Author Archives: Tata

Things Haven’t Really Changed As Such

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A taciturn acquaintance, running in the same social circles I used to walk, has many food allergies and decided recently to test drive a diet plan. There may have been an ER visit and prick tests, but it’s not all glamour. His wife is an award-winning baker and the two of them are briliant, capable researchers. Even so, he kvetched a bit about “hippy food” and “rabbit food” on Facebook. He has to live with it; I don’t, so to me this is a puzzle and I love puzzles. Want to play?

These foods are off-limits:

Alcohol
High Fructose Corn Syrup
Garlic
Paprika
Nuts
Soy
Grains
Coffee

These foods may or may not be problems, but I don’t know:

Dairy
Eggs
Citrus
Nightshades

You have questions? I have questions. How about corn? Chocolate? We don’t know. Next week, our acquaintance will try adding in bread to see if he goes all Violet, you’re turning violet, Violet!

No one wants that.

I’ve been thinking about this task for several days and what I like best about the list of no-nos is that it offers no easy ways out. Once I settled into it, I found myself thinking about all the possibilities in the produce aisle and everything I wouldn’t usually consider in the meat, poultry and seafood sections, because if grains are verboten, bulk is an issue.

But – and this is the bright, shiny, upside: a person eating this way could feel super healthy in very short order. So this week, I’m going to put down pieces of this puzzle and invite you to try your hand at it in comments.

Let Me Be Your Ocean

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We’ve already seen this movie. It starts with an epithet, in the middle there’s an apology pie and it ends with a food fight.

Maybe I missed the meeting of all people in the whole world in which the news spread that it was hunky dory to close talk at the only person on the entire planet whose body may be more closely guarded than the pope’s. Well, if that’s the case, I’d like to apply for an interview in which Mr. Obama and I have a knee to knee chat about how Tim Geithner and Larry Summers are not actually his friends and Austen Goolsby, while often hilarious, does and says some very unfunny things. This would be an excellent use of my truth-telling powers. Also: Mr. Obama and I are nearly the same age, so we could chitchat about how super-cool and regrettable are those fading pictures of us as awkward teens at Bicentennial celebrations on opposite ends of our country.

Governor Brewer wanted the president to go places and do stuff with her, but she already told her friends he’s not her secret boyfriend, no backsies. Then there was this tete-a-tete, during which he walked away, leaving her without a prom date. I’m not a fan of either one of them, but when the music starts, none of the popular boys will ask her to dance.

A Guitar To Punish Your Ma

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Sweetpea's favorite chair, where my butt is currently parked.

This morning, Sweetpea began making the Take me to the hospital noise at Pete, who recognized it from last Memorial Day weekend. Pete called me on the verge of panic, but couldn’t really explain why he was nervous. When I got home, I opened the front door and smelled illness. The vet had an open appointment at 6, which gave me plenty of time to rub half our house with disinfectant wipes. At the vet’s office, a new vet in the practice saw Sweetpea, who curled up in my arms until we were both sick-stinky. The vet agreed our darling was sick and needed an overnight with fluids and medicines. I was reluctant to leave her and briefly considered a weepy retreat, but I had to go to a union contract ratification vote on the way home. And I did. Tomorrow morning, we hope Sweetpea will feel better.

I’m Traveling I’m Flying

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Last night, my laptop crossed its arms and sulked sulkily. If you remember your teen years or have lived with people in theirs you’re undoubtedly familiar with the concept. Perhaps it was refusing to acknowledge the utterly tasteless idea that Republican presidential candidates would debate in South Carolina on Martin Luther King Day, but I wouldn’t give it that much credit. Last night, the crazy guy crazy guys look at and go, “Whoa!” suggested American foreign policy utilize the Golden Rule and I sure didn’t see that coming. The booing, that you could pretty much see coming for miles.

Anyway, I’m not sure what this sulking portends. Blogging might be tricky. Maybe. The laptop might just have some growing up to do. Whatever, but I better not find out it stole my car keys: the car needs a brake job and a better attitude.

It Is the Enormous Night

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It’s rare that I get two days off in a row, but this weekend I have a whole extra day for Topaz to lie on my lap and tell me about her new science project. I seldom understand what she’s talking about, what with her theories and specialized tools. You’d need specialized tools to build robots if you lacked an opposable thumb and the knowledge that cats don’t use tools or build robots. Brilliant Topaz cares not what anyone thinks. She cares only about results – results and fishy treats.