juice...

I watched a fascinating documentary on Netflix the other night.  It's called "Fat, Sick & Nearly Dead".  I like documentaries.  I like to fool myself into thinking that they are unbiased reflections of the world at large.  They aren't skewed in any way, I tell you!  I don't know what drew me to this one in particular.  It mentioned steroids and maybe that was it.  Hubs and I watched a doc about wrestling and maybe I thought that the steroids in this movie were going to be the same kind as in that movie.  But they weren't.  The steroid was prednisone.  I have an intimate knowledge of prednisone although my knowledge of it isn't really first hand.  I think I took it for some malady, briefly.  But I can't recall with certainty.  My asthmatic mom had to be on it for years.  Years.  Before they realized that no one should be on prednisone for years.  God love her (and He does), that stuff puffed her out.  But she had to breathe and such so she suffered through.  Hubs just had to finish a round of prednisone because he got exposed to some wicked poison ivy/oak/sumac type situation and it would NOT go away.  We had a dog that had to be on prednisone.  It made him crazy, ravenous and thirsty.  I think it might have affected me the same way.  But I can't recall with certainty.  So, in the movie, this Aussie dude Joe decides that he is going to confront his health.  He was a very successful business man who ate and enjoyed life to excess and ended up with an auto-immune disease that made the histamines in his body go nuts and gave him a frequent, unpredictable, painful rash.  He decided to do a juice fast for 60 days to clear out his system, lose weight, and try to cure his disease (or at least lessen his dependence on the medications for it).  Short of any sort of creative editing or possible behind the scenes aid from medication or surgery, this movie was compelling.  Because not only did Joe lose a boatload of weight, he got off all his medications, stopped getting the crazy rash and found energy and health.  From juice.  On top of that, he met a truck driver who had the exact same auto-immune disease who agreed to do the juice fast for 10 days and wound up doing it for 30 (if not 60 - memory issues, people - old) days.  He lost a boat load of weight, got off all his medications, stopped getting the crazy rash, found energy and health AND started a juicing club at his local health food store.  Now.  I'm not fat.  But I have bumpy parts.  And some bumpy parts sit on top of other bumpy parts.  Especially when I'm sitting.  Or standing.  Not so much really when laying down.  I don't think.  And lots of my bumpy parts aren't supposed to be bumpy.  Now.  I'm not sick.  At least, not terminally or chronically.  But I have stomach issues a little too frequently.  I don't have energy.  I am a sugar addict.  I am a coffee addict.  I'm totally chagrined about the increasing amount of processed and convenience foods that enter my home and my body.  And nearly dead?  Not right now, but who knows what the future has in store for me?  I want to wake-up and not feel like my get up and go has got up and went every morning.  I don't have much in the way of willpower and I don't know that I could just stop eating sugar and caffeine on my own.   But I believe in these 2 things, even prior to this propaganda:  1.  God did an extraordinary job creating the body.  Because that is how He does everything - extraordinarily.  It is built with the desire to restore and perform.  But we rob the body of it's innate abilities regularly - with smoking, drinking, sugar, drugs, no veggies, excess fat, bags and boxes of various foods, etc.  2.  Sugar is, for all intents and purposes, an organism that feeds on itself.  Now, I know that it is not really a living organism.  At least, I don't think it is.  It comes from a plant (or a plant, depending on whether you are buying real or fake) and those are living things but all living things essentially die when cut off from the source (oh, how philosophical I could wax right now about how we, as humans, essentially die when cut off from THE Source... another time...) so, it's not living or an organism at that point, right?  But I still firmly believe that it feeds on itself.  If you have never eaten it, you don't have to worry about it.  If you have a bite, that bite sits there and wants to become more, bigger, and it sets up a yearning, burning desire for not small quantities of Graeter's Buckeye Blitz pints or quarts or uhm, 8-10 packs of candy bars that are selling 10 for $10 at the grocery, or uhm, guzzled Hershey's syrup - in a can because it's so much richer and delicious in a can than that dang plastic bottle.  And the more you eat, the more you want.  I'm using alot of "you" language.  I'm just making assumptions about your experiences.  I have none of my own to point to... at all.

But here is the flip side.  Every so often, I get a wild hair - likely a gray one because those are unpredictable and unnerving and make me panic and look for a fountain of youth or some sort of next fulfilling thing.  It is nearly always, as Hubs can tell you, a train wreck.  For instance, I became a member of a pyramid scheme rep for a multi-level marketing company that sold too expensive ways to preserve memories and instill traditions for your family.  I was supposed to form clubs and do home parties to sell their wares.  I thought that I was brighter than the company because I was encouraged to do booths at different craft fairs and what-not so that I could drum up more opportunities to do home parties.  But nobody goes to a craft fair to look for home parties.  People go to craft fairs to buy crap.  But nobody wanted to buy into my crap.  Because it was expensive crap.  And not terribly crafty.  What with being made in China and all.  I spent gobs of money and was left with a BUNCH of products nobody wanted to shell out money for in order to learn that those pyramid schemes home party businesses have really done their homework and have spent the time to come up with a system that works from the top down and not the bottom up..  And Hubs saw me through.  I was doing my purees and have dwindled that off quite a bit.  By the by, my bleeding beet ombre is not going as expected/hoped.  And also, probably when you are using regular dye, bugs aren't attracted to it.  You know.  The way that bugs are attracted to food.  Anywho.    I go all gung-ho ahead about whatever scheme or notion or trend that I latch onto and sink time and money and enthusiasm into it and then get burned out (burnt out?  Doesn't either work?  Doesn't a fizzle dying and extinguishing become a burnt wick of some sort?  Hmmm...).  And the longevity varies quite a bit.  No rhyme or reason or predictability about the success rate - or lack thereof.  So I asked Hubs to watch the documentary to be a voice of rationale in my whirling dervish ways.  Because I'm all about the rationalizing but none too much about the rational.  He hasn't watched it yet.  Ahem.  But I'm anxious for him to because I need to get my fine quality juicer and kale and make the mean green juice and get started.

