I am so mad at food right now.

Gluten allergy confirmed.

I knew that it would be...I became suspicious a few weeks ago and began to do my own elimination tests. Remove gluten for a week, put it back in...and boom. Seriously feel like shit. I went and got the food panel testing done, and today was the day that all of my questions would be answered.

What I never would have an anticipated is that I am not only allergic to gluten, but a slew of other things. Ready for this list? It's hilarious!

Gluten
Wheat
Yeast (Brewers and bakers)
Broccoli
Cauliflower
Cabbage
Green peas
Peanuts
Cows milk
Yogurt

Broccoli? Broccoli? Are you fucking kidding me? WHO IS ALLERGIC TO BROCCOLI!!???? And yeast? I mean, I guess if I'm allergic to gluten it kind of goes hand in hand.  And I shouldn't be at all surprised to find that I am allergic to these two things. Last night for dinner I made myself a very conservatively sized bowl of gluten free pasta, added in a small amount of broccoli and made a vegan alfredo sauce that was gluten free but not yeast free, as it contains nutritional yeast.  I woke up this morning with a completely puffy face, swollen eye lids, dark circles, and a stomach that looked about 4 months pregnant. Oh, big surprise. You're allergic to broccoli and yeast. In addition to being miserable from that, I'm pretty sure I'm experiencing a delayed allergic reaction to all the junk I ate at a wedding I went to over the weekend.

 Having a gluten allergy poses a large problem for someone that eats mostly vegetarian. All of the fake out meat products that I've been basically living on and rather enjoying for the past four year are totally off the table right now. And sure, tofu and beans have protein, but how much tofu and beans can I really eat? And while its true that I love to eat fish, too much fish will eventually make me feel really awful too.

So I'm at a bit of a loss right now. But I'm ready. Ready to lay myself bare and grieve my losses.

Bread
Oh bread. The most perfect of perfect foods. What is better than bread? Who doesn't love to eat bread? Never ever in the history of man kind has someone been 'all set' with that disgusting, awful bread stuff. Bread is good on its own as well as good covered in anything...never mind good, bread is great.  The ultimate comfort food.
  I woke up on Monday morning with quite possibly one of the most awful hangovers I've ever been subject to. And not only did I have to just deal with having this awful hangover, but I also had to get on a plane with this terrible hangover. I woke up in the morning was straight up useless...I kept on walking around my hotel room trying to figure out how I was going to get out of getting on a plane. I had completely failed to pack up my bags the night before and of course had shit strewn from one end of our hotel room to the other. There exists in this world only one thing to remedy a hangover so intense: A bagel. So I did it. A shitty, dry, flavorless Florida bagel. And it sucked. But at the time, that bagel kicked ass.

   Bread - I will miss you profoundly. I have enjoyed you with many a dip, hummus, oil and herb combination, sandwich stuffs and the like. I've enjoyed you in square form, crusty form, bagel form, fried form, and in every flavor under the sun. I remember once eating chocolate bread. You had chocolate chips in you. You were wonderful. I loved you once.  I will always love you. 


Coniferous Vegetables
  I had no idea that I would find myself allergic to this entire food group. But here I am, saying goodbye to some of my most favorite vegetables.

  Oh, broccoli. You have been the star of my curries. The champion of stir frys. The vegetable to which all other veggies have had to measure against. The panko bread crumb covered gem in the vegetable tempura platter. The brown sauce covered magic of the best chinese food dish ever conceived. But lets be honest, you make me feel like ass, and I sadly and with great regret will never ever eat you again. 


Peanuts
Woah woah woah. Peanuts are awesome and I am totally sad.  Never would have guessed peanuts...I thought that a peanut allergy automatically meant anaphylactic shock...but no. They can just make you feel like garbage.

  Good bye peanut butter. Good bye peanut sauce. Good bye peanuts on planes. Good bye honey roasted peanuts. Good bye so many things. So long. 


Green peas
I don't even know where to go with this one. So random.

Fro-yo
Ok so I realized this weekend that I FUCKING LOVE THE SHIT out of frozen yogurt. Its one of those things that I totally haven't eaten in years as I've basically haven't had dairy for ever. I guess all I can say is that I'm glad that we at least were able to have our moment this weekend.

 Frozen yogurt - you were like that thing that I knew I shouldn't have had but felt so good doing it anyway. Our reunion/affair was brief, but it was awesome. If I could change anything, I would have smothered you in hot fudge and peanut butter sauce.  Lots and lots of peanut butter sauce. And I would have had much more of you. Lots and lots and lots. Goodbye fro-yo, it was good while it lasted. 


Pita chips
  Pita chips are like possibly my most favorite food. I could eat pita chips at any meal, any time of the day. I have totally woken up in the morning and eaten pita chips, not hung over or anything just really wanting pita chips. The whole grain ones were my favorite, but all of them suited my fancy.

  Pita chips, you are truly a sad one to say good bye to. We've had some great times together, you and I. You were my most favorite food friend to watch TV with. Our mutual love for hummus is unmatched. You were great with all kinds of dips and spreads. The perfect crunch to accompany any sandwich. You made coming home to a snack a thing of pure celebration. Pita chips, I shall mourn thee. 


Greek Yogurt

 You and I were just becoming like really, really good friends. And then you like spit in my face and betrayed me. Fuck you greek yogurt. Fuck. You. 


Dips and sauces of all sorts
You know whats really annoying about having a wheat energy? Generally everything. But what is most aggravating about it is that wheat is in FUCKING EVERYTHINNNGGGGG. And it hides, like a little shitty coward, in the best of foods that you would never think it would hide in. Like sauces, dips and dressings.
  This is basically how I knew that I likely had a wheat/gluten allergy to begin with. A couple of months ago when I decided to go mostly raw (raw all day from morning till dinner time), I felt alright but not awesome.  SO while I went mostly whole hog on the raw throughout the day thing, I typically used store bought, bottled dressings. Guess what those dressings where full of? MOTHER FUCKING STUPID ASS GLUTEN.

  Goodbye all of my favorite dressings. Goddess dressing...you're...well Goddess like and I will totally miss you. That really awesome and expensive miso dressing from Whole foods...I'll miss your delicious ass as well.  All those awesome sauces that everything that is wonderful and good on this earth is covered in, you're all full of wheat, and I am totally, totally pissed at you. 


Veggie Burgers

  The one thing in this world that I could count on. And you're chock full of gluten and wheat. I used to go out to eat and pray to find you on a menu. Now...you mean nothing to me. 

Peanut Butter Cups
; (


Chicpea Cutlets

  GRrrrrrrr  you were like my most favorite vegan treat. So delicious and full of protein. I had so much pride in you, so much adoration for you. I used to make you, cover you in buffalo sauce, and brag to all my friends the awesomeness that you brought me in my vegan diet. I used to watch with pride as entire plates of you would be gobbled up by meat eaters at parties...so proud was I to have you represent my non meat eating ways. But now in the face of a gluten allergy.....no more chicpea cutlets. No more. 


Vodka

 Hey vodka - you and I have had a confusing relationship. I experimented with you a whole lot in my early drinking career. I mixed you with all sorts of things, and occasionally now find myself in that very spot, tempting fate and hoping for the best. As of recently, I thought we had a pretty solid relationship. I finally figured out who we could be with one another, we have finally found our comfort zone. And then there you go, letting me down and making me feel like garbage, even if I didn't drink too much of you. I guess there are worse things. I hear there is a nice potato version of you. I guess we shall see.


Veggie Hot Dogs
There is just no way in hell I'm going to eat real hot dogs. I'm so mad about this one that I wont even consider writing up a silly italicized goodbye.

Beer
Beer deserves nothing short of an italicized goodbye....


Hello beer. 
I don't even know where to begin. Its like breaking up with someone that you've been with for so long that you've grown with them, changed with them, evolved in fact....
I feel like I've lost a good friend, a best friend in fact. I remember back in college when I was too socially anxious to make it into the studio or a party...you were there to help me.  Honey Brown - you and me were soooooo good. I loved your sweet, caramel flavor and your smooth finish. Your drinkability was unmatched, and it was why you were my drink of choice. Dinner? Nah. I'll just have a six'er of Honey Brown.  
 Honey Brown remained my standard for a long time but I ventured into other beers. I have my favorites but I've always liked to mix it up.  The sheer variety of beer is perhaps its most intriguing quality, a beer for every occasion, feeling and mood. I've always enjoyed trying a new beer, something fancy, something obscure.  But be it a Sammy Smith Oatmeal Stout, or a corona light with a slice of lime...I've craved it. I've wanted it, and most importantly, I've savored it to the last drop. 
  So here I am, now knowing for certain that we are through. I love you, I desire you, but lets be real, you're making me feel like fucking shit. And while  I truly, really love beer.... I really really hate feeling like shit. So you and me..beer...we have to take a break. You're worse than a boyfriend that has treated me bad. You're every where I look no matter how far I run.   You've been an integral part of some of the most incredible experiences I've ever had...from Quilmes in Argentina, to Bitch Beer in Idaho, to the Breckenridge Beers of Colorado... to the sweet Honey Brown nectar that defined my youth, you've been there, and I have remembered you fondly. And as I have to look on and watch others enjoy you on a regular basis for the rest of my life, I will sit there, envious, desiring, and pretty much generally bullshit...for you are the true casualty of my food allergy realization. 


