I was just thinking as I was brushing my teeth this afternoon that I should communicate with all people how I communicate with my hygienist. She talks, but can I answer? No, because she's working on my teeth. So I am forced to stop and think about what I am going to say. I have no choice. Sometimes she is on to a new topic before my mouth is free. I guess it makes me a good listener. Sometimes I lay there and pray for her. What else can I do? I can't respond. I can't think of one thing I've said to her that I wish I hadn't said.
How can I communicate like this with my friends without them sticking tools in my mouth?
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Bus Ride Home
On Saturday our tickets weren’t listed again, and we wouldn’t be able to authorize changes until Monday. So, we decided to take the bus home because we would be home by Monday if we did.
I have never taken the bus before. It was an experience.
It was a very different atmosphere. In the airport you are surrounded by businessmen and businesswomen; hurriedly walking through the airport wheeling their black luggage, sipping their Starbucks coffee. At the bus station people are very casual. They are tired. Perhaps they have been driving all night. The limits on luggage are generous and the waiting area is strewn with bags, pillows, blankets, people sitting on the floor or resting in a chair.
I gave my ticket to the bus driver before I bordered the bus. I wasn’t sure on the exact protocol, which was obvious, because I broke it. Right before I handed my ticket to the bus driver I separated the ticket from the stub. Oops! “You can’t get on the bus”, the driver gruffly told me. “You have to buy a new ticket.” I told him I was sorry, I was just trying to be helpful. “Don’t be helpful!” he retorted. Maybe he had pity because I looked about to cry. Doubtfully, but he did let me get on the bus. “I’ll let you on the bus this time, but if you do that again someone else isn’t going to let you get on,” he warned. I guess he was trying to be helpful too.
Then the customary announcements. No drinking, no smoking, no feet in aisles, etc.. But his delivery wasn’t customary. “There will be absolutely NO drinking. ZERO tolerance. If I find you, you are out. There will be NO smoking. ZERO tolerance. No feet in aisle. If I see you, you are out! I don’t care if it’s the middle of the freeway. We are leaving you behind!”
Perhaps the drivers feel they have to be rude to keep everyone in line. I could hear the man behind us talking to his fiancée on his cell. He was telling her, the bus driver runs a pretty tight ship. Reminds him of how he use to run his preschool class.
During the night a few hours into the trip, we heard from our friendly bus driver again, “Someone is spraying perfume. Stop it! I have allergies. Don’t do it again!” It was actually comical, because he was so openly lacking in relational skills.
At one stop a different bus driver got off the bus, and walked over to the Wendy’s. A few passengers trickled off to stretch their legs and have a quick smoke. She came back upset, “Get back on the bus. Who told you you could get off?” Strange, what made them think they could get off a parked bus?
We had one friendly driver, out of the four. Nevertheless, they got us to Chicago.
We had been traveling for about 36 hours. I was exhausted and irritable. Maybe that’s why the drivers are rude. We rode the train to our truck, and drove the last four hours home – Finally!
When we saw our boys again, I was surprised how noisy they were. How quickly I forget. I am also amazed how quickly I can become accustomed to only caring for myself (and other adults). It took a little time to adjust back to the demanding needs of small children.
It was sad to see our vacation come to an end. As my sister said, “That was the most relaxing vacation I have ever taken.”
I have never taken the bus before. It was an experience.
It was a very different atmosphere. In the airport you are surrounded by businessmen and businesswomen; hurriedly walking through the airport wheeling their black luggage, sipping their Starbucks coffee. At the bus station people are very casual. They are tired. Perhaps they have been driving all night. The limits on luggage are generous and the waiting area is strewn with bags, pillows, blankets, people sitting on the floor or resting in a chair.
I gave my ticket to the bus driver before I bordered the bus. I wasn’t sure on the exact protocol, which was obvious, because I broke it. Right before I handed my ticket to the bus driver I separated the ticket from the stub. Oops! “You can’t get on the bus”, the driver gruffly told me. “You have to buy a new ticket.” I told him I was sorry, I was just trying to be helpful. “Don’t be helpful!” he retorted. Maybe he had pity because I looked about to cry. Doubtfully, but he did let me get on the bus. “I’ll let you on the bus this time, but if you do that again someone else isn’t going to let you get on,” he warned. I guess he was trying to be helpful too.
