Havoc and Heroes in Mumbai – from Ann in Israel

Rabbi Gavariel and Rivka Holtzberg

Today, with her permission, I am posting a direct quote from Ann Hansen in Israel. When I asked her if I could use her words, this was her reply: "Please feel free to use anything I write, and to use my name. I am passionate about the need for people to see what's happening around the world. In addition, although I didn't know the rabbi and his wife personally, I think that they were truly examples of angels walking on earth, and this would be a good way to honor their lives."

Ann is a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints who lives in Israel. Here are her thoughts:

"While focus in the US has been on Thanksgiving, and rightly so, I've been more or less glued to the news coming out of India since Wednesday night. I don't think the world will ever be able to comprehend the extent of the evil done there during the past few days. As one expert put it, a group of highly skilled, highly trained, and highly motivated young men filled with hatred went on a killing spree.

"The personal tragedies will never be fully known, except to those who experienced them, of course. Globally, this is yet another chilling reminder of the very real threat that the world is facing, regardless of who you are or where you happen to be. People determined to perpetuate evil will always find a way, and an excuse.

"Terrorist attacks in India are not new, unfortunately. My worry has been how this will affect the situation in Pakistan, which in turn will affect Afghanistan, and so on...like a row of dominoes. Pakistani forces have just finished a two-week campaign intended to damage the Taliban forces in the northwest of Pakistan. The country has a new government and is very unstable anyway. If Pakistan collapses, the entire region will go up in flames. Pakistan and India have been at war since both countries were created in 1948. The fact that most of the terrorists who committed the attacks in Mumbai [last] week are of Pakistani origin will pour fuel on the flames of an already tense situation. The attacks are also more proof of the extent and organization of the terrorist organizations who are operating in that area.

"On a more personal note, the Nariman House, which was in the news, was the Mumbai chapter of Chabad. Chabad-Lubavitchers are a stream of orthodox Jewry who are known for their charitable works and outreach programs. Ultimately they would like all Jews to return to the fold, as it were, but the function of a "Chabad House" is to provide a home for any Jew anywhere in the world. There are literally thousands of Chabad centers around the world. For example, while on his [LDS] mission, Allen [my son] and his companion attended Passover dinner at the Chabad House in the City in Russia where he lived at the time. The houses are usually staffed by a married couple (a rabbi and his wife) and have an open-door policy. If you are Jewish, no matter how religious you are or aren't, you know you can go there, get a free meal, just sit and feel at home, get help with problems, find refuge, participate in prayers if you choose to do so...whatever you need physically or spiritually. After doing their army service, many Israelis travel around the world for several months (a way to clean out their heads). Their parents know that they can send packages or leave messages at the Chabad Houses along their routes of travel, and their children will receive them when they get there. If Israelis get arrested, the Chabad people are often the ones who are the middlemen, and who provide legal help.

"This particular Chabad House in Mumbai was very well known to the thousands of Israeli backpackers in India. The rabbi was only 30, and his wife was 28. In addition to being warm, friendly people, the rabbi also ran a rehab facility to help Israelis who had become addicted to drugs during their stay in India. One of the Israeli stations yesterday rebroadcast a documentary made two years ago about this couple and the work they were doing. They were such wonderful people...helpful, cheerful and non-judgmental. What was chilling for me was to see in the background [of the documentary] the woman who saved their son [the couple's toddler] this week. The same station also interviewed returning Israelis, who were shocked. One of them had stayed with this family just the day before the attack. He said that everyone knew they had a big brother and sister out there and could be sure of a warm place to sleep and a good meal.

"That this particular place was included among the targets shows the hatred toward Israel and Jews. Unlike the other targets, this was an apartment house in a residential neighborhood, which didn't attract American or British tourists and certainly not rich, high-profile targets. I find it particularly sad that the rabbinit met her death at such an early age in India, of all places. She grew up in the city of Afula, which isn't too far from me. Afula is very close to the border of the Palestinian territories and has long been the target of terrorist attacks. In the late 80's and early 90's in particular, when she would have been in elementary school, Afula suffered  a series of bus bombings, with dozens of civilians killed. That she grew up in a city which was the target of terrorist attacks and went to India to offer selfless service to others, only to be killed herself by terrorists, is tragic. But at the same time it is a symbol of hope. Even though she was surrounded by violence and suffering her entire life, she herself could find joy and a love for mankind, which manifested itself in the service and love she showed to others. It is a lesson we should all take to heart.

