14:55:38 GMT http://www.joplinglobeonline.com/znewsblog/woitowitz/comments.php?y=08&m=08&entry=entry080810-095538 http://www.joplinglobeonline.com/znewsblog/woitowitz/index.php?entry=entry080810-094345
The two Chihuahuas are named Belly-belly and Candy. Belly is approximately 10 years old and weighs 14 pounds. She is on a diet. Her food is strictly controlled except for the times that my Father is at home (long haul truck driver), he slips table scraps to the dogs because they stare at him and he thinks they appear hungry. If my mother catches him she scolds him and nags him about why he shouldn’t feed Belly table scraps, he ignores her and later it will be repeated line for line all over again when he slips the dog some of his ice cream. Candy is only about 3 years old and she is not overweight, but because of Belly’s weight problem, Candy is also on a diet.

My mother is always talking about the difficulty she is having keeping Belly on her diet. Belly has a tendency to eat her food and Candy’s food as fast as she can. Because of Belly’s morbid obesity she has difficulty breathing, she can’t climb up on the furniture without a boost up, she has frequent seizures if she gets too excited. It is difficult to watch her move because it is obvious how much effort is required to take each step. She has recently been diagnosed with arthritis. Candy was purchased to keep Belly cheered up. Belly just needed a friend to encourage her not to lie around so much. The food rationing and eating separation, plus my father has not been home except two days a month lately, Belly has dropped a pound. She has monthly vet appointments to keep track of how she is doing.

So, what? Losing weight is hard. There are people in our lives who give us things we know better than to put in our mouths. We have to control food consumption and if you have a friend who is willing to encourage you not to lie around you are truly blessed.

Yesterday, the three boys were sitting with me while I was drinking my morning coffee. We don’t have television so the children interact with us quite a bit. During our conversation the boys timidly came to a subject that had been bothering them since the day before when they were playing with my friend’s little girl. The little girl told them that they would wish her mom was their mom because her mom was a lot more fun than their mom. They didn’t like her saying that and they wanted to see what my reaction was if they told me the troubling statement she had made.

I took a sip of my coffee and then explained why the little girl made her statement. The fun things her and her mother share together are different than the fun things the boys and I share together. The two of them play dress up, they do fun hairstyles together, her mom paints her fingernails and toenails and they play with Barbie’s and baby dolls together.

I gave the boys a moment to mull it over while I took another sip of my coffee. Then I volunteered to be more fun if they wanted me to. I have lots of nail polish in a basket in the living room. It would be difficult to do their hair because they have the summer buzz cut growing out and they don’t have any dolls or Barbie’s. But I am very willing to do the fingernail toenail thing. They didn’t think any of those things sounded like fun at all. Not one of them wanted me to paint their nails. They decided her mom wasn’t more fun than their mom after all.

I hope this helps them in the future that just because someone tells them they are missing out on a better time somewhere else, they might remember that Saturday morning over coffee when their mother told them about how one person’s good time might be another person’s nightmare.

Unfortunately, because of this Saturday morning conversation, I have closed the door to an opportunity to allow my friend to reciprocate by taking the boys once in a while. I don’t think my boys will have any desire to go to my friend’s house now for a visit because they know what kind of things are done at her house for fun.


]]> http://www.joplinglobeonline.com/znewsblog/woitowitz/?entry=entry080810-094345 webadmin@joplinglobe.com Sun, 10 Aug 2008 14:43:45 GMT http://www.joplinglobeonline.com/znewsblog/woitowitz/comments.php?y=08&m=08&entry=entry080810-094345 http://www.joplinglobeonline.com/znewsblog/woitowitz/index.php?entry=entry080802-202714
I decided to blog about the store incident because while I was sharing the story with my mother she became so angry with the young woman for saying such mean and cruel things to my friend. Looking at it from the point of view of someone spoken to that way (I have had similar experiences), I believe it was wrong and in bad taste.

Why would anyone have a bad attitude towards overweight people? Could it be that a previous overweight person became enraged because she could not find anything in the store that was her size? Could it be that a previous overweight person complained to her in a hostile and cruel tone what a waste of time it was to walk all the way from a distant parking place, because she couldn’t park directly in front of the store, just to find out they didn’t carry her size. I don’t know what would trigger a young woman to treat a prospective customer in an unwelcome manner, but lots of people don’t like serving overweight people.

I remember the inspections my food would receive when I went to eat in a restaurant. I remember not being capable of fitting into an amusement park ride. I remember not being capable of fitting into the waiting room chairs at the doctor’s office. I remember not being capable of fitting into the dentist’s treatment chair. I remember having to shop online for my clothing because size 32 was not carried locally. I remember sleeping in an oversized recliner because I couldn’t breathe if I lay down in my bed. I remember not fitting into the bathtub. Even attempting to sit in the tub would have been a big mistake, how would I have gotten out?

My point? I caused people more work when I was obese/overweight. I consumed larger portions of food. I had to have a table, could not fit into a booth. I had to stand in the waiting room or risk the chance of getting stuck in a chair; so special chairs would have to be purchased to accommodate me. The arm of the treatment chair at the dentist’s office had to remain in the up position because of the width of my hips, and then I didn’t have anywhere to place my right arm. Furniture wore out faster, and then we would blame it on sloppy construction of the furniture. Let’s face it, when I was overweight, more material was needed for my clothing, more sturdy materials were required for the furniture I used, more space was required when I went anywhere. My hips and knees would cause me extreme discomfort if I stood or walked very far or very long, so I couldn’t endure long waits and I am pretty sure I was probably cranky a lot of the time.

So What? After a great deal of thought and consideration I have decided, it is not nice to be impatient with anyone, EVER. I understand the pain my friend experienced because of the words spoken by the young woman. I also understand the frustration of the young woman who may have had to deal with cranky overweight women in the past. She has probably had just as many cranky non-overweight customers to serve, but she likely put up with them because in her mind she was more likely to earn commission money off of them.
]]> http://www.joplinglobeonline.com/znewsblog/woitowitz/?entry=entry080802-202714 webadmin@joplinglobe.com Sun, 03 Aug 2008 01:27:14 GMT http://www.joplinglobeonline.com/znewsblog/woitowitz/comments.php?y=08&m=08&entry=entry080802-202714