Then the customary announcements. No drinking, no smoking, no feet in aisles, etc.. But his delivery wasn’t customary. “There will be absolutely NO drinking. ZERO tolerance. If I find you, you are out. There will be NO smoking. ZERO tolerance. No feet in aisle. If I see you, you are out! I don’t care if it’s the middle of the freeway. We are leaving you behind!”
Perhaps the drivers feel they have to be rude to keep everyone in line. I could hear the man behind us talking to his fiancée on his cell. He was telling her, the bus driver runs a pretty tight ship. Reminds him of how he use to run his preschool class.
During the night a few hours into the trip, we heard from our friendly bus driver again, “Someone is spraying perfume. Stop it! I have allergies. Don’t do it again!” It was actually comical, because he was so openly lacking in relational skills.
At one stop a different bus driver got off the bus, and walked over to the Wendy’s. A few passengers trickled off to stretch their legs and have a quick smoke. She came back upset, “Get back on the bus. Who told you you could get off?” Strange, what made them think they could get off a parked bus?
We had one friendly driver, out of the four. Nevertheless, they got us to Chicago.
We had been traveling for about 36 hours. I was exhausted and irritable. Maybe that’s why the drivers are rude. We rode the train to our truck, and drove the last four hours home – Finally!
When we saw our boys again, I was surprised how noisy they were. How quickly I forget. I am also amazed how quickly I can become accustomed to only caring for myself (and other adults). It took a little time to adjust back to the demanding needs of small children.
It was sad to see our vacation come to an end. As my sister said, “That was the most relaxing vacation I have ever taken.”
Tourists in Utah
We left Birkenfeld, Oregon late Monday afternoon. We knew we should have left earlier, but it was too hard to pull away – we were having such a good time visiting with friends that we hadn’t seen for years. It was a 13 hour drive back to Salt Lake City – unless, of course, my sister drove. We drove up the Columbia River gorge, awed by scenes of mountains, trees, waterfalls and the mighty Columbia.
We still wanted to stop and visit with my uncle and aunt in The Dalles. It would add a few more hours to the trip putting us in Salt Lake City after the first two flights on Tuesday. (Leaving only one flight to Chicago that day.) We decided it was worth the risk. We left their house around midnight, and drove through the night to SLC.
Looking back, we should have spent the night with my aunt and uncle. We rushed to Salt Lake, but there was no rush. We spent the next four nights there.
My sister Mel was kind enough to share her anniversary with us. Yes, very romantic. We took her out to Olive Garden; then walked around downtown Salt Lake City. I felt a little awkward walking around in Mormon country with Eric and my sister. Here we are – Eric and his two wives. Eric of course thought I was funny. He kept loudly making comments at the restaurant, such as: “Sister, what would you like to eat?” “Wife, I am so glad we could be here with your Sister.” And to the waiter, “My wife will be sharing with her Sister.” He gets so much pleasure out of teasing me.
On Thursday Mel got on a flight. We watched her plane fly off above the mountains. It was an emotional time – Like the prize at the end of a long race. You did it, Mel! You did it. You are going home. We felt more urgency to get home when Mel was still with us because her husband was working and trying to find babysitters for the times when he was gone. When she flew away, the weight lifted. We relaxed a little more, and decided to tour Utah a little. Of course, Mel thinks we were just waiting for her to leave so we could have some time alone. I told her we made out just fine with her there… umm, did that come out right?
We had been riding the city bus around town, but that night we rented a car. It’s amazing how having your own transportation can make you feel free. We drove to Antelope Island National Park in Great Salt Lake. We hiked to the top of one of the bluffs and sat together on huge boulders watching the sun set over the water. We could see tiny spots on the plains below. We knew they were buffalo grazing. It was beautiful.
The next day, still having ticket problems, we left the airport again. We visited the home site of Brigham Young. I can't believe the hardships the first settlers faced! Some even came out with handcarts. Can you imagine just walking across the United States? Life is so comfortable now. I don’t know if I could have done it.
After driving through the canyon we walked through a local park. We stopped to get a couple pictures of the playground equipment for our boys; then cooled our feet off wading in a small tree-lined creek.
As I write this I wonder how we fit everything into the day. Airport, historical sites, canyons, parks, and after a late lunch a visit to a nearby national forest. The national forest was also in the mountains, and the views were breathtaking! Everything seemed big and grand, rugged and wild. We stopped at one of the trailheads and hiked two miles to Stewart Falls. I just cannot describe the beauty of this land. We sat on the mountain side at the top of the smaller falls, looking out over the valley and the mountains in the distance. I just felt like singing. -- I will lift my eyes to the Maker of the mountains I can't climb.... How great Thou art!
We hiked the two miles back to our car and drove back to Salt Lake City for another late dinner. I had seen an Indian Restaurant I wanted to try. I think Eric learned something that day. Never look for restaurants in unfamiliar cities when you are starving, that Shari just vaguely remembers driving past once. After driving about 45 minutes looking where I thought it had been, Eric finally said, "We are stopping at the next restaurant we drive past!" The next one looked like my mom's favorite restaurant back home – good, old-fashioned, home-cookin’. Eric broke the rules and kept driving. We found something that we both liked not too long after that.
We still wanted to stop and visit with my uncle and aunt in The Dalles. It would add a few more hours to the trip putting us in Salt Lake City after the first two flights on Tuesday. (Leaving only one flight to Chicago that day.) We decided it was worth the risk. We left their house around midnight, and drove through the night to SLC.
Looking back, we should have spent the night with my aunt and uncle. We rushed to Salt Lake, but there was no rush. We spent the next four nights there.
My sister Mel was kind enough to share her anniversary with us. Yes, very romantic. We took her out to Olive Garden; then walked around downtown Salt Lake City. I felt a little awkward walking around in Mormon country with Eric and my sister. Here we are – Eric and his two wives. Eric of course thought I was funny. He kept loudly making comments at the restaurant, such as: “Sister, what would you like to eat?” “Wife, I am so glad we could be here with your Sister.” And to the waiter, “My wife will be sharing with her Sister.” He gets so much pleasure out of teasing me.
On Thursday Mel got on a flight. We watched her plane fly off above the mountains. It was an emotional time – Like the prize at the end of a long race. You did it, Mel! You did it. You are going home. We felt more urgency to get home when Mel was still with us because her husband was working and trying to find babysitters for the times when he was gone. When she flew away, the weight lifted. We relaxed a little more, and decided to tour Utah a little. Of course, Mel thinks we were just waiting for her to leave so we could have some time alone. I told her we made out just fine with her there… umm, did that come out right?
We had been riding the city bus around town, but that night we rented a car. It’s amazing how having your own transportation can make you feel free. We drove to Antelope Island National Park in Great Salt Lake. We hiked to the top of one of the bluffs and sat together on huge boulders watching the sun set over the water. We could see tiny spots on the plains below. We knew they were buffalo grazing. It was beautiful.
The next day, still having ticket problems, we left the airport again. We visited the home site of Brigham Young. I can't believe the hardships the first settlers faced! Some even came out with handcarts. Can you imagine just walking across the United States? Life is so comfortable now. I don’t know if I could have done it.
After driving through the canyon we walked through a local park. We stopped to get a couple pictures of the playground equipment for our boys; then cooled our feet off wading in a small tree-lined creek.
As I write this I wonder how we fit everything into the day. Airport, historical sites, canyons, parks, and after a late lunch a visit to a nearby national forest. The national forest was also in the mountains, and the views were breathtaking! Everything seemed big and grand, rugged and wild. We stopped at one of the trailheads and hiked two miles to Stewart Falls. I just cannot describe the beauty of this land. We sat on the mountain side at the top of the smaller falls, looking out over the valley and the mountains in the distance. I just felt like singing. -- I will lift my eyes to the Maker of the mountains I can't climb.... How great Thou art!
We hiked the two miles back to our car and drove back to Salt Lake City for another late dinner. I had seen an Indian Restaurant I wanted to try. I think Eric learned something that day. Never look for restaurants in unfamiliar cities when you are starving, that Shari just vaguely remembers driving past once. After driving about 45 minutes looking where I thought it had been, Eric finally said, "We are stopping at the next restaurant we drive past!" The next one looked like my mom's favorite restaurant back home – good, old-fashioned, home-cookin’. Eric broke the rules and kept driving. We found something that we both liked not too long after that.
Utah, the Beautiful
I think I am infatuated with Utah. We picked up a Utah travel guide in the airport and I still have it on our end table in our living room. I pick it and look at the pictures. It's a well-designed book, so to compare the states fairly I suppose I should have a book designed by the same people for each state. But since I don't -- Utah is one of the best!
