I know.  JAPAN!!

I guess I never thought I would actually get here… it's funny how we carry around whole worlds in our heads–our future, goals, prejudices, fantasies–and then we get confronted by reality.  And reality is always SOOO different from these cities in our minds.  Different color.  Different feeling.  Different everything. 

First, let me say, I'm loving it here.  Even though Tokyo was hotter than hell, and moved at a ridiculous speed, there is a strange peace within it all.  It seems like there is a poise in the Japanese character that is inherently soothing.  It lets you relax.  It makes me realize that, in North America, many of us wear our personalities on our sleeves, pushing pushing pushing our "selves" into the public domain, dirtying up the collective with our ego pollution.  Japan is quieter than that.  You don't hear loud conversations on the subway.  You don't even hear cell phone calls–they're not acceptable.  Everyone basically keeps to themselves, whether that means playing a game on their phone or sleeping on the train, they are just a quieter, more polite crew. 

I'm old enough to appreciate that.  Maybe we should all spend our twenties in New York, and our sixties in Sapporo. 

I feel like a slob here.  EVERYONE dresses like they care.  It's strange–there doesn't seem to be one pervasive style (although "cute"–"ka waii" in Japanese–is a very big word here) but no one gets up in the morning and just throws on a layer of clothing mindlessly.  Like some redheaded macrobiotic bloggers do.  Everyone seems to have made conscious choices, whether it's the salary men in their suits, or the "rebel" setting his perfectly tousled hair, or the woman in the kimono, there is a certain yang committment to every choice .   

I've eaten some good food.  Not just the Japanese fare–excellent ramen, killer sushi–but I've been to a couple of macrobiotic restaurants that left me singing with joy.  There's nothing like a long flight, bad jetlag and 95 degree heat to make me appreciate the power of healthy food. 

We are now in Hokkaido, the big island to the Northeast of the main island.  We caught this evening's sunset from a huge ferris wheel.  Which happened to be on the roof of a department store.  A department store that included a bowling alley.  

I would post photos but my computer doesn't seem to want to do that right now. 

More to come… 

I just don’t understand Strawberry People .  I just don’t.  I don’t GET wanting to eat a berry that makes me feel like I’m French kissing a cat .  Call me crazy.

This time of year is so hard.  My beloved raspberries  come out to play and I am once again reminded of just how deeply and purely I love them.  And then my ugly prejudice against Strawberries rears its head . 

I can’t help it.  Strawberries get soooo much attention.  We’re just expected to love them, without question. Strawberries dominate the berry world like an arrogant, strutting bully.  Dare I suggest we live in a veritable Strawarchy? The dominant ideology of our culture is inherently pro-Strawberry and yet this discourse is rarely challenged.  So here goes:

Strawberries are the anti-Raspberry!  Whereas seeds cover the outside of the Straw, they are neatly and modestly tucked away inside the sexy, juicy bulbs of the Raz.  Whereas the Straws are firm and dry, a lovely Raz is soft and fuzzy.  Where Straws have this woody, white interior, the elegant Raz is brilliantly empty like Nature’s cute little thimble .  Just the right size to fit the tip of one’s tongue .  HOW CAN YOU GET BETTER THAN THAT???

I know this isn’t cool. Or PC.  I know it’s not all balanced and macrobiotic, in which the thinking is to accept BOTH, as the yin and yang to one another.  BUT I JUST CAN’T.  Strawberries are… wrong.  There.  I said it.  And the people who eat prefer them to my precious raspberry should be put in Strawberry Jails.  Guarded by thousands of Strawberry Shortcake dolls  .  And a lifetime supply of strawberry-flavored lip balm .   And their cell mate?  That’s right. … Darryl Strawberry. 

Teehee.  When I pull my tongue out of my cheek, I will stick it in a… you guessed it… raspberry.

My advice to my fellow Raspberry People is to do the following.  Place half a cup of our ripe loved ones in a bowl.  Add a tiny pinch of salt.  Massage until about most of the berries become mushy (you need to get to the Raz juice to really enjoy the Raz).  Add 1 teaspoon of brown rice syrup and stir it in thoroughly.  Raise a spoonful to your nose… mmm… close your eyes… place this bright red nectar-of-the-Gods in your mouth and enjoy your inherently superior taste. 

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When I was a kid, being curious  was the gold standard in my father’s house.  "He’s a nice guy, but he’s just not… curious" my Dad would say, about my, or a sister’s, prospective boyfriend.   That was the kiss of death.  He could be ugly, unemployed, a fascist… but lacking curiosity??? A dealbreaker.  

I would always sit there, listening to this complaint about others and felt I should quietly stick up my index finger and interrupt: "Um… excuse me… I’m not exactly CURIOUS myself."  But of course, I didn’t do that.  I feared expulsion from The Curious Family.  But I KNEW that I was not willing to haul myself up from the TV  to the reference library just a block away from my house  to get answers to any questions bobbing like apples in my head.  I wasn’t going to seek out some obscure text book  to satisfy some mental itch.  I mean, this was the 70s .  You had to put a little elbow-grease into information-gathering back then.  I was perfectly satisfied to build my mental world given the information afforded me by ABC, CBS and NBC .  I just didn’t go around bragging about it.

But you see, these days, with the internet, I’ve come to realize the truth.  I AM CURIOUS!!  I AM A FULLY-FLEDGED MEMBER OF THE CURIOUS FAMILY!!  I BELONG!!!!  I mean, I will leap up in the middle of a dinner party (mine, not someone elses–that’s rude) and google a factoid we’re all slobbering after.  I routinely hide my iphone under the table during a meeting to find out how old Ben Affleck is .  I can’t go to sleep at night until I know where Micronesia is .  I CARE ABOUT THESE THINGS.   And these days, all my little mental itches get scratched!   HEY DAD, I AM FREAKIN’ CURIOUS!!!

So I guess I judged myself wrongly all these years.  I was brimming over with curiosity! 

I was just lazy . 

I say all this because I’m blogging today about my friend Neil’s dog-training classes on DailyOM.  They’re called "How to Speak so Your Dog will Listen".  I’ve written about Neil before and I really believe very deeply in what he does.  It’s like macrobiotic thinking applied to dogs!  And as I was giving this post a title, I thought "I wonder where the term ‘dog days of summer’ comes from?"

Why?  Because I’m… that’s right… CURIOUS. 

And not only did I learn that we are smack dab in the middle of said "Dog Days" right now, but that they are called that because the brightest star of the Constellation Canis Major (Big Dog) , which is called Sirius (not the radio) is up to something a little tricky… get this:

"In the summer, Sirius, the ‘dog star’, rises and sets with the sun.  During late July Sirius is in conjunction with the sun, and the ancients believed that its heat added to the heat of the sun, creating a stretch of hot and sultry weather.  They named this period of time, from 20 days before the conjunction to 20 days after, ‘dog day’ after the dog star. (from http://wilstar.com/dogