You can know anything. It's all there. You just have to find it.

-Neil Gaiman


Monday, March 14, 2011

Spring Forward

So I'm starting this new diet.  Yeah, smart.  Because I don't have nearly as much time to workout, although yesterday I did manage to go for a jog around the lake, and when I say jog I mean jogging for 1 mile, trotting, walking, hobbling and panting while pressing my fingers into my side to relieve some burning twinge that could possibly turn into a pulmonary embolism, spitting up phelgm, and then walking some more, for three miles, I decided that I need to start eating better. 

Wow, that is a fantastic run-on sentence. 

But I did feel better afterward.  Because of all that horrible cold but clean arctic air I had to wheeze in.

So I found this weird diet book my sister-in-law had on her bookshelf.  It's written by a doctor, and endorsed by Dr. Oz, so I'm guessing it's not total bunk.

There is a 1 week cleanse diet where you make and drink some foul smelling vegetable broth while eating things like vegetables and brown rice and chicken/fish.  I like all those things.  So I thought, "Huh, I could do that."

But then I read what I can't eat.

No alcohol (shit!  Wine is vegetarian!  It's fruit!  It's awesome fruit juice!)
No sugar
No caffeine! (WTF!)
No eggs!  (Jesus, kill me now)
No dairy! (Seriously, kill me)
No refined foods/junk food/fast food/pretty much anything that comes out of a box.

So this week I'm getting ready to start the diet, which I will start this weekend after I brew some broth in my cauldron/stockpot.  This week I'm going to not have alcohol, refined foods, sugar, and step myself down from caffeine and dairy/eggs, which are things you just shouldn't quit cold turkey.  Because just this morning I had cereal (organic pumpkin/flax granola) with milk and coffee (with milk).  The idea of not having my spinach/gouda/turkey/tomato/egg scramble on an English muffin makes me want to cry.  Oh yeah, I'm not supposed to eat tomatoes, either.  I forgot why.  Instead I'm supposed to make some shake with rice powder, borage/flax oil, berries & banana, which doesn't sound terrible, but still.

So I have my list made of all the weird crap I have to buy at the store, and right now I'm focusing on drinking a lot of water and eating my vegetables.

Which made me think of potato chips.

Which then made me think of this story.

I was about twelve or so.  My brother had some friends over on a Saturday and it was lunchtime.  My mom made everyone sandwiches, and then my dad who was eating his sandwich by the breadboard on the kitchen island, asked if anyone wanted some potato chips.  Well, duh, of course we did.

So my dad gets out the tupperware container full of potato chips.  (My mom stored/still stores things like chips and cereal in tupperware because you know if you live in a house with three stupid kids you know when they take potato chips or cereal out, they won't close it properly and then everything will get stale.  This is true.)

So my dad walks around the table with the tupperware container.  He puts a handful on my plate, asking, "Big chips or little chips?"

"Big chips," I say and he walks to the next person.

My brother and two of his friends know the drill.  They know the answer.  And the answer is, "Big chips."

He gets to the last kid.  I think his name is Jason.  He doesn't really know what's going on, as no one has ever asked him such a moronic question.  Poor dumb Jason.  Because everyone else has said "Big chips!" he has to be a contrarian.  He has to know.  He can't help it.  He has to say it.  And we all know he's going to say it.  Because he has to.  We are looking at him the way a pack of dogs look at a pig roasting over a spit.  The anticipation makes our lips quiver.

Jason says, "Little chips."

My dad brings his palm down flat, smashing them into potato chip dust.  He removes his hand and says, "There ya go.  Little chips."

Jason stares at his plate while everyone laughs.

"Jiiiiimmmmm!" yells my mom.


"Why do you have to DO that?"

"Do what?  He asked for little chips."

Jason, to his credit, ate his potato chip splinters and didn't complain. 

This is why I hardly ever invited friends over when I was a kid.

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