Smoothie 2, granola, couch surfing

I would rank last night's sleep session as a bottom-feeder on a 1-10 scale. I literally could not breathe. This morning I was Niagara Falls, and now I'm plugged again. Pneumonia, I'm over you. The only thing that has thus far sounded palatable, in addition to a lovely latte made by my sweet T, was another smoothie. Because I need some excitement in my sick-life, I added coconut. I know, I'm going wild. But about coconut....it is one of those flavors that when I like, I love but when I dislike, I do so pretty seriously. Its applications are very specific.

Let's take granola. In my opinion, granola is ruined, positively devastated, by the addition of coconut, chips or shreds. On a related note, trail mix should never include coconut. And, the mere thought of a piña colada makes me feel like I just scratched my fingers on a chalkboard.

On the flip side, coconut cream pie? Perfection! Well-made macaroons? Sublime! And in a smoothie (or fresh-pressed juice if you so fancy), coconut adds a wonderful depth of flavor and a gentle (read: not metamucil or the like) heft that you just don't get if using berries on their own.

Coconuts are a real b*&ch to peel and break, especially if you want to not have the precious liquid inside spread all over your floor. So, when I buy a coconut (because peeling one yourself ALWAYS results in better- and fresher-tasting fruit than those pre-husked ones which are expensive, dry and gross), I carefully puncture holes in the bowling ball hole-like indentations on top, pour all the coconut water out, then place the coconut into a ziploc bag, seal that and go to town (carefully) with a hammer, meat tenderizer or rolling pin. This part is very therapeutic; completely de-husking the tender white meat is not so don't get too excited. Anyway, once this ridiculous process is finally complete, I freeze all the bits and pieces of coconut that I've earned and save them for smoothies later. Awesome, huh?!

I've just realized it's 1:00p and I'm hungry. I admit to having made fresh granola earlier because 1) it's easy and requires little effort, and 2) I'm bored out of my mind and tired of the couch.

UPDATE: new puzzle delivery has just occurred. This is excellent news. Off to eat something, probably granola because it's just sitting there, all fragrant and cooled and looking at me. What's a girl to do?!

Sick sux, so does your son cutting his own hair in bed in the dark without a mirror

So, when I picked Jack up from camp today, I noticed his hair was definitely off. A closer inspection revealed the aftermath of jaunty chops by unpracticed hands. His own? Indeed. When he finally fessed up, he admitted to having taken scissors to just-shorn locks while in bed at grandma's house last night. The look is vaguely serial killer, like someone who just does not know or care how his mop appears. If he's sweaty, I can brush things to one side, but otherwise, the equivalent of a lady growing out her bangs has just begun. Well, nothing is that arduous, but you get my drift. It's a good thing he's so handsome. I just got an email from a store I love pepping me up for my next weekend getaway. That kinda depressed me because the only thing on vacation is my ability to easily breathe; yes, my congestion has expanded and now includes my nose as well as my chest. Do you think antibiotics might foil the Hitler mustache chap-pattern I always get when I blow my nose for more than two days? Unlikely, but wouldn't that be a benefit.

Do you know what you can do with a lot of time on your hands? You can clean out your inbox as if you're gunned up on speed and sort through piles of darling art-work from your lovies and finally, with the mercilessness you've long needed for this task, recycle 80% of it with nary a twinge. You can also send so many emails to crappy, non-responsive customer service people that they finally get back to you and assure you that your subscription has been cancelled. You can actually scan most of your Twitter feed. And you can tire of every phone-based video game you once loved.

Harder to accomplish is Italian homework and ridding your mouth of the awful tinny, metallic taste your mouth takes on when ill; I've not met with success on either of those fronts today.

Still on the couch: in the news

See? I am behaving myself; though Percy needs a walk, I have not taken him. Except for getting a beautiful pot of lemony, leeky chicken soup simmering away in my trusty Staub (it smells amazing!), I've stayed put on the couch, reading. It is so quiet here without my little guys. They came over after camp to pick up the overnight bag I'd packed and fixings for tomorrow's lunches, and then they headed off to Camp Grandma. They are just the cutest little bugs. Anyway, I've been reading and came across this shocking-to-me stat:

"In a new study conducted by Yale University's Rudd Center for Food Policy and Obesity, researchers found that 84 percent of parents of children between the ages of 2 and 11 have taken their children to eat at a fast-food restaurant in the past seven days." -the current Washington Parent

And just in case you've stopped being depressed about the meat industry in the U.S., please review this article recently posted on Grist. Bottom line is that the USDA instated a rule that meat be labeled with its country of origin and slaughter and a number of importers/packers/grocers/etc want that overturned. When people aren't proud of telling you about where the food they sell you comes from or what's in it, that's scary because there's a reason for their opacity.