Going coconuts

One thing I hate when I embark on some new adventure is that I never remember why something is good for you!  There is usually such a barrage of information that I am taking in that I am only able to remember that a certain thing is just fabulous for you to eat or drink.  But not why.

Yesterday I was excited to drink the coconut water from the young Thai coconut and while I knew it was good for me, again, I couldn't state why.  So I looked it up again, and I am not sure that with all it has going for it WHY I couldn't retain the reasons that this is a wondrous little miracle food -- but maybe it will stick now:

It's a natural isotonic beverage, with the same level of electrolytic balance as we have in our blood. It's the fluid of life, so to speak. In fact, during the Pacific War of 1941-45, both sides in the conflict regularly used coconut water - siphoned directly from the nut - to give emergency plasma trasfusions to wounded soldiers.

Coconut Water is More Nutritious than whole milk - Less fat and NO cholesterol!

Coconut Water is More Healthy than Orange Juice - Much lower calories

Coconut Water is Better than processed baby milk- It contains lauric acid, which is present in human mother's milk

Coconut water is naturally sterile -- Water permeates though the filtering husk!

"Coconut water is the very stuff of Nature, biologically Pure, full of Natural Sugars, Salts, and Vitamins to ward off fatigue... and is the next wave of energy drinks BUT natural!", according to Mortin Satin, Chief of the United Nation's Food & Agriculture Organization.

So there you have it.  

Now I just need a cleaver.

Raw birthday

So, three friends and I piled into the car and drove two hours to eat raw.

No, we were not in the raw, we wanted to consume raw food, and the closest restaurant that seemed to even know this concept existed was in another state and multiple highways away.

The place was tiny --  less than 10 tables and those in tight quarters.  The service was slow in one of those hope you have the entire day to eat here because that's how long it's going to take type scenarios.  But the food was really good!  We all had our favorites, and I was happy as a clam (a raw one of course) to experience my first baby coconut water beverage fresh out of the coconut.  It was delish.   We all split pad thai, tacos, a pizza and falafel.   I think we all loved the pad thai the most -- it was really the most flavorful -- but everything was good.  My main purpose for this was to see if it really did taste good.  And I was very pleasantly surprised.  And the desserts were yummy as well.  We all sampled apple pie, blueberry pie, brownie and a black forest cake.   No complaints there!

As of this evening I have had a completely raw day.  I started out with green lemonade (a refreshing concoction of juiced lettuce, dandelion greens, kale, apples, lemon and ginger) and brought an apple in the event I was hungry, but I was happy to wait until lunch.  And lunch was very satisfying and filling.  And despite eating quite a bit of food, I do not have that logey and tired feeling.  And as I sit here sipping another glass of yummy yummy green lemonade I feel quite virtuous!

But the tug of the old is still very strong.  Today is my birthday and I also want to go out for dinner and have a drink that while not as refreshing as coconut water will also bring a smile to my face :)  Mostly I just don't want to cook (or prepare) food.  And that's always the trap I fall into -- the overall laziness of eating the right foods.

Ahhhh, so it is hours later and we have gone to dinner -- I imbibed in cooked food and alcoholic wonders ... and ultimately I know that somewhere between all of this "stuff" I will find the perfect answer for myself.

Happy Birthday to me.  I am 45 today -- and I am totally okay with that.  I really am.  I see the future before me ripe with possibility (and rawness!) and while so many people freak out about getting older -- I've always been the person who never looks back, never yearns for any "good old days," because all of my days are good.

When I have been asked "what do you want for your birthday?" I am always thinking ... I dunno ... that is hard.  Everyday is a celebration to me.

It truly is.

I'm not kidding.

Tonight when I jokingly asked Peter "what did you get for me?" he proudly stood up and drew out a wrapped box from his pocket.

It was a beautiful pair of earrings -- my birthstone -- emeralds.  

Everyday might be a celebration.  But I'll admit.  It's nice to get the little box.

Cheers!

I am Grateful

That is the name of the "cook" book I am reading on raw food.  The title comes from the name of the restaurant that the author owns in San Francisco.  I do not think it is coincidental that I will be in San Francisco in a few days.

I think it is meant to be.

Before I go totally raw, I have basically said I can eat whatever I want until all the pieces are in place and I can go about this new experiment properly.  But I have no appetite.  I have hunger, yes.  But no desire to eat, no desire to make my juices ... it is almost as though I am at war with the concept of HAVING to eat.  Well, whatever it is, I am completely sapped of all energy ... and part of me thinks that is the point:  I need to understand fully what food means to my body, and what it does to it.  I already know that eating the bright, colorful beauty foods makes me feel alive.  I guess I needed a second opinion on that ... I've eaten a lot of potato chips this past weekend.  I love potato chips.  I do.  They are so wonderful.  They crunch in your mouth and the flavor (sour cream and onion is my favoritest of them all, but no chip will go uneaten in my presence!)  But they make you feel like shit.

Potato chips are not real food.  Not out of the bag anyway -- and so, okay, I get it.  And every time I feel a little put out at all the work a raw diet will mean -- or the fact that I can't go out to eat, or have an ice cream cone out on the boat ... or any of the things my life is constructed around in the summer -- I just have to remember that I can feel alive or I can feel like shit.

I am grateful that I have a stack of books on the raw lifestyle and so far the recipes sound good to me.

I am grateful that in truth I have been eating the majority of the foods on this diet, just mixing cooked along with it.  So I know that it won't be that hard for me.  I have been approaching this for a while now, and I am committed to the full 30 days once I start.  (Starting is going to be the hardest!)

The blender is on the way.  When I came home from Oklahoma,  Maddie was talking about this blender that Peter saw on Modern Marvels, and she said that he said that was the blender I should get.  I did some comparisons on the Blendtech blender and the Vitamix, and discovered that it seemed to be a great option.  (And Peter is happy to have contributed towards this by discovering the blender ... hey, I am grateful I can spend the $350 with blessings and not grumbles!)

I am not going about this my normal way -- jumping in and going for it.  I am much more planned and methodical about it, and I think that is because I have a feeling it is going to be a big lifestyle change for me -- for the long run.   I love to cook, and yet, I've fought with the feelings of killing my food -- watching the beautiful colors fade with time and the heat of the stove.  In my gut I know I will miss some things, but there is no reason that some cooked food can't be incorporated into a lifestyle diet.  The thing is, most people just stop eating it because it makes them feel bad.

I am grateful that my family is excited about this -- and are ready to do it with me.  I just have to come to terms with the fact that they will cheat -- and it will be alright.  I just hope that they find that the way they feel eating raw is worth foregoing the bad stuff.

Anyway, it's going to be interesting.  I am now toying with the idea of doing an entirely separate blog from it (because we all know I become a tad obsessed with things!) and I want to keep my creative outlets flowing -- but not all preachy either.  (I am better than you because I eat raw and you don't, so there!)  Though, that would be my ego, which I am in the process of murdering.  Oh!  So many things to do, so little time.

Checklist:

Kill ego

go raw

develop yoga practice

I haven't been able to check anything off yet!

But I am grateful that I am excited about it.

What are you grateful for?

Hmmm, I think it gelled!

Soooooo long since I've blogged ... Soooooooooo much I want to blog about.  But where to start?  I don't know!   I feel so scattered -- I have so many things I want to do but I have been tired from traveling and that blasted cold (that went away COMPLETELY the moment I began traveling) and last night instead of going to bed and sleeping which I needed very badly, I sat up and played with all the pictures I've taken the past few weeks.

And that was after going out to dinner and then later meeting friends for a few beers and then watching my taped version of Gray's Anatomy!

I decided last night as I had to physically pull myself away from the computer, that I crave doing something creative now, and I was so happy last night after playing with pictures.  I wanted to blog, but I knew I was too tired for that.  The past week in Oklahoma left me disconnected from the cyberworld -- there was no wireless at the hotel and  no time, really, for it anyway.  I didn't miss it -- in fact, for the first time ever I was perfectly fine with it and even while at the airport coming home I had an opportunity to go online and I thought, nah, I'll be home soon enough.

I want to talk about Hallie's graduation and having a child move away.  I want to talk about travel, about being with 8 women and talking and delving into bits and pieces of your past history with them, I want to discuss what it felt like to me to be in one state, with its specific climate and landscape and what it feels like to be back in another.  I want to talk about a lot of things but nothing has settled in my head and experience has long since made me know that if it hasn't -- it won't!  By now something should have gelled -- and it has not.  I am rambling, searching for words to string together into sentences (and that kind of feels weird in itself!)

I have no flow right now because I've been so on the go!  I need to chill out, and stop worrying about my next trip (yesterday morning I woke up, took a kid to school then came home and started researching hotels in California -- as opposed to meditating or whatever!)  Then in the afternoon I had to drive back down to Manchester to take Maddie to a doctor's appointment, and found myself once again in uncomfortable chairs in a waiting room reading a magazine killing time.  Ick!

I can't decide if I like it being all crazy and busy -- or if I crave my more or less normal easy-paced existence!  I am trying to ascertain whether or not I am dealing with Hallie moving to Chicago or ignoring it!   She was home for a few days while I was away and when I did get home the other night, late late, we chatted for an hour or so, and then she left early the following morning.  We did begin to grasp at straws though -- trying to find a way to spend more time together by my saying I would drive her here or there or pick her up or whether or not there was a bus to New Jersey (where she is now, spending time with her boyfriend) ... until we both realized we were creating a lot of work to spend a few more hours together.  As Hallie said, we communicate very well with each other -- and there is no reason that will end.  So we stopped trying to reinvent the wheel and let it be and said our goodbyes.

It's just so much for her right now.  She and her roommates were holding on to each and every last moment as well -- probably not knowing as well as I that their relationships will never be the same.   It is unlikely that any of them will ever live together again -- and Hallie and her two original freshman roommates have been together for four years.  That is very unusual in itself and I suspect that for Hallie that break is harder than leaving us -- because she really has been doing that for four years as it is.

But good for her.  She is, from where I stand, going forth into the world with an amazing amount of grace and courage.  She is leaving behind her family, friends and boyfriend to live in a new city and begin a new job, and even though there is a support system out there in terms of cousins and an uncle, it's still a VERY BIG DEAL.

