#24 Life Begins at 90 BITING

Blog 24 – BITING

This time I have written about a problem - only to be read by people who do not complain ….

    

Nothing in our body was programmed for so long, to live past 90?! We have artificially, through brilliant inventions, managed to repair most anything.

I have had a new hip and both knees replaced,  a face lift 20 years ago to look younger; we concoct all kinds of ugly green drinks to swallow to clean up our  liver and stomach (sort of a roto-rooter for our clogged veins) thus permitting our heart to beat much longer then it was designed for.

What I am concerned about is my teeth -  biting in particular.

Remember biting into an apple when we were young? No problem,  just  fun!

Well, do not try it now please. Also, a nice bagel with cream cheese and lox?  Rather ask the nice man to cut it for you into smaller pieces and just pop it in.

    

I just returned from my very capable  dentist (many diplomas hanging around  for reassurance)  and found out that I grind my teeth in my sleep,  and therefore my teeth  break in places or get slowly worn down.  By the way do not try to shop around for a cheaper dentist - there is no such person around.

They have in the office a list of repair prices.  So pick one you like who is an interesting person, with sense of humor, and knows his business.  Why settle for less if the price is the same?

  

In Summer I have my teeth cleaned by a modest dentist working alone in Cape Cod without a big office or assistants to help, yet the prices are almost the same..

This awareness of the dangers of biting into something hard continued for many years until last summer when I forgot my own advice and have bitten too many times into hard food.

I lost half of my front tooth which had to be fixed with a hot special bonding tool and compound.  Had to go to the dentist at the Cape who usually only cleans my teeth, (not my regular genius dentist in Winter).  “No problem,” he said.  “I can fix it.” He did-- and we hoped it will last to the end of my life.

Always the optimist, I ate happily, biting away on harder foods.

One sunny day recently in Sedona I felt something moving between my front teeth, so I visit my talented regular “problem fixer.”

“Am I imagining doctor something jumping around in my mouth?” 

“No-- you are not imagining it”  the dentist replied.

The whole filling put in a year ago did not last and had to be redone.

Now there were three people around me, giving an injection to feel comfortable and each one with all kinds of tools just invented.  One hour later and 300 dollars poorer out I go with a stiff upper lip and trying to smile.

Some repairs I have needed for my teeth are over 1000 dollars (and these are just small repairs).  My daughter promised to talk to our bookkeeper about deducting this from my taxes- not to worry.

As usual I started thinking of my home in Krakow Poland where my brother and I ate dinner with our parents at 2 pm each day. I remember always seeing next to my father’s dish cut up pieces of bread and I wondered why.  Now I understand -no biting!!!!!

All the same problems come to the one who managed to live past 90-  just hope the money will last – or maybe finally  to get  false teeth put into a  glass cheerfully at night?  Why bother with such trifles?  One should be grateful to have gifted, good-looking, kind  children and grandchildren.  I can walk, read, drive a car (during the day and not far), see friends, listen to  music….so much to be grateful for.

Just remember - no biting into a hard bagel!

  

- Nika Fleissig

Please Read My Blog Here:
http://www.lifebeginsat90.blogspot.com/

Order our book, From Miracle To Miracle: A Story of Survival (via PayPal):
http://www.FromMiracleToMiracle.com

Please view my art here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/nikafleissig/

blog 23 Cooking

Life Begins at 90, Blog by Nika Fleissig

Sunday, March 8, 2015

All previous blogs were written triggered by some event that reminded me of the past. Today is no exception.

     

Yesterday I had lunch with two friends in an elegant hotel with a magnificent view, and the conversation turned to cooking and enjoying food.

The two educated, successful, retired ladies both said in unison,  “We never cook!”

Here goes what I remember vividly about arriving in the U.S. never having made a meal in my life, as I had had no opportunity to cook while growing up in my parents’ home… there was a maid who cooked.

And…during  WWII there was not much to cook!!  So here comes the end of the war and I arrive  as a total greenhorn in America, the Land of Plenty.

In Poland, a chicken was bought live and the maid, a peasant girl from the country usually, had to kill it and clean it – a big job.

Here I saw for the first time a chicken in the supermarket (there was no such thing in Krakow, Poland when I was a young girl…only small neighborhood little stores run by the families who knew what every customer ate and liked).

I see a clean, appetizing chicken wrapped in plastic ready for the oven. I could not believe my eyes.

   

Back to my married life  as a young refugee after years of war  and deprivation.

All was here in front of me and yet I had no idea what to do with it or how it is called by name -  the appetizing meat I saw.

Ladies in the neighborhood tried to teach me- and it usually ended in disaster. My husband, a metallurgical engineer who came to buy machinery in the U.S. before the War, had gotten stuck in the States with other people who had come to America  in 1939  for the Worlds Fair and could never return to their homes in Europe.  They all lost their families.  

Today I marvel at his patience.  I once wanted to make him a delicacy… I thought I was buying brains which cook up in a short time, and I bought lung instead which takes hours and hours of cooking and tenderizing.  To you this might sound like an awful dish, but truly it was a treat in Poland.  However, since I bought the wrong cut it had the consistency of rubber. The poor man said “not so bad” as he valiantly chewed this impossibly tough piece of organ meat.

Ah, but rescue came!   Fred had three assistants in the Loewy firm of heavy industry.  One of them was Howard Libby, in truth, not a great engineer but a marvelous  cook - this was a hobby he had acquired while living in Paris before the war  and taking rich ladies to the best restaurants.

One day Howard said to me, “I love and respect your husband, and this cannot continue. I offer to come every week end and teach you to become a gourmet cook.”

     

And so it was.  We started at the beginning.  When I was very good  he invited me to NY apartment (no worry, he was gay), and prepared a feast which I thoroughly enjoyed and asked for the recipe. The sauce alone took 3 days to make  -  “Poulet en Cocotte” by name.

One day when I felt I learned enough to dare inviting a senior vice president of General Electric and his wife who had been introduced to us to dinner, I decided I was going to cook the elegant and tasty chicken dish I had just learned how to make.  Every other person at the table ate it with great pleasure, but Mr.Young's plate had all the chicken still untouched.  He kind of pushed it around, but I could tell he had not really eaten any.

Usually I had something small prepared in case someone did not like what I made-but this time I was so very sure of my offering that I had nothing else prepared.

The story goes, Mr. Young told us that as a young employee of General Electric he had had to travel a lot. There was the inevitable undercooked chicken served with blood showing, and since then he had vowed that anything F.O.W.L. he would not touch.  Forget it.   

When my children Alicia and Willy were more grown up, every time something especially good tasting was served and they oohed and aahed and complimented me, I looked to heaven (as Howard had passed away) and said to myself, “Thank you Howard!”

When  I got stuck painting something very frustrating and  difficult, and needed to accomplish something, I looked in my Gourmet Magazine to find a delicious  sounding recipe.  I made it and then worried who to invite to eat it with us. In America at the time the normal dinner was steak and potatoes, but I wanted something with more taste, sauce, spices, finesse.

Cooking enriched my life.  Now as an old woman I rarely cook any more…   my daughter took over.  I am left with memories and funny stories.  

I thought this will amuse you on this day of the Purim spiel where everyone in the synagogue dressed up in costume and had a great time, as a cast of members retold the story of Esther with a British updated twist and songs adapted from Beatles and other British songwriters.  I am sure each one of you has a similar story to tell about the beginnings as a housewife.   I would appreciate your comments.   Shalom!!!!

Life Begins at Ninety #22 Courage

Nika’s Blog Life Begins at Ninety    #22 COURAGE

As we know, the Wizard of Oz doesn’t exist and cannot give us courage, a heart, or a brain.  In that case, when we grow up we have to find out where the quality of courage is and how to acquire it.

When you are very young you have no power.   When you become a teenager or young adult suddenly situations arise where you have to fight for something. Nothing comes by itself. Or, you have the choice just to let things go as they are, and then either complain or accept it. To find out who you really are only happens through adversity, I think. When you see injustice, do you look the other way or object to it, or fight for what you believe in? I believe this courage and strength to fight and challenge and object for what you believe is right stays with you the rest of your life... this strength. That also fits when you are married; fighting for your children.  e.g. In Europe and Switzerland, punishments are pretty old fashioned.

Here is a small example from our family life. When my son and daughter were in Gstaad, Switzerland, in a kinderheim (“children’s home” boarding school or summer camp) as young children, the supervisor punished my son, then 6 years old, by putting him to bed during the day. These mademoiselles took care of children for many years, as this was a very established boarding school year round.  I asked myself if I had the courage to tell them they are wrong.  I decided to fight for my son.  I said,

“I do not want to teach you your business, but there are many ways to correct a child.  I love my bed, and I don’t want him to hate his bed forever.  Could you find a different punishment?”  So here is what came of it – my son was put to clean the mud from 30 pairs of hiking boots.  I must congratulate the lady in charge. Instead of being angry she said, “I never thought about it that way. Thank you.” 

Daughter Alicia adds:  “I’ll never forget that morning at the kinderheim coming to breakfast and not seeing my little brother in the dining room. I searched, and finally found him down in the cellar where they kept all the hiking boots lined up, caked with mud from the last excursion.  There was Willy, a tiny 6 year-old in a bathrobe, with a brush and cloth, cleaning off the hard mud from rows of heavy boots.  He looked up at me with a pitiful expression, and my heart melted. But he finished his task, and came up to breakfast, proclaiming that he now knew how to shine boots the very best way. I was proud of how he handled it.  I never knew that our mother had talked to the mademoiselle in charge (she was a bit frightening, at least to us) to alter the punishment.  We did have fun there most of the time, learned some French, took incredible hikes in the surrounding mountains, and adjusted to what we thought were odd customs, like how to hold one’s fork and knife; keeping the same cloth napkin in a ring for several days, taking naps every day outside after lunch….  By the way, I was always careful to scrape mud as much as possible off of my boots when returning from a hike after that, although Willy never had to shine them up again.

During their growing up years these situations came up often in the children’s regular school, and you have to pick your battles….not complain about everything.  But I found that I had fought injustice since I was little. Now... does one learn this or is it an innate quality?  I am convinced that everything we have is in us; only the situation calls for action and then you find out who you are... brave or afraid.  I have a feeling this also applies in business and in every relationship. To stand up for what you believe in takes courage... and yet you also have to know when to bend and have a sense of humor... what is important and what is not.   It is easy to blame other circumstances and people when one doesn’t succeed in some effort... it could be because you lacked courage. Never blame other people.  Rather, look inside of yourself.

When the Yom Kippur War broke out in 1973 in Israel, my husband Fred wanted to send a ticket for Alicia to return home, as she was living and working in Jerusalem at that time.  I said, “We shouldn’t interrupt her decision-making as an adult.  She has to experience real life.  I forbad him from sending the ticket.  Remember he had lost a wife and child in WWII. My daughter as an adult had the right to make a decision. 

Daughter Alicia adds:  If you can believe this, I felt almost a sense of relief when that war broke out.  Now, I was much much safer in Israel than my mother had been in Poland during the Second World War, but it was a war nevertheless.  In some unconscious way I had been paralleling my mother’s life in my mind.  When I was 18, I went off to college, but somewhere in my mind I was aware that these were the years my mother was in the shadow of war.  When I was 25 and already a teacher of French in an upscale Connecticut high school, I asked myself, “At this age, my mother was liberated, came to the US, started a new life after losing her whole family, and here I am teaching rich kids French.  What am I doing for my own people?”  A few months after that, I made arrangements to spend six months on a kibbutz, learning Hebrew and exploring what life is like in Israel.  At the end of the ulpan work-study program in Israel, I moved to Jerusalem, signed up for the government tour guide course, and began work at the one Israeli television station that existed at that time.  When war broke out in October of 1973, I telexed my father at his office that I was staying.  I cut my hair short, took over several jobs at the TV station since most of the men were called to the front, helped the mothers with their children in the apartment building where I lived, cleared and prepared the safe area under the stairwell in case of air raids, and felt that finally I was proving myself. After that I felt I was an adult, and ready to marry.  In 1974 I did marry Itzhak Magal who left the kibbutz and worked in TV and film.  We had two children in Jerusalem before moving to Los Angeles in late 1978. I showed a different kind of courage from my mother, and am still learning on which occasions to stand up for justice, in our family, congregation, community, and larger world issues.

- Nika Fleissig

Please Read My Blog Here:
http://www.lifebeginsat90.blogspot.com/

Order our book, From Miracle To Miracle: A Story of Survival (via PayPal):
http://www.FromMiracleToMiracle.com

Please view my art here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/nikafleissig/

#21 Trusting Your Own Instinct: Two Stories - Skiing during the School Year, and Coal during the War

Nika’s Blog #21 Life Begins at 90:  Trusting Your Own Instinct

Every blog posting I have written is triggered by some event close to home. My memories are buzzing in my head ---- looked at now from the perspective of advanced age.

