Veggie Month: Wheatgrass

Today's vegetable

A 1-ounce wheatgrass shot from Jamba Juice, which I washed down with their amazing Berry Cherry Pecan Oatmeal (can a liquid be "washed down" with a solid?).

Apparently, wheatgrass isn't any more nutritious than other vegetables. But, c'mon, it smells funny! Surely the odor signifies some vitamin not found in broccoli or carrots.

Veggie Month! Beets & Snap Peas

Of course, neighbors are good for a cup of sugar. Mine also happen to be good for dinner parties, walks with our dogs, random lunches, and neighborhood gossip.

And this month, the female half of their household will also be good for a push to eat more (and strange!) vegetables. During the month of February, KK and I will be eating a different vegetable every day. I'll be posting my choices here, and you can follow KK at No Regrets 2010.

Long-time readers of Stray Carrier Pigeon will remember KK as the same neighbor who arranged for us to swing on an eccentric's trapeze as a "No Regrets" outing.

Onto the accountability. Yesterday, February 1, I ate beets. Which is really difficult for me, I know. (I wanted to ease into the challenge.)

Today, I snacked on sugar snap peas, after my leftover Mimi's sandwich (I love pesto!) but before a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. ... My veggie was sandwiched between two sandwiches. Odd. I need to get out more. And be more adventurous with my meals.

But back to this post's first line. After walking our dogs tonight, I gave KK some extra ginger and half a sweet onion to complete a recipe for her vegetable: swiss chard. Lending a cup of sugar is so 1960's.

Beatific

Every once in a while, people work together in a perfect symbiosis and my heart wants to burst, like the buds in a fistful of flowers that bloom all at once. Thanks, Humanity.

At least night's Endurance Sports Award, Cody MacCasland, an eight-year-old double-amputee, was honored as Challenged Athlete of the Year.

During a brief back and forth on stage, Cody happily professed to having beaten two kids in his last swim race who had legs. (Can you imagine being the parent of the losing child, and having to console them? What could you do but enroll them in piano lessons or art classes.)

My brother and husband were with me last night, and afterwards I asked whether they felt just a little lazy after hearing Cody's story. They confessed that they did. I did, too, and I've done two half ironmans.

I've decided to do a third, but it doesn't seem like nearly the undertaking that any Challenged Athlete might accept.

I'm reminded of Hey Nostradamus!, where the protagonist, speaking from the dead, recounts a perfect evening where he stripped down and ran exultant circles through his neighborhood. He declares something like, "I wish that I could've run naked through the streets every day of my life."

I'm not suggesting that anyone, physically challenged or not, break laws of decency. But perhaps a little more metaphorical streaking, and a little less status quo, would do us all good.

JD Salinger: Half-pipe Thrasher

From the outside, you might think JD Salinger didn't do much with his life. 91 years on this planet and 4 books in 15 of those years, the last of which was published 45 years ago. Just a few interviews. Sort of like Forrest Gump running. And then, one day, not. I wonder what he's been doing since 1965.

We'll probably never know, but I like to think he's been learning the art of underwater welding, training a bear to dance, and performing some sweet ollies. Wouldn't that be cool?

At last night's Tri Club meeting (Chris Lieto and Craig Alexander; you totally missed it), I spoke with a friend who's recently switched from real estate to nursing. I used to write fiction, but now I am moving into nonfiction. Change is good.

Throw Your Hands in the Air and Wave Them Like You Just Don't Care

Today was my first run in 17 days, the last one being day I turned 31 (which still seems like a clerical error). It is good to be back on the roads.

I spent part of the run behind a jogger who'd periodically pump his fist while listening to (I can only assume) uptempo music.

I am in the middle of What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. It is Murakami's meditation on running, and also on writing. At one point he talks about a mutual understanding shared by all long-distance runners. I agree. I think people who enjoy running share plenty of character traits (which I won't go into here, Murakami does a much better job in his book).

I have never pumped my fist to music while running. But I completely understand the feeling.

Something Other Than the Sausage-making Metaphor

"Writing goes something like this: think of idea, collect material, find the right angle, do something else for a while, get sudden idea and write it down, think some more, plan, organize, think, write, rewrite, proofread, rewrite, proofread, proofread, finalize. Writing feels a lot like wrestling an alligator. A fair amount of violent thrashing is part of the struggle."

-Bulletproof News Releases, p. 132