As I've tried to gauge my own reaction to this big life event, I keep going back to when Hallie was a junior and she went on Mountain Classroom through school.  It was the first time that I had to deal with a child being completely off my radar.  They were not permitted cell phones and since they were on the road, no one really knew where they were most of the time.  I found it to be maddening -- and I spent countless hours on the computer trying to track where they might be.  Then she would call and say that she had spent the last night on a frozen lake in Minnesota and earlier had gone up on a small plane (scary, Mom, it sounded old) to track wolves.  Just as I would begin to gather my wits to ask her what the future held, she would say she had to go, that everyone was lined up to use the pay phone and she couldn't hog it.

It was a long few months for me and I resented that I was forced to go incommunicado with my child in a world that was all about communicating.  This is stupid! I would cry out, but I worked through it, I explained to myself that this was just the beginning -- that the future held only more of the same -- many days strung together where I wouldn't know what she was up to or where she was.  For me it was like a crash course in letting your child fly solo from the nest for the first time -- but I got to have her back in it for a few more years, which I think makes this real and final nest-leaving a lot easier to take.  AND!  I can pick up the phone and call her anytime I want, or email her or text her -- and I am guaranteed a response within the day if not immediately.

There is only one way to let go.  To hold on would be to demand that she spend her last weekend here, with her family, instead of some else's family.  And I make myself feel better by pointing out to myself that I would never do that.  It's not about me -- it's about her.  She is trying to be with all the important people in her life as much as she can and while I am sure I could probably have woven a beautiful quilt of guilt and perceived responsibility and wrapped her up in it until she stayed longer, I've never done that with her.  And she has always wanted to come home and this latest parting has taken place on those same terms.

I can let go.

And so can she.

And that's okay.

And as I sit here crying, it feels so good.  I'm not keeping it inside -- I'm letting that go too, hopefully with grace and dignity.

Boston Legal and Beyond (you know, like the store!)

Boston Legal has to be the most ironic show on television. It's hilarious. They take everything that is ridiculous in this world and then apply the law (which is already ridiculous) to make it even more ridiculous than it is.

It's priceless!

And it seems that no one I know watches it. So here I sit, all alone, laughing out loud.

Denny Crane, (pictured at right in picture) a founding partner of the law firm who has long since lost his marbles is being sought by the Republican party as a candidate for the presidency (of the United States.) As his co-worker (James Spader, pictured at left) says to him, how can they be serious? During his interview they ask him how he feels about their greatest base ... the NRA. And he pulls out about six guns he has hidden all over his person and in his briefcase ... and they all look at each other with big smiles.

Denny says later, "Can't you see me on the terrace, a scotch, a cigar ... maybe even an intern?"

A woman seeking to be a priest is suing the Archdiocese of Boston for gender discrimination. "God beckoned me," the woman says to the judge as she starts her testimony.

And a call girl arrested for prostitution believes the law is archaic and needs to be changed. (Because it is arbitrary, unreasonable and therefore unconstitutional). I actually had no idea that prostitution was legal in so many countries! (Did I mention the lawyer arguing this case has Tourette's Syndrome?) Oh yes. The absurdity is heaped upon the absurd ... and yet, there is an underlying message in each crazy "case" steeped in facts that makes you think.

I love this show!

On another note, I am battling this stupid cold and it doesn't seem to be getting better -- but worse. And as I pondered how this could be, it occurred to me that instead of a gallbladder attack hitting me when I have so much to do, it is now this pain in the butt cold.

Before traveling the past few years, I was always attacked by the gall a few days before. This resulted in my not being able to prepare to leave without wondering hour by hour if I would be able to go at all. (This also was the reason I traveled through Europe last spring with the biggest suitcase in the world ... because I was a wreck before leaving and did not make sound decisions!)

I woke up this morning having a packing dream -- I'd arrived in Oklahoma (my next destination) and forgotten to pack anything. So here's the way it must be. I think that I am this easy-going, devil-may-care person who flits through life easily ... and I'm not! I internalize my whatevers ... fears, trepidations, etc. about something new coming up and it manifests itself as some ailment or other.

Before every interview I ever did -- over the span of quite a few years -- I was always a nervous wreck beforehand ... and had to plan extra time beforehand to fit in the inevitable bathroom breaks that were a result of a nervous stomach. It actually took me a long time to figure that out, and I guess it was really last summer, before I went on vacation for two weeks and was sitting in an emergency room with a gallbladder attack that I put it together that traveling was not good for my health!

It is a lot of travel all clumped together. I went to Chicago last week, I am leaving for Oklahoma on Sunday and then California the first of June. And on top of that I have a daughter graduating from college and moving away.

Now, I don't feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel like any of that stuff is a big deal. But I think because of that, I get sick.

So what should I do? Throw myself on my knees and sob because I have to travel so much? (But I like to travel!)

Should I beg my daughter not to grow up and move back home? (But I think it's wonderful what she is doing and I know she is going to have a great experience in a great city.)

So how do you keep your body from internalizing things and dealing with issues that must bother you when you don't know they are bothering you until you get sick?

