Blizzard Flu

Fat lymph nodes call for tea,
sucking on Werthers slowly.
Brown washcloth across foreheard,
wake up in sweat-soaked bed.
Pale face, no makeup on.
Will to move completely gone.
Eyes droop, curl in ball.
Make yourself tiny, make it all small.
Baked potato on snowy night.
Soak in the bath. It will be alright.

Sugar Cookie Pop-Tart

Sugar Cookie Pop-Tarts do, in fact, taste like sugar cookies. Beside the more cracker-like Tart texture vs. the chewiness of a traditional cookie, they are the same. The frosting is lackluster and plain, decorated with stupid pictures like a skiing snowman. The inside, especially when heated, is delightful. Borderline majestic. That right-out-of-the-oven-at-Christmas game, mang.

I ate two of the box of 16. On an afternoon in December. Ro ate 13, as they were good "just woke up from a nap" snacks. And in January she took a lot of naps. She left one solitary Tart in the box, stale and lonely. A gesture of "See? I didn't eat all your food."

Taste is A. But I will not be buying these again. They're just too darn close to full-blown dessert, you might as well just go for legit cookies if that's what you're in the mood for.

Vegan Month 2013

My 5th Vegan Month has come to a close! It was a tremendous success.

General News:

-January is pretty low holiday/special event-filled holiday. An island in the seas of Reese's Trees and Hearts.
-My school and work schedule is actually made so I can eat a distinct lunch and dinner every day. It is so much simpler to be vegan if you can actually sit down and eat planned filling food. Constant snacking as a vegan just makes you slowly loathe mixed nuts.
-Every time I do it, more people remember and more people are excited to help in my dining needs. The conversation flows from "Let's get pizza. Oh, you can't." to "I found a place where you can get vegan pizza! We should go!" If you are happy about your commitments, I find people are generally happy to help you succeed at them. Pals joined me for no less than four vegan milkshakes during the month. Hill made veggie chili for our standing lunch date. Ro found vegan almond joys.
-I live within a two mile radius from amazing Thai, Indian, Med, Ethiopian, etc. Going out is not difficult.
-Whereas in the past I have had near (and, let's be real, actual) meltdowns over desserts, this year I was pre-emptive in sweet tooth cravings. I made huge batches of vegan treats and slowly ate through them during the week. I never felt lack. Lack is the devil's device, and removing that concept is key in...probably everything.
-I cheated twice. Once on accident. Once on purpose. I'm okay with that.

Moving Forward:

In previous years I have missed certain foods very much, but, at the same time, I have lost the desire for others. Like, I don't drink milk. I never have cheese in the house. I look at contents of soup cans. I Can't Believe It's Not Butter. This year I missed almost nothing. Really. Vegan month felt simple, freeing, joyful. I knew after this month veganism would be the rule and animal products the exception to it. Since the official date, most of my days are still all-veg, and the days that aren't often only include one cheat.

What I Eat:

-Endless combinations of beans + salsa, beans + marinara
-Tortillas filled with nut butter and fruit
-Oatmeal piled high with cinnamon and berries and cashews
-At school burritos without sour cream or pitas stuffed with falafel
-Hummus and veggies
-Salad with balsamic dressing
-Bagels and peanut butter and bananas
-Wheat pasta/rice and veggies
-Vegan cookie dough dip and cake puffs
-Soups!

It's not hard at all. I feel fresher, healthier, happier, more ethical!

But, Some Fun:

At midnight on the last day of Vegan January, Bisque presented me with a banoffee pie, which, despite everything I just said, I ate ravenously. The next morning in class, Hill pulled out a brown paper Dunkin bag with "Welcome to dessert month" written on it. Inside was a heart-shaped pink donut--three of my favorite things in one pastry.

 

It IS nice to have a planned bruchetta date with Ro and Shells. Sometimes, for the sake of culture, you gotta enjoy a lil goat cheese and tomato jam.

70 in January

It's probably what an orange feels like when someone finally opens it.
Yes, the skin must be pierced
and peeled, but when it's opened so is the entire world.
Everything is Vitamin C--
no, not graduation--
just the spirit
of something.
Even the little wedges cry out
in spit mist,
"We are free!
We are free!"

Always Stay Fresh

There is a sub-club in my sketch comedy team. We call ourselves ASF, which means Always Stay Fresh, but as you get deeper into the club, perhaps things aren't always what they seem.

Kale, Sid, and I went for vegan milkshakes last week, and we decided to form an ethical eating club. All are welcome as long as participants are open to changing their diets. Tonight's meeting was held in my hot tub. We passed around coconut milk ice cream and peanut butter Newman O's. Om nom nom. We had one guest--Curly--who chatted with us about ethical eating and who has promised to be meat-free for one week.

It was a great night. I can't believe it's January and I prance around my pool in my pink lemonade two piece. We discussed many things, but one of my very favorite things discussed was how absolutely weird my body is. Like how I can function wonderfully on three hours of sleep, or how I could eat the whole pack of Newman O's in one go. Sid said, "Out of everyone I know, I'd be least surprised to find out you weren't a human. Like, if scientists did tests and found you had an ice cream heart, I wouldn't be surprised."


Sid with a vegan cookie from a sketchy vegan cafe in Phoenix. Last week.

Love Just Leaves You Bruised

There is a bruise on my left shin.
A young boy ran backwards into my bicycle on the sidewalk across from the basketball court of the local park.
I had stopped to take a photo of the ice cream truck--
THE ICE CREAM TRUCK in JANUARY, FOLKS--
when SMASH, the boy rammed into me, my pedal rammed into my shin.
"Hey," I said like an authority figure.

I had seen the boy at the ice cream truck while I was getting out my phone. Two girls--age estimation 11/12--walked by the kid. One had long dark hair and was pretzel rod thin. The other girl was pretty chubby for her age. Glasses. Wearing a white spaghetti strap tank. She motioned up and down her pudgy body to the boy, "Watch out! 'Cos I'll beat you up." As far as I could tell, he hadn't done anything to provoke this girl. Maybe in school, but she almost seemed playful. The boy laughed, and she started walking menacingly back toward him. She got high off his retreat and she raised her fist at him. "I'll kick you," she said. "Take it like a man!"

Thoughts:
"Should I say something? Should I just break it up? I don't think there's real danger here, and I don't want to embarrass this girl who does't realize how unlovable she's making herself. I'd like to explain to her how polarizing and negative comments about a young boy's ability to 'take it like a man' are, but will she understand that? Will they just call ME names?"

WHAM. Boy hits bike. The girls walk on.

I take my photo, stand still for a moment, consider getting a pink panther pop, don't, bike slowly on. As I near the girls, I think about a brief word I might share with them: "Hey, girls, it's never funny or cute to be violent--even pretend violent." Or, "Why did you do that?" Or, "Respect boys. You want them to respect you." But just as I get behind them and open my mouth, the troublemaker turns around, and very hastily says, "Really sorry about that."

"It's okay," I say.

"...He just wasn't watching where he was going," she says.

"Mhmm," I say. And I continue on. She drops her shoulders a little--we both know she just tried to pin the blame for being so insecure turned rough, we both knew she needed to say sorry, we both knew "sorry" wouldn't make this bruise vanish.

MLK

I live in an extremely beautiful place. Yesterday I walked downtown, then around the lake. I was gone for a couple hours and wasn't even thinking about it. It was perfect fall weather--sun hiding under thin grey clouds, a nip in the air, but avoided with a simple sweater. There was so much life on the main street--visitors in victory and white wick tees. Yesterday morning was the Phoenix marathon. People celebrated on the patio of the Mediterranean cafe, smiled with beers at the New Orleans-themed joint. A woman limped happily into the used book store. I was nostalgic for my victory day. I showered all the salt off my body in North Carolina. Nac and I laid in bed watching Mad Men and eating Ben and Jerry's from cartons. Everything was slow. A sunset on Shell Island is the desktop on this computer.

I made a big bowl of vodka pasta at 9 PM last night and ate it slowly while watching Hitchcock's Spellbound. Like a child, I recognized today would be a holiday, and I wanted to stay up past my bedtime. I examined my list of letters I needed to write, tuned in to The Mountain Goats, and got out my sharpees. I remembered Dr. King and some of the best things he said. I remembered my best friends and some of the best things they've said.

I am gonna make it through this year
if it kills me.

Five Nice Things 1/3/2012

1. Being able to go outside without a coat in January. Specifically--being able to going running in shorts and a t-shirt mid-day and feel quite comfortable.
2. Only paying $7 to see The Descendants with your friend Chelle because it is still matinee pricing.
3. Noticing a showing of Young Adult is starting right as you are leaving the Clooney flick. Double Feature--all for $7!
4. An MFA Taco party.
5. Giving yourself the morning off fretting and writing and wasting time by doing things like reading the Scream Wikipedia for, like, 40 minutes.