"Ann"

Here is some background information about the couple, taken from Haaretz.com:

"Gabriel Holtzberg was born in Israel and moved to the Crown Heights section of Brooklyn with his parents when he was nine. His wife, born Rivka Rosenberg, was a native of Afula.

"Rabbi Gavariel and Rivka Holtzberg, the beloved directors of Chabad-Lubavitch of Mumbai, were killed during one of the worst terrorist attacks to strike India in recent memory," the Chabad's New York headquarters said in a statement.

"The couple ran the Chabad's Mumbai headquarters. Their toddler son, Moshe, was smuggled out of the center by an employee on Wednesday, and is now with his maternal grandparents, who arrived from Israel on Thursday. Another son, who was ailing, was in Israel at the time of the attack.

The Holtzbergs arrived in Mumbai in 2003 to serve the small Jewish community there."

We live in a troubled world, but those who choose to rise above the fray and show their humanity are able to lift us all. Apparently, the Holtzbergs were two such people, and they will be missed.

Echoes of Family Bliss

There's something almost eerie about waking up and walking through a home that, just yesterday, was filled to the brim (and I mean this quite literally) with loved ones. Over the weekend, 19 of my favorite people in the world were packed into rooms that now stand empty; and this morning, I can definitely hear the echoes.

The echoes include raucous laughter, (mostly) happy tears, and the intermingled (loud) voices of close family members talking simultaneously and still being understood. They also include loving words spoken softly, the shouts and squeals of children, and various other soundtracks, most of which were music to my ears. 

We did it all, from eating anything and everything in sight, to just lounging around, to watching movies, to hiking in the nearby mountains, to going to San Francisco's new California Academy of Sciences, to checking out the Christmas tree and lights at Union Square. We even filled up a couple of restaurants, one where we were given our own room! On the more spiritual side, we spent a beautiful Thanksgiving evening talking to each other about the things and people we "hold onto." We also filled two pews on Sunday morning...though I can't explain how we managed to get everyone washed and dressed (with only two showers) and still arrive on time, or relatively so.

To say we had a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend would be an understatement. Oh, true, I spent two solid days in the kitchen cooking and cleaning, but even those had their moments. And by the way, my mom made the best pies and Parker House rolls ever, even in my crazy almost-brand-new-and-distressingly-unpredictable oven (which turned out to be about 25 degrees too cold, thus explaining the issues I've been having with my baking). Yes, it takes an expert to figure these things out...and my mom does qualify.

Here's another amazing thing: Due to the heartwarming response of family members to my recent blog about hating to cook Thanksgiving dinner, my niece completely took over the stuffing, which turned out far better than anything I've ever produced and is now a gourmet legend to be repeated every other year. My daughter-in-law also earned herself a new job by creating the best mashed potatoes I or anyone else had ever tasted, using new potatoes (skins on) and heavy cream. (Like the dressing, these were above and beyond delicious!)

Even my own efforts, including the turkey itself, turned out great. My candied yams were delectable, if I do say so myself, and Susie's Favorite Jello was top-notch as well. The whipped cream salad (though almost forgotten in the mayhem that was my kitchen) was off the charts...and my mom made loaves-and-fishes amounts of gravy (i.e. more than the drippings should have allowed) that was simply perfection. Even the infamous grapefruit stuff turned out well. In fact, I'm getting hungry all over again just thinking of it.

Which is probably not a good idea, as the leftovers (not surprisingly) are completely gone! Fortunately, the leftover good feelings are not. 

Onward and upward...to Christmas!!!

(P.S. Picture to be posted at the top of this blog tomorrow, courtesy of my daughter-in-law, who is way more on-the-ball about such things than I am!)