 

Bleck.

So...its been a while.  I'll be honest friends, life is catching up with me. My carefree, throw caution to the wind, hangin' every night of the week boozin habits are starting to wear me down. That or I have food allergies.

  I went to the doctor for the first time in over a year a half, and it was my first physical in probably over 3. I'm of the attitude and opinion that if you take care of yourself, then you probably don't need the doctor, however, that attitude is really only to mask my bigger issue with the medical community: I'm scared of it.

I'm the opposite of a hypochondriac. I'd rather think that absolutely nothing is wrong with me in the face of strange symptoms than to imagine that I have every ailment in the book. I can tell you right now I will never have cancer. Why? Cause I won't. So there.  And I've gone on ignoring certain underlying, health related problems for a while now, believing they would go away, truly hoping and willing that I would just get better soon enough, that it would just be a distant memory of 'oh...remember when I wasn't feeling that great...so glad I got over that one...'

  But this week I did the big girl thing and finally went into see a doctor, I won't bore you or expose my very personal problems by telling you what my current issues are, just suffice it to say that I am under the impression that I have been the unlucky victim most recently seized by the gluten allergy phenomenon.  I could be completely wrong, but I know this much. Something that I am eating is making me feel like absolute shit. And I will get down to the bottom of it. I was tested yesterday for 96 different food allergies, results will be revealed in two weeks from yesterday.

  What's with everyone currently being allergic to gluten anyway? I work with two ladies that have gluten allergies. It was hardly even a part of my vocabulary until I started working at this place a mere 4 months ago.  And now all of the sudden its gluten free this, gluten free that...is this shit contagious or something? Probably not.

 Being presented with even the mere potential of having a food allergy is a sad event.  The idea of having to say goodbye to certain foods is daunting, but I'm ready to do it if it will make me feel better. It was only 4 years ago that I ate my final turkey sandwich w/ mayo and said 'fuck this shit'. The only problem is that I'm probably allergic to things that are for more annoying and tricky to cut out.  And being allergic to something is far different from having a thoughtful reason to eliminate things from your diet.  Having an allergy is not a choice.

  I hope I'm getting ahead of myself...I have no definitive answers yet...just based in fact assumptions that  I will probably be gravely disappointed in finding out. What ever, fucking food.

: / 

The Day My Identity Kind of Got Stolen

Monday, Monday. I woke up this morning around 3am and my mind was a flutter. This happens to me every once in a while. I wake up in the middle of the night and begin perseverating on something absolutely ridiculous. Last night all I could think of was karaoke, and it kept me awake for hours.

It would be about three and a half hours before I'd fall asleep again. Three and a half hours spent thinking about karaoke? Are you serious? I'd say I probably thought about karaoke for an hour, the other two and half were spent thinking about why I had thought about karaoke for a solid hour, in the middle of the night at the beginning of the week.

And the thirst. Oh the thirst was unbearable last night. I got out of bed to pour myself three tall, beautiful and delicious glasses of pure Brita happiness into my good night cup. Sure, it felt great going down, but the getting up every hour to get more water only aggravated my sleepless condition even more. I also have this belief, which may be pure wives tale, that if you rub the sand from your eyes you rub the sleepies away. I rubbed the sleep away several times last night, and I know it kept me up.

Regardless, all I could think of was how much I wanted a karaoke machine. My life would be complete, if only I had a karaoke machine, and/or if I could just fall asleep and stop thinking about karaoke.  I tossed and turned, anxiety riddled and worried that I'd never fall asleep again, or own a karaoke machine.  There is nothing worse than not being able to fall asleep when you know that you need too. I had passed out so easily only a couple of hours before. My bed is really comfortable, my sheets very soft and my fans very loud and blustery, just as I like it. And yet sleep would not come for me. And what amazes me most about this scenario and the way it plays out every time is that I refuse against my better judgment to just get out of bed for a little while and try and do something else. Instead, I just lay there, listening to my heart beat and thinking the same whacked out thoughts over and over again. How will I ever afford a karaoke machine? If I owned a karaoke machine I'd make sure that I had all of the Dolly Parton discs I could find. If I had a karaoke machine, I'd probably have more friends.  Over and over and over again.

So I get out of bed at a quarter of 8, completely out of sorts and hop in the shower. I basically feel drunk and completely disoriented. I do my best to pull myself together but find myself getting back into bed after taking a shower. A quick 20 minute nap, that will do it.

So of course a quick 20 minute nap does absolutely nothing for me. I continue getting ready and decide that I will treat myself to some kind of breakfast that I don't prepare myself. I had no idea what this would be, but I knew that I would be leaving the house a little early to make sure I could find something.  I decide to check my Bank of America balance online before heading out of the house.

Um, HEELLLLOOOOOOO YOUR ACCOUNT HAS BEEN OVER DRAWN BY $2800.00!!!!!!!!

What? How the fuck did this happen? Did I order a really expensive and awesome karaoke machine in my sleep last night? Oh wait, impossible, because I DIDN'T SLEEP LAST NIGHT.

Obviously I begin to panic, I break out into a sweat, I start shaking, hyperventilating, assuming the most ridiculous things about how my account could have been so overdrawn. This was not what I needed this morning. What I thought I needed was a Kombucha drink from Whole Foods on my way to work. No, instead, I got the surprise of my life, and the threat of a stolen identity.

Who would want to steal my identity?  Did I annoy Adam to the point that this morning he said 'fuck it' and stole my check book, wrote himself a check for three grand and headed for the border? Damn it Adam! You know I don't have three thousand dollars!   I know that this is ridiculous, it only crossed my mind for about a fraction of a second, but it still crossed my mind. I don't even take my check book out of the house with me, so I knew that I hadn't lost it. Would my parents have stolen my check book when they were here this past weekend? Damn it parents! You know I don't have three thousand dollars!

So I call the bank and I'm basically hysterically crying, a tactic that I knew would get me all of my money back even if I was totally at fault for whatever had happened (seriously, when I fell asleep for an hour, did I get on my computer and order a karaoke machine?). The woman is very nice and helpful, and we're working to get this all straightened out, when I decide to click on the transaction and look further into this mess. The $3000 was taken out via check. I clicked on the check image...it was a check written out by me to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts for the taxes I owed, $141.

How the hell do you process a check for $141 for $3000? Seriously Commonwealth, what is going on here? Its not like $30.00 turned into $3000 because some schmo forgot to put in a decimal point, 141 and 3000 look nothing alike. They don't even kind of share any of the same numerals. The woman at BOA explained that the check was processed wrong, um....duh? What the fuck?  I just spent the last 30 minutes accusing all of my loved ones of stealing money from me and accusing myself of shopping in my sleep for expensive karaoke machine equipment? Not the best way to start a Monday, or a week for that matter.

So thanks Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Because it wasn't sucky enough sending you a check for $141, you had to scare the shit out of me by making me think that my entire life and identity was at the disposal of some unknown looney toon with my checkbook. What is scariest is that I assumed that looney toon to be myself. The upside...it did wake me up.

Sweet Relief

Some days are better than others. Today was a great day, for instance.

  On May 26th of last year I had the rug yanked from underneath me by a former employer.  I had lost my job quite literally all of the sudden and had no idea what to do next.  For the first three hours I panicked. I was brought back down by my friends and quickly settled into the idea of not having a job but earning unemployment benefits all summer while essentially doing whatever the fuck I wanted within my means. Sure my means weren't great, but that doesn't matter when in the summer all that matters is sunshine, gardening, and drinking PBR. Life was good for a couple of months. Unpredictable and for the most part monetarily poor, but hell, it was a beautiful summer.

 But like a said, a couple of months is small when in comparison I ended up being unemployed for 7 months. And it would have gone on much longer, because I was basically unemployable.