There was NOTHING I could do before an interview ... even though I knew it would happen, even though I meditated to try to combat it ... the only cure was to actually begin the interview, then I would get into a groove and at the end I always left feeling great, pumped up and energized.

And I always enjoy myself traveling and am never sick while doing so -- I just don't get it.

Oh well. I'm off to drown my sorrows in cough medicine.  Which is also interesting.  I hate to take drugs (legal ones anyway) and I discovered that I have this pattern.  I do NOT take drugs for days, instead ingesting hideous juices, etc. but then I start to get worse, which is what you do when you are sick, feel sick, get worse, then get better ... but I don't buy the drugs until I am just about better.  How do I know this for sure?

I have a little stash of cold medications and I went to them.  Three boxes of various things, night-time remedies, daytime, cold, allergy relief ... and they were all expired.  In 2000, and 2004.  So that means I haven't been this sick in four years!  AND wasn't that sick prior to that for four years.  So I am just enduring my every-four-year cold!  I am such a researcher with such clear cut data!

So I guess I have to go out and buy the medicine so it can sit in my closet for four more years.  (All the boxes had one or two tablets taken out of them and that was it!)  Clearly that is my sacrifice to the Gods!

Puppy love

A long time ago there was a dog named Lucy.  I don't know how old I was, middle school age I guess and I have this vivid memory of falling asleep on my bed in the middle of the day and waking up entangled with the dog.

Some people are born dog people -- they just love dogs and whenever they see one they crouch down and pet whatever mongrel comes across their path.  I am not one of these.  I do not dislike dogs, but I prefer them to be well-behaved and they should keep their noses to themselves at all times (if you get my drift.)

But I felt a shift in my overall feeling towards dogs when I woke up that long-ago

 afternoon and felt a sense of deep companionship with the big black dog who was sharing the same pillow as me.  I got it.  I loved that dog.

When she was hit by a car, my entire body broke out in hives.  She died, and I think she took with her my trust in canine companionship.  Basically, you can't count on it.

Since then there have been a number of dogs -- we had a big german shephard mutt named Max that scared everyone in the neighborhood.  He used to jump into Peter's pickup truck through an open window, and when he disappeared around hunting season we suspected that he must have jumped into a hunter's pick-up truck window.  Or at least that's what we hoped.

Our next dog was a dalmation -- and we originally named him Murphy.  But then, when he was still a puppy he was out on the boat with the kids and Peter out to get Sunday breakfast.  Murphy thought that the bag of donuts looked good and so dived off the boat -- and hence we re-named him Dunkin -- for taking a dunkin for donuts!

Dunkin was a great dog until the day he took a bite out of Maddie's cheek.  It wasn't vicious -- they were both on the floor and they were both going for the same piece of toast that had fallen underneath the high chair.  I was right there and saw Dunkin snap up the piece of toast just as Maddie leaned in -- and her cheek got in the way.  With a two-year-old in surgery I demanded that Peter get rid of the dog.  There was no way I was going to return home with my baby if that dog was in the house.  Trust was forever gone.

But I was concerned that Maddie would grow up with a fear of dogs -- and I didn't want that.  I would watch as kids would freak out and go literally mental when they saw a dog, and I thought no way, dogs are too prevalent in this world to be afraid of them.  So I knew we needed to get another dog, even though I wasn't thrilled with the idea.

When I had talked with the surgeon after Maddie's surgery about dog bites, he had told me that the ONLY dog that he knew of that next to never bit anyone was black labs.   That stayed in the back of my mind and when I heard that my sister-in-law was breeding black labs and had recently had a litter (Maddie had just turned four) we decided to get one.  Which was quite a big deal as they lived in Minnesota!

We brought Luna home on an airplane and she was a great dog from day one.  Our house was under construction at the time, an

d we were all living in one room.  We arrived home late and the kids were asleep, when a huge thunderstorm hit.  We fell asleep that night with all the kids and a new puppy in bed!

Luna spent the first few months going to work with me, and she was a great puppy.  She did however, have a few issues:  one being that she somehow confused where she was supposed to go to the bathroom, so I would take her outside at work and wander around the railroad tracks waiting for her to pee -- but nope, she'd wait until we'd walked back up the three flights to the office, and the moment I opened the door she would squat and pee and poop!  It was so frustrating!  One time I stayed outside my entire lunch hour, walking her around and around.  You could literally see her crossing her legs she had to go so bad.  And sure enough ... she just about dragged me up the steps so that she could get inside and relieve herself.

It was crazy.  So Peter started taking her to work with him -- and since he was often out on jobs, her choices were to go in his truck or outside ... so that problem was solved more or less.  I was also taking a 2 and 4 year old in the car with me for my two-hour daily commute so removing the dog from the mix was kind of nice.

But the bummer was, Luna went from being my dog to Peter's.  And she never came back.  Oh, she was always happy to see me (she is a black lab after all) but the moment Peter came into a room she would abandon me with no remorse whatsoever.    When I stopped working, Luna became my daily companion and we have hiked and hung out ever since, but the moment she hears Peter's truck ... off she goes.  Turncoat!