In the world in which I grew up, the father was the head of the family; mothers did not work but had enough to keep them busy training help and supervising the upbringing of children.

To question authority was unthinkable. A little child had to be quiet and obey.

Here I come, a born fighter, but had to keep what I think to myself most of the time.

As a married woman  with 2  children I had  to relearn   how  to  behave and fit into this new society.

In winter in Poland we used to skate and ski. Poland has a strong, long winter. It was our custom during the winter even indoors to wear sweaters. Here in America I found the schools overheated, and the children half asleep in mid-winter instead of going outside and enjoying winter sports. 

I cannot help it that there is seldom snow on Christmas during the winter vacation, but there is usually a lot of good skiing in February, with warmer spring skiing conditions.   So when our children were in elementary and junior high school, I went to the principal of our children’s public school in White Plains, Westchester, NY, and asked to have them set free for 10 days during  the 2  presidents’  birthdays.  This was before there was a Presidents’ weekend in February.  Dr. Noyce, the principal, asked “What if all children would leave?”  I said, looking at these lethargic students in overheated school rooms, “I wish they could all go to enjoy Winter.  Each year we had the same exchange. After four years when I came again to get permission to take our children out of school, Dr. Noyce said “I wish you could take them all with you.”  Finally he understood.  

All these children would have come back invigorated and full of new energy, but the system did not allow it.        

Now thinking of Valentine’s Day, existing only in UK and US,

I admire the lovely custom of sending cards, flowers and candy and showing love. Slowly the rest of the world is doing it.

 

I found that we only enjoy a new environment and criticize things that make no sense when one is dislocated from the familiar.

Americans take many things for granted that only refugees from more dictatorial places admire and take advantage of.  The freedom to protest and to change things - what a luxury in this world!   I am grateful watching my grandchildren feel to speak and not to be afraid.   Happy Valentine  !!!!!!

 

---

(Daughter-in-law Wendy responded to the above story with admiration, saying I had “balls”!)

Somehow, while we were on the subject of courage (balls as Wendy calls it) suddenly I remembered a day during the war in Lwow, where I was working in an office under an assumed name.  My boss called me, and handed me a paper asking the German officials for a heating coal allotment, which in the very cold winter is a necessity.

   

Without any thought in my head I went to the given address, where I saw people shivering and standing in a long line around the block.  I had no idea why they were there.  I just climbed up the empty staircase on the left, and in a few minutes found myself looking at a German official sitting behind the desk. 

“Why are you here?”  

“I came to get a coal allotment for my office.”

You never heard such laughter from a serious looking gentleman and his entourage, as if I just told them a good joke.  

He replied in German, “Why do you think all these people are standing and waiting in line?”  I answered, “Well, in that case they will never get it.  I am already here. Why not give me the permit now?”    

--Yes, I got it!  When I arrived back in my office I handed the precious permit to my boss.  He said, “I knew you would get it!” 

Story of my life -- never follow the rules if  possible. Amen. 

But…how can you tell this to your children?

(A draft of the above blog led daughter-in-law Wendy Kohn to respond:)

That's exactly what I mean. I don't think Alicia or I would have done that and sometimes it worries me that we follow rules so closely.

How did you get so brazen, Nika?

Wendy

(to which Nika replied)

My Darling, you will never know --  

nor could any  normal  person in our usual life ever know –

how you would behave.  Let’s hope this kind of war and sick people will not be a challenge to our grandchildren. The Holocaust will be studied for centuries by psychiatrists all over the  world, and they will find no answer.

Genghis Khan is still studied today -   how a wild horde of people  showed up on their ponies from Asia and conquered everything  in their path. 

We are experiencing now global changes that no one ever expected.

Justice and lack of prejudices is a pure utopia-  although every church teaches kind and compassionate behavior as a vision to attain.

Enough for one day  -  I rarely am so serious.

Smile and do the best you can with what you've got.

Good luck from Mamusia Nika.   

Valentine 2015,  Sedona

PS When we least expect a miracle it might happen?   

  

- Nika Fleissig

Please Read My Blog Here:
http://www.lifebeginsat90.blogspot.com/

Order our book, From Miracle To Miracle: A Story of Survival (via PayPal):
http://www.FromMiracleToMiracle.com

Please view my art here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/nikafleissig/

Life Begins at 90 Blog #19 Keeping Fit;

Thursday,  January 15,  2015  has changed my life.  My granddaughter Tali Magal delivered twin baby girls. This makes me so happy… the 4th generation since the Holocaust! I am now a great grandmother Prababcia (pronounced Prababcha) in Polish.