The Four Days of Thanksgiving – Day 4 – A Thanksgiving Prayer

How Excellent Is Thy Name

c2003 by Susan Noyes Anderson

We gather now before thee, Lord, united by our humble hearts

and bow our heads in gratitude for every gift that thou imparts

How excellent is thy name in all the earth

For life and breath, for water clear, for fruit and grain in rich supply

For light of day and dark of night, for sun and moon and stars on high

How excellent is thy name in all the earth

For splendor in the seasons, for the majesty of nature's power

For beauty and serenity surrounding us in every hour

How excellent is thy name in all the earth

For health and strength and work to do; for home and family, friends and love

For this great nation and her freedoms, sacred blessings from above

How excellent is thy name in all the earth

For eyes to see and ears to hear, for hearts to feel and minds to learn

For all the gifts of joy and sorrow and the wisdom that they earn

How excellent is thy name in all the earth

For challenges and obstacles, for rugged mountains to ascend

For courage in the face of strife, for truth and honor to defend

How excellent is thy name in all the earth

For hope in times of weakness and abiding faith to make us strong

For goodness and its heritage: upholding right, forsaking wrong

How excellent is thy name in all the earth.

For knowledge of thy presence, Lord; for things to come and things before

We thank thee, God, for lovingkindness, and we praise thee evermore

How excellent is thy name in all the earth

"O Lord, our Lord–How excellent is thy name in all the earth: Who has set thy glory above the heavens...When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and stars, which thou hast ordained; what is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visiteth him? For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honour. Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet" (Psalms 8:1-9).

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Four Days of Thanksgiving – Day 3 – My Wonderful Grandma Johnson

I'm baaaa-aaack. Yes, with my annoying Four Days of Thanksgiving song. Brace yourselves, now...

"On the Third Day of Thanksgiving, my blog friend gave to me

a piece of her family history."

My Grandma Johnson really "got it" about gratitude. She knew how to find beauty in the simplest things. Maybe this is because she worked so hard as a young girl and woman. Let me share a few words from her journal:

"When I was 14, my hours were from 5:00 in the morning until 11:00 at night working for a widow with six boys and two young men boarding there who were working in my employer's General Merchandise Store. The reason for my early morning hours was that I had to make breakfast for one of those young clerks so he could go to the store and open up for the sheep men who came early to get their supplies. In the spring of the year there were many shearing camps in Soda Springs, and they had a great amount of trade from these shearing corrals. Besides the housework and cooking, I had all the washing and ironing to do for the six boys. I usually did my ironing after dinner at night and would iron until 11:00. I was paid for this work $2.00 per week, but my father took all my wages out in flour. "

This was just one of the jobs my grandmother did as a young girl. When she was finished with this particular one, she was so run down and worn out that her father had to come and get her. Her mother put her to bed and doctored her back to health.

It's a wonder they were able to survive, really. Listen to her description of their water in the fall:

"In the fall of the year, when the water was turned off, there would be some standing water in the holes in the canal. It was stagnant and full of bugs and wigglers. My mother would send me with a pail and a tin cup and a dishtowel cloth. I would tie the dish towel over the bucket and strain the wigglers out of the water. Of course, this water was then boiled, but I often wonder how we kept as healthy and free from typhoid fever. Our Heavenly Father was surely blessing those few pioneers."

Grandma Johnson always felt blessed, no matter what the conditions were. You felt it in her presence. Everything around her was a source of appreciation, and I hope I can be more like her.

A talk I gave a couple of Thanksgivings ago was largely inspired by my grandmother. Here is an excerpt:

"How often do we stop and appreciate not just colors of the sunrise but the fact that the sun rises at all? When we raise our hands to flick away an annoying insect, are we even aware of the complex neurological ballet taking place in our bodies? Does it ever occur to us to be thankful for the ability to make those intricate connections? Probably not, until something comes along to deprive us of that blessing. Christopher Reeve, once a great athlete, certainly came to appreciate the freedom of movement most of us take for granted. Shortly before his death, I watched an interview where he was speaking with heartfelt gratitude and obvious joy of a recently acquired ability, after eight years of intensive work, to move...ever so slightly...his finger. He humbled me that day.

"Acknowledging and appreciating the things we have makes sense. It also makes sense to spend some time thinking about the things we don't have. I guess this would be the 'cup-half-full' approach to gratitude. For example, rather than be sorry for ourselves because we have diabetes, we can give thanks that we don't have leukemia as well. When struggling with financial problems, we can appreciate the fact that we are not struggling with joblessness. If joblessness does become an issue...[as it certainly could in this economy]...we can be grateful that we do not, at least, have a condition or disability which precludes our ability to work at all. Anyway, you get the idea. This way of viewing problems, which I like to call the 'Survivor of the Great Depression' strategy, was used by my indomitable Grandma Johnson, an eternal optimist and one of the most grateful people I've ever met. By the way, my personal variation on Grandma's strategy is this: 'If you can't be grateful for what you have, be grateful for what you have left!'"

