"May cause personal discomfort as a result of introspection."

me:

i didn't know male dogs had a vaginal *anything*

patent lawyer friend:

i think its a description of the incision?

dude, they pop out the ...

and ...

oh man

look at the images

(re: this and this -- I think they're SFW, your work may disagree. And you SHOULD look at the images. I LOL'd.)

Poisoned rhino horn

I'm actually a little sorry they issued a warning, as IMO, whoever buys powdered rhino horn for use as an "aphrodisiac" more than deserves a hearty helping of years' worth of arsenic and DDT.

Sometimes being an atheist sucks because you just don't get to experience that delicious and intoxicating certainty that people who do horrible things will be horribly punished for it. And then you see stories like these, and everything is ok again.

so it's been almost a month of solid lunch bento-ing, thanks to my trusty rusty Mr. Bento, and i'm down 6 lbs. which would probably have been more, had (a) my CSA not screwed up and canceled deliveries for the past three weeks, and (b) i eaten a little healthier on the weekends. but the CSA is supposed to be back on track starting with weekly deliveries tomorrow, and i've been reasonably good about scavenging up enough veggies/fruits to fill three of the four Mr. Bento containers daily (with the remainder being protein/whole grains). about 75% of my lunches are entirely vegetarian if not vegan these days. woot! dinners are more variable, depending on how starving i am and what's available to heat up at home, but the proportion of veg to meat and starch has improved on the whole.

and i'm noticing my skin has cleared up substantially with the influx of fruit/veg. i guess the LUSH Times was right!

so i'm still on track, if a little behind, on my lose-fifteen-pounds-by-May-1 goal. what with the state of the election, Mike Huckabee isn't proving a sufficient deterrent so i am needing to invoke McCain and the self-imposed $10/lb penalty if i don't make the May 1 deadline. i might even go to the gym if it gets bad enough. *gasp* belly dance has been cut down to 1 hour/week and that's just not cutting it. but i'm heartened to see that a difference can be made just in terms of changing the way i eat... 6 lbs in a month is nothing to sneeze at.

i've been sort of bursting with a need to announce the minutiae of my meals for the past several days but there really hasn't been a good way to slip it into casual conversations and after all, what is a blog for? if like most people you could not possibly care less what i have eaten for the past two weeks, just go ahead and skip this one.

Or ( Read more... )

I find myself faced with the potential dilemma of trying to lose weight, trying to spend less money on food, and simultaneously falling hard for Michael Pollan's local/sustainable/organic ethos. I suspect if I try hard enough, and shop at enough different stores, and plan every meal a week in advance, I can reconcile the three separate horns of said dilemma, but I'm not sure I have the energy for that task.

( Read more... )

No, I don't watch Oprah. I have just had this head cold/sinus infection for nearly a week now and was half-seriously considering buying one of those baby nasal aspirators and trying to just vacuum the gunk out of my nose and sinuses. Some of the gals on the LUSH forum were preaching the Neti Pot and I figured at worst, it couldn't hurt, and at best, it might actually clear some of the ick out and soothe my poor irritated nasal innards.

For those who also don't watch Oprah and don't hang out on the LUSH forums, a Neti Pot is a small ceramic or plastic pot shaped sort of like a teapot that holds only one cup. You mix 1/4 teaspoon of salt with 1 cup of warm water, put the spout in one nostril, tilt your head down and pour the water through your nostril so it comes out the other nostril. No, it doesn't hurt. No, you don't snort it. No, it doesn't go down your throat. It just runs in one and out the other and sometimes (per the LUSHies) it brings some really interesting and colorful gobs of infected snot with it. Supposedly it also rinses out pollen and dander and dirt and anything else that might be up there irritating or blocking your schnozz. Also, it feels ... good. Soothing. It moisturizes your nose and shrinks swollen nose tissues.

