Today I Was a Zombie

I am sick.

I do not like being sick.

I do not like it so much that I actually hauled my carcass to the doctor today. If you know me, this is a Big Deal.

While I was there, they took my blood pressure and my heart rate, which were miraculously NOT THERE.

"I am dead," I said to the nurse.

"No, you are not dead," she replied.

"But I have no pulse and no blood pressure. That means that I am a zombie now and you should fear for your juicy, juicy brains."

Then she cocked her head at me and checked the charge on the heart monitor.

Oh, well. It was kind of cool for a second.

My new diet. This, and plenty of Jell-o.

Since I am verifiably Not Dead, I am planning for the future. Next Wednesday's future, for instance, will be my grateful participation in The Next Big Thing Blogroll. I was graciously tagged by Ellen Morris Prewitt, who is now practically a deity in my opinion. I'm going to have to do some thinking about which of my projects to post about, but I just wanted to throw that out there in case of, you know, zombie attack.

After all, if we can't find an excuse to eat brains, then at the very least we can learn to appreciate them for their intrinsic qualities. Even mine.

Inspiration Monday: First Meal

People give a lot of lip service to what they would eat if they were about to have their last meal. Since I've been MIA due to some dental adventures lately, if you would ask me this question, my answer would probably vary from, "Anything solid, please!" to "Jell-O. Why break precedent?"

Who needs rose-colored glasses when there are Strawberry Jell-O ones?

If you get tired of eating it, build a toothpick fort. It reminds me of Orgrimmar from World of Warcraft.

Today at work, I had the more unique opportunity to be inspired to think about what I would choose for my first meal. Of course I don't mean the first meal of life. Babies don't really get much of an option, and let's be honest. If they did, they'd pick Jell-O.

My morning was spent with two gentlemen who have recently become housed for the first time after decades on the streets. They've managed to survive for years eating what they can when they can and not asking a whole lot of questions about who prepared it, how many calories were in it, or how many antioxidants they were getting in their diets.

Today, we went grocery shopping. Now they both have their very own refrigerators and pantries. They have cabinets and counters, stoves and sinks. They now have a place for that random jar of olives that everyone always buys and sticks in the fridge door, but no one ever eats. (Except me, when I have teeth. Nom.) They got to wander up and down the aisles in a way I have never experienced--with an eye for what I would cook in my own home if I was about to cook a meal for myself for the first time in eighteen years.

There could be a lot of thought that goes into that process. Or maybe not very much thought at all. It would be hard to say unless you were actually there pushing the grocery cart. Maybe you really want to bake some ribs, but you don't have a baking pan. Maybe you want fried eggs, but you don't have a frying pan. Maybe you just want ice cream. ALL the ice cream.

If you are so inclined, write or art or compose or dance a little scene about someone planning this first meal. Include internal cues about what this person would be thinking. Mention what foods this person would choose and why he or she would choose them. Why is this a first meal for this person?

If you're a good cook, go out there and plan your own first meal. Think of a scenario in which you are turning over a new leaf in one way or another. Food is life, so find foods that connect to this new chapter in the book of You and cook a meal that signifies it. 

Remember: There's always room for Jell-O.