It is the consummate, diet-related cliché: “you can stop drinking, or
smoking, but you can’t just stop eating.” You can, of course, stop
eating; Ghandi used that strategy to magnificent effect. As a method of
reaching a healthy weight, however, it’s frowned upon. What you have to
do to lose weight is not to stop eating, but to stop eating the way you
used to eat. I’m doing it, and it’s working, but it complicates the hell
out of my life as a cook.
I’ve struggled with weight all my life, losing and re-gaining the same 30+ pounds several times. I established a pathetic pattern worthy of a medieval tapestry: the large woman stops eating (anything, carbs, second helpings and fast food), exercises (incorrectly, so intensely that she gets shin splints, until she abhors the sight of her Nikes) and becomes smaller. She buys tinier clothes, and basks in the admiration of all of the people who want to know her “secret.” She gets busy, stressed, cocky and inattentive and starts to eat like she used to, she becomes larger again, and in the final tableau she is folding her smaller clothes and putting them in bags to donate to Goodwill, and then pulling the larger versions from the back of the closet where she saved them for the inevitable.
It’s officially less than one week until a global earthquake causes the entire world to shatter into pieces. I thought we had another year and a half, but subway signs—and sign holders have informed me that the true end of the world is not in December of 2012, but is creeping up on us quickly. According to subway posters and people raising awareness outside of City Hall earlier this week, the end of the world is really May 21, 2011! So now it’s time to grab your parachute and your bungee chords and try something you’ve never done before! Or, in my case, eat all types of food that I’d like to smother my taste buds with before this global earthquake officially hits. Because while some people like to live like they will be dying—I’d much rather eat like I am dying.
Although predicted to be arriving in the two thousand tweens, the age of "Artificial Humor," or A.H., is too quickly upon us in these waning, whining days of 2009, and contemporary artists are feeling threatened by the competition.
I’m writing this ode to summertime while being serenaded by lovely summer music – an orchestral enchantment of a summer thunderstorm. We’ve been dry down here in Dixie and every little drop is a blessing. Fill our cups please!
In college, I discovered falafels. I happen to be a lover of most things fried (unfortunately for me) and eating a falafel with tons of veggies and avocado makes devouring them a bit more acceptable. I was reading one of my favorite books; Dave Lieberman’s 
, and I found his falafel recipe made with quinoa.