Grandma Johnson was one smart cookie, and I am thankful to be her granddaughter.

The Four Days of Thanksgiving: Day 2 – A Harvest Poem

Welcome to the Second Day of Thanksgiving! Watch out, because I'm going to sing to you again!

(If this is too painful, plugging your ears is definitely an option...)

"On the Second Day of Thanksgiving, my blog friend gave away 

a verse that hails and honors yesterday."

I've always felt that the harvest is a perfect symbol of the Lord's bounteous gifts to us...a reminder of the gratitude we owe him. I actually wrote this poem for a harvest-themed Young Women in Excellence program. (For those who are not members of my church, Young Women is the organization for female youth, aged 12-18.) 

Harvest Gifts

c1993, Susan Noyes Anderson

Our great grandparents knew about the harvest:

the months of labor gathered in with care,

the gratitude for every hard-earned blessing,

the love for home and hearth, the need to share.

They somehow understood, with true thanksgiving,

the beauty in the sowing they had done;

and when the season ended, in their reaping,

they sensed another cycle had begun.

For growing is the purpose of creation;

we are but branches on our Savior's vine.

The choice is ours; His table's set before us.

What will we offer Him, come harvest time?

I hope all of us can offer Him our gratitude. President Faust once said that "a grateful heart is the beginning of greatness. It is an expression of humility. It is a foundation for the development of such virtues as prayer, faith, courage, contentment, happiness, love, and well-being." But we must use it, or lose it. "Think to thank," suggests President Monson, for "he who receiveth all things with thankfulness shall be made glorious, and the things of this earth shall be added unto him, even an hundredfold, yea more" (D&C 78:19). Now THAT would be a bounteous harvest!

May we strive to enjoy the process of receiving eternal glory, and may we never be guilty of saying, "What a wonderful life I've had: I only wish I'd realized it sooner" (Collette).

The Four Days of Thanksgiving: Day 1 – An Inspiring Story

My first guests will be arriving later today, which means that Thanksgiving week has officially begun! With that in mind, I am kicking off my latest invention: The Four Days of Thanksgiving.

In the tradition of the Christmas song that inspired it, I will sing it to you...(well, cyber-sing, anyway):

On the First Day of Thanksgiving, my blog friend gave to me, a truly inspiring story.

Albert Schweitzer once said, "At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us."

On this "First Day of Thanksgiving," I think with deep gratitude of brave forebears who paved the way for all of us. They were valiant men and women for whom hardship and thanksgiving were a way of life. Reflecting upon their courage never fails to light a flame within me, and I hope I am never so careless as to take them for granted. While it is cannot be easy to appreciate trials and tribulation, their legacy proves to me that it is always possible.

Elder Steven Snow of the Seventy related this story in his October 2001 conference talk entitled "Gratitude."

"In October of 1879, a group of 237 Latter-day Saints from several small southwestern Utah settlements was called to blaze a new route and colonize what is today known as San Juan County in southeastern Utah. The journey was to have taken six weeks but instead took nearly six months. Their struggles and heroics are well documented, particularly their seemingly impossible task of crossing the Colorado River at a place called Hole-in-the-Rock. Those who have visited this place marvel that wagons and teams could have been lowered through this narrow crack in the red rock canyon walls to reach the Colorado River far below. Once the Colorado was crossed, however, many other severe tests awaited them on the trail to San Juan County. Tired and completely worn out, early in April 1880, they faced their final obstacle, Comb Ridge. The Comb is a ridge of solid sandstone forming a steep wall nearly 1,000 feet high.

"One hundred and twenty years later," Elder Snow told the conference, "[my own] family climbed Comb Ridge on a bright spring day. The ridge is steep and treacherous. It was difficult to imagine that wagons, teams, men, women, and children could make such an ascent. But beneath our feet were the scars from the wagon wheels, left as evidence of their struggles so long ago. How did they feel after enduring so much? Were they bitter after the many months of toil and privation? Did they criticize their leaders for sending them on such an arduous journey, asking them to give up so much? Our questions were answered as we reached the top of Comb Ridge. There, inscribed in the red sandstone so long ago, were the words, "We thank thee, O God."

