Tag Archives: Captain Crunch is left handed

If You Cut off A Cabbage Head, Does it Not Cry?

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I know that eating an entire bowl of Cap’n Crunch’s Crunch Berries was on my list for today. I know it.

I just have to add it.

To the list I haven’t made yet.

Man, I’m gonna bum out on that yoga retreat. I am quite certain that there are less-processed ways to get my less-than one gram of protein and 22 grams of carbs.

Oh God, did I just eat that? I mean, yes, I did. All … say, 250 calories 500 calories (who am I kidding?! No one eats 3/4 cup of the Cap’n with 1/2 cup of skim milk) of it. But I hadn’t had a decent breakfast yet.

The yoga retreat. The one where I’m going to be certified to teach children’s yoga, which is great, but I know I’m in for it on the whole dietary thing.

So I spoke to one of the organizers. They insist that the diet is vegetarian. So I was ok; I asked, “No meat? So fish?”

Yogi: No.

Me: Ok… chicken then?

Yogi: No.

Me: Sigh.

Yogi: crickets. (No, we don’t eat crickets, she gave me crickets on the phone.)

Me: Eggs then? I mean, I have to have some form of non-plant-based protein, I know this about myself; I process vegetables very well. (Don’t ask me about this; I’ll tell you just about anything you want to know about myself, even the TMI stuff, but I stop at metabolic processing.)   Milk? Dairy?

Yogi: No, no eggs. No milk.

Me: (vexed at this point): But eggs aren’t meat. They’re … so this is sounding vegan. Isn’t this vegan?

Yogi: Yes. [pause] I mean, no. It’s vegetarian. [sounding confused herself]

Me: But vegetarian diets include fish and eggs. Milk… I don’t get it. This is vegan. I can do vegan: vegetarian chili, most of  my summer pasta is simply tomato and basil with olive oil (I began to get hungry and immediately wanted to put on my leopard pelt, take off my Nikes and grab a club to kill a rabbit I saw going all vegetarian and whatnot on my vincas); I know that all the soy isn’t good for us: all that estrogen is not so great…  Yogurt? Please… tell me there’s something….

Her pauses were staggered; I could tell by her voice that she was getting confused herself.

Yogi: Yogurt? Uhm… Yes, there is dairy because we have cheese with breakfast and yogurt with our fruit.

Me: Oh thank God! Erm, I mean Shiva! Thank Shiva, right? I was beginning to get a little nervous there.

Yogi: But not honey.

Me: Wha— ?

Yogi: Taking honey is cruel to the bees.

Me: How do we know this? Wait, don’t answer that. I can live without the honey. It’s only 16 days. I don’t eat honey … consciously … anyway.

At this point, I was beginning to feel as though my chances of survival in this yogic environment for 16 days without so much as a mini brie were going to kill me. But I can do mediterranean diets, I can “eat like Jesus” as Thing 2 (who was 9 at the time) once said: olives and feta and hummus and pita wedges. I can totally do that. So I decided that I needed to say something like that, but I didn’t say “Jesus” because I don’t know how they feel about the whole Jesus thing; I’m not a thumper, but I am a Christian.

Yogi:  The honey is controversial. Yes, it’s just 16 days and you will be amazed by how good you feel.

Me: (Yes, I will feel like a freshly RotoRootered house, I’m sure.) Oh, yes. I mean, in the summer, we grill all our vegetables and I eat lots of caprese salads and hummus and pita. So I can totally do this. I don’t eat much steak anymore (lie; I was hacking into a raw porterhouse with a wooden spoon at that very moment); I am sure this isn’t too different from what I do every day (apart from the fact that I have two poached eggs every morning with turkey bacon… ‘controversial honey‘?!). I wonder if eating that way will solve our number-one weight problem: belly fat. I’m just kidding. (Not.)

Yogi: Eating this way will solve lots of problems. It will allow you to be truly authentic in your journey toward greater ahimsa.

Me: Ok! Sounds great.

It's all in how we look at it.

It’s all in how we look at it.

A few days later I was at a Memorial Day event and I was talking about my dilemma over a juicy char-broiled hamburger with a friend. We wracked our meat-addled brains to figure out a way for me to survive, and then she came up with it: beef jerky. If I stow away a couple Slim Jims (not the spicy kind, because I will get the toots from those), I might be able to make it.

I was joking with another friend at the same event over a torture-free, PETA-approved beer, about the assertion that a vegan lifestyle isn’t cruel; “How do we know that when we cut off a cabbage that the root body isn’t saying, ‘WHAT THE HELL FUCK?! YOU JUST CUT OFF MY HEAD!’ How do we know its little cabbage heart or system isn’t freaking out? I mean, when we cut off the head, there goes all its chances for photosynthesis and it dies. We are killing the cabbage.”  This friend grabbed his heart because he was laughing so hard. I think I killed him. Does that mean my jokes must stop?  (I will not eat cabbage…)

When we take an egg from a chicken, the chicken doesn’t die (but the chick inside the egg never gets to live… I get it, lighten up, but hey, I was born with 200 million eggs, and they’re mostly done being of any value to me, so … no, you can’t eat my eggs, but if you were as twisted and desperate as I am in this context you would be able to see my point of view, I’m quite sure).