 On paper, I looked like hell. On my resume I listed house painting for ten years, for a man who is clearly my father. I did decorative painting for one year, and in between all that is a slew of lame and unimpressive low skill jobs.  I had nothing to go on, and quite honestly, besides not wanting to be a house painter, no house painting contractor (who is a man) would in their right mind hire me. And I don't blame them. Women are a pain in the ass to have on a job site. And its not because we're not awesome, its because other men on job sites are retarded. I've explained this in previous posts, so I don't think I need to go into details. My old boss hired me because he had mental issues and needed to have someone to dominate because he was a pathetic dude, which I guess in his small mind meant having a woman around. Yep. Said it.  I say this not because I think woman are easy to dominate (cause we're not, and he learned that, which is probably why I got let go), but because he had a pattern of mostly hiring women, and when he did hire men, he had a very obvious boundary when it came to anyone else showing him up in even the smallest way. Men didn't last long with him.
 Anyway, I spent a long time trying to find a job. I applied to multiple places where my paint resume was completely not applicable, but I wrote very thoughtful cover letters that I thought conveyed my interest in what ever thing I was applying for in a meaningful way. 'fraid not my friends, cause I basically never landed interviews.
  And then a miracle happened, and it all started at jewelry night at a friends house. I won't bore you with the details, but it was as serendipitous as it gets. That ring led to a series of events that I never predicted. I wear that ring with intense pride, it's what I consider to be the catalyst that began my ascent towards employment-hood.

 So here I am, nearly 3 months later. Today I was finally offered the permanent position of Office Coordinator in the office that I have been temping at.  I work in a position that I would have never imagined having, in a place that I never thought I would be. And it sounds silly, because 'office coordinator' admittedly does not sound that awesome. And it especially does not sound that awesome for some one like me, an artist. But you know what? This job rocks! Guess what! Time for a list! I love lists!

5 reasons why working in an office is like totally the coolest.

#1. Regulated climate
  This is so key. And I never really knew it was something that I cared a lot about until I worked in an office. I'm used to either being way way way too cold or inordinately warm in all my work experiences. Last summer I worked for my dad for a little while in the duration of unemployment (I know thats terribly illegal, but he's my pops! I don't think that counts!), and it was so motherfucking hot out there, in that crazy ass June on Long Island heat. I was like melting into puddles of already melted humans, it was so gross. And the spiders, Oh the spiders! It was so unfair. Bugs everywhere. Pants sticking to thighs. Unrelenting humidity. It was like working in a jungle. Do you have any idea what it is like to work with oil primer when it is 90 degrees and the air is literally sopping wet? Its the biggest bullshit joke upon bullshit that bullshit has ever considered pulling a joke on. Awful.
  And I did finally break. I threw a hissy fit and decided I was going home far earlier in the afternoon than any one would have been allowed to go home, like three days in a row. What was he going to do? Fire me? I think I lasted a total of 4 days.  When I was younger, I was totally able to hang in there. Now? Nah.
  But in an office, its always roughly 70 degrees. Sometimes warmer, sometimes colder. But you know whats great? Cozy sweaters and light cardigans that are easy and manageable to take on a off, which leads me to my next point...

#2. Dresses are work appropriate.
   I have never ever ever in my entire life gone to work in a dress prior to this job, and I am not in any way exaggerating. Going to work in a dress is like going to work in pajamas, as far as I am concerned. It is so comfortable, non constricting and happy fun times that I can't even believe it is allowed.  You get to  talk to the other ladies about how nice their dresses are, and sometimes we all find each others prodding upon where said particularly awesome dress was bought. We all then divulge that we are going to leave work that day and immediately go and buy that dress, because it is so awesome. Some of us even try to consider ways to get out of work early so that they can go and buy that dress. Nothing is better than having your coworker say 'I like your dress.' Its like 'duh'. This shit is bananas.
  I come from a place where if I wore a dress to work, for one I'd get sent home to change. And two, I'd get sexually harassed and or assaulted. For sure.

#3. Comfy ass desk chair.
  This is both problematic and awesomematic. Problematic in that my ass is most certainly going to get larger. Awesomematic in that my feet don't kill at the end of the day and I get the comfort of sitting down. I don't think I ever clocked in any significant amount of time in my last job on a chair. And you know what? Sometimes sitting down in AWESOME.

#4. Lunch
  Lunch at my last job was great for only a short while and other wise sucked. For a small window I worked with a couple of great guys, and the best part of the day was sitting down and eating an awesome lunch. I even had one of those great guys on the vegan lunch bus for almost the entire duration of our working together. Those were the days. And then lunch turned into me trying to avoid spending time with a certain so and so, and never eating much at work. Truth is I couldn't really afford to eat lunch anyway.
  But now, lunch rocks. Like I've written about, I've had the comfort, affordability and straight up acceptance at work to not feel like a fuckin' freak for taking on a raw diet. And I even have people to indulge in it with.

     This is what happened when we decided to do smoothie Friday right after me and my coworker decided to take on the raw diet. In that back right corner is a Blendtec Blender. Probably the most awesome blender this world has ever known. The next Friday someone brought in juicer. It was as ridiculous and as awesome as it sounds.

  Simply, I would have never had anything like this happen at my previous job. When I was vegan, I could barely even tell people that I was for fear that I would literally get torn apart and questioned about everything I chose to eat. It was very annoying, kind of embarrassing and quite honestly extremely tiring and for the most part made me not want to eat at work. While I am admittedly no longer a vegan, I do still eat like one almost all of the time, and its just nice to be embraced and not made to feel like a freak for choosing to eat and be what I'm comfortable with. Which leads to my final point...

#5. I work with incredible people.  If I didn't get this job, I wouldn't be as sad and all shook up because I missed the opportunity of being an office manager at a cool company... I'd be upset for the loss of no longer being with the awesome people that I've had the opportunity of working along side of for the past three months. There is definitely something to be said about a good group dynamic at work. It's as important as the work that is happening individually when it comes to a group of collaborators.   When I first got the 'temp' position, I told my boss and director in my interview that I was willing to try it because 'In working with a dozen of really smart people, I have nothing to lose and only everything to gain." And it is the truth.  I might get yelled at by crazy ass people on the phone all day long(seriously, all day long) and have headache projects and a lot thrown on my plate at any given time, but I really do enjoy my job and I get to learn a lot along the way. I feel like this is my 'gimme' from the universe. The past ten months have been a long and unpredictable road.  It's nice to have at least a couple of ducks in a row for once.

Ultimately what I've learned from this is that sometimes you just have to accept something as a really good thing, even if you're not entirely sure what for yet. I finally feel for the first time in a long time that I have a grasp on life. And it just feels right.

So all in all, very happy. And I'm finally no longer stressed the hell out.

This is dedicated to all my peoples in the office. Thanks for keeping me!

Fancy Beer

I'm a classy lady. So classy in fact that I drink beer out of wine glasses.

  First of all, I'm very proud to say that my computer has officially moved back into my studio and out of the kitchen, where it has lived on the table for about the last two months.  This means that I might actually start getting work done again. I'll take it easy on myself about the fact that I have virtually painted nothing in the past two months due to having a new job, and also the fact that it's been winter and crummy and I haven't felt inspired, and I haven't had money to buy new materials, and...what else is a good excuse, oh its been really really cold in my studio room. I hate being cold. I can't paint in the cold.  So watch out people, because my art work is going to begin creeping its way onto the blog, as it should. 

  But back to the beer in the wine glass. 

   So I've been nearly three weeks strong on the mostly raw diet I set out to under take. My coworker and I have been excellent supports for one another, if I do say so myself, virtually feeding one another avocado, practically licking raw almond butter off of one another's hands and gushing over our newest dressing creations and incidental nut cheeses.  And we are feeling good and being all sorts of dorky about the fact that we are like so much better than everyone else because we have the will power to do a raw diet when most people can't. Shit did I type that out loud?

   I've been a juicing machine, I now own a dehydrator, I'm making nut milk, sprouting shit, eating salad like a mother fucker, kicked coffee and soda to the curb, and I am generally feeling quite pleased with myself.  But you know what I just can't shake? Drinky drinks. 

