I've recently been forced -- er, introduced -- to a low sodium lifestyle. You can read more about it at my new blog, http://www.saltlostsavor.blogspot.com

In the meantime, I'd like to share one entry from that blog here.

We need salt to live. I'll go into that in another blog. Right now, I want to talk about the reasons why excess salt is bad for us.

1. It causes water weight. The more salt you eat, the more water you will retain. The more water retained, the more pressure internally. This is why many people feel bloated -- it's because of all that water they are holding on to.




2. It causes damage to the kidneys, which in turn increases the risk of high blood pressure.




3. It effects the amounts of calcium in the body, which increases the risk of osteoporosis.




4. Salt thickens the blood, which makes it harder to pump, which makes the heart work harder than it's naturally designed to do. As this goes on, the heart can become enlarged. Just as a muscle becomes larger as it works, the heart becomes larger as it works harder to pump blood. So the heart is working harder, pushing the blood harder, and that increase in pressure damages the vascular system of the kidneys, causing “hypertensive nephrosclerosis,” a major cause of kidney disease.




5. Salt has been linked to asthma and to cancer of the stomach.




6. Salt causes high blood pressure which makes a person three times more likely to develop heart disease or to have a stroke. They are twice as likely to die from these conditions.




7. High blood pressure also leads to eye damage.

Right now, the average person is eating around 6,000 mg. of salt a day. This doesn't include people who eat fast food regularly. If you get a Big Mac, fries and drink, you've just consumed 1,970 mg. of sodium right there, in one meal. The premium grilled chicken club alone has 1,720 mg. In fact, many of the salads now served at fast food restaurants contain more sodium than the hamburgers. The crispy chicken Caesar salad at McDonald's contains 3,500 mg. of sodium. That's completely scary!

Ideally, you should eat between 400 and 1,000 mg. per day. It will take work, it will take diligence and reading labels and cooking from scratch. But I've survived so far, and I say it can be done!

Ever since Texas authorities marched in and raided the compound owned by the FLDS Church, the media has been having a heyday with stories about strange religious practices, polygamy, teenage pregnancy, child rape, on and on. While they are covering these stories and investigating the cases, I can see that the reporters are tired, probably staying up late to meet their deadlines, and I can see that mistakes will be made. However, there is one mistake that is being repeatedly made that they must stop – they keep referring to the compound as being owned by the LDS Church, and that the people who are being arrested are LDS. No, folks, that would be FLDS. Note the use of that first initial.

The LDS Church, to which I belong, has absolutely nothing to do with that compound out in Texas. Those aren’t our members out there being arrested. Those aren’t our four hundred children being farmed out to foster care. Sure, we care what happens to them as they are part of the human family, but we are not brothers and sisters in the Gospel. The LDS Church and the FLDS Church are two entirely different organizations.

There are those who have said that the two religions are so close, they might as well be the same. Umm . . . that would be said by people with very little knowledge into the beliefs and practices of the two religions. Many of the FLDS congregations live in seclusion, have very little contemporary education (many don’t even know that man landed on the moon) read only books written by their leaders (Warren Jeff’s followers didn’t read the Book of Mormon or the Bible for their scriptures – they read books written by Jeffs) wear old-fashioned clothing, believe that a woman’s entire place in this world is to have children, rarely associate with those outside their own church, and view the outside world as a scary and unsafe place. People of the LDS religion go to college, hold degrees, teach at universities all over the world, study all forms of books, read both the Book of Mormon and the Bible, wear modern clothing, associate freely with people of all religions, and while we do have children, we as LDS women are encouraged to learn, grow, educate ourselves, and be people every bit as interesting and well-rounded as our husbands. These are all outward things – I haven’t even touched on doctrinal differences – but this is a pretty long list of just simple ways in which we are very, very different.

The Fundamentalist Church has sometimes been said to be an offshoot from the LDS Church. It calls itself the Fundamentalist Latter-day Saint Church or Mormon Fundamentalist Church. However, when we go back to the roots of the FLDS Church, we see that they aren’t connected even that remotely. From the Mormon Fundamentalist website, which was set up to educate people as to the origins of the Church, we learn that after the early Church leaders stopped practicing polygamy, a man named Wooley came forth and, I quote: professed that the authority to solemnize new plural marriages was held by men who were not members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. The site goes on to say that all branches of Mormon Fundamentalism are traced back to Wooley. Let’s rephrase that just for clarity: The man who started the Fundamentalist movement began it by saying that men in the LDS Church don’t have the authority to practice polygamy, but he did. Right there, in black and white, you have it – the FLDS Church was started by disavowing the LDS authority to practice polygamy, therefore, the FLDS Church is not claiming any relation to the LDS Church. From the horse’s mouth, folks. We say we’re not related, the man who started the Fundamentalists says we’re not related –

We’re not related.

The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints does not support, approve, or agree with anything that has been done by the Fundamentalist Latter-day Saint Church. We do not practice modern day polygamy. We do not marry off our daughters in their teens. We do not hold our children back in their education and brainwash them into only knowing the things we want them to know. We do not worship our leaders, but rather, respect them. We have families, but we do not consider that to be the full extent of the worth of a woman’s creation.

I would dearly love it if every broadcaster, journalist, and blogger in the media today could somehow get it into their heads that they are confusing two entirely different churches when they confuse the LDS and the FLDS churches. I would love it if people would stop blaming the Mormons for the mess in Texas – wrong people.