Last summer we were out on a big sailboat and the skipper had two black lab puppies -- one of them was named Lucy.  And without much thought at all I said to the kids "we're going to get a new puppy and I'm going to name her Lucy."  I don't believe that you can replace things -

- but my time with the original Lucy was very brief and I think I craved that feeling of total and complete loyalty and love that a dog can give you.

Luna does her best -- but she is torn by her other passions -- chasing a ball being her one true love.  She loses her mind altogether when I appear wearing hiking garb -- and there is no talking to her at all -- she just shakes and whines and overall drives me insane.  I seriously can not put those clothes on until I am ready to leave because otherwise she will nearly have a coronary in anticipation.

While I try to appreciate her excitement, in truth it just bugs me.  She loses her ability to listen or focus ... she just shakes and whines and drools and tucks her tail between her legs and won't stop until we leave.  Luna is very loyal to her addictions!   To me?  Not so much.

Today Lucy meandered into the living room and spotted me, and her eyes literally lit up.  She came over to me and stared up at me with her doggy eyes full of love and rested her head on my knee and sighed.  She is

 nine months old and is gi-normous.  She is well-behaved and listens to me and looks at Luna when she is having her conniptions and looks at me with an expression of "What is her problem?" And I say, exactly!  We are simpatico!

I took her for a walk alone the other day to do some leash training and then I let her off the leash for the last few miles, and she was very respectful and cognizant of my being there.

Today I took Luna as well, and Luna was all over the place, running off the trail and paying absolutely no attention to me whatsoever.  Don't get me wrong, Luna is a great dog and will return the moment I call her.  But I am second.  Lucy kept looking back at me, "is this okay?" she was asking.  At one point she trotted by my side and kept nudging me, as though to point out that "the other dog" was misbehaving and she wasn't!  She is just so like me!  

We just get each other.

I've never felt for Luna what I feel for Lucy -- and it's mostly because she was always so exasperating!  If it wasn't her pee problem, then it was her abandoning me with no regrets for Peter, or becoming a severe 

ballaholic or making it so that I can't get dressed for activities until I am ready to leave!  She isn't about pure love and loyalty, she has issues.

I've never been one for issues.

I know you can't say whether or not you love one of your children more than another, and I am sure there are plenty of dog people who would be horrified by my confessions.  But until today I hadn't realized that this Lucy had awakened in me a dormant dog-loving gene that I'd put away a long, long time ago.

Luna is on one side of me as I write this, Lucy on the other.  But their reasons are not the same.  Luna is afraid I might jump into hiking gear and abandon her (I am telling you, the dog is besotted with issues!) and Lucy just likes to be near me -- she has no ulterior motives.

And they called it .... puppy love

The power of food

 Isn't she lovely ... isn't she beautiful ...

And for $450 she very well should be!!!

I had no idea when I became drawn to the 30-day raw food challenge that the tools for such an undertaking would be so pricey!

Geesh.

I haven't ordered it ... yet.  I am still researching.  You can get it a little cheaper by purchasing a factory reconditioned one.   Though ... I don't know.  Why did it need to be reconditioned?  That's always worried me.  They use the word reconditioned, I read the word USED, and there is like a $50 difference in price.

Normally I don't put a lot of time and effort into purchases -- but I did with my juicer -- I did a TON of research on it.  And I also bought a really cheap one first, for like $50, thinking that I'd at least see if I liked juicing.  Well, that was a total waste of money because it was worthless, couldn't juice a fly.  But when I finally made the big purchase (comparable to this one) I used it (and I was told I wouldn't for very long).  I have used my juicer almost daily for four years.  And it's still going strong.

It makes sense to buy something that is going to get the job done ... and last.  And it's not like I'm on the fence with the whole raw thing -- and even if I was, we'd still use it for smoothies which we drink a lot.

I just want to make sure I get the bestest blender in the whole wide world -- the perfect one for me!!

As for the power of food ... well.  Charlie gave me his cold and I was a prime candidate for the little nasty germs when I returned from Chicago.  I hadn't juiced the entire time I was there, I hadn't exercised nor had I really treated my body as the temple it is.  So, I got it.  But I didn't get a full-blown cold -- just dribs and drabs of it.  I am using my Neti pot religiously and that is keeping my sinuses clear and I am ingesting wheat grass daily and today, well, today I made the most disgusting juice in the world.

It is called COLD ZAPPER.  It is carrots, grapefruit, ginger and garlic.  It is, in a word, N A S T Y.  I can hardly drink it.   I took a few sips this morning an

d was immediately launched into a dance between nausea and the general overall feeling that dying would be preferable to feeling like this to ... well, I might feel a little better, then whammo ...

So I had a piece of toast with some nut butter on it and felt a little better.  Then went on a 1 1/2 hour walk and returned to the drink.

It's so gross.  This time it gave me the sweats ... like hot flashes ... kind of violent.  I know that garlic is a natural antibiotic, but yikes!  I am not even halfway through it, but I am determined.  Also, the drink should be losing its power with each passing hour ... so it should get easier.

My point is that food is very powerful and I will let you know if this juice zaps my cold -- or me.  Right now, I am thinking it could go either way.  

Did I mention it was N A S T Y?  The aftertaste is horrific.  But seriously, after you take a sip you actually think to yourself, I think it is working!  Then you feel like crap, but for that second ...!