  I love alcoholic beverages. I hate to say it. I know I sound like such an alcoholic, sitting here, drinking beer out of a wine glass, exclaiming my love for alcohol, but DAMMIT. I just love it so. I don't even think I necessarily love getting drunk as much as I do just kicking back at the end of the night with a delicious chilled bev in hand. Something to sort of dull the headaches of the day. As soon as I poured that beer into my wine glass tonight, it was like a fun and spontaneous party had emerged within me. I felt delighted, inspired, calmed and soothed.  You're probably wondering why I really put it into a wine glass. That bottle of Stella Artois would have been sucked down so hard and so quickly in a bottled form that I wouldn't have even enjoyed it. And while a pint glass is appropriate, a wine glass is just more interesting to drink from. And I didn't have any wine.  

  The fact is that it was my full intent to not drink a drop of the stuff all week. I say this every Sunday night, as I sip on my last beer/glass of wine and say "See you Friday, friend." And I usually crash out by about 7pm on Monday. I made it all the way to Wednesday this week! This is nothing short of a miracle! A cause for celebrating in fact! Whats a celebration without imbibing? Water doesn't count!

  And what's more is the fact that Adam received a whopping 75 beers from his Aunt last week. Seventy five beers. Thats a lot of fuckin beer.  She had a surplus sitting in her spare fridge and needed to get rid of it, who better to give it to than the man that went dressed for Halloween as the most believable Bud Man the world has ever seen? Seriously, for a night, I was dating Bud Man. And it was totally ridiculous. 

  There he is in his natural habitat, 18 rack of bud in hand.  The best part is that the lady at the cash register did not even bat an eye lash at this absurdity. I, Dolly Parton, and my boyfriend, Bud Man. And we got no response. She was stone cold. 

  But I digress. Our fridge is one part beer, one part raw vegetables. A bit of a conundrum you see. The raw diet, and juicing specifically, asks a lot of fridge when it comes to space. Even before the beer, the fridge was basically over flowing with vegetation. You'd open the door and shit would literally topple out of the fridge. Now imagine this with 75 beers added to the mix.  It's quite possibly the greatest example of the divergence of our interests in health between my boy friend and I, he with his collection of beer, and I with my collection of vegetables. We're quite the pair, and we are currently making for quite the fridge. 

  So here I am, feeling NOTHING SHORT OF FORCED to drink beer on a Wednesday night. Out of wine glasses no less. Just so I can fit my precious vegetables into the fridge. What is a girl to do?

Dear Coffee, I think we need to take a break.

It's not you, it's me.

In throwing myself into a raw diet, I've had to confront and deal with a very serious addiction. Coffee.  Going throughout my day without cooked foods, no biggie. Getting through the first twenty minutes of my day without coffee? Extremely difficult.
  But its not just the raw diet that is making me reconsider my relationship with the cup.  If I were to break down how much money I spent on coffee on a yearly basis, I'd probably feel kind of sick.  When I worked as a decorative painter, I made pathetic money and often didn't eat lunch while I was on the job as a reflection of my money situation. That being said, you best believe I picked myself up a Grande Soy Misto from Starbucks on my way to work every day. No matter what. Even though I had probably already had a cup of coffee from my own coffee pot at home.
  Besides the blow to my pocket book, I'm concerned about what it's actually doing to my insides. And because I am obviously a freak about what goes in and how it might affect me, it's time for me to do something thats long over due.

Dear Coffee,

    You're probably wondering why I haven't called in a few days.  Listen, I don't know how to say this...it's just that, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. A lot of thinking about us and our relationship, what we do for one another, how we spend our time together, and I just...See we've been together for a really long time. On and off in fact, for years.
  I remember when I was in high school and I would always come and pick you up at the  7/11. I'd fill you up with all sorts of deliciously flavored creamers.  Remember how we would mix it up? We had the 'Irish Creamer' and the 'Hazelnut'....oh and how could I forget the 'French Vanilla'?  Remember how I used to distinguish you from all my friends cups by sipping you out of one of those little stirring straws? I just wanted you to last....
  We would get together a couple times of day way back when. I'd pick you up before school. And then I'd come and grab you again after school. I have a lot of good memories of you from back in the day. You gave me a reason to get in my car and go do something. Any time of day, we'd go for a drive together, we'd run errands together.  I'd meet up with people, just to then meet up with you.  You gave me a life, coffee.
  Then I went to college and our relationship changed a little bit. I was so far away from the 7/11, so we moved onto Starbucks. Sometimes I'd even go get you in a cool funky coffee place, or from a street vendor. We were a little touch and go at times. That first year in NY, you know its funny, but coffee just wasn't as big a priority for me. I knew you were my crutch, and I was just trying to grow up. Be my own Hayley. I mean, if memory serves, we still spent a lot of time together. But it was an off year for sure.
  And then I moved to Providence. What a roller coaster, you and me. Remember my Sophomore year? When I had the one cup coffee mate and I made you all the time? It was just so easy, you were always available, I had no friends there so I was really bored and I needed you. Remember how we would stay up all night long? I don't even remember what we were doing, but gosh, we were doing it together.  Thank god I had you, coffee. I know, I'm sorry I have to do this. Its when I look back to those times that it becomes so hard to do this....
Anyway, we went on like that all throughout college. Senior year was a bit touch and go for us(all we had was a french press, you know how I feel about those things), until I realized that a really cute guy worked at the Coffee Exchange, and we were back on like we never were before. You gave me a reason to talk to cute guys, and I like really, really appreciated that.  I'd walk down and meet you at the coffee shop, and we'd read a book and you'd help me wash down my snack, and I'd people watch and you'd help me write papers, and it was really really great. Those were the days man.  We were in our prime, you and me. I thought we'd live like that forever.
   So here we are, a few years later and since then we've had our ons and our offs.  And listen I know you don't want to hear it and you always always fight me on it, but I really just need to take a break from you. A long one. Maybe we won't even get back together. I can't guarantee anything. No, please...stop it coffee. You know I want you. Shhhhh. Can't you see this is killing me? I love you too its just...just stop it. No seriously. Stop. Stop it. St. Stt..Sttt...Stttop...Stop it. Don't touch me. 





 

My Juicy Diet

I'm not shy about the fact that I tend to go for very extreme diet plans.  I've been all over the extreme diet spectrum. When I was 16 my entire family(minus my little brother who has an envious ability to shovel in Burger King and only Burger King and never gain a pound) went on the Atkins Diet. I lost a lot of weight, mostly because the diet was so weird that eventually I just stopped eating. When I realized again that I had free will, I quickly gained the weight back. Fast forward five years and I've turned into the nemesis of Dr. Atkins, a vegan. I did the militant vegan thing for a while, and have modified my diet since by adding in fish and the occasional dairy slip up. I still don't eat cheese. Cheese? Who even cares. 

  And in that time of militant veganhood I ventured into raw territory. I was never so nutty as the call myself a raw foodist, however, I did work in a high end raw vegan restaurant in the north end of Boston for a brief spell and most certainly ate an almost completely raw diet for a period of about 3 to 4 months. It amazes me that I ever stopped because I felt so good, light and happy. I was almost certain when I was in the midst of it, that I would never want to stop. That I had found my new way of being.  Working at the restaurant meant that I brought home all sorts of raw goodies that I neither had the time or equipment to make at home. Being a whole hog serious raw foodist requires some serious and expensive appliances. A high speed blender, juicer and a dehydrator are the essentials, and then you get into the fancy knives and food processors and mandolins and nut bags. When I worked at the raw food restaurant, our patrons would make jokes about how the food should be coming out quicker, its not like the chefs had to cook any thing! Were there even chefs back there?  And whether or not the food tasted good was so up to the individual. I for one loved most of the dishes, but thought that some of them tasted like straight up grass and dirt.  Other people might try everything on the menu and be totally grossed out.

But me, I like raw food.

  My coworker and I got on the subject of the raw food diet this past Friday and it got me thinking back to that time that I felt really good and really like what I was eating. After work on Friday I did the super markets run (I can never go to just one) and ended up picking up an insane amount of raw fruits and vegetables. I then went home and began to do my research, looking up why to do raw and juices to make. All of the sudden, I was hooked.

And then I realized that we have three juicers. Three? I have an old one of my mom's thats like enormous and scary looking and I had yet to use it, ever. And now I come to find out that my meat and potatoes boyfriend owns two juicers? It was like a sign. Juice, Hayley. Juice.
 So my juicing odyssey has begun! And my coworker and I have agreed to do raw up until dinner every day this week. I've gotten through day one. Next week, we might try going really extreme and doing whole days. We'll see how this week goes.

Here are my ups and downs to the raw vegan diet:

Down Side ----> Expensive.
This is obviously a down side to the raw vegan diet. At a time when it would be wise for me to not be spending so much freaking money on food, to be spending just a little more on food that just barely fills me seems a bit ludicrous. I'm hoping to balance this out by not drinking.

