Food, Inc...

I saw an incredible movie last night, entitled "Food, Inc". A scary expose on the American food industry. Suffice it to say, I never want to eat again. Not that I'm not, but it seems impossible to breathe without encouraging our food to be more of a conglomerate than an item that allows us to live. In fact, it is as basic as air, but it's become more like Perriair, via "Spaceballs".

Since watching it, I want to give this "doing something for myself" a whirl, and that means a meager attempt at eating better from a holistic perspective. I have the "eating better" concept down pat, but maybe I can try to eat things that don't have as long a chain. I've since joined a CSA, where on Wednesday I pick up a box of whatever's on the farm, in terms of fruits and veggies. Sounds good. I also found a local organic free range chicken farm, and I think I'll head out in the next few weeks and pick myself up a chicken (or 3). I found a cattle ranch, but I don't think I can commit to 1/2 cow at this point. I like the idea of buying things that haven't traveled 1,000 miles and have a longer food chain than "cow-grass".

I still feel like maybe what I do won't matter, but today, and at this moment in my brain, I like it. Give me a few hours, I'm sure I'll become complacent, cynical, and bitchy. Speaking of which, I just realized I haven't gotten my period in almost 3 months. And no, I'm not pregnant. Hm, do I even WANT to know what my body is like hormonally these days? I'm sure the skin removal sent it all wacky. Not that it was ever non-wacky, but still.

Today I went to the dentist, and then Lauren (my dentist) and I went out to a fuckin' incredible lunch at this Turkish place next door. A bit salty, but GAH, I love lamb. Then I went to my Mom's. I had brought my exercise clothes with me, and I tried to jog, but the jiggling and the scarring didn't get along so well. I did 1.75 miles, including a stop at the bank, in 40 mins. I definitely need to work on that. However, I can tell I need to work on my strength training, because my hip flexors are going to shoot me soon. Stupid flexors.

Then I went to a wine tasting with Michael, the contractor on our house. I've known him for years, and he's a shameless flirt who has a slightly-too-serious crush on me, but what can I do? Oh yeah, go have wine. But he knows I have zilch interest, but I still get treated like a princess. Could be worse.

And now I'm tipsy, 10% of my calories thus far have come from alcohol today, and that is all. I did, however, feel safe enough to drive home. I'm not THAT kind of tipsy. And anyone who knows me knows I would never drive home drunk. EVER. And that is all.