Hmmm, how do I really feel???

Is there a flaw with going raw?

I was roaming about cyberspace, going from one blog to another, when I found myself caught up in a circle of "raw vegans."  I have been intrigued by this concept before but then dismissed it as a little too over the top for me.

But I was led back to it and to the same family I'd been somewhat intrigued with a few years ago.  They have five children and they are all raw vegans -- meaning they've never eaten anything cooked -- ever.  (Now if this sounds appealing because there is no cooking involved, let me assure you that there might be no HEAT applied to food, but to eat a raw vegan diet means you are constantly preparing food.)

What I find interesting is that the food calls out to me.  Remember my raves about the beauty and color of real food?  I am drawn to it because I think deep down there is something about the diet that resonates within me.  And the lists of what they eat ... fruit smoothies, nut milks, avocados, coconuts, salads, veggies, crisp carrots ... I mean, YUMMY YUMMY YUM!

Now ... here's the thing.  I get all excited when I read about eating local, or eating foods that are organic and pesticide free.  But it's SO DAMN HARD to do that here.  And then you read blog after blog about people hitting the smoothie bars and the local farmer's markets (in California and Colorado for example) and I actually feel myself deflating.  For we have a farmer's market here -- it runs from June-Sept. and there is very little food there, it's mostly crafts, candles, whatever ... it's a N.H. version of a farmer's market.  We do have farm stands, but there is no guarantee that the food is organic.  In fact, it's probably not.

This family is now working on a concept that is somewhat like a commune -- based in Ojai, California.  The vision is instead of using up vital farmland for housing, the housing is constructed skyscraper-style, thereby freeing much more land for farming and recreation.  This is a new idea, the land has been chosen, but it's more of a dream right now, and I was thinking OH, I want to be a part of that!  I want to ride my bike as my means of transportation and grow my own food in a supportive environment (here, if the varmint's don't get it, then the weather will in the form of frost or drought!)  And best of all, they believe in technology so there would be high-speed internet.

Utopia?

Perhaps!

In the meantime I've joined a CSA  (community share association) which means I own a share of a crop from an organic farm, and I have to work two days in the fields as well.  I figure if the two days go well, then maybe we can look further into the future of gardening!  I am trying to be realistic ... I am trying to figure out the best way to eat 100 percent organic.  I actually crave fruits and veggies like I used to crave sweets -- and I'm not making that up.

All I wanted for lunch today was avocado, carrot, lettuce and tomato wrapped up in a kale leaf.  I actually CRAVED it, but only had carrot, lettuce and kale.  I felt the deflation begin, as I stared at the beautiful piece of kale but knew that I wouldn't be satisfied without all the ingredients.

So I pulled out my last frozen bag of homemade chicken soup and had that instead, and pondered what it would be like to never eat anything that was heated up, and while the soup was good, I wanted raw!

Yeah, yeah.  I know.  It's me.  And I am having a heck of a time keeping the wheat grass habit going -- it just doesn't taste good to me.  Today I tried mixing it in my juice -- but it polluted it.  A juice I normally swooned over tasted too, ummm, harsh.  And the kombucha ... it tastes sour and icky.   Each thing is supposed to be sooooooo good for you, but how much do you really need?  There is no manual on this -- if you want to look up wheat grass, then you will find enough reasons to take it daily, and same with the kombucha.  But I can't imagine one needs both, daily.

The fact that they don't taste phenomenal to me (and they both have in the past) seems to signify that at this time my body isn't interested in these substances.  But then what?  How long can I keep my kombucha mushroom alive?  Do I grow wheat grass this year?  I DON'T KNOW!

So the obvious choice is to go raw vegan?

Sure!  Why not!  All I need to do that is to invest in some super-duper blender, an amazing food processor and a food dehydrator.

But I love to cook!

Aren't you glad that you're not me?  Clearly I was put on this earth to drive myself crazy!

Varooooooooom!

Hilary for Hilary

 

It's your choice:

I have not been weighing in on the presidential race because I knew that it would just be months of stupidity and unearthing of horrid, awful things like Obama's reverend, and I didn't want to give the stupidity even more credence by adding to the banter.

And I've listened to that chick on The View go on and on and on about how Obama obviously can't be president because he sat in the congregation of this man and therefore must believe his beliefs.

Okaaaay.  There is really only one way to factor this whole thing into your choice of president.  Think about the relative in your family that rants and raves and goes off and is generally embarrassing and then say to yourself ... does that mean I BELIEVE everything he/she says?

Of course not.  End of that stupidity.

And now that Hilary has proven that she doesn't believe in democracy but in Hilary, and that she has no idea what it means to quit (we've already got one of those, stay in a war until the end of time, just as long as it's not on HIS dime) I think it's safe to say she would not make a very good president.  You have to know when to stand back and examine the situation from a distance.  You have to understand that there will be times when you won't get what you want, but that's okay, and there's probably a reason for it.

She has already proven that she listens to no one.  She is not a representative of this country.  She is spending millions and millions of dollars -- she's like a mad woman at the craps table in Las Vegas ... she is losing millions of dollars, but every once in awhile she wins some back ... so that in of itself proves to her that she has to keep going.