Not Sure Side-----> Not Drinking.
I can't decide if this is an up or a down side. Right now, its Monday night and I'd really like to celebrate this particular Monday night, like many of the Monday nights before it, with a glass of wine. Let it be said that I, and no one else, is making me feel obliged to not drink while doing this raw food stunt. I don't really care if wine is raw or not. I'm not going to go my whole life without it, but I figure, if you're going to do your body a solid, try to not drink while doing it. I hope my body is listening. I will probably crack tomorrow. If not sooner.

Down Side --------> The weather outside makes me want to eat crap.
This is a much easier diet to start in August than it is in March. It started snowing today. My salad followed by my green juice and my blood orange did not make me feel any better about the snow that was falling all over the place, reminding me that I'm cold, and that my food is cold, and that its totally not what I wanted to eat.

Up Side -------> My skin is kinda glowing
 No lie! My skin is more orangey than usual. Its probably because of the 40 carrots I had to juice to make one glass of carrot juice yesterday.

Down Side ------> My pee smells different.

Up Side ---------> My pee smells different.

Up Side ---------> I do not feel bad about eating a whole avocado all at once.
Did you know that an avocado has at least one million calories in it? Yeah for some reason I don't think that matters when you're on the raw diet.  So I'm gonna eat the heck out of avocados.

Up Side ---------> Juice is delicious
For serious. Juice is like really really yum yum. And yet, I've always felt bad about drinking juice out of those bottles that you buy at the store. They have sugar in them. This makes me sad. But when you're juicing your own juices, there is no sticker on the back of your bottle to tell you how many calories or sugars are in your juice, which means that there must be none.

Down Side ----------> Sometimes juice isn't delicious.
  I'm trying to get into green juices.  I'm slowly getting myself into a serious green juice. I don't know if I'm down with drinking something that straight up tastes like grass and leaves.  But I've been putting kale into my morning fruit smoothies, and it turns it green without making it taste very green. Does that count as a green smoothie? Probably not.

Down Side ------> Juicing takes forever
and ever and ever and ever. No lie. To make about 24 ounces of juice yesterday, I juiced 2 large cucumbers, a pound of carrots, most of a large carton of straw berries, 5 apples, and whole bag of spinach. And it took a long ass time.

Up Side ---------> Eating your meals through a straw is easy.
 Having a stressful day? Don't have time to sit down with a good old fork and knife and laboriously cut your tiny or large bites of something delicious and rewarding?  Don't let eating ruin your work productivity any more! Throw it in a blender and hit blend you time wasting fool! I don't even need to look at my food to eat it anymore. I just whistle it down the hatch while I write my emails and answer the phones.  Easiest way to eat your lunch ever. Get yourself a fun straw or something. Liquid lunch is sooo cool.  But I recommend it be raw foods. I have a feeling chicken parmesan is not going to do well in blended form.

Down Side --------> People will think you are a weirdo.
This needs zero explanation as I assume that most of you already thought I was big weirdo for even having a reason to write about the raw food diet, let alone put myself through one.

Down Side -------> Caffeine and sugar withdrawal
  I hit a point today where my caffeine withdrawal symptoms were so sucky that I could barely talk. This has nothing to do with the raw diet and all to do with the fact that I've become completely addicted to drinking coffee all day and every day. At least 3 cups a day, if not more. That can't be good for you, so I endured the pain of the massive searing all head encompassing throbbing that took over me this afternoon. I did take two advil. They were not raw. And I did not care.

Up Side -------> Raw diet will help you break bad habits
Like drinking coffee, a bottle of wine a day, chewing gum, and soda.

The Up Side....
When all is said and done, I will feel better for having done this. It's cleansing, healthy, and will ultimately help me break all the craptastic habits that have slowly been creeping back into my once immaculate diet. And I might lose a pound or two. Here's to hope!

International Woman's Day

It's International Woman's Day

So I've been reading some blogs today and I've mostly been getting the "Yay! It's woman's day! It sucks to be a woman for blah blah blah reasons and I'm so happy to be reminded of it!" Well you know what? Fuck that noise. Being a girl kicks ass.

I have grown up always knowing that being a woman is an incredibly special thing. You can chalk it up to my mom, a woman who (perhaps like many of your mothers) grew up in a world where choosing to wear pants to school was tantamount to initiating an an anti war rally at your high school today. She instilled in me two very important qualities very early on in life; compassion, which is second to nothing, and a strong and well supported belief that the female gender is absolutely nothing short of the male gender. Especially when it comes to intelligence.

And so off I grew up, always believing, and, well knowing, that woman are essentially much smarter than men.   I know that might sound aggravating to many of you. I know plenty of my readership are men, and I love you. I love you so much in fact. And its not that I think that woman are smarter than men because we have more developed brains, or bigger brains, or anything like that. It's just that, woman know things that men don't.

So I grew up always believing woman were right. And I still do, for the most part.  But I also know this: Woman are cray cray. And its with good reasoning. We have been (divinely) endowed with the glorious position of motherhood and a strong, instinctual regard for life, consideration for safety, survival of our kin and babies, and a general concern for home decor and fashion.

Seriously! Think about it.  Not only are we in charge of making sure the household (or the family unit) is under wraps and headed in the right direction for more prosperous reproduction and caring for our own off spring, we are also absurdly concerned with the way it appears, looks, and comes off to other people, or tribes, or whatever. That can drive a girl crazy, for sure. This isn't about how the rugs match the curtains (heh) or how the candle sticks look with the flower arrangements, its about a general appearance of "'oh, that woman has got it together'...sister friend then cups her hands around her mouth and yells in the other woman's direction 'you go girl!'."

I understand and respect that many of you right now think I am taking this in the wrong direction. Like, good job dude...You have gone from having a serious conversation about girl power and all of the sudden you're talking about home decor. How progressive!  But seriously, woman have a right to be concerned about this shit. I know I am. Every time someone comes over I run around like a chicken with my head cut off, cleaning every surface, folding every throw blanket, lighting every candle, hiding everything that I deem inappropriate to have just hanging around in the common areas. It's hard when you begin to acknowledge that certain things are a 'woman's job', and no matter how annoying it seems, we as woman are likely to fall into it.

Kind of like how men will fall victim to taking out the garbage.

Which is okay with me. Certain things are a man's job.  Taking out the garbage is totally one of those jobs in my opinions. And I don't give a fuck what you think about it, dude.

I grew up considering myself a tom boy, which is nothing special in my opinion.  But because I was an awkward kid growing up, didn't have many girl friends, only really connected with the boys, it was just my place. Which is a good thing, because it made me an excellent little worker for my father. A young artist who was not afraid to get dirty and perhaps break a nail or get scraped up (my first summer I worked with a broken hand in a cast, for instance), it was no surprise when I started working for my dad. I began when I was 13 and kept it up till I was in college. I would work school breaks, summer breaks, whenever was a good a time for me to get in there and make a few bucks. Because while my mom taught me an appreciation for love and compassion, my dad taught me an appreciation for money. And holy shit do I love money. About as much as I love compassion. And thats saying a lot. Cause I love the shit out of compassion.

So I've spent a lot of my life working around men. I even went on to take a decorative painters position up here in MA. I held onto that job for year, which gave me all sorts of wonderful experience in working with men.

This is where I can deduce, with nothing but complete certainty, that men are kind of idiots.

I say kind of, because I love men. I love you.  And I know that we woman are idiots, too, sometimes. But men, you boys...you're something else!

Ladies - how many of you have been privy to the inside outs of construction site? Where you are the lone girl amongst as many as two dozen men at any time...before you begin to fantasize about how awesome this might be (and don't get me wrong, it has its moments : ) ), understand that men who aren't used to being around woman at work act like IDIOTS. And I'm not saying this as someone who has just merely been on a construction site once or twice. I have done months at a time, working for both my father and the decorative paint company, working on big constructions sites. Its a shit show. And it is quite clear to me why most men won't hire woman to work for them, it ain't worth it. Having a woman on site means trouble.  And it's not the womans fault. Men can't handle it. MEN CANT HANDLE IT. AND I REFUSE TO THINK ANY DIFFERENTLY ABOUT THIS. CAPITOL LETTERS MOTHER FUCKER. YAH HEAR ME?

It's just that, gosh dudes. Can't you just try and ignore that men and woman 'go together.' Can't we just be equals? Can't we just work side by side? Can't you just look at me and for one minute without an ounce of irony just think to yourself 'you go girl!'

