Tuesday, May 03, 2011

You can't be sad when there are Cheerios

Who needs milk?
 According to this picture, which is one I remember from a history textbook in my early undergrad days when I was still taking core requirement classes. This happy little family looks quite snug in their bomb shelter as they await nuclear holocaust and the end of days. They can't be sad, even though Washington D.C, has probably been turned to a field of glass, Oak Ridge is but a glowing wasteland, and every Air Force base in the country has been flattened. Despite the utter destruction of most of North America in this scenario, they're as happy as can be. Why?

They've stocked up on Cheerios.

How can you be sad when there's a happy yellow box of Cheerios to keep you company during total nuclear destruction?

 You can't.

I must admit that through the many layers of sarcasm and cynicism above, I actually have an honest to goodness weakness in my otherwise hard little heart for Cheerios. I'm convinced that in addition to whole grain oats and other such things that one normally puts in cereal, they also add some kind of habit-forming substance. I love plain Cheerios straight from the happy yellow box and I love them in milk with their can't sink 'em positivity and I love them with fresh strawberries.

Seriously, it does not get any better than this.

I'm hoping that all this rain we've been having means strong, healthy tomatoes and a bumper crop of strawberries. Anyone who knows me knows that fruit is candy when you are me. Yeah, yeah, Easter candy, whatever. Scoff! Bring me some mothafrakkin' berries and fresh peaches. That is the good stuff. 

Thargelia/Beltaine, heretofore to be referred to as Tharjellybean, went quite well. My only regret is that I can't process dairy as well as I'd like because this stuff with fresh local whipped cream and shortcake from Claire is probably the best thing since ever. You could initiate world peace with that stuff and not have to fire a shot. This is the best of half a flat of berries, most of which went into the freezer. Some of that will be saved for Tu B'Shvat in February and the rest will be conserved for eating in winter when there are no fresh berries to be had. I can't wait for the peaches, but I'm existing in strawberry space-time now and loving every gorram minute of it. I won't want to leave, but then there will be peaches, so that'll be okay. 

This seasonal eating thing has changed not only how I eat, but also how I practice as a Pagan. It's one thing to say that, as a Pagan, we love Nature. It's another thing to have a celebration because you haven't had any motherfucking strawberries in months-- and you know how I feel about strawberries. It's one thing to dance about and be happy at the change in seasons and it's quite another to thank the everlasting gods for when there's finally fresh tomatoes to eat because the grocery store ones taste like vaguely tomato-shaped styrofoam. It's one thing to celebrate the last harvests of the year and quite another to fall on your knees and weep because there's no more butternut squash for the year.

Our ancestors had no choice but to eat seasonally. That was the only way to eat and if you didn't preserve some food when it was there in abundance, the gods would smite you with starvation (unless your neighbors were kind enough to share theirs after giving you the look for being an idiot and not putting back beans). I think it's safe to say that most people don't have a connection to their food like this. Vegetables come in a can, meat is distributed on styrofoam trays, fish is primarily in stick form, and fruit consists of these long yellow things that people keep calling "bananas." Those aren't bananas. The four-inch-long nearly brown little things I had in the Amazon Basin? Those were bananas. The difference is like that between a Granger County or home grown tomato that's not been more than an hour off the vine and... whatever it is they sell in the produce department at Kroger's. It's huge.

And this is not even a pagan hippie local organic woo-loo-loo "Is that patchouli I smell?" kind of granola thing. This stuff just tastes better. The end.

Maybe I'll get some new shots of the balcony garden once it stops raining. The lettuce is looking like you might could eat some of it and I've planted new things for Tharjellybean. 

I feel as though I should say something about current events, but really there's not much to say about it. The Buddhist in me isn't going to rejoice in another's death and is hoping for peace through peaceful means, but the flag-waving redneck in me is shouting "AMERICA! HECK YEAH!" I'm working on feeding the peaceful wolf, but I must admit that it ain't easy. Wah-wah, walking a Buddhist path is hard. Suck it up, Buttercup.

In other, other news, I was accepted for the fellowship that I've been stressing about for weeks, which I believe warrants the yay hands (this picture was taken about 4 months ago, but it's a great "HECK YEAH, SCIENCE!" picture).



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