We don't want a rabid gambler running our country.   We need a little sanity  -- no, that's not true, we need BUCKET LOADS of sanity right now.

We have a black man and a woman running for president when we've never had either.  In addition to that, we have a candidate that won't bow out graciously for the better of the party because she truly feels she is the better candidate.  It's her utter lack of common sense that concerns me.  Even Al Gore only "fought" to retain his win for five weeks before graciously conceding to George Bush.

Hilary has lost perspective and she needs to chill.  She needs to walk away from the table and immerse herself in a week-long bubble bath and remember there is more to life than campaigning for the presidency.    I truly believe that she thinks that all the qualities she is exhibiting -- bullheadedness, tenacity, hoarse-voiced calls to save America -- are the qualities that are essential to being a good president.  

I say they are all qualities that are good in equal measure with a smattering of common sense, open-mindedness, humility, compassion ...

There is a time to fight and there is a time to stop fighting.  She thinks she has nothing to lose and everything to win.

Who is she thinking about?

The power of suggestion, damn hornet

This is EXACTLY what he looked like.

Who?

Well ... I was lounging on the couch on the screened porch.  I'd positioned myself just so, with the goal being maximum comfort.  I'd set up the table next to me with a big glass of water, a small bowl of chocolate covered blueberries and two books.  The breeze was blowing ... I was in heaven.

I returned my mother's phone call, and told her about my recent trip to Chicago, and we were chatting away when I raised my arm above my head and rested it on the pillow.  And then suddenly I felt as though a nail had been driven through the base of my thumb and I jumped up, yelling "Ow, Ow," and I said to my mother "I think I've been stung."

I looked, and sure enough there was a small red dot and it was already beginning to swell.  But I had other fish to fry ... or as it were, a goddamn hornet to kill.  I pulled back the pillow and there he was, little bastard, acting as though he belonged there.  I took one of the books and went at him, and my mother kept commenting that I was awfully aggressive.

It hurt!  And darn it, it is my screen porch!  It's not like I was out batting at a hornet's nest.  This particular insect was NOT respecting boundaries.  He had to go.  And he did.

The pain actually surprised me, it was getting worse, so my mother instructed me to put meat tenderizer on it.  The thing is ... I don't eat meat!  So she said that she couldn't help me then, but she reminded me that she hadn't actually become allergic to stings until she was older ... you know, probably like my age.  And did I know what to do?  Get to the hospital fast.

I said I was fine, and as I applied ice, she continued on that no, the first time that she went into anaphylactic shock she'd been stung while mowing the lawn and thought nothing of it -- and therefore continued to mow.  It was about an hour before the symptoms came on (she said I'd know it ... she didn't need to go into them) so I just never knew.

Now is that nice?  My hand is killing me ... though I'm not sure if that's more due to the ice than the sting ... I've attempted to remove the stinger though I don't think there is one, and I applied a poultice of baking soda and water.  And now I am sitting here of course experiencing all the symptoms ... like ...

I am sure my tongue is swelling.  Or maybe not.  Well, it feels bigger than normal.  I think.

I might be a little disoriented.  A little cloudy headed.  Confused?  Maybe?

I might be having trouble breathing, but that might be because I am panicking about my tongue possibly swelling and the fact that I can't remember if I am disoriented or not.

No, I don't think it's funny.  I am a victim of both a hornet's sting and the power of suggestion.

I wish I'd made note of the time of the actual assault (though maybe I would be too confused to recall) so that once an hour or so has passed I can safely believe that I am not going to have a reaction.

Well, clearly I AM having a reaction.  Instead of being out on the porch enjoying my mid-afternoon as planned, I am sitting at my computer looking up everything I can find on being stung.

I have been stung before.  The last time was on an island while camping.  It was a bee that time.  Our campsite was surrounded by them and we'd more or less become accustomed to their presence.  I took a bite of my sandwich and the next thing I know felt the back of my throat being stung.

And I didn't die that time.  So I'm thinking I'm safe.

Who am I and why do I have white paste all over my hand?

Ramblings

Over the past five days I've had several blog ideas that have been running through my head and last night, as I lay awake in bed I almost came downstairs to free them from captivity.

But I forced myself to quiet my brain and get to sleep instead and therefore, all those ideas are gone.   Like a dandelion that has turned to fluff and begun its own dismantling, filling the air with its seed, I can almost see all of my ideas floating before me ... and as I reach out to pluck one of them, it scurries away.

Very frustrating!  So ... instead I will just start and see what happens!

First off, I couldn't sleep last night because it was TOO QUIET!  After sleeping in a bed that seemed to be only inches from every siren, trash truck and the subway, I was dismayed at the total and complete lack of sound!  I held my breath and listened ... but there was nothing.  Not an owl hooting or a coyote singing or even a mosquito near my ear.

I thought about how I enjoy the city -- the sounds and smells and bustling activity and the choicest opportunities for people watching.  And I thought about how I enjoy the country -- the lushness of green grass and trees and the lack of activity and no people to watch at all.  And I asked myself, where would I prefer to be?  And my answer was honestly, either place.   And then I thought about how I am equally as comfortable laying on the ground on an air mattress in the middle of the wilderness gazing up at the stars as I am laying upon a fluffy mattress in a four-star hotel.