I've gotten a little off track. I wanted to talk about how awesome it is being a girl. So I'm going to back track now. I guess I just needed to my moment to complain. Oops. My B. Lets be awesome now.

Being a woman means that (hopefully) you have great woman friends. And this is up to you. Be a great lady, or a great human being in general, and you can attract great girls to your side. Great ladies are your number one asset in life. Currently I have more good girl friends than I have ever had in my life before, and I am benefitting big time because of it. Hopefully you are lucky enough to have a great mom, or otherwise you are lucky enough to have an incredible Aunt, or Grandma, or friend of your family, sister, or best female friend that will play the part. Do Not Be a girl that is too cool for school. Girl friends are where it is at. Forget the boys. They are cute but they are fleeting. Collect your girls. Treat them well. Honor them.

Girls are smart. We are born into this world with many sets of innate skills. We know how to care for ourselves and people. We come pre installed with incredible amounts of intuition, love, compassion and devotion to those around us. Don't be afraid to cultivate these traits.

Girls are given all the gifts that men are given, but we are unfortunately persuaded to not cultivate them the way boys are. Be strong. Be physical and active. Be scientific and mathematical. Don't let society dictate the kind of person you will be. Perseverance makes us strong. We have had a shit storm of human history against our progress, and we are better people for it.
Because even in the face of all that sucks about womanhood, I love being a girl. Even when I have my period. Even when I am bloated by said period beyond belief. Even when I am getting cat called. Even when I take a moment to think about how far my mothers generation has had to come to be where they are, making 80 cents for every mans dollar. Even when I am the victim of lame ass but effective advertising for women. Even when I am camping and can't just easily take a piss out doors. Even when I was on a job site and I'd have to use the same god damn port-o-johns that all the men do (even though thats technically ILLEGAL). Even when I am not given my due rights. Even when I am treated as unequal.  Even when I was constantly insulted by other contractors on jobs who assumed I didn't know what the fuck I was doing, even though I had way more experience in my given trade than they have ever had. Even when I am probably going to be penalized and disadvantaged in my career for being selfish enough to have my own children. Even when my own government decides that I do not have the right to decide my own fate when it comes to family planning. Even when my government wants to control what I do with my womb, but doesn't care or want to help me when my child is out of the womb.
Even when I know I getting stared at and gazed at when I don't want to. Even when I know that men are not taking me seriously, for whatever unfounded reason. Even when I feel like I am being judged for my looks more than my intelligence. Even when I know and understand about what happens to less fortunate woman in other countries all over the world at this very moment. Even when I know that we have existed for as long as our male counterparts and have just barely begun our ascension towards greatness. Even when I know that there have been 44 male American presidents but no woman presidents in the 'alleged' greatest country in the world. Even when I know that we have to work so much harder and have to prove so much more just to be considered equal.

I love being a woman.

And I wouldn't trade it for anything. And I hope that the woman I alluded to in less fortunate places can say the same thing. There is something eternally excellent and beautiful about being female. The experience of being feminine is special. Of being aware of the woman before me. Of understanding that every generation of woman before me has paved a way for me to be who I am. Of being connected to a body that essential to the progression of our species. Of breast and vaginas, hips and soft skin. Of looking in the mirror and hopefully finding a way to love yourself and your body, no matter what the cues and hints from cultural bullshit.  Of knowing how bad ass it is to not let anyone else get you down, or going above expectations like it ain't no big thang.  Of being tough, and rugged, and self sufficient and hardcore. Of never even thinking twice about what you will and can do in your life.

And I will continue to always believe we are equal. I am so proud and happy to have been brought up in a world(my world, or a bubble, or an idealistic microcosm, what have you) that has always praised woman and chosen to look at our innate and very palpable abilities as well as our accomplishments. I have always been raised as a capable and complete human being. And I happen to be a chick. Does that make sense?


Thanks Mom.

             Did you know there is a Rosie the Riveter High School in California? Its an all girls trade school. So cool.

Cats, Cats & More Cats

Just thinking about cats makes me happy.

I can waste hours watching those stupid youtube videos about cats. I once watched the same video of a little orange kitten jumping from a table and greatly under estimating how far of a jump the banister bar was from him like 3 dozen times in a row. And I died every time. Or the video of the two kittens that have some narcoleptic problem and turn stiff as a board and fall over every 30 seconds, no matter what they are doing...hilarious. How about the really fat cat that gets a running start on the linoleum floor and throws himself into an open box, so that his head and his two front legs are sticking out one end of the box, and his back legs and tail the other end of the box? What will those nutty Korean cats think up next? There's seriously something about Korean cats. They're true comedians.

I was born into this wacky world a cat person. When I was 7 years old my parents had the great idea that we needed to have a pet. We collectively decided a cat would suit us perfectly, so off we went to the North Shore Animal League to get our very own kitty face.

Neither of my parents had ever had a cat of their own, which was obvious, even to a 7 year old.  When we were driving home and decided to let our new little guy, Tyler, out of his carrier box to roam the car, it became crystal clear that we had a lot to learn about these furry little creatures.  There is nothing more disconcerting than being in a car with a cat trying to make a bed between the break pedal and the floor of the car.  This was our first very important lesson in cat ownership.

We've had many cats since. I'm a bit reluctant to really get into all of the details of our history with cats, not because we've done anything wrong, but because having cats, and pets in general, is a bit of a crap shoot. Our first cat, Tyler, moved down the street and into someone else's house.  Besides the fact that it was home to Tyler's best friend in the whole hood, Garfield, the house also happened to have a very inviting cat door and better food to boot.  I tell you this with complete confidence that Tyler did in fact move down the street, this wasn't some lie that my parents told my brother and I as a means of letting us down easily about the cat passing away.  He legitimately took his life into his own paws and decided to try something new.  34 Vineyard Road wasn't cutting it for him anymore. He moved on.  When Garfield got hit by a car ten years ago, Tyler decided to get the hell out of dodge, so he packed his little cat belongings and scampered off into the sunset, most likely settling for a split level ranch with a comfy couch a few streets over.  He was a good looking cat with a solid personality. Not too friendly, but nice enough to muscle his way into your bed.  Sound familiar ladies? Typical man cat. When he decided to move in on your life, there was just no stopping him. And when he was done, gone, like the wind he blew in with. Its now been 18 years since we first brought him to the neighborhood. Tyler has likely moved onto the big cat bed in the sky.

We've had cats disappear. We've had unusual and unexpected illnesses shake the very foundation of our cat lives. We have slaved for our cats (well, my Mom did at least). We've put cats down, too. All told we've had 9 little lives walk through our doors over the years. Many have thrived, but some were just not meant for this world. I do not think that this turn over of cats is at all a poor reflection of the type of pet owners we are. We just like to give our animals all the freedoms they deserve, and needless to say, our quiet residential street seems to have become busier over the years. Cat doors and an out door world to play in, plenty of food, a plethora of couches, cat beds and people beds to sleep in...our cats have it good. Plus, we adore the shit out of them. If I were a cat, I'd want to live at my parents house.

It is important that I note now that I am very much allergic to cats. Yes, this is where this blog post goes from happy shining love fest to a sadder, more dark place.  I love animals, cats in particular, but I love dogs, too.  Well not all dogs. Actually not even most dogs. But I will give them all a shot. They have one chance with me. And if they mess that chance up, it is up to them to redeem themselves and resolve the conflict between the two of us. I've learned that dogs are really good at being the bigger person, as I've had several dogs approach me to try and patch up a relationship that may have gotten off on the wrong foot. I most recently made amends with my friends dog Dutch, and its because he wanted to. We're cool now.

Anyway...

So I'm allergic to cats. This sucks so fucking much that it makes me question my very worth. What good am I, crazy cat loving fool, if I can't even be around them?  How am I ever going to own a fleet of cats? How am I ever going to live up to my own expectations of having too many cats to function? Of waking up in a sea of kittens, on the regular? The best dream I ever had involved me discovering an underground rail road of cats, and I lead them to freedom. Which happened to be at my house. I had another dream that my best friend gave birth to a cat baby that looked just like her. It was so awesome.

I'm not so allergic that I puff up and become unrecognizable just because I walked into a house that has cats, but it can really fuck up my day and makes hanging out in peoples houses when I don't have allergy medicine with my quite miserable. And you know what is terrible about allergy medication? That shit is expensive. Really, really expensive.   So not only am I allergic to cats, but I have to pay for it?  Come on, man.  When I go home, especially because I'm not used to them, I sleep like shit. And god help me if I pet the wrong cat and touch my face. But I persevere. Because I love cats. And aint no histamines are gonna get between me and my favorite animal. Cats rule.