I cannot get over the beauty of the state. In the opening pages of the travel guide the writers make this lofty claim,
"Exclamations, superlatives, declarations...
Words used to evoke sentiments, feelings and remembrances
of a place so visual, so unique, so compelling that words alone
can never quite live up to the experience of having visited.
We have a word for this place...UTAH
Where your emotions are stirred,
your spirit if lifted.
Your senses rise. You soar. Life elevated.
In Utah you will discover...
A part of yourself you never knew existed.
Your life is changed.
You are elevated."
Ha! A little over the top? But I sit nodding over each phrase. It is so beautiful and rugged and unique. I've brought this book in the van to look through while my husband drives. I've dreamed about Utah. We've checked real estate in Utah. Last Sunday we were driving home from church and noticed in front of us a Utah license plate. Probably the only one in the whole city and it drove in front of us. Utah is calling.
I cannot get over the beauty of the state. In the opening pages of the travel guide the writers make this lofty claim,
"Exclamations, superlatives, declarations...
Words used to evoke sentiments, feelings and remembrances
of a place so visual, so unique, so compelling that words alone
can never quite live up to the experience of having visited.
We have a word for this place...UTAH
Where your emotions are stirred,
your spirit if lifted.
Your senses rise. You soar. Life elevated.
In Utah you will discover...
A part of yourself you never knew existed.
Your life is changed.
You are elevated."
Ha! A little over the top? But I sit nodding over each phrase. It is so beautiful and rugged and unique. I've brought this book in the van to look through while my husband drives. I've dreamed about Utah. We've checked real estate in Utah. Last Sunday we were driving home from church and noticed in front of us a Utah license plate. Probably the only one in the whole city and it drove in front of us. Utah is calling.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Take Heart
I was looking for an answer to a curriculum question on the Covenant Home website. As I was browsing through the message board I came across a question from a lady who named herself "Overwhelmed Mom". Her question is something I have pondered often.
She asked, "How do you balance activities and outside demands without neglecting school obligations? Sometimes the demands/activities are for a very good cause, like helping others. I feel like I am constantly having to choose between a "good work" and remaining focused so as to not get behind in school. Not everyone understands how much time it takes to do a thorough job in schooling our children. Any wisdom in this area would be greatly appreciated!"
I thought the reply she received was so encouraging to moms who are home trying to educate, train and disciple their children, I posted a portion of it below.
"Your question is one I have thought long and hard about over the past 19 years. As part of discipling my children, I desire greatly that they learn to serve and minister to others. After all, Jesus did say that He came not to be served, but to serve, and we are also told in Scripture that knowledge passes away, but love lasts forever. So I have thought much about what it means to be a very large family, be responsible for academically training my children, and serve others. Here are my thoughts on the issue:
>
> As women, we are told in Titus that we need to be managers of our homes and lovers of our husbands and children. When you are a mother of many children, that directive is a full time job. To me, loving my family needs to look like I Cor 13 type of love: love is patient, kind, gentle, not easily provoked,etc. Maybe it's just me, but I really struggle with that kind of love to those nearest and dearest to my heart when I am harried and overwhelmed with commitments (even great ones) outside my home. This is a beautiful season of our lives that will pass so quickly. I can speak from experience; it seemed like yesterday that Erika was a toddler. Someday we will have time to have extra ministries in service to others, but right now, our energy needs to be serving those at home. Now, there are ways that we can serve others as the Holy Spirit leads such as a casserole to a new mother, a homemade plate of cookies/visit to shut in or elderly, etc, but those are ministries you can do with your children. I think even the church in our culture puts a great deal of pressure on women to be busy with things outside the home. You need to realize that other people will not understand. There is no way that others know the time/energy demands on your day from sun-up to sundown and during the night unless they are in your shoes. But Jesus does, and He sees your heart, He hears the prayer you pray for others when you don't have the time to actually "do something", He knows your fatigue, and He understands. And someday He will say to you, "Well done, thou faithful servant." And as we train our children to serve each other in the home, they will take that server's spirit out of the home as teenagers. My husband often reminds me when I completely choose to forget everything I have just shared with you, that my teen children are now serving in my place. You will be there someday."
