Category: health

Genius Drinks

So you know that they’ve come out with Genius Coffee. It’s about time, innit? But, I hasten to inquire, where is our genius booze? I’d like to walk into my fav beverage hangout and ask for a Genius IPA.

Wouldn’t it be excellent if McDonald’s and Wendy’s began selling genius milkshakes? (Picture those television commercials.) Have a Genius Coke with your Jack? Prefer a Genius Red Bull? No doubt we’d need to have genius wine, vodka, tequila, to be fair, along with genius water, for those who don’t partake.

Maybe, then, if all these genius beverages work, we can make progress on what humanity is doing to each other and the rest of the world. Doubts force me to say, probably not. More likely, some will declare, “I don’t trust geniuses, so why should I swallow a genius drink?”

I don’t blame them. I’d be dubious of genius drinks. God knows what I’d learn about myself that I’ve worked so hard to hide.

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Another Complaint

I’m one of those people who look into the hankie or tissue after I blow my nose.

Apparently, this offends or horrifies some people. The very idea of blowing their nose seems terrible, terrible, to them.

I’m surprised. That stuff coming out of my nose offers clues about what’s going on inside my body. As often as my body frustrates me with its secrets, I need to do everything I can to find clues about what it’s up to.

It’s the same thing about having a bowel movement and checking out what’s in the can afterward, but I won’t go there. I can already imagine the horror spreading across the net. Then there’s menstruation, which I’m sure has many crying, “Enough!” I don’t menstruate but I’ve learned from my wife that menstruating can offer a lot of clues to what’s going on inside.

Admittedly, I had a hard time considering it when she was menstruating. Yes, it was blood, and that was part of it, and it’s coming out of her was another part of it, and from that body part contributed to my initial discomfort and revulsion. Then I started thinking, why did I react like that?

We really need to re-think how we socialize ourselves about our bodies and its processes. Some steps have been made. Everybody Poops has been out for years. Period. End of Sentence., a film about menstruation, won an Oscar this year. So, yes, progress is evident, but we’ve got a long way to go.

Next: “Let’s Talk About Farting”

 

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Friday’s Theme Music

Was singing to my cats yesterday, “I got the rockin’ pneumonia, and the kitty-cat blues,” a flex on the lyrics to “Rockin’ Pneumonia and the Boogie-Woogie Flu”.

I don’t have the flu, but some respiratory issues associated with stagnant air, according to my self-diagnosis. It happened to strike when my energy was low, and I was slippin’ into my monthly trough of darkness and depression. Two days of rest was taken. My energy is better today. The stagnant air remains so I’ll probably be limited in my outside movement, unless I don a mask to filter the air.

Movin’ on, here’s Johnny Rivers’ cover of the song from 1972. It’s the one I know best.

BTW, love that little piece on the forty-five record label on display: “Use the Power. Register and Vote.” Sweet. Wish more people would use the power. That they don’t is not so sweet.

Cheers

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Thursday’s Theme Music

Sometimes, a song like today fits because you’re feeling down, as I am today, full of self-pity, as I am today, because you’re sick, as I am today, so you have to put shit off and not do shit, as I am today, shit being an expression used in this case as a synonym for things or activities, which kind of infuriates you, as it infuriates me today, darkening your mood, as it darkens my mood today.

Here’s “Loser” by Beck from 1993. Sing along if you want. I’m not, but I can’t hear you, so it won’t bother me if you do.

 

 

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You Don’t Say

My wife made something really delicious for dinner this evening. Actually, we had it for lunch. We ate loads of it, along with bread, and then had big salads for dinner.

It’s the third time that she made it. I really can’t say more about it than that, except also that it smells fantastic. You can smell all the ____ and ____ ____. It’s incredible.

That’s really all I can say. She has this thing about me not bragging to other people about the food that she makes. She says that it builds up too much anticipation for it and then she worries that it won’t be good as people expect it to be because I bragged about it so much.

Like, for instance, take her __________ as an example. I loved it, and begged her to make it all the time. And she did. I had her make it for an office pot luck because I thought it was sooo goood. The people there agreed, so much so that they asked me to ask her to make it for several subsequent pot luck lunches. When we had guests, I always suggested that she make her__________. She often did, but then got angry because I’d ask the others, “Isn’t this great?”

That was just the one. There was also her ______, _______ ______, and her ____ _______ with ____. They’re all tasty AND healthy. ____, too. She doesn’t make those things any more, either, because I bragged about them too much. At least, it’s been a long time since she’s made them.