So I began this post not purely because I wanted to talk about my love for cats, but because I am having a very special guest stay at my house in two weeks time. For five magnificent, fun filled magical days, we will be sharing our humble little condo with Mons. Mons belongs to my best friend, who happens to be skipping town for a few days. And it might seem a bit outrageous for a person to drop off a cat at some else's place...cats are usually so self sufficient. Everyone knows that all you have to do is put out an enormous bowl of food with like 12 bowls of water scattered around the house, leave out a clean litter box and you're good to go. All cats do is sleep anyway they won't even notice you left. 


But not this cat. This cat is a high maintenance little guy.


Mons is a special guy for many reasons. My most favorite special thing about Mons though is that I AM NOT ALLERGIC TO HIM. At least not really. At least not as much as I am to most other cats...and I tend to get used to him really quickly.  He's the only cat that I can thrust my face into the belly of and not emerge resembling the elephant man with a serious cold afterwards.  Mons is special for another reason, too...he has Renal Failure.  Its when the kidneys don't filter properly and all of the toxins that usually flush out the kidneys through urination begin to build up in other places.  Way, way back, in the year 2007, Aimee and I came back up to Boston after being out of town for a few days, to discover a very sick and frail shell of a cat. We immediately brought him to the vet where it was advised that Aimee put the little guy down. Many people probably would have followed to vet's advice, because here's the alternative...every day Aimee, or someone, has to give this cat a shot of water. As in, stick a cat with a needle and be able to hold it in them long enough to allow such and such amount of water to go through a fairly slow dripping IV tube...it takes about 10 minutes. And do this every day, for ever and ever, or face the consequence of your animal getting really sick again. Ugh. Seriously?

It seems like a lot of work, and well, it is. I've given the shot to him a bunch of times, and its not that hard, you just need to have the gumption to calmly stick a needle into a cat.  And if it were any other cat, I'd laugh and say good luck. But Mons is special. He's a Lumpy McLumperton. The most mellow high maintenance cat in the world. Which is great, because it means I get a sick cat for five days. Life does not get much better than this!

So clearly, I'm very excited about cat sitting.

Here's the lumplet!

 Any good cat stories? I know a bunch of you know the little man personally, he's the type of cat you know a good story about. Feel free to share!

Hey Cold, Who Invited You Anyway?

Hot damn am I sick.

I walked off of the flying petrie dish of a plane that took me from Denver to Boston with that tell tale tickle in the back of my throat. When the coughing commenced, I knew I was in trouble.

This has been an unusually sicky season for me.  I've gone whole winters without so much as a sniffle and since September I've been sick three times.  Its always the same cold symptoms crap.  This is the first one this year that I actually have health insurance to remedy it with, but I really don't think I need to waste my time and a co-pay to have someone tell me to drink more fluids and get plenty of rest. I've got this whole sick thing down.

Which I why I'm going to give you my tried and true recipe for an awesome sick day.


The first step is to pick one very comfortable sweats outfit that you are going to live in for the next two or three days. Choose the biggest clothing you have, this will allow you to at least feel like your having a skinny day when you're at your worst.  Right now I may be dripping with mucus and have red and dry chappy face, but I'm so consumed by soft fabric that I feel like a petite little princess.

Next, you must find someone to be your sick bitch. The best scenario is to live with your boyfriend or girlfriend because without even realizing it and getting annoyed with you, they will assume the roll of the sick bitch. They will do everything for you. They will go to the store and buy you soup. They will bring to you glass upon mug upon cup of whatever liquid you desire. They will not judge you for wearing the same sweat pants for three days in a row. If you don't live with a boyfriend or girlfriend, well, then I'm afraid your shit out of luck, and you should try really really hard to not get sick ever.

No matter who you live with, its imperative that you walk around the house moaning and making "waaaaaahhhhhaaaaaahhhhhhaaaaaahhhhaaaaaa" sounds. Now is the time to soak up all of the sympathy you can get, because having a cold is the only time that it is acceptable to act like a total baby. It also feels nice to get a little bit of attention. Get on all fours and crawl around on the floor in front of the TV, acting like a waahhhhmbulance. Whoever is the room will totally pity you.

Do yourself a solid and buy those tissues that have the aloe in it. For a serious cold, the regular old tissues will not do. I failed to pick some up last night when I went on a CVS run, and now all I have left for a nose is an open sore of sadness and regret.

Also, while at CVS, treat yourself. Buy a bunch of magazines cause being sick is boring. I, along with failing to buy aloe soaked tissues, neglected to also pick up magazines. And guess what? Totally bored. I FAILED.

Do not be afraid to wash that Nyquil down with a beer. I know the instructions say not to, and that it can cause liver damage, and blahblahblah, but it feels so, sooo good to ignore the directions sometimes. And lets face it, beer is the only true way to wash down that nasty green flavored liquid. Seriously, why can't they make cough medicines taste better? Ya know, they can put a man on the moon....

Use your sick day to the fullest and catch up on whatever shitty TV you feel to embarrassed to watch in your normal everyday life. This sick day is about YOU! And The Jersey Shore! And America's Next Top Model! Or maybe its about Rock of Love Bus.  Watching 6 hours of a really stupid show on marathon is one of the best things about being sick. No one can tell you not to do it, not even yourself.

Shower at least 4 times a day. Its the only way to get all the boogies out. Or just sit in the bathroom and turn the hot water on and let the room fill up with steam. Who cares if you're wasting water? Remember, this sick day is about YOU!

Call your mom or your best friend and whine a little bit.

Sustain yourself on oatmeal, and oatmeal alone.  But put a little bit (or a lot) or maple syrup in it. It will make you happier.

Drink a lot of water. No brainer.

And get lots of rest. In fact, try not to do anything. Don't exert yourself in the slightest. Don't clean up after yourself, don't make your own food if you don't have to. Try and track down a whistle you can blow for when you need something. Eventually, someone will come and take care of you.  Grab a harmonica, and if you can stand to breathe deep enough to make it sound, write yourself a tune about the  old cold blues.

The Blind Cafe

  While visiting Colorado this past week, we did many of the more obvious Colorado activities. We sat in a hot spring while surrounded by snow, drove through the Rockies, drank delicious local beers and even did some cross country skiing.  However, what brought us to the great state of Colorado and its most excellent big town little city Boulder, was the Blind Cafe.

  As a sighted person I have always relied on my vision to clue me in on the world around me. The only thing that I tend to do with my eyes closed is sleep...but walking around, eating, drinking and the like kind of necessitates an open eye. Sometimes it's interesting to try and do the most basic things in the dark. I've been able to walk from my bedroom to the bathroom with my eyes closed. And as preparation for the Blind Cafe on Saturday, I sat at a table and tried to locate my wine glass and get it to my mouth without incident. Doable, but strange.

  Here's a little bit of backstory of the Blind Cafe, before I get into it. The Blind Cafe was started by Adam's good friend Brian "Rosh" Rocheleau about two years ago. He got the idea after visiting a dining in the dark restaurant in Iceland. From there a small idea and a general curiosity turned into actuality when he got to know some of the blind community in his adopted home of Boulder, Colorado. A blind friend that he knew from school really took to his idea and put him in touch with others in the blind community. The whole idea of doing a blind cafe is really reliant on the blind community, but I'll get more into that later.  The Blind Cafe, as it stands now, are thrown as events and have been done in several cities across the US. It takes a lot of work, planning and volunteers to get one of these things together. Just blacking out a space can take a day or two, let alone all the other planning that needs to go into it. In the spirit of inclusion, the meals are vegan and gluten free. The dinner includes a Q & A with the blind servers, as well as an in the dark musical performance by Rosh and a collection of his musician friends, One Eye Glass Broken.

  I knew a lot about what to expect going into the Blind Cafe. A few days before I had the chance to ask the organizer and mastermind behind the event, Rosh, a few questions about concerns that I had. "How many people are we going to be seated with? What happens when you need to use the restroom? Should I wear a smock?" He gave me some assurance that the blind servers would help us around if we needed to leave the room, and that yes, I might get food on me or a glass of water spilled into my lap but that it was totally worth it to ruin a good outfit. And then he dropped a bomb.

  The meal was going to be family style.

  Whaaa?

   See I had it in my head that the blind servers would be dropping plates in front of us and explaining what was on it, same thing for our drinks. But no, we had to sit around a table with strangers and big plates and bowls of food between us and be expected to get it onto our own plates. We also had a jug of water and hot tea. As he explained this, I let out nervous giggles. This sounded absolutely insane.

