Lucky Z

Today, on my way to my acupuncturist (click here for her website), I spotted what looked suspiciously like a one-dollar bill next to a toothpick on the ground. I was walking through a parking lot, and a teenager was walking towards me. Blonde, lots of makeup, carrying books. Had Blondie seen it? Would I get there first?! Was it obvious that I was fighting the urge to sprint towards the one-dollar bill? Did I need to get a life?

Woohoo! I swooped down and grabbed the money. “You’re lucky!” said Blondie. I smiled a satisfied smile.

One of my favorite books is “Angels and Demons” by Dan Brown. I liked it much more than “The DaVinci Code.” It’s been a while since I read it, so I don’t remember the reference to the one-dollar bill, but I do remember that there’s some interesting trivia, if you will, at the author’s site. Look at the back of a one-dollar bill, then click here and scroll to the bottom of the page for two brief paragraphs about the creepy floating eye, the pyramid (not particularly American, eh?), and the Latin reference to a new secular order—as opposed to “In God we trust.” Interesting stuff.

Water Up My Nose

Twenty-four hours before I had to get on an airplane I was sneezing, and sneezing, and sneezing, and I was producing more than my share of mucus. I was a human faucet. Silly me. Instead of taking antihistamines for relief, I tried pouring water up my nose from what looked like a small teapot. I ventured forth, in search of a neti pot. The cashier at Whole Foods was a surfer dude with dreadlocks. He asked, “Are you going to water your ear plants?” What?! “Isn’t the woman in the picture on that box pouring water into her ear?” I explained that, no, she was pouring the water into her nose. Maybe someday I’ll scan the picture for you to see. For now, click here to see the other side of the box.

I had images of sitting cross-legged in a beautiful, open field, listening to soothing, yoga-inspired music, smiling like the woman in the picture on the box, feeling serene. Well, I was in fact leaning over the kitchen sink, my neighbor was blasting oohm-pa-pa Mexican music, and I kept pouring and pouring water up my nose. Where was it going? Why wasn’t it coming out?! Then it ended up in my throat. Yikers! I eventually calmed my breathing and found the correct angle for pouring, and the water came out the other nostril like it was supposed to. My nose felt violated. Perhaps because I had heated tap water in a kettle rather than using distilled water with non-iodized salt.

Of course I did some research on Jala Neti, also known as nasal irrigation. Click here for the yoga perspective or click here for the Western medicine perspective. It’s an ancient Yoga technique. Plus, for many in India and Southeast Asia it’s part of a daily routine like brushing teeth. Benefits of nasal irrigation include all kinds of relief for allergy-sufferers, deeper and more relaxed breathing, improved vision, and avoiding the common cold. Pretty cool, actually. It also improves your blood pressure and your sex life. Okay, I lied. I made up the blood pressure part, and I wish it improved one’s sex life. In any case, I'll try neti for a while and see what happens.

How many butt-cheeks?

Come with me on a trip down Memory Lane. Our destination? Another RAS: Random Act of Stupidity.

While studying translation and interpretation in Belgium, I audited a class called “Introduction to the Arab World.” I was surprised to see two Arab ladies, maybe in their early thirties, in class. They didn’t know each other and were talking one morning. I was not used to their accents when they spoke French. After wondering for a short while what one of them had said, I couldn’t take it any more. And there’s no such thing as a stupid question, right? I asked, “Did you just ask that lady if she had two butt-cheeks?” Horrified, the lady said, “Shhhh!! No, I asked her if she was from Fez!” Fez. Besides being a cone-shaped, flat-topped hat made of felt (click here for photo), it’s also a city in Morocco (click here for photos)!

In my defense, Es-tu de Fez? (Are you from Fez?) sounds very similar to As-tu deux fesses? (Do you have two butt-cheeks?) Also, I had been forced to read and discuss François Voltaire’s “Candide” as part of an undergraduate course on the Age of Enlightenment, and one of the characters from that, erm, 1759 literary masterpiece, has only one butt cheek. So there!

Juicy

Mysterious bits of dark material cling to my kitchen cabinet, wall, refrigerator, and floor. One or two tiny insects delight in flying loop-the-loops in that corner. And one’s nostrils are assaulted by the smell of fermenting fruit. Yes, I was too lazy to clean my Jack LaLanne Power Juicer this fine morning. See the somewhat cheezoid website with video for this juice extractor by clicking here.

When I found out that the mineral levels and mineral ratios in my body were---and this is a technical term---all screwed up, and it was recommended that I eliminate sugar and carbohydrates from my diet, no matter how unnatural that may seem, I decided to first increase my vegetable intake. I found Jason Vale’s book, “The Juice Master's Ultimate Fast Food: Discover the Power of Raw Juice” at the public library and was amazed. I wanted to be able to jump like he does on the cover of his book. Click here for a look.

A few things I’ve learned:
-Inevitably, things will fly out the top of your juicer and stick to the wall.
-Don’t open the juicer until it has stopped spinning completely, otherwise a chunk of pineapple can and will fly half-way across your kitchen. Fascinating, really.
-Zucchini juice is disgusting, but kale, orange bell pepper, and spinach juices are tolerable.
-You feel slightly ill the first few days you drink this juice because your body is detoxing.
-Grape juice is really yummy, but you have to be careful because that’s just too much sugar straight into your system too fast. My head felt funny.
-Little things make me happy, like dropping a whole, furry kiwi into the chute and having juice come out the other end, like magic. P’rhaps I need to get out more.

Don’t squat with your spurs on

After spending eight days in Dallas, I was griping as if I were going to be hung with a brand new rope, because I had seen only one man wearing a cowboy hat, tight jeans, and boots. To add insult to injury, his belt buckle was not bigger than my fist.

On my first day back in foggy Monterey and away from the extreme Texas heat, I was as happy as a gopher in soft dirt. I went for a walk and hadn't gone far when I spotted a man with a cowboy hat! About 15 minutes later, I spotted a pair of ornate cowboy boots in the back seat of a car. As I turned a corner, I spotted 5 people wearing cowboy hats and jeans. The men wore boots and the woman wore open-toed shoes with furry black and white cow on the top. If you’re confused and you don’t know whether to scratch your watch or wind your butt, it’s okay. This is just a reminder that California is quite diverse.

As it turns out, I knew 2 of the 5 people who, incidentally, form the band called Cow Bop. Pamela is my Christmas-caroling-gig buddy, and Bruce is her husband. Pamela asked me to sing along, but I don’t know their music and would’ve felt like a one-legged man at a butt-kicking contest. Cow Bop is currently on the road to raise funds for music-mentoring programs, and you can follow their progress by clicking here. As you read their blog, look at their photos, listen to their podcasts, and give them some money, don’t be surprised if the whole thing strikes you as being as handy as hip pockets on a hog (pretty neat).

Okay, I confess. The whole point of this entry was to use expressions I got out of a cool little book called “Speak Texan in 30 Minutes or Less.” I’m disappointed that I couldn’t fit in “cute as a possum” or “quick as a hiccup.”