So, I don’t want to jinx this by telling everything how great this thing is that she made, because I really like it, and I want to have it again in the future. But if you ever visit my house, maybe she’ll make it for dinner for you. Then you can see how good it is. Maybe she’ll make her ______ for dessert, too.

I’m sure you’d love them both. Just don’t tell her that I told you about them.

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The Latest

In the 1960s, as far as I know, we came in America to have T.V. dinners. I remember the first time Mom brought a few home. She looked at the shiny, foil trays and asked, “Can this be any good?”

Thirty years ago, it was Tofu. Tofu was in everything or they were making it out of tofu. “What is it?” “It’s the miracle food, tofu!”

Tofu didn’t always lend itself to everything in the early days. I experienced some nasty, funky tofurkey on one ghastly Thanksgiving. But progress was made. Textures, appearance, and flavoring improved. Tofu came a looong way.

We shifted from white rice to brown rice. Fat-free and non-fat became the cry, but then people asked for a little fat. “Please, sir, may I have a little fat for flavor?” A little fat was added and pronounced low-fat. Sprouts and sprouted breads arose in favor. My wife, a vegan, then a vegetarian, and now a pescatarian, despises the sprouts, grumbling about them whenever they’re served to her on a salad or sandwich. Look out if it’s sprouted bread.

We’ve processed through other phases in the quest to be healthier. Plant-based and dairy-free cheeses arrived. Organic arose in favor. GMO free. Gluten-free. Kale jumped in there, making a brief splash on salads and as chips, and then, non-diary milks arose. They’d been around for a while, but suddenly things were being made of coconut milk, almond milk, soy milk, rice milk. Soon the ice cream aisle exploded with non-diary frozen desserts. Then —

Greek yogurt!

Now we’ve come to the latest. Gentle people, I give you the cauliflower.

Yes, it’s the miracle food, cauliflower. Eat it raw. Roast it in the oven and eat it instead of french fries (or roasted brussies, or roasted kale chips.) It’s great as a pizza crust or a creamy soup. Why should potatoes have all the glory? Have mashed cauliflowers instead of mashed potatoes.

I’m sure someone somewhere is working on cauliflower wine and cauliflower ice cream. What comes next? will it be the beets?

No, too obvious. Plant-based meats are making a run, but I think something else is on the way.

Solyent green, anyone?

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Fitbit Progress

Reviewing my Fitbit YTD, I found that I’ve walked over twenty-eight hundred miles, averaging 7.85 miles a day.

I was wondering about it today because as I went to walk, part of me whined, “Do we haft to?” in its best three year old voice. “Can’t we take the day off?”

With a grudging grimace, I imitated Mom and said, “Let me think about it.” That quieted the quitting part of me while I checked my numbers. I hadn’t done that in a while. Yes, I check daily to see what I did the day before. Once in a while, I look at the weekly total. I always have a general feel for how much I’ve done without getting into details, but I don’t really look at the ongoing cumulative numbers.

After checking the numbers, I felt pretty good about my average and agreed to the partial day off. We’ll see how it goes tomorrow. Maybe with an extra cup of coffee in the afternoon, I can make up today’s shortfall.

 

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The Day

He put his dirty clothes in the recycle and tossed his used tissue in the laundry.

Returning to his study, he reached for his coffee, and remembered, he’d gotten up to get his coffee.

Leaving his study, he realized he put his dirty clothes in the recycle. Getting them out, he found the used tissue in the laundry, blew his nose into it, and threw it in the trash.

Then he fed the cats a few treats and went into his study to read, where he reached for his coffee.

Remembering, he’d gotten up to get his coffee, he laughed at himself. At least he was getting a lot of steps in today. He checked his wrist to look at his Fitbit —

Where did he leave his Fitbit?

Getting up to go find it, he left his study, went to the kitchen, and made a cup of coffee with his Keurig. Satisfied, he returned to his study with his coffee to read, and then checked his wrist to look at his Fitbit —

Where did he leave his Fitbit?

Then, he remembered, he’d put it in his shoe.

Leaving his study, he went into the other room, fed the cats a few treats, and made a cup of coffee.

This was going to take some time. Coffee would definitely help.

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Rude Interruption

I was sitting and chatting with a friend the other day when my body said, “Pee.”

“Excuse me,” I told my body, “but that was very ru — ”

“Pee!”

“I was talki — ”

“PEEEE!”

“What are you saying? It sounds li — ”

“PEEEE!”

“In a minute. Let me finish this conver — ”

“PEEEEEE!!!”

Sighing, I stood. “Excuse me a minute,” I told my friend, and went off to the restroom.

Honestly, sometimes my body is like a spoiled, willful child, and it gets worse as I get older.

 

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