Tuesday, July 18, 2006

I didn't cook or bake today, even though I got some lovely aubergines at the Overland Park farmer's market on Saturday (isn't the British word aubergine so much nicer than eggplant? Wouldn't you rather eat an aubergine, or wear an aubergine sweater, than do either of those things with eggplant?) It was just too hot. We have the air conditioner running full blast and my room is still too hot to sleep in, hotter than a pawn shop stereo (ba-dum ching).
I had several appointments today and just being outside for those few minutes was enough to make me nauseous. This is the time of year for gazpacho and sorbet and popsicles upon popsicles. I haven't been eating much; perhaps this will come back and bite me in the ass. In fact, I'm almost certain it will. But I'm trying, and trying is half the battle.

I've been working on living in the moment, which is a lovely thing to talk about, but is pretty f-ing hard in practice. At times it works--last week I went on mindful stroll through the Whole Foods produce department (completely equanimical since I wasn't going to buy anything, as I am not in the habit of paying five bucks for a head of lettuce). It was so great I felt high--the bright yellow and red and green peppers gleaming, the beets such a dark purple they looked black, the asparagus stalks standing up like little soldiers, the wet bunches of arugula and chard and radicchio looking so inviting that I wanted to flop down on them like little feather beds. This is an utterly everyday experience shot through with gold. The woman picking out new potatoes the size of ping pong balls while her little daughter makes a grab for the glistening strawberries. The adorable gay couple bickering about whether to buy conventional or organic olive oil ("Dammit, Robert, you can't put a conventional vinaigrette on an organic spinach and chevre salad!"). Again, this kind of awareness doesn't come to me naturally.
I start out mindfully washing the dishes, say, but within thirty seconds (often less) my stream of thought runs something like:
Why does he let ketchup just dry on the plate like that? Doesn't he know he can soak things, or at least scrape them off? Men. At least ketchup has lots of lycopene in it--an antioxidant, good for him. Although if he eats it with a half-pound of french fries, he'll probably have a coronary before cancer has a chance to get him. Cancer...my mom's a Cancer, isn't she? I wonder where the Western zodiac originated...the Greeks, I guess...bulls, crabs, virgins, lions...yes, that makes sense...The Chinese zodiac is made up of Chinese animals--boars, dogs, dragons...but where did the Greeks see lions? Oh, yeah, probably in North Africa...Carthage and so on...what war was that? Or did they just have colonies there?
And there goes the mindfulness.

No comments: