Stories

It came to me in a Saturday morning Skype. My four-year-old nephew looked into the computer and asked what I had for bweckfist. I said I ate breakfast in the form of a second dinner the night before. His parents laughed. Though that late night enchilada plate from our local Burrito King wasn’t all giggles.

I wouldn’t be hungry until lunch. A pattern was threatening to form. Two nights prior it had been pancakes and bacon from the Burrito King hours after a sushi dinner. Family faces stared at me in the video window for elaboration. I heard myself inventing then blaming it on Post Cleanse Disorder (PCD).

My sister and brother-in-law did the Master Cleanse a month before we did. Leo laughed, feigning pain, “I know what you mean, man.”

Our stomach’s egos were out of check; too prone to temptation. I should also mention I had an accomplice in the Burrito King missions: our buddy H-berg, who claims he can take at least twice as much as me when it comes to things of an intoxicating persuasion, but whom I impressed early in our friendship by demonstrating I could eat at least as much as him. I haven’t revisited the Burrito King for solo midnight pancakes and bacon. These things taste much better in good company.

Perhaps there should be a college course on Donald Trump – after all they have been lecturing on Barbie for decades! He is the last of the great Think Big, Act on Inspiration, and Let the World Know Just How Great You Are kinda guys. Like two gods in one room, the world may not be ready for too many Donald Trumps, but it is our luck that we have at least one!

Even luckier that he delights/infuriates us in Palm Beach! Only so much time can pass in Palm Beach before Donald’s name comes up, or you are sitting at a table in his grand ballroom for The International Red Cross Ball, or his private Bocelli concert. Of course I am referring to “The Donald” who because of Donald Duck’s fading career absolutely owns the name!

Truly, not since Donald Fauntleroy Duck has there been a Donald so internationally famous – and so rich – as Donald John Trump. Comparisons are in order:

As usual, I'm the salmon swimming upstream as far as weight is concerned. While everyone is vehemently burning calories and lowering carb intake en route to shedding the weight they gained over the holidays, I'm nonchalantly trying to make up for what I lost. Last night, after that apple pie crumble, I lost 8 oz walking back to my car, just yesterday moments after inhaling a scrumptious dish of fettuccine alfredo I lost any calories consumed due to waving my arm to catch a cab, and a few days before that my digestive track tumbled through the french toast crème brûlée I had for brunch, losing a total pound.

These are all exaggerations of course, but I'm theorizing as to how I could have lost ten pounds in a week of little exercise and excess eating. Call it a fast metabolism or a tapeworm, to me fluctuating pounds is as typical as the average Joe getting indigestion after eating a porterhouse steak. A few bites from that same steak and I would spend the day indisposed, my insides deconstructing inside out, eventually leaving me more buoyant than before.

Three years ago, I walked into one of LA’s many Whole Foods stores and saw a pint box of Del Cabo Organic Cherry Tomatoes for $4.99. Wouldn’t buy those here, I thought, because Trader Joe’s always has them for $2.99. Three days later, I was in the 99¢ Only store and, I swear on a stack of tomato crates, they had the same box of cherry tomatoes for, yes…99¢. Of course you can’t possibly rely on dollar stores for your grocery needs, because their stock is limited, constantly changing, and rarely of the Del Cabo quality. But finding these upscale tomatoes at the discount store where I go to buy gift bags and sink stoppers really drove home the point that prices for the same foods can vary wildly depending on where you shop.

Soon after this accidental lesson in comparative pricing, something else happened which cemented my conviction that shopping around can pay significant dividends, especially if you’re on a fixed budget:

I had a delicious sheep’s milk brie, called Brebirousse d’Argental, at a friend’s party, so I asked where he’d bought it. The answer was a local, artisanal cheese shop, the only one for miles and miles. I drove there the next day, but when they said the Brebirousse cost $48 a pound, I nearly choked. (“I’m sorry,” I thought, “did I say caviar? I meant cheese.”) I left the store empty-handed but determined to find this oozy, aromatic mass at a price I could afford. And I should say that I really enjoy this kind of a challenge; it’s a treasure hunt to me.