So in less than 60 days I will be on a shuttle van from an airport near my home to ride about an hour and change away to a retreat center in the fantastic Virginia Blue Ridge mountains. I am committed to this. I could bring my own car, but I won’t. I want to be just as desperate and vulnerable and insecure optimistic, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as anyone else coming to the retreat from far-flung places; and I am absolutely excited about that part. If I’m going to do this, I have to do it right.

Back to the initial phone call with the registrar.

Another option, to reduce some of the costs for food and lodging was to bring my own tent and sleep in it. That might work, actually, says my inner Snidely Whiplash… that way I could bring whatever I wanted; a side of beef, and NO bears would be the remotest bit curious. 

Yogi: you can save money on the lodging if you decide to camp on the grounds.

Me: Camp? As I look around at my new hot tub and patent-leather (I mean naugahyde — which reminds me: bring only cotton and rubber clothing) sandals. You mean, in a tent? I can’t … I stifle my laughter.

Yogi: [laughing herself] Yes, you would bring your own tent and sleep in it.

Me: In the Blue Ridge Mountains? Where there is basically no development, thank God because it’s beautiful, but it’s wild. There are snakes and stuff… And if I have to visit the ‘loo from time to time, thanks to the all-vegan, no, sorry, mostly vegan diet… I think I’ll sleep in the cabin. Does it have air conditioning? I’m from  Virginia; where I live is basically a swamp. The summers here are brutal, so I know what it can be like here.

Yogi: Yes [giggling], there is air conditioning. And you will have a roommate; so that helps defray the costs of the lodging.

A roommate? Did I ever tell you I’d never gone away to college? That I went to a commuter school? And that the last day I’d lived at home was the day before my wedding? Phhhh boy. I’m good. I’ve got this.

We had a few more laughs; she told me about someone in previous years who wanted to camp out but ended up coming in. I am trying to not be too insecure and feel like a failure already before I even leave my house for this endeavor because I’m not a hippie. I wear a watch, I have a refrigerator. She used a phone to call me. We used the Internet to register me for the classes using my credit card to take the payment. I have to remember that there is balance in the world and that my way of living is not to be judged by anyone. But it will be hard… I don’t beat my dirty clothes against a rock by a river stream to get them clean.

Speaking of laundry, I have prepared my children tactically at least for one major change in their lifestyles: I will no longer be doing their laundry after the last day of school. They will do their own and they will wear lumpy clothes or unlumpy clothes. The fact of the matter (I love that phrase) is that they are 15, 12 and 9. They can do this. They can help each other. I will be away for 16 days eating grass and tree bark. They can do their own laundry.

I know this: I will bring along a box of Crunch Berries.

Will I be able to blog from there? Good God I hope so.  Now I’ve gotta go find that list…

Thank you.

Tuesday Morning Press #14 — Where Do I Start?! Captain Crunch is Left-Handed

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So today I have yoga, but I didn’t go because I’m still congested and feeling about 85% normal and while I’d be OK for a regular class, I’m not OK for a vinyasa class, which is a lot more arduous than a regular hatha class, which is what I’ll be returning to later this week. WHAT? Move on. Nothing to see here.

I’m sorta grossed out by things. I guess this is why I’ve not been blogging too much lately because I don’t want to sound like a wet blanket that’s been stowed in a dark corner somewhere. Man, that’s a shitty metaphor. Blankets don’t sound like anything, and a wet one that’s been stowed in a dark corner… you’d smell it before you heard it… But I am also a big believer in the premise that if you get stuff off your chest then you become lighter, so here it goes…

I posted on my Facebook private wall the following:

I’m a wee bit tired of all the inaugural stuff. We just ended the election, so… 3 years, 362 days to go. I’m not a fan. Just sayin…

Now just so you know, my facebook profile picture this week is of my one true musical love Vincent D’Onofrio Adam Levine. This is my picture:

Adam

Hi. I’m hosting Saturday Night Live this weekend. Molly asked me to. I smiled like this when I thought about it.  Us Weekly took this pic of me.

So, naturally, the credibility of  anything I, Molly, say on my wall is actually completely fortified destroyed by Adam looking back at people in that awesome way that he is in this photo. I’ve had many female friends tell me how utterly distracted they are by Adam showing up on their news feeds and Adam replying to their comments. I think I’ve encouraged the early ovulation of many women on my FB feed.

Back to politics. REALLY? Yes. C’mon….

I’m an independent. I thought I was a fiscal conservative, but they’re all shaping to be aligned with idiotic conservatives voters who believe that the earth is only a few thousand years old and that we all came from Adam and Eve. I am a social liberal: personal stuff is personal stuff, but at the end of the day: if you live in America, if you pay American taxes, you should get everything all Americans get. The fighting on this status pretty much died when I said that. How do you rebut that? I win!

But my point about the hullabaloo of the inauguration and all the loooooove is that everyone loves a great speech; they’re romantic and full of power and hope. Everyone wants to be inspired, encouraged, empowered to storm the castle and be united. The problem lies in the next day: getting to work. First: The D.C. bars closed at 4am today, so there will be no getting back to work for about 2/3 of the joyful electorate; second: it’s a four-day work week and the US guvmint is notorious for its life-thieving, glacier-melting slowness.

I fear that Obama has reached new heights in popularity that belie his efficacy. It’s tough being president, he has attained idol status and well, that’s not good for anyone. And the other people who hate him? They’re just jealous. Here’s a proposal: you do his job and stick to your principles and see how much you get done. Tell me how that works out for you. The man’s gotta step up to his visions and make things happen that’s all I gotta say.

Next.

I am the happy recipient of two “Inspired Blogger” awards. I am gushing and very thankful to the two bloggers who awarded them to me:

Bulamamani, who is a fantastic artist and writer and whose fiction is seriously amazing, mesmerizing and engulfing. She wrote some stuff for the Friday Fiction challenge I’m heading up and based it on the four elements, Air, Water, Fire and Earth (this week) and maaaaan… well, check it out.

The other fabulous person who awarded me is Redhot Writing Hood, who is an inspiration herself. Artist (weee!: check out this COAT!!), writer, mom. She is honest, candid (not always the same thing, trust me). We share a common interest: health and nutrition. Read about her journey! She is new to blogging.

I am a rebel. I appreciate the awards, but I feel honestly, that while I believe the people who award them are full of love and admiration for the ones they cite, it’s becoming more of a networking tool than an actual award. When you I got an Oscar®, I didn’t have to award other people. I just got it and my career took off. Who are you?

I’ve gratefully earned awards before, and I dig them, buuuut, I’m not getting more traffic, no one has signed me up for writing a screenplay annnnd it’s a lot of work for the winner. The acceptance rules of the awards (yes, if you agree to accept, you must comply) are complicated and ever evolving: I am supposed to tell you 10 some interesting facts about myself and then share 15 or 20 several other bloggers. I’m going to spare myself and you almost all of that nonsense, and thank the awarders, “Thank you!!” and then say the following about myself:

1. I am left handed. That’s fascinating. So are some of my most awesome people I love: Vincent D’Onofrio, Adam Levine, Goldie Hawn, Kermit the FROG…

Here is a list of fascinating little-known, facts about left-handedness: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/10/29/left-handed-facts-lefties_n_2005864.html – I are not schizophrenic.

2. I love Downton Abbey; I hate Mary –she’s too uppity and uch stupid.  I also can’t stand her bland sister, Emily? Hanna? Clara? who tried to marry her grandfather. I adore Sophie, the rebellious, saucy bon vivant who married down and eloped with the family’s Irish chauffeur and of course the dowager Countess played by Maggie Smith. And Elizabeth McGovern? The the flat and tired American playing the flat and tired American? Pleh. Given that awesome assessment, the show is great. If you haven’t caught the fever, view episodes online… you’ll be HOOKED y’all.

3. My favorite color is periwinkle. Think of the sky before the sun rises sets (I’m not an early riser). That.

4. I love to sharpen knives. It keeps people away from me.

5. I am writing editing writing revising a book. I am having a hard time with self-published ebooks. I want to like them, because it’s hard to write a book, but . . . a lot can be said writers need tough editors and proof readers. So even though I’m in a high-level and early discussion with a publisher, it’s a self-pub arm of a traditional house and I dunno… I am fearful of being lumped in with self-pubs which suck need work and are published prematurely anyway.

6. I dig Asian-centric books such as The Joy Luck Club, Memoirs of a Geisha, Snow Flower and The Secret Fan and Shanghai Girls. The irony of course is this: only The Joy Luck Club is written by an Asian woman and Geisha was written by a dude. Go figure.

7. I love the father of our country, George Washington. He coulda been king, but declined.

7. I have a Thing for Cap’n Crunch with Crunchberries. I seldom indulge, but when I do, I consider it a National Holiday; I ate some yesterday, MLK Day, as a matter of fact. So… be forewarned: if you over-pour a serving in my household and you do not eat it all, I will kill you.

Respect the Code, don’t over pour. Oh my! The Captain is left-handed too! This changes EVERYTHING.

I am dreadfully close to my personally imposed limit of 1200 words for this post. I imposed this to spare you my blathering. Consider yourself lucky…

Thank you.