Now thank we all our God

with hearts and hands and voices,

Who wondrous things hath done,

in Whom His world rejoices;

Who, from our mothers' arms,

hath blessed us on our way

with countless gifts of love,

and still is ours today.

 - Martin Rinkart

Thanking God is appropriate, in good times and in bad times. He is steadfastly on our side, reaching out always to heal and bless us. Nonetheless, the Savior, who is always a Giver, is too seldom a Receiver of our gratitude, and that has been true from the beginning of His earthly mission and ministry. Remember the story of the ten lepers? Only one of them came back to thank Him.

On this "First Day of Thanksgiving," my prayer for all of us is that we may be like the one...and not the nine.

Go, Utes!

I thought I'd give a shout out today to my alma mater, the University of Utah, for beating BYU yesterday...so handily, too. After the game, my husband was feeling pretty sassy about the whole thing, as was my son. In fact, both are anxiously awaiting church this morning, where they will be sporting their red U of U ties. Fortunately, I did manage to talk my husband out of the baseball cap he wanted to wear on the stand. (The one with the logo shown above.)

Of course, I was excited about the victory too, though I was never in danger of levitating or anything. In fact, I didn't even get to see the game, which wasn't televised on any of our cable stations. My husband and son did get to see it, because they called every sports bar in town until they finally found one that was playing the big game (annoyingly called a "Holy War" by the media).

Be that as it may, we're now hoping the U gets into a BCS bowl like the 2004-5 team did. That Utah team, if you remember, was the first ever from a non-BCS league to go to a BCS bowl game. The Utes defeated Pittsburgh (in the Fiesta Bowl) by three touchdowns or so, but ended up ranked only 4th...with an undefeated season...because they didn't get to play the team that would have proven something. (Waaaay TMI, I know, but I remember this vividly because my husband and our three sons were NOT happy.)

Did you know this little factlet about the U? In 2005 it was the only school ever to produce the top draft picks for both the NFL and the NBA in the same year. (Alex Smith for the SF 49ers and Andrew Bogut for the Milwaukee Bucks.) Pretty cool, huh?

No wonder my husband will always answer the query, "Who am I, sir?" with "A Utah man am I!" (Not that anyone ever queries him about that...)

PS. If you are a BYU fan, I want to take this opportunity to extend the olive branch of friendship by saying "better luck next year"! 

With every team but the Utes, of course!   =)

Confession: I Hate Cooking Thanksgiving Dinner

It's true. I hate cooking Thanksgiving dinner. In fact, I don't like cooking anything, but today I want to focus specifically on turkey, dressing, candied yams, mashed potatoes, and gravy.

Fortunately, I don't have to focus on the Parker House rolls or pumpkin pie because my mom makes those. However, much as I love eating her pie and rolls, I don't exactly relish her cooking of them, as she must accomplish this feat at my severely baking-challenged home, where she inevitably battles with my oven, my poorly conceived utensils, or both. (Amazingly, she still manages to make all of her creations taste delicious, but the process ain't always pretty.)

It's not just the baking I detest, by the way. I also don't like making Susie's Favorite Jello (my signature dish from childhood, consisting of two-layered strawberry jello with sour cream in the middle and pineapple, berries, and bananas inside). Even worse, I can't seem to let go of producing it every year, despite assurances from my family that they'd be entirely cool with it if I stopped altogether. But what would Thanksgiving be without Susie's Favorite Jello? I shudder to think!

I also make a fruit and whipped cream salad that I dislike putting together because it's so darned difficult to get the fruit drained adequately. If you leave too much juice, the whole thing turns out goopy instead of fluffy. *sigh*

But the worst...the very worst thing of all is the traditional appetizer my family refuses to give up. Each year, they beg me to mass produce it, not just for Thanksgiving, but for Christmas as well. What is this essential holiday fare? The Grapefruit Stuff (an inheritance from my mother-in-law). I must admit it was an easy recipe to make in the good old days, when they had such things as unsweetened grapefruit available in cans. Now the elusive unsweetened wedges are nearly impossible to find; and I end up having to peel a fresh grapefruit, cut it up, get the seeds out, then try to make it sour enough by adding just the right amount of unsweetened grapefruit juice to mimic what I used to be able to buy in a soup-sized can. Following that lovely task, I have to dice maraschino cherries into little tiny bits, turning my hands red all the way up to my elbows (okay, I'm a messy cutter) and creating such a sticky mess that it takes several days for my kitchen work space to recover. Believe me when I say that these cherries feel icky, icky, icky on your skin, and they stain anything and everything they touch. Not good.