I used it once last night and once this morning. Looked like an utter buffoon, though not as much as the woman on the Neti Pot box, who is beaming a great big smile while water pours out of her left nostril. However, I can now breathe through both sides of my nose, which has almost entirely stopped running, and a couple of people at work have stopped by my office today to tell me how much better my voice and breathing sound than they did yesterday. So I'm going to write that up as a Neti success. And urge you all to try it. We can look like buffoons together.

mschlock  tagged me with the Mayfly meme, thusly:

It's simple really: Sum up your 2007 in 24 words (from the 24 hours of a mayfly's life).

Here goes:

LUSHly lazed about. Rediscovered reading. Cuddled puppy and man. Sparkly adornment mischievously misleads.

Near meltdown; now I love Lexapro. Family guilt, work anxiety, begone!

Ummm... TAG, annarama and kasplode!

toasted buttermilk spice muffins. For breakfast. With butter. At work.

Not all mornings have to suck.

(and yay, leftover garlic-rosemary roasted pork loin for lunch! with gravy! and a side of buttery spaghetti squash! yay cooking!)

my cat does this too.

I recently went excavating in the garage and came across an old cassette tape holder with about 30 cassettes in it, mostly from my elementary and jr. high school days, before I got a cd player and said to hell with cassettes. I pulled out "Joan Baez Ballad Book" and the Beaches soundtrack. "Beaches" was everything I remembered (some crap, some nostalgia), but when I popped in the Ballad Book, I heard my own voice... droning on and on about Prince Wilhelm, and the Treaty of Vienna, and the economic conditions of England in the early 1700s. No Joan Baez to be heard, although there was a short musical interlude of Ace of Base's "I Saw the Sign" before the tape segued back into the War of 1812.

As best as I can remember now, I'd used the tape as a study aid for the AP European History test, and simply read all of the highlighted terms and phrases from my textbook into the recorder. Other than "I Saw the Sign," the entire tape, A and B sides, was nothing more than a dry, monotone recitation of facts, battles, years and historical figures. I shudder to think of the time it took to record it, and even more to contemplate actually listening to it. The optimistic little high school sophomore who imagined that doing so might increase her test score is gone forever (although -- I did score well, so maybe it helped. But I can't imagine putting that much effort into one test ever again!)

...played too much Viva Pinata when you walk outside your office building at lunchtime and realize that the yard is planted with birds of paradise, poppies, and buttercups, and you know not only their names but also how many chocolate coins each plant is worth. In fact, you calculate that one particular stand of birds of paradise is worth over $10,000 chocolate coins, and envy the property owners.

...watched too much Iron Chef when, after spending three days in trial, you dream that you're in trial with the same parties and judge but instead of presenting facts and witnesses, each party presents its cornbread recipe and a pan of freshly baked cornbread, which the judge must evaluate based on taste, appearance, texture, and scent as well as deciding the merits of coarse vs. finely ground cornmeal and whether 1/4 tsp of baking soda is better than 1/2 tsp. You worry that you have lost your case by baking a round pan of cornbread instead of a square pan, and that it's not at optimal temperature by the time you're allowed to put on your evidence.

...taken your place as your mother's daughter when you find yourself at midnight having fallen asleep on the coach with the TV blaring and a sleeping dog snoring cozily on your tummy, even though you cannot sleep in any other circumstance with even a hint of TV noise.

I was watching some construction guys on the way to work this morning and thinking fuzzily "it sucks to be me, but at least I didn't have to be at work at 6 a.m."

Then I got to work and the air conditioner has been broken all weekend and is still not working, leaving my (10th floor) office, as of 1 p.m., a sweltering 80-something degrees, which is fine if you're outdoors lying on the grass in the shade with a book and a big cup of something icy to drink and wearing not very many clothes, or perhaps when you're lying around your closed-up house on the floor in your underwear with a cold beer next to you doing nothing more strenuous than playing Guitar Hero on the Xbox, but sucks donkey balls when you're (a) at work (b) wearing synthetic fabric work clothes (c) with hot air merrily blowing on you from the "air conditioning" vents, and windows that do not open, and (d) scurrying all over the office trying to assemble relevant documents for a deposition later this week.