And, in the quest for trying to move forward responsibly with regard to my interest (possible new obsession) with juicing (a new thing - being responsible in my quests!!), I have realized something fairly monumental about myself.  I don't get excited about much.  It's like there is an apathy disease sitting on my cells.  It's all humdrum.  I don't know what gets me stoked about anything - what gets my juices flowing.  Hubs and I went to a U2 concert 2 weeks ago.  It. Was. Awesome.  The only thing that could have truly made it perfect for me was if the Black Eyed Peas opened instead of Interpol.  Interpol was pretty dang good but I love me some Will.I.Am and Fergie who is fergalicious.  But this concert was not about me or for me.  It was for Hubs.  He turned 40 last year and I told him that we were doing it.  I think 40 is a big deal and should be treated as such.  This was once in a lifetime type stuff.  So we bought the tickets, made the arrangements and even got to spend the night at a hotel.  Alone.  Mad props to the in-laws for coming through.  And it.was.awesome.  Hubs and I were all giddy on the way.  Okay, I was giddy.  Hubs was a more macho, manly version of giddy - probably excited.  On top of that, some sort of cult-like following was watching women's soccer like it was the royal wedding.  Japan vs. U.S..  Women's.  Soccer.  Who knew?  But there everyone was at home and then in the hotel lobby and bar glued to the screen like it was going to transform the world to see the outcome.  Or maybe they were just all waiting for some cute athletic chick to strip her shirt off after making the winning goal.  I don't know much about this cockamamie event but I do know that happened before some years ago.  So, between both these things, an epic concert and an apparently epic soccer event, the hotel and my husband were abuzz.  And not for nothing because I love my country and I am patriotic in my own ambivalent, not excited way, but I was happy for the little country who could.  They have had a tough time of it ladies and gents.  I don't mind them counting small victories where they can.  Anywho.   I was happy to be there.  I was happy to have Hubs to myself.  I was happy to be going to the concert - I dig U2.  I dig lots of their songs but they are no Shawn Colvin, my friends.  Or Black Eyed Peas.  Or Lady Gaga.  For goodness sakes.  I wanted this for Hubs.  And I had a great time.  But I go to things like this - events- big or small- like concerts like the one I go to every 2-10 years) or parties or gatherings or celebrations and I'm not in it.  It's kind of like a whir around me and I feel suspended above or  surrounding it from a petunia like stance against a wall.  I don't know what that is about, exactly.  I think that unexcited and unimpressed might go hand in hand.  Not much is really impressive anymore.  I mean, they closed the flippin' space program!  Are you kidding me?  Because there wasn't much more to see at this point.  It's not impressive anymore that rockets attach to a mega-airplane space craft and blast it into space.  It's not impressive anymore that there is a station IN SPACE that spacecraft take people to to live and repair stuff (all the time. Apparently not alot of shelf-life on products when in space).  Really?  Not much new happening there.  The moon?  Yup.  Been there, done that.  Claimed it.  Own it.  Until a little green dude shows up, we just sit around waiting for the technology to catch up with the next great frontier.  Imagine that being the train of thought a mere 55 years ago.  What if we were as caught up in the frontier we live in right here in our local atmosphere, our local hemisphere?  I dunno.  I'm just speculating.  I'm not trying to be a downer.  I'm just keepin' it real.  This is me.  This is how I'm seeing things.  This is me noticing that my senses are dulled by instant gratification and new and improved and out with the old.  I'm putting this out there - in case you see it too.  But I'm not resigned to staying this course.  I'm looking to flush the apathy off my cells.  Perhaps with some sort of juice product.  I'm determined to fixate and go full tilt into sinking time and energy and enthusiasm into noticing the details around me and not to stop looking because it doesn't jump out at me.  And I'm using my position of influence and power, such that it is since I have your attention and you made it this far.  I'm using my juice to encourage you to do the same. Seriously.  Go look at a giraffe.  No, for real.  I'll wait.  A giraffe's body does not make sense.  All science and logic says that they should drown when drinking.  There is nothing that is supposed to work about their make up.  But they do.  And they are extraordinary.  They are beautiful and impressive.  Go look at a book.  Muggles?  Butterbeer?  How impressive that a human mind came up with a world so rich with detail and fantastical animals and heart-breaking circumstances AND made my then 9 year old son jazzed about reading..  And that is just one book.  There are millions of books.  There are millions of individuals that invite you into their own stories or the ones that they invented.  Listen to a song.  Close your eyes and hear the words.  And consider how often you know those words in your soul because you are a human too and we all have our conflictions.  And we all have our triumphs.  Triumph is exciting. And either we aren't having enough triumph or the bar is too high for what we consider a true triumph to be.  If you woke up today and you are reading this now, That should be exciting.  It is to me, anyway.  I mean, what the heck am I doing here otherwise??  Dammit.  I just fell off my soap box.  I'm gonna have to soothe myself with an ice-pack and some chocolate 'til Hubs watches my documentary and I can fix myself up with all myriad of fruits and veggies...