       Tali Magal with Baby A and B - no names yet.

Now I have to take very good care of myself to stay around few more years to see the little ones grow up a little bit.

I have done it all my life, when it was possible, although during those 7 years of WWII it was tough going just to survive.  That means eat, rest, and exercise with pleasure.

      

Here in Sedona where people are mostly retired there is no excuse to eat late in the evening. For best digestion the main meal should be between 2-3 pm.   

If one has a good breakfast, then around 4-5pm coffee and delicious dessert (as my Aunt Ruth said, “something worth sinning for”),  and in the evening only a very light supper. Believe me this makes you sleep much better than having a heavy meal at night.  One thing please remember: Eating is a joy.  Never hurry! Your insides will be grateful!

    

I am enjoying this January, so full of sunshine and weather warm enough to go to swim in our spa at Los Abrigados. When I go to swim and do a gentle work out in the middle of the day, there is practically nobody around, so I enjoy privacy and quiet.  They are so friendly and helpful there; it is like a second home.

     

Most people I meet tell me they set aside an hour to meditate.  I don’t like to just sit… so I meditate when I swim.  I also try to have something to look forward to every day, such as meeting a friend, or going to our beautiful library, and on the way I always stumble upon some delightful adventures which are not planned at all. 

   

I met a number of very elegant sales ladies in shops when I lived in Palm Beach, and I wondered why they have to work standing on their aching feet so long at their advancing age.  Getting old has to be  prepared long before it happens. We all bought things that we really did not need when we were younger.  Then, when we got home we asked ourselves, “What did I need it for?” We should rather spend only on good quality, beautiful things that will last, and not let our impulses dictate unnecessary spending.  We will need that money later on!

Also it is helpful to have a caring husband  like I did who plans for old age wisely- or, if one is alone, to do the same  for yourself…. just a little common sense.

A big help in older age is to have good children who are your friends!  It is so much more pleasant to enjoy life together than to fight and create stress.  Sometimes it is difficult to achieve.  I am grateful to have loving, caring children and grandchildren - a real blessing!!!!! I hope they will have the same luck when they grow old.

   

Think and plan for yourself.  Do not let strangers  do it.  That can be a big mistake.

Now to rest after a great dinner at 2 p.m. and a little 20 min. nap which revives me to enjoy the rest of the day.  Shalom, and now am looking forward to be 95 years old in May.

- Nika Fleissig

Please Read My Blog Here:
http://www.lifebeginsat90.blogspot.com/

Order our book, From Miracle To Miracle: A Story of Survival (via PayPal):
http://www.FromMiracleToMiracle.com

Please view my art here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/nikafleissig/

Blog #18 Life Begins at Ninety: Hats Old and New

#18 Hats Old and New

   

Today is a sunny Saturday, at this new beginning of 2015, and snow is on the ground.  This is unusual here in Sedona, and it lasts a short time, so this gives me the opportunity to take out of my storage box my only hat left from the large amount of warm hats which I had made myself decades ago when our children were very small.

When I arrived in the U.S. in 1946 this was a beginning of a new life.  I slowly had to make up for so many lost years when I was surviving the war.  Now I felt maybe I will be lucky to be able to learn all the things I missed from the age of 19 when the war started, until the age of 25, when I was liberated from Prisoner of War camp in Germany.

    

I got married to Fred Fleissig, and had two lovely children, Alicia and Willy.  I found a whole catalogue of adult education courses available for free in the evenings at the school nearby in White Plains, N.Y.  As soon as my husband Fred came home from the office and we had supper, I left the house to go to that adult night school to learn slowly everything that was available.  After 1 or 2 years when I felt I learned enough, I started a new challenge.

At some time I decided to use all the remnants that nice friends brought to my house and make a few hats for the winter, for skiing and skating or just for wearing fashionable, colorful warm hats on cold days.

 

I liked the project so much that I kept making more and more, every hat an original, totally made of lovely pieces of varied materials, and then knitting and crocheting decorative pieces to hold it together.  It was so much fun seeing Alicia wearing some of the hats. There was a kind of creative dare I would make to anyone who came to visit. I asked “Do you have the courage to wear my hats?  Then it is yours!”

