Eat Me 2

This is a follow-up to my last post, which can be read here. The New York Times called it “Titillating!” The Washington Post hailed, “Whoever has laughed or cried or compared anything to Cats has clearly never read The Whine Life.” The Chicago Tribune couldn’t be reached for comment, or no longer exists in print format. (Is there an app for that?)

Moving along…

Jumping Rope – Oh, where to begin? First of all, I seem to have lost my one and only pair of actual, bona fide sneakers. I swear I wore them not a few days ago and now they’re gone! (It’s important to note here that I’m not prone to losing things. For instance, I have never once lost my keys or misplaced my wallet. NOT ONCE! I am an organizational ninja!) However, my sneakers are inexplicably MIA. Sooo…I came home from work last night and threw on a pair of Rocket Dogs that appear to be sneakers on the surface but that in actuality are nothing more than water shoes with a bit more oomph. I let the chickens out of their coop and took my place on the lawn with my Rocky-style jump rope…and proceeded to trip. Repeatedly. (I even hit myself in the head twice…with my own hand.) This is no dollar store jump rope, mind you. It’s rubber and pretty heavy, and was apparently getting stuck in the wet grass. So, I moved to the driveway…where it clung to the rocks on my unpaved driveway and caused me to trip and land not-so-gracefully on the side of my foot, twisting my ankle. Pffffffft. I hate to be so quick to give up, but Jesus Christ. I can’t even jump rope without injuring myself!?! I’m buying a new pair of sneakers and running in circles around my yard or in place in my basement if need be. I refuse to show up at this 5K with nothing under my belt but a bunch of bruises I could have gotten in a school yard! I need to just fucking run. So run is what I will do…

Omega-3 Fatty Acids – I went to Walgreen’s today to buy a fish oil supplement. As I was picking up bottles and reading labels, I felt something moving on my hand. As my anxiety has become more manageable, so has my “spook” reaction. Typically I would have thrown the bottle across the store, screamed, and then checked my hand to see what the hell was tickling my skin. Today, however, I calmly placed the bottle back on the shelf and then examined my hand…and saw a half-spider/half-other-creepy-creature with twelve heads perched on my hand. So long, calm nerves! I screamed, threw my arm out and flicked the bug as hard and as fast as I could, and then screamed some more. No one in the store found it charming or amusing, but let’s consider that their loss. I’m going to begin taking the fish oil supplement with my lunch tomorrow…and I’m terrified. (They are absolute horse pills and I can barely swallow a coated Advil.) More to come on that.

Coinciding with my quest to eat my way toward mental health is my new mission to buy as much locally grown food as possible. Last weekend I went to farmer’s markets in my surrounding states with a list of anxiety-fighting fruits and veggies. Not only did I feel good about handing my hard-earned money over directly to local farmers, but I loved going home and rinsing the dirt off of fresh produce that I know will be good for me – and that had been picked just a few hours prior – and eating food that tastes like its on (natural) steroids. Have you ever eaten a Jersey fresh tomato, for instance? Sweet Jesus.

Speaking of which, the whole farmer’s market thing motivated me to finally take a hand at a hobby that I’ve been wanting to explore for a long time. After years of hemming and hawing, I spent the past few days canning (which is a lie, because I was actually jarring – I don’t get it!). And I am obsessed. At one of the farmer’s stands I went to, I bought $11 worth of tomatoes and made about 8 jars of homemade marinara sauce, which I then “canned” (i.e. “jarred”) in a hot water bath, which will keep it fresh for a year or longer. I love making sauce but I’ve never made it with fresh tomatoes – and I swear this was my best batch ever. I can’t wait to stand in front of the pantry months from now wondering what to make for dinner and declare, “Let’s open a jar of sauce and have pasta!” (And have it not be Ragu.) 

My husband got into the pickling side of the hobby and made relish, pepper rings, roasted red peppers, and, you guessed it, pickles. (Oh, I also made strawberry jam but I think I messed it up. It’ll still taste amazing on toast or poured over a dessert, but I’ll need to perfect the recipe before I give it away as gifts.) It was so much fun and we plan on doing a lot more of it.

If you’re interested in learning more about canning let me know and I’ll point you toward the YouTube videos and blogs that I found helpful. (Or perhaps I’ll feature a quick tutorial here?) Beyond that, if you’re interested in learning more about the food we eat, take a Xanax and I’ll point you toward some alarming documentaries…

This post has officially reached the “what are we even talking about anymore” point. So, I shall sign off!

4 Comments

  1. Are you still running the big 5k? Give me a call when you cross the finish line.

  2. Dear Crazypants. It’s been a month since your last post. Your readers miss you :(

    • September 2, 2012
      Crazypants

      Very sweet to have noticed, Mr. Whilikers. Noted. Carry on… : )

  3. time to grow a garden!!! Talk to Imants. He’s blanching, freezing, jarring, pickling, jamming, juicing…. Everyone tells him how awesome this is. I’d want to make jam and sauce all day too if someone else was there to clean up after me. ugh. Just wipe up the fucking sauce before you go to bed please. It gets hard and it sucks.

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