Throw in the responsibility for making the tables look lovely, warm, and inviting when I am not crafty AT ALL, and you will have a pretty good picture of my Thanksgiving cooking experience. (A friend down the street used to help me out with the decorating part, but she moved several years ago. Can you believe she left me in the lurch just so her husband could have a job?)

Anyway, here's the kicker. I still love Thanksgiving. I guess the upside (my whole family being here and the sharing-type program afterwards that I actually enjoy preparing) tips the scales in Thanksgiving's favor. Well, more than tips the scales, actually. Makes it one of the best days of the year.

Hopefully I can remember that when I'm fishing slimy giblets out of my turkey this Thursday.  =)

Dancing with the Stars: Say What?

Okay, I'm just going to lay it on the line here. The Dancing with the Stars results this week were a travesty! Can anyone out in blog land explain to me how Warren was in any way better than Cody? And while you're in the explaining mode, what exactly is it about Warren that makes the judges show him such favoritism? Sure, he's a great guy, and I agree that it's kinda cute the way he dances with so much enthusiasm, but let's get real. The guy moves his feet like two lead bricks.

Is it a personality thing? Because if it's personality they're judging these days on DWTS, Cody seems like a pretty nice kid himself. What's more, his little puppy dog face is every bit as "cute" as Warren's wide-eyed charm (not that I am particularly fond of either, by the way). Having said that, I AM particularly fond of this idea: How about judging the competition on the merit of the dances? What a concept!

Here's my take on it. Cody and Julianne did two top-notch performances Monday night (including their paso doble, by the way, which I completely loved and the judges even more completely hated). So what's the deal with these judges, anyhoo? Are they: 

(1) significantly impaired? (2) incredibly biased? (3) on the take?

If Warren wins the final next week, I'll be putting my money on number 3.

A Moment on the Lips...

A couple of weeks ago, I took the bit in my teeth (and the cookie out of my mouth) and joined Weight Watchers. On my first trip around this particular block, I was pregnant with my one and only daughter. I'm happy to report that we joined as a team this time as well, with the marked difference being that she is no longer in utero...for which we are both grateful.

In the interim period between my Weight Watchers memberships, I did manage to lose every single extra pound several times with Jenny Craig. Good ole Jenny's a great friend in the short run, but she can't seem to come through for me in the long haul. I mean, how many meat loaf dinners and salisbury steaks can a person eat, especially when they're served up on a tiny piece of black plastic masquerading as a plate? At some point, a woman's just gotta learn to feed herself!

Of course, I did feed myself when I was counting (and avoiding) carbs. The problem is that the feeding experience itself wasn't all that enjoyable. Again, how man turkey patties and chicken breasts can one carbohydrate-craving gal swallow?

The Zone? Not exactly a touchdown for me either. It did make me feel balanced, virtuous, and healthy...even somewhat satisfied! It didn't, unfortunately, make me thinner. In fact, I lost nary an ounce.

So here's my hypothesis. There has to be a way to lose the surplus pounds and never, ever find them again. I'm talking now about a game plan I could actually incorporate into my life without wanting to commit hari-kari...or murder. And that, my friends (I seem to be channeling John McCain now), is the goal I am pursuing.

I chose Weight Watchers because the flexible point system seems to be better than anything else I've tried. (Besides, I have a friend at church who has lost weight slowly but surely and seems to be keeping it off.) Unbeknownst to her, she has now become my prototype. Hi, Sheila.

The first week, I lost four pounds. (Salute me.) The second week? Zip. Zero. (Shoot me.) 

Please.

But wait! Hold your fire!...This isn't a diet; it's a live-it. And besides, nothing tastes as good as being thin feels. Nothing.

Terrific. Now I'm channeling my Weight Watchers leader. (Anybody got a rotten tomato?)

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Dieter's Lament

c1992, by Susan Noyes Anderson, Infinity Limited

They tell me

that I'm getting

thinner.

"Dwindling away to

nothing"

was the phrase.

Naturally, I love it

and it's going

to my head.

I get off on all the

second looks and

praise.

There's just

one

little

stone

that mars my course.

I'm so

hungry

I could easily eat

a horse.