   

Although I did give several away, I ended up with about 40 unusual hats, more than we could wear!  Fred’s secretary went together with my husband to a sport shop in White Plains, and to my delight they bought the whole batch, selling each one for $40, which was a lot of money. I don’t remember how much I got, but the point was that people appreciated these whimsical and unique hats that I had made.

Now on this cold, snowy day over 50 years later, I just had to wear the only one left from all those hats made so long ago.  A nice lady made a photo of me wearing it in front of our library in Sedona.

I found that Alicia as a teenager modeled that same hat when I had just made it, so here are both photos, of her then and me now, and a close up.

I hope many ladies when they grow older could find something to create out of different materials for their grandchildren.

Imagine what fun that would be!

    

By the way I have now accumulated many beautiful  hats, some here in Sedona and others in Wellfleet.  In my Sedona apartment, a friend of ours,Wayne Grossman, made a lovely wooden stand with pegs to hold my hats for all to admire.  I have a whole collection: western cowboy hats, a woven colorful hat from Poland, a fun packable hat from a museum, each one stylish in a different way!  Lucky me!!!!!

      

Hats off to you all!

Blog #17 Life Begins at Ninety: Time to rethink one's life and actions

At my age not having much time to plan anything, but rather just living from day to day and making the best of it, a thought occurred to me to ask myself a few questions.

  

As long as I remember I was a doer, not a talker or writer.  Why then suddenly do I have the urge to put down almost daily what I observe and try to write about lessons I learned the hard way (is there any other way)?

The revolution in my life came with my discovery of computers- the possibility of instant communication with friends, and getting immediate answers, not to have to wait for eleven days, by which time I already forgot what I asked.

In my eighties when I lived in Palm Beach, I had great reservations to start burdening my small brain with this new and difficult-to-understand stuff.  I bought my first computer – a terrible-looking, green, tall piece of equipment from a neighbor who had lost his wife. It was impossible!  I resold it almost immediately to another “greenhorn” for the same $300.  It felt like a great relief. It was so frightening at that advanced age not to be able to read anything or understand the language, and I felt dumb.

But I didn’t give up.  A year later I met Sami, the 15 year old son of my Finish friend Marjaleena. Sami is a genius! At an early age he built four computers from scratch.  He convinced me that he could teach me to function on a more modern computer than that first monster I had tried to learn to use.  Well, that started a new life of possibilities as well as the beginning of daily frustration which will never stop. Just when I know how to open email, forward a message, etc. I get stuck and can’t figure out how to find a picture or a note that was there in front of me the day before.

    

I imagine I see you smiling, thinking that I’m still a “first grader.”

But really the few simple operations I know how to do give me great pleasure. I begin every morning to see what emails arrived from family and friends, and then have enjoy playing bridge on BBO  with the whole world, communicating and finding  a few friends and not being lonely.

 

Sitting in my Sedona quiet place I connect with so many people. What a thrill.

     

Writing the 18 blog posts so far (instead of writing a book which I had wanted to do, called “Life Begins at Ninety”) my darling Alicia explained that writing a blog from time to time will reach many more people and I will find the responses and opinions very interesting.

   

If you are past 90 you never heard a word “blog”?  Alicia explained that it comes from Web-log contracted to “blog.” Well, now I am in the advanced stage of having written more than 18 of them. Some are waiting to be edited and will be sent out in the coming months. It is more like talking to myself then teaching anybody anything.

   

I will never give up talking about the things that are plaguing our society, and I do hope that maybe it will change for the better in the future.

For instance, eating junk food is what America invented. It makes money and makes people happy but obese!  Lately I noticed, living now in the West, that people seem to care more about “being in shape” 

and that is a good beginning.

Making money is what this game is all about - I understand this -  but we have to save ourselves  in spite of it.  We have to listen to my Aunt Ruth who advised: “never eat anything not worth sinning for”!!!!!!!!!

  

This changed my life forever. She meant only eat the very best, homemade, excellent treats once in a while.  I lost many pounds and maybe I can persuade others to eat well and to think about what they put in their mouth.

Now this New Year 2015 is a good time to start with new resolutions!

I fervently hope that it will start already in Kindergarten.  Why wait till you have much weight to lose and health problems? 

Happy New Year!!!!  Well-wishing old/young  Nika