  Seriously though, imagine going to an Italian restaurant and trying to get the spaghetti onto your plate without muckling every inch of the table between that bowl and your plate. Or trying to find the salt and pepper without knocking over three glasses of water in the process. Or pouring yourself hot tea without giving yourself and the person to your left third degree burns. Or finding the bread basket and accidentally grabbing someones hand and trying to spread butter over their hand, and then realizing oh my god I've just spread butter on a strangers palm.

  A lot can go wrong in this situation!

  Adam and I arrived at the Boulderado Hotel(where the event was held) with our hearts filled with nervous excitement. We got there early so that we could have a few drinks before hand. Sitting in the dark with perfect strangers was going to be weird enough. Might as well have a good buzz going.

  We made our way down to the conference room that had been transformed into our blind dining area. As we entered the lobby area we were able to see how many people were actually up for this kind of experience. It dawned on both of us that Rosh was really onto something quite amazing. There was a diverse group of people in that room of all ages and backgrounds. As I stood in line to be greeted, I felt a lick on the inside of my knee and turned around to see an adorable yellow lab in a harness, he was a seeing eye dog in training. There were probably about half a dozen seeing eye dogs in training there that night.  Very well behaved and very sweet, they didn't make a peep and never caused a scene. I had a chance to talk to some of the trainers and learn about the work they do. A portion of the proceeds of these events go to a seeing eye dog foundation.

  When it finally came time to grab the shoulder of the person ahead of me and walk cautiously into the dark, I was full of nerves. I had no idea what this was really going to be like. Think about being in a really dark room. Typically, your eyes will eventually adjust and you'll have some kind of vision. This room was so well blacked out that this was not the case. And after several hours of being there, your eyes still never adjusted.

  Things to consider while eating in the dark.....

  I have an obvious new found respect for the blind, and appreciate their ability to maintain table manners.  I was eating with my hands, closing my eyes and being all sorts of sloppy, cause it totally didn't matter.  How on earth are you supposed to get a fork full of food up to your mouth without all the food falling off of it? I found myself either straight up shoveling food in with my fingers, using my fingers on the fork assist, and taking bites that were way to big and awkward. Sometimes I would think that I was about to put food in my mouth and it would be nothing at all, an empty fork. An empty glass on water. Something that wasn't even food at all. It was very strange.

  Serving myself food was weird. One of the dishes was a curry rice dish. When I went to go and spoon it onto my plate, I poured almost the entire spoonful into my lap, completely missing the dish. Very glad I had enough forethought to put my napkin down. I didn't even realize it immediately though, not until I put my hand on my lap and realized I was covered in rice. When I used the tongs to grab salad, it took me about half a dozen tries to actually pick up any food with the tongs. Pouring water wasn't as hard as I thought it would be, you just had to do it slowly.

  I found myself closing my eyes a lot, keeping them open and not getting any reward was to much work. My eyes felt tired afterwards, too.

  Sitting down with strangers is always interesting, especially when you add darkness to the mix.  I had kind of hoped going into this that I wouldn't actually know what anyone looked like before we sat down, because I like to be surprised by my own imagination for what people will look like based on the sound of their voice, but we were all grouped together by where we were sitting in the lighted lobby before hand. But there were still a few surprises in store for us. We originally thought we were going to be seated at table 5B and got switched at the last minute. Which led to this very interesting scenario.

  After dinner was served and we had eaten to our tummies content, the bathroom train came to town!

  I had hoped to get through this meal without having to get up, but I was sort of intrigued by the whole being led around in the dark by blind servers, so I decided to go for the trip. We still had a lot of the night left in the dark anyways, so it was kind of the right time to get up. Adam and I both got up and grabbed the shoulders of the last person in line and we were led out the low lit lobby.

  You didn't think we'd have to go to the bathroom in the dark too, did you? Come on. Thats ridiculous.

  So...yadayadayada its time to go back inside. We tell the server what table we thought we were at, which she brought us to. Of course it turned out to be the wrong table, so she told me to grab hold the next person and that she would swing us around to another table. I reached out into the dark and there was no one there. The music had begun, so I whispered to Adam "They left us behind. We're stuck here."

  So we stood there, in the dark, no clue where we were in the room, and no idea on how to get back to our table. The music was playing, so we couldn't exactly shout out that we were lost. We were absolutely hysterical. We literally both had our hands over each others mouths trying to stifle our laughter.  It was perhaps the most disorienting experience I've ever had. We could do nothing but wait. My favorite song that Rosh plays is Love and Rainy Days, which just happened to come on in that moment. So we stood there and slow danced, giggling, in the dark.

  We were finally saved by a server that had over heard us and asked us if we needed help, she led us outside where we were able to describe (to the best of our ability) what table we were seated at. A server named Gerry came to our rescue and knew exactly where we had been seated.

  My most favorite part of the whole night was the Q & A between the servers and the attendees. I should note that the "servers" were more like leaders, because they were essential to making sure that this whole night went smoothly.  Their experience of life without sight is what made them ideal in organizing a sight-less dinner, they were our figurative eyes in the space and could navigate as well and as fast as any sighted person could have done with the lights on.  I could really tell how empowering it was for these individuals to get to share their stories, and it was incredibly moving to be on the other side and to have the opportunity to learn their stories. This whole experience made me realize that I've never known a true blind person. I had a lot of questions that I wanted to ask, but felt weird about asking. As an artist, I just can't even imagine what its like to go through life without a visual vocabulary. To not understand what color is, or to even know what art or a painting is for that matter, what defines a beautiful face, the depth of a landscape...Only one of the servers was truly blind for his whole life, meaning that he had never ever had any sight in anyway shape or form. He said he didn't even see black, but, how would he even know what black is? Someone asked a really interesting questions, "Do you dream?". Of course he dreamed, was his answer, but his dreams had no visual. His dreams had no visual. This absolutely blew my mind. I don't know if I necessarily thought up until that moment that all people are downloaded at birth with certain visual clues or ideas, but the notion of a dream only consisting of sound and feeling just really threw me for a loop.   Other servers went blind over time, or were born mostly without sight and had lost it completely.  They explained to us their lives and their experiences, lives that seem so normal but also so different from my own.  They answered questions honestly and without hesitation. Questions that people felt silly asking, they would have very straightforward and informative answers to.  They described what its like to date and what interests them in people when they don't have visual clues to go on. They described how useful they felt brail was, how they used the internet and how they're friends and family help them go shopping for clothing. Gerry described his career as a car mechanic. A blind car mechanic, who knew? It never occurred to me that a person without sight could work on a car, let alone do it professionally for a whole career. He now owns a coffee shop in Boulder.

  The night was rounded out by beautiful music, and the very last song was a tune that everyone sang together at the end. The lyrics went something like this:

  "the light that shines through everyone, some day it will be gone. So make me yours I'll make you mine"


  And everyone sang this line together over and over again. And after the very last time, a candle was lit and the room was illuminated for the first time. This is when I realized that I have one hell of an imagination, because that room looked nothing like the palace of a space I had created in my mind.  I thought there were columns and a lot more obstacles in the room, because as we walked and saw only darkness, I guess I assumed that the space I couldn't see must be filled with something because I was so afraid of bumping and crashing into it. It was just a regular rectangle room, and where I thought I was in relationship to where the band was ended up being totally different from where I actually was.

   All in all I found this to be a really wonderful and (forgive me) eye opening experience. The Blind Cafe is not about the food or really even about being in the dark for a few hours. To me it was about finding a space to trust those around you enough to be comfortable in a really uncomfortable situation, which is something that I now understand is probably what our blind friends are confronted with a lot in their everyday life.  It also gave me a true appreciation and respect for those without sight. The visual world is typically hard enough to navigate when you have the obvious in front of you, take those clues away and you really have to learn how to trust your more subtle senses.  I thought that this experience would be a lot more about the way food tastes when you can't see it or the way people sound when you can't see them, but it was about much more than that.  Sitting at that table we all had to help each other and communicate, touching another persons shoulder when you wanted to get their attention is something you typically don't have to do. Addressing one another (and not forgetting their names), being clear and listening was rule number one.  A phrase I heard used a lot was 'making space for' when it was time to listen to someone speak or play music. We let so many things pass us by because we're too busy with visual distractions, and what the Blind Cafe has to offer (besides a really fun, sometimes awkward and sort of silly dining experience), is an exercise in listening to each other and making space for the senses that we too often let fall to the way side.  All in all, a truly enlightening community awareness project, indeed.

Check out www.theblindcafe.com to find a Blind Cafe event nearest you.