Yes, I love hot weather, but not INDOORS when I have to WEAR CLOTHES. This is not what growing up in SoCal was all about, there it was hot and we ran happily around in public in the tiniest of tiny two-piece swimsuits and simply hopped in the pool whenever we seemed on the verge of breaking a sweat. This SanJo "get dressed up and sit in a sauna" bit is teh wrong.

(However, I'm not quite as teeth-grindingly pissed about this as I might have been three weeks ago, or so, instead I'm mildly irked and minorly whiny, which seems to me to indicate that the Lexapro is working, which I am pleased about).

my true love said to me, "she went number one AND number two!"

...and other delightful things you want to hear at 1:30 a.m.

Lucy is a Puggle (pug and beagle mix), between 6 and 7 lbs., black with a white stripe down her tummy and white tips on her back feet. She has beagle ears and eyes, pug wrinkles on her forehead, a little pug tail, and a nose that's not quite beagle but definitely not pug. She was eight weeks old on Wednesday. Very affectionate, very roly-poly puppy awkwardness, and pretty good (7 on a scale of 1 to 10) about letting us know when she has to go out.

I adore her. Even though she woke up about every hour and a half to two hours last night to go to the bathroom and consequently I am a zombie today. She is painfully utterly cute.

the oven has been repaired. 10 months after it initially blew, I finally took a day to work from home (sad commentary on the life of a litigator, or, I really need to grow some balls), and hey presto, we now have four functioning burners (instead of just one) and a fully functioning oven with a shiny new heating element. all for the eminently reasonable price of $200.

I recommend Almaden Appliance to anyone who needs similar work. The repairman (who gave off a startlingly Seth Rogan vibe) also provided me with a money-saving tip not to buy the 80's version of Guitar Hero because it's not a whole new version, just a patch essentially, the songs are way too easy and they charge as much as a whole new game. So, there you go, a money-saving tip for all you Guitar Heroes.

actually, i was wearing a sensible black one-piece suit, which was fortunate, since otherwise i'm not sure i'd be able to wear anything that buttons or fastens at the waist. i'm already sitting here rather guiltily bra-less and wearing far too many and too concealing clothes for my under-air-conditioned office, the latter in an attempt to avoid having twelve different people tell me (brightly, and with terrific originality) "you have a sunburn!"

yes. yes, i do. i do have a sunburn. I AM WELL AWARE that i have a sunburn. it HURTS. and it's making me cranky. i don't need you to TELL me i have a sunburn. ok, ms. airport baggage scanner lady? ms. ticket taker? mr. starbucks barista? I KNOW I HAVE A SUNBURN. i wouldn't walk up to you, a perfect stranger, and say cheerfully "you have a ZIT!" nor, assuming you had a zit, and i was being impolite enough to tell you about it, would i then pull a long face and say "you know, you really should use Clearasil, so you wouldn't get zits."

yes, i forgot the sunscreen, and foolishly forgot that i don't live in orange county anymore and don't have a built-up tan from sixteen years of living in orange county that would allow me to go swim for half an hour without sunscreen. yes, i was dumb. trust me, i've been kicking my own ass about it for the past three days. MYOFB please.

The most accurate key to my boss' mood is the lid of his secretary's glass M&M jar. When I start hearing CLINK-clink. . . CLINK-clink . . . down the hall at ten minute intervals, I know to stay out of the way.

This morning has been CLINK-clink, CLINK-clink, CLINK-clink, combined with the click-CRACKLE of another secretary's licorice tub, almost nonstop. I'm sending out powerful "nothing to see here, just keep walking past that door" vibes.

