Carrot Ginger Juice (Or Let’s Macerate Some Stuff)

For those of you following along, yesterday was the end of my three-day meditative fast. As it turns out, I didn’t touch my script at all. I had intended to do so, but it just wasn’t the right time.

SO much stuff came up over those three days that was more important to address — and by “stuff” I don’t mean people calling me and asking me to go hiking. I mean I-sat-in-silence-and-worked-through-some-STUFF stuff.

It was hard, but it was worth it, and I feel so much stronger now. I might write more about it some time on the other blog, but I’m not ready yet.

Each fast I do brings new and different challenges, and I’m always so much better off afterwards.

Plus a big plate of spicy sausage nachos tastes even more amazing when you haven’t eaten in three days.

Bonus!

If you're wondering what kind of person breaks a fast with spicy sausage nachos and rose, that person is me.

I was so excited to dive into my food that I don’t even think this photo is in focus.

I savored each spicy, cilantro-laden bite and celebrated by watching the “Red Wedding” episode of Game of Thrones.* (No amount of on-screen slaughter could keep me away from food after three hours let alone three days.)

For good measure, I capped my calorie fest off with two balls of cookie dough because Ghiradelli chocolate chip cookie dough is from God.

All of that was so amazing in my mouth, but around 2 am, my intestines had a difference of opinion. I’m not talking stabbing pains, but there was some slight discomfort involved.

Two hours later I was still wide awake, so I decided it was time to just get up.

Some people actually get up at 4 am on purpose, anyway.

I mean, that’s a thing, right? Getting up at 4 am?

Anyway, there I was up before the sun this morning, and I really, really wanted to write. I was so on fire that I actually made it through 60 pages of screenplay revisions before lunch.

Today lunch involved tuna, basil, and artichoke hearts with dijon vinaigrette on a bed of arugula, all of which I washed down with a glass of carrot ginger juice.

And because I’m me, I made the juice myself….

Get ready to get macerated!

Get ready to get macerated, stuff!

I did the math, and making the juice is cheaper than buying it. Just for the record, I don’t do this kind of math on everything — just on things I consume with shocking frequency like bacon, espresso, and breakfast bars.  (I’m not about to go bankrupt because I don’t like drip coffee and whatnot, so this kind of stuff needs sorting out for economic efficiency.)

It’s also nice to tweak the ratio of carrot to ginger to your own liking.

Rabbits did carrot ginger juice.

The Easter rabbits are down with my carrot to ginger ratio. They told me. 

If you have a juicer and want to give it a shot, here’s my recipe.

Carrot Ginger Juice

2 pounds of carrots, peeled and chopped
2 oz peeled, fresh ginger
1/2 lemon

Put carrots and ginger into juicer and let it do its thing. You can also peel the lemon, remove the seeds and throw that in the juicer as well, but I think it’s faster to use a handheld citrus squeezer for the lemon. Maybe it’s just me….

OK, back to my script!

XOXO

*Yes, I know I am woefully behind on the show. Please do not leave comments about future episodes or I might go crazy –King Joffrey-crazy. 

Socrates Said Stuff (Or Art from Someone Who is Starving)

So today is my mom’s birthday. She’s super brilliant and has been making me laugh a lot lately, which is awesome. I happened to call her last week after she had just come home from a massage, and she was sounding especially upbeat as she described her experience.

“The massage therapist laid out all of these cards with words on them and let me pick three that I could focus on during my massage.” She said. “I wanted all of them… but I went with ‘wisdom,’ ‘knowledge,’ and ‘kindness,’ because ‘greedy’ wasn’t one of the options.”

Funny, right? (OK, well I think so….)

She went on to tell me that she was also given the opportunity to pick a scented oil purely based on its smell, and the oil she picked happened to be called, “wisdom,” as well.

“Apparently, I really want to be wise.”

“You are,” I told her. I meant it.

(She really is wise, and she’s very good at getting on my case when I’m NOT.)

Given that I presently have no income while I’m devoting my life to writing (unwise), I didn’t think it would be a very good idea to buy her a birthday present. (Some might call this “stingy.” I call it not being “stupid.”)

We’re a gift family, so I wanted to send something to show her I love her and I’m glad she was born. Plus I would feel like an ungrateful asshat if I didn’t do anything to acknowledge the woman who brought me into this world without an epidural.

Since macaroni necklaces are no longer an acceptable way to say, “I love you” when you’re in your 30’s I had to get creative.

It just so happens that one of my favorite quotes from Socrates involves the word, “wisdom,” so I put it on a bookmark.

See?

Socrates said stuff. Really smart stuff.

Socrates said stuff. Really smart stuff.

OK, I’m off to make dinner to break my three day fast!

Somebody cue the Hallelujah Chorus, ‘cuz I’m hungry!!!