>
Post by Heidi on Covenant Home Message Board
She asked, "How do you balance activities and outside demands without neglecting school obligations? Sometimes the demands/activities are for a very good cause, like helping others. I feel like I am constantly having to choose between a "good work" and remaining focused so as to not get behind in school. Not everyone understands how much time it takes to do a thorough job in schooling our children. Any wisdom in this area would be greatly appreciated!"
I thought the reply she received was so encouraging to moms who are home trying to educate, train and disciple their children, I posted a portion of it below.
"Your question is one I have thought long and hard about over the past 19 years. As part of discipling my children, I desire greatly that they learn to serve and minister to others. After all, Jesus did say that He came not to be served, but to serve, and we are also told in Scripture that knowledge passes away, but love lasts forever. So I have thought much about what it means to be a very large family, be responsible for academically training my children, and serve others. Here are my thoughts on the issue:
>
> As women, we are told in Titus that we need to be managers of our homes and lovers of our husbands and children. When you are a mother of many children, that directive is a full time job. To me, loving my family needs to look like I Cor 13 type of love: love is patient, kind, gentle, not easily provoked,etc. Maybe it's just me, but I really struggle with that kind of love to those nearest and dearest to my heart when I am harried and overwhelmed with commitments (even great ones) outside my home. This is a beautiful season of our lives that will pass so quickly. I can speak from experience; it seemed like yesterday that Erika was a toddler. Someday we will have time to have extra ministries in service to others, but right now, our energy needs to be serving those at home. Now, there are ways that we can serve others as the Holy Spirit leads such as a casserole to a new mother, a homemade plate of cookies/visit to shut in or elderly, etc, but those are ministries you can do with your children. I think even the church in our culture puts a great deal of pressure on women to be busy with things outside the home. You need to realize that other people will not understand. There is no way that others know the time/energy demands on your day from sun-up to sundown and during the night unless they are in your shoes. But Jesus does, and He sees your heart, He hears the prayer you pray for others when you don't have the time to actually "do something", He knows your fatigue, and He understands. And someday He will say to you, "Well done, thou faithful servant." And as we train our children to serve each other in the home, they will take that server's spirit out of the home as teenagers. My husband often reminds me when I completely choose to forget everything I have just shared with you, that my teen children are now serving in my place. You will be there someday."
>
Post by Heidi on Covenant Home Message Board
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Man v. Mess
Today is a sad day for our family, as my husband does what the majority of husbands all across America do every day -- He leaves for work. Usually he works from his office in the basement, but today his brother needs his help. His brother fell and broke his ankle. It's healing, but he is unable to finish his window washing jobs, so Eric is washing windows today.
My sister-in-law Liisa wrote about the little things that remind her Danny is not there anymore. Like a friend teaching the boys to ride a bike, or starting home-schooling with no one coming home at the end of the day to mark the switch from work to play. When I first read that I was in the midst of switching the summer clothes to winter clothes, unpacking from camping, trying to get through the mountain of laundry, preparing for the first day of school, and needing the yard mowed. My basement had flooded (just the boys accidentally unplugging the sump pump). Now I had mold to clean up from all the extra moisture. My husband picked up a broken free dehumidifier he planned to fix to help with the moisture, so far it is still in pieces. Bags and piles of clothes scattered the basement. My school books were out. Also, for some strange reason that only a crazy person would understand, I decided to sort through all the boys' toys, books and papers. Every room in the house was a mess from sorting, unpacking, switching clothes, laundry, books and school supplies, and broken electronics waiting to be fixed. It was overwhelming!
My husband sat in his office working. His door protected him from the chaos.
I thought of Liisa. I thought of her friend teaching the boys to ride their bikes. I remembered running behind my own boys teaching them. She went on to write of all the other ways friends had stepped in to fill some of the hole Danny left. Someone mowed her grass. I thought of my yard. A friend had said "It would be good for raising goats", -- I guess a lot of long grass for grazing. It needed mowing. She was given a double washer. I thought of my washer and dryer running almost solid for about two days just trying to catch up. Someone came and took a couple of her younger children so she could settle in to the new school routine. I thought how nice that would be as I faced the task of preparing and trying to schedule and teach two second grade students and one kindergarten student, and still feed and change the baby.
