Birthday Poem

Many of you know that even though I wasn't selected for "The Biggest Loser: Detroit Edition," I am attempting to make some lifestyle changes, regardless.

And that's the way you have to think about it. If you're thinking "diet," then eventually you'll lose the weight you want, goal accomplished, diet over. And the weight comes back. The changes I'm making now I have to make - and be happy with - for the rest of my life.

It's been just over six weeks since I began, and two of those weeks I gained a pound, but overall I've dropped seven pounds, and will continue to live a better lifestyle. One of these days I'll get around to blogging about my simple three-step process.

In the meantime, I'm using resources such as this to make healthier choices.

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A joy of which I'll not partake
Is eating children's birthday cake

To "blow out" candles, in a word
Is really patently absurd

Each puff contains sufficient moisture
To propagate your average oyster

So, Birthday-Boy, and ditto, Daughter
Withhold from me your whiff of water

I do not need some little squirt
To atomize on my dessert

Among the things I will not do
Is have my cake and drink it, too

[Pastor Tim's Pearly Gates]

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WORD for YOUR WEEK: During our Color Tour drive this past weekend, we passed a flea market and I wondered from where that nomenclature had originated. Turns out there are a couple of conflicting origin stories, but the one with the most credibility says the name comes to us from Paris, where vendors sold second-hand goods that were rumored to be so rag-tag that they were infested with fleas. In fact, the area where they sold these goods came to be called Le Marche aux Puces, which means "The Market of the Fleas." The term jumped the pond and came to America in the early 1920s.

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