Another journal

Each year, around my birthday, I allow myself one box of cereal. This year it’s wheat Chex, because I live an exciting life.

Even though we break the “no-grain” rule with some regularity, simply not having specific foods (like: cereal, loaves of bread and, as of this year, tortillas) in the house has gone such a long way to prevent too-easy meals and snacks from being relied on. It creates a space where new food habits are built.

A special bonus is that we’ve effectively stripped all my comfort-binging foods from the house. This simultaneously prevents me from indulging and sneakily re-teaches my insides what “full” and “too much” are. So when I give myself the gift of enjoying a box of cereal for my birthday I’m very aware of not only how awesome and deliciously textured it is, but when it’s time to stop refilling the bowl.

And, since I’ll have gone through this box rather quickly, nonetheless, I also am very aware why I don’t keep it around. It’s like seeing an ex at a social function. Sure, you get along pretty well and look at how you both avoid Those Topics and yeah, it’d be nice to bang again but outside of that controlled environment you know it would end in tears and torn-out weaves.

So yeah, cereal knows exactly how I like it but can choke its opinions on politics, y’know?

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.

There is this guy I know. Dogs cross the street to get pets from him, and even the most hateful cats love him, because he exudes some sort of “nah, I just want to romp too” vibe.  He will spend literally hours learning about a breed of animal and is now full of more facts about bizarre wildlife than most public television.

He is a ridiculously good photographer with an even pickier sense of self-confidence than I have, which is saying a lot.  He has a job in a dying industry and gets into godlike rages at the pitiful excuses for first aid his superiors half-heartedly attempt. I can’t understand how he is such a good photographer, every time I see a snippet of a new project of his I am floored.

For various reasons he has stopped eating grains and feels about a million times better.  For breakfast he has “bear cereal”, which is berries and nuts with cream poured over.  He yells at crows out of the car window.  He has the prettiest hair and likes to have his toenails done.

When I want to buy something particularly ridiculous and glam I just need to ask him if I should and he says yes.  He always goes for the sparkliest thing.

I’ve known him since he was nineteen, but I don’t want to think about that too much because we’re both twenty-seven now and that is kind of a long time.

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.

And isn’t he the cutest?

We went to a gallery show, accidentally on First Thursday.  We went to this place that specialised in East Coast deli stuff, right down to the prices, but dude they have pastrami cheese fries.  And we went to Gen X and I resisted getting ridiculous clothes while he had a shirt made.

The man started his day by shooting a retirement party for Forest Grove’s postmaster.  It was at 8:30 in the morning and they had a taco bar.  A taco bar.  Then he went home and made himself strawberry shortcake.

What I am saying here is that he is great.

Mirrored from Journal of a Something or Other.