I fully admit that us Mormons are a pretty strange people and I’m not asking the world at large to believe everything we do. I’m just asking that people get their terminology straight and make sure they’re talking about the right group of people. Understanding, folks, that’s all I want. I’m not trying to convert you—I’m just trying to help spread around a little understanding.

We've been counseled to keep the romance alive by continuing to date after we're married. We all agree that it's a good idea, and some of us even do it. But I don't think we see things quite the same way.

**Getting ready, from the wife's perspective . . .

She wakes up in the morning. Tonight is the night! They'll go out to dinner, linger over a delicious meal, maybe touch fingers across the creme brulee, and remember all the reasons why they fell in love. She gets out of bed, looking forward to the night out with her wonderful sweetheart, and as soon as she comes out of the bedroom, her eyes fall on a mess. And another mess. And another. She can't possibly have a babysitter over to see all this.

She makes breakfast (which no one will eat) and she starts to clean. And clean. And clean. The children aren't really helping -- rather, they're running around behind her, gleefully chuckling while throwing everything on the floor, again. She cleans the children's rooms, you know, the rooms that the children were supposed to clean, but they don't because they're ungrateful little creatures who don't understand how good they've got it. She cleans the bathroom, washes the dishes, sweeps the floor, vacuums the carpet, and dusts. At some point in there, the children get lunch, but she doesn't. She's got too much to do.

She makes dinner so the sitter doesn't have to, and she has a talk with the children. She tells them everything she expects of them, promises a reward if they're good and punishment if they're bad, she reminds them of the movies she let them pick out at Blockbuster to watch while the sitter is there, and then, only then, does she get in the shower.

Then she has to decide what to wear. What does she have that's a) clean b) flattering enough to make him fall in love with her all over again? She tries on outfits, realizes she's too fat to really look good in any of them, and goes with the last thing she put on, even though she's not completely happy with it.

She's dressed and ready to go, but she can't wear eye make-up because the toddler got into her mascera and rubbed it all over the wall, and you can't wear eye shadow without mascera. The sitter has arrived. She tells the sitter all the personality quirks of the children, she tells her that they've been fed, what they're allowed to do, what they're not allowed to do, gives emergency telephone numbers, negotiates a pay rate and a time to be home, and tells all the children goodbye.

**Getting ready, from the Husband's Perspective . . .

He gets home from work a little late, goes into the bedroom and changes his shirt, puts his wallet in his pocket, and he's ready to go.

--

Is it just me, or is date night just a little more complicated for the wife than it is for the husband? And why, ladies, do we get so excited when he asks us out, knowing we'll have to go through that whole rigamarole? Because we love the big lugs, that's why.

This is a true story. However, in my husband's defense, he did help me finish up some last minute housework when he got home.

(Me, sitting in the back of a room filled with folding chairs, twisting a handkerchief between my sweaty hands.)

Hi, my name is Tristi, and I'm an addict.

I've been blogging for about a year and a half now. At first, I only did it because it's what all the "cool" kids were doing. They said things like, "If you really want to promote your books, you should get a blog." I didn't know what a blog was, but it didn't sound dangerous, you know? So I started a blog and I wrote something about once a week. I was a social blogger to start. I didn't start to really hit the hard stuff until later.

I'm not sure what it was that drove me off the deep end. Was it getting the comments? Was it meeting new friends in Blogland? Was it having people tell me, "You're so funny! I love reading your blog?" Something fed into my need to be appreciated, and before I knew it, I was up late at night, fingers racing furiously, feeling the thrill of finding just the right picture to upload, inserting links, and then the satisfaction of seeing the comments come rolling in. But one blog a day soon wasn't enough, and I started posting two, and sometimes three.

Then I branched out. I didn't have just one blog anymore -- I made one for my product line, one for my weight loss/writing challenges, and one for my kids. Add that to the blogs I do professionally, and I now have five blog sites. Five! I've got blog sites tucked between the couch cushions, in the spice cupboard behind the nutmeg, and in the "hot chocolate" thermos in my car.

My descent into addiction was fast and dangerous. My next step was to start . . . (wiping my eyes) experimenting with different templates. (blowing nose) I can't go longer than a month without changing my template. I can't explain the need. It comes over me like a trance, and I can't be at peace until I've changed the color, or the font, or even the whole look of the blog altogether. I even (looking around, lowering my voice) experimented with Pyzam. I'll never do that again. It was . . . too much.

I'm not sure how therapy is going to help me. I even think in blogs. I'll be standing in line at the grocery store and I'll start composing a blog about how I was at the grocery store. Everything is a blog to me. I see my life through a keyboard and a seventeen inch screen. I was at Wal-mart the other day eating some fries from the McDonald's there and I was composing a blog about fries and McDonald's -- I can't even eat a snack without it turning into a blog. I'm sick, I tell you, sick! (breaking down into wild sobs) Is there any help for a person like me, or have I simply gone too far to ever recover?

I thank you.

And I have tried to reply.

Repeatedly.

But I am one of those poor unfortunate souls who has an older operating system, and so, when I go to click on your page, if you happen to have a cool nifty template (which we all should, because, face it, they're cool and nifty) I can't leave you a comment.

It's sad, really.

Picture me, clicking, and . . . nothing. No cursor. Nothing. Just a white square, laughing at me, mocking me.

It's a terrible thing to be mocked by a computer.

It's enough to send one screaming into therapy.

So, all you kind commenters, please do not think the less of me because I have not returned some bloggy love. I've tried to. But my system and your system are not meant to be. It's a Romeo and Juliet kind of thing.

So just imagine that I've returned your kind comment, because in my heart, I have.