Three and a half hours to go.

it dawned on me that my normal sunday morning routine is not to go to church but to the farmer's market. i am pleased about this.

this morning i ended up with a huge haul: organic and/or locally grown yukon gold potatoes, globe eggplant, green beans, cherries, raspberries, green onions, yellow onions, sweet corn, rainbow chard, fava beans, and two lovely free-range pork chops from TLC Ranch.

the green beans and potatoes have been boiled and tossed with a sherry vinaigrette, hardboiled egg and diced kalamata olives for lunch tomorrow. the corn (mixed with black beans, green onions, and jicama) is marinating in a mix of olive oil, lime juice, cumin and garlic and waiting for an avocado coup de grace for tomorrow's dinner. the raspberries are tomorrow's breakfast, together with a (Safeway-purchased) cut up "Can-a-dew" (looks like honeydew, tastes like cantaloupe, presumably a healthier breakfast than my standard Zone bar or veggie bagel) and Stonyfield Farms lowfat vanilla yogurt.

tonight we had the pork chops pan-fried in their own rendered fat, and sliced onions and chard braised in the fat that was left in the pan. heaven. very, very filling heaven. normally i don't like pork (too lean, too boring) but these were delicious; pricy, but then i don't have to feel bad about eating them, either. i spent the weekend reading The Omnivore's Dilemma and The Ethics of What We Eat and watching Fast Food Nation and am feeling more than a little queasy about the state of the American meat industry.

Dinner last night:  one medium-sized eggplant diced in half-inch cubes and sauteed in olive oil until soft and golden then tossed with minced garlic and chopped greek olives;  1 1/2 cups steamed green beans;  red wine.

Breakfast:  one Zone bar, two slices toasted seven-grain bread, genmaicha. 

Lunch today:  one can of Amy's corn chowder, 1 1/2 cups steamed green beans, three radishes, 1/4 of an english cucumber, two slices of toasted seven-grain bread. 

I'm stuffed and sleepy.  think I've earned some roast (or fried or grilled) beast for tonight's dinner but lately the tummy seems unhappy with anything except vegetables and grains (and minimal amounts of butter and olive oil)...  

Jesus Camp: holy shit.   literally.   what the fucking fuck is wrong with those people?  i couldn't finish it, had to turn it off.   those kids make me so damn sad.  you can see the "i want to be a normal kid and stand in the rain!" struggling to get out, and then they go and say something horrid like "i have walked with the holy spirit since i was 5 and i just want to love him and Harry Potter is going to burn in hell forever" and then they start babbling in tongues and crying and spinning in circles and it's partly fascinating and partly just plain scary. 

on a related note, fundamentalists' constant use of the word "just":   oh fucking stop it.  you don't "just" want anything.  you want god to pay 100% of his attention to you and your piddly little desires.  you don't "just" want to thank the sweet baby jesus, you want the whole congregation to LOOK AT YOU AND ADMIRE YOUR PIETY.  if you "just" wanted to thank the sweet baby jesus you'd do it silently without making yourself a spectacle for everyone within earshot to say "dearie me, look how holy she is."  but you ALSO want attention, and when you ALSO want something, then JUST does not FIT.   it's nauseating false humility.   and what the hell do you mean you "just" want the lord to bless this food?  you want the blessing.  ask for it.  "just" doesn't even fucking make grammatical sense in that sentence because that is not the only thing that you want.  you also "just" want to thank the lord for bringing the family together and you "just" want to say you love the baby jesus and you also "just" want to say how happy you are your nephew is engaged, which are four separate "justs" in  one articulation, rendering any meaning of "just" totally negatory.   it makes as much sense as saying "i purple ask the lord to bless this food and i purple want to say i'm pleased my niece broke up with that heathen boyfriend of hers and is dating a nice christian boy and i purple want the lord to bless their union and make lots of babies."  
EDIT:   looks like i am not the only one who feels this way.

Cynthia Sylvia Stout: insanely awesome LUSH shampoo. the  #1 ingredient is a dark ale;  other ingredients are lemon oil, cognac oil and yeast.  my hair is soft, silky and incredibly shiny, not frizzy, and, happily, smells more of the vanilla/strawberry conditioner than of beer.  

leaf blowers:  i don't get it.  what's wrong with brooms?  why are these things still around?

genmaicha:  i think they put crack in there with the toasted rice.  so very, very, very, very yummy.  i drink it all day.  and then wonder why i can't fall asleep until after midnight. 

zeade being out of town:   sadness.  although the cat was ecstatic.  a whole half of the bed to himself!  woohoo! 

freshly trimmed rosemary bushes:   this may in fact be the best thing i will have smelled all day.