Then I thought, wouldn't she trade it all? Wouldn't I? Wouldn't I choose to keep the mess and chaos if I were given a choice? My sister-in-law has more help and a nicer house now than when her husband was alive, but it's just not worth losing a husband. It helped me to think of this as I faced the daunting projects waiting for me. It helped me to focus on the things that really matter -- like the people we love -- not a clean, organized house and a well-kept yard. We don't love our husbands or our children for what they can give us. It's not the help that matters. We just love them.
Also, I am happy to say that by God's strength the toys are sorted, the clothes are washed and put away, the winter clothes are in the drawers and closets, the basement is clean, and the lawn is mowed.
My sister-in-law Liisa wrote about the little things that remind her Danny is not there anymore. Like a friend teaching the boys to ride a bike, or starting home-schooling with no one coming home at the end of the day to mark the switch from work to play. When I first read that I was in the midst of switching the summer clothes to winter clothes, unpacking from camping, trying to get through the mountain of laundry, preparing for the first day of school, and needing the yard mowed. My basement had flooded (just the boys accidentally unplugging the sump pump). Now I had mold to clean up from all the extra moisture. My husband picked up a broken free dehumidifier he planned to fix to help with the moisture, so far it is still in pieces. Bags and piles of clothes scattered the basement. My school books were out. Also, for some strange reason that only a crazy person would understand, I decided to sort through all the boys' toys, books and papers. Every room in the house was a mess from sorting, unpacking, switching clothes, laundry, books and school supplies, and broken electronics waiting to be fixed. It was overwhelming!
My husband sat in his office working. His door protected him from the chaos.
I thought of Liisa. I thought of her friend teaching the boys to ride their bikes. I remembered running behind my own boys teaching them. She went on to write of all the other ways friends had stepped in to fill some of the hole Danny left. Someone mowed her grass. I thought of my yard. A friend had said "It would be good for raising goats", -- I guess a lot of long grass for grazing. It needed mowing. She was given a double washer. I thought of my washer and dryer running almost solid for about two days just trying to catch up. Someone came and took a couple of her younger children so she could settle in to the new school routine. I thought how nice that would be as I faced the task of preparing and trying to schedule and teach two second grade students and one kindergarten student, and still feed and change the baby.
Then I thought, wouldn't she trade it all? Wouldn't I? Wouldn't I choose to keep the mess and chaos if I were given a choice? My sister-in-law has more help and a nicer house now than when her husband was alive, but it's just not worth losing a husband. It helped me to think of this as I faced the daunting projects waiting for me. It helped me to focus on the things that really matter -- like the people we love -- not a clean, organized house and a well-kept yard. We don't love our husbands or our children for what they can give us. It's not the help that matters. We just love them.
Also, I am happy to say that by God's strength the toys are sorted, the clothes are washed and put away, the winter clothes are in the drawers and closets, the basement is clean, and the lawn is mowed.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Sick with Sweets
Tonight my son Zac asked me for a healthy snack. I gave him some frozen strawberries. It reminded me of when he told me, "A righteous man always eats his fruits and vegetables first." We told him that although fruits and vegetables are healthy, "righteous" is taking it a little too far.
I was just reading the other day about "studies" that had shown the effects of sugar. Studies sounds so like the ambiguous "they", I did not see a source cited. They claimed that sugar actually paralyzes the white blood cells of the immune system for up to half an hour.
So I found a source...
In the book "Get The Sugar Out" by Ann Louise Gittleman M.S. C.N.S Ms. Gittleman says, "No matter what form it takes, sugar paralyzes the immune system in a variety of ways:
Sugar has been proven to destroy the germ-killing ability of white blood cells for up to five hours after ingestion.
http://www.immunesystemetc.com/Sugar.html
Why do I have to like sugar so much? I know it's bad for me. It slowly kills me, yet I keep eating it.
I was just reading the other day about "studies" that had shown the effects of sugar. Studies sounds so like the ambiguous "they", I did not see a source cited. They claimed that sugar actually paralyzes the white blood cells of the immune system for up to half an hour.
So I found a source...
In the book "Get The Sugar Out" by Ann Louise Gittleman M.S. C.N.S Ms. Gittleman says, "No matter what form it takes, sugar paralyzes the immune system in a variety of ways:
Sugar has been proven to destroy the germ-killing ability of white blood cells for up to five hours after ingestion.
http://www.immunesystemetc.com/Sugar.html
Why do I have to like sugar so much? I know it's bad for me. It slowly kills me, yet I keep eating it.
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