And I'm not just saying that.  I like change, I like new circumstances, new people, new anything.  Even spending an entire day in an airport is an experience, not something I'd like to do again anytime soon, but still.  It wasn't horrible and there is always a way to make it tolerable.

I have been so focused on all the horrible things that could happen, and that's fine, there's no shame in acquiring knowledge.  But as we were taking off in the airplane yesterday, and it surged into the air and I gazed down through an achingly blue sky down at the world moving below I thought there is no way that a civilization that figured out how to get a monstrous piece of metal to glide through the air and get you from one destination to another in a fraction of the time an automobile could is going to fall apart when the last drop of gasoline has been used up.

All of the solutions are out there -- they are just being suppressed by these ridiculous corporations who are hellbent on keeping this society petroluem-dependent.  And that's only going to work as long as it actually exists.  But once it is gone, then at last another segment of the population will be allowed to bring forth their ideas, instead of getting paid a huge amount of money to just go away.

Which makes me wonder:  If I had invented a transportation device that powered on something cheap and sustainable and I was offered umpteen million dollars so it could be purchased and thrown into a vault, would I?

Since I haven't invented anything, the easy answer is of course not.   But the real answer is probably of course.  Because the alternative choice would be to fight against big corporations who would do anything to keep my invention from coming to market.   And like the democratic elections, the outcome would favor those in power.

Hee hee -- can't stop throwing out cheap shots --  I am obsessed.

As President Bush stated on May 7, 2002 -- "And one of the things we've got to make sure that we do is anything."

Come fly with me

I do my fair share of traveling and for the most part everything goes smoothly (as I intend it to).  But last Friday when Hallie and I were enroute to Chicago, a quick two-hour flight turned into a day-long saga.

But what are you going to do?

We arrived at the airport at about 9:30 (for an 11:20 flight).  Since we didn't hit traffic and dropping off the car was seamless, we were there in PLENTY of time.  The airport was dead and the security line didn't exist.  We breezed through.  Found our gate and sat to wait.

Then we started to hear about the weather.  At about 10:30 the guy from United Airlines started talking about delays.  Great.  But nothing solid -- we just needed to hang there and wait and see.  At about 11:15 he told us that the pilot had instructed all of us to hit the snack bar and get food because the plan was to board the plane then go sit on the runway for an hour or so waiting for take-off.

The reason for this was because if we were on the runway ready to go, then perhaps air traffic control would let us.  I called my brother to find out about the weather and he said it was sunny.  It was a little confusing and what was this slot stuff anyway?  I understand delays due to weather, but sitting on a runway waiting for a slot?

So that's what we did.  Boarded the plane and sat there for about half an hour or so, and then the pilot came on and said that he had bad news:  Our new "slot" was for 3:30 (it was 12:30) and so they were taking us back to the terminal to wait.

Now here's the thing.  You always hear these horror stories of people getting stuck in airports for hours, even days.  And I have to say that I felt a little trapped, despite the fact that my car was not too far, but it involved too much to get to it!   What were we going to DO for three hours, considering we'd already been there for that long already!  Yikes.

The first thing we did was enjoyed the massage chairs -- three minutes of massage on your back for a buck.  Bargain!  We enjoyed the first three minutes so much, we did it for another three.

Not bad!  We'd killed six minutes.  How hard was it going to be?  We weren't really sure if they were going to give us more information, so we decided to go stand by the woman everyone was lined up to talk to and listen in.

These were all people who had connections to make in Chicago.  And this woman did everything she could to help them out, making phone calls and getting them seats on different flights on different airlines, helping them to find out if their connections were also delayed, etc.

I was very impressed.  I mean, I wasn't thrilled and overjoyed to be stuck in an airport for the day ... but everyone was fairly calm about it and they didn't leave us stuck in a plane on the runway for hours and hours!  They understood we were human beings and treated us as such.

After we were sure that our flight was going to (hopefully) take off at 3:30, we went to the little restaurant for lunch.  We ordered two big beers and a quesadilla to share and I started to watch the banner on the television.  Tornadoes in Arkansas -- big storms ripping across the country.  Yikes!  The pictures were devastating, and I thought, here I am, safe in an airport eating food and having a beer while people's lives are at this moment forever changed.  Either they lost a home, a loved one, their office building ... whatever.  These storms were affecting my travel plans, but they were not changing my life.  Inconvenient to be sure.  Life altering, no.

It's all about perspective I suppose.  And then, as things work, we were trying to decide whether or not to order another beer, so I went to the gate to check things out and they were boarding!  So, all that time we'd killed, and now I was rushing back in a panic, hurrying to get our check so we could get on the plane.  Too funny.

We arrived in Chicago at 4:30, and proceeded to get picked up in a big black Hummer (my brother borrows peoples cars) and then we sat in traffic.  My brother looked at me and said "I told you to get an earlier flight so we wouldn't have to sit in traffic."

Yes well.  Best laid plans of mice and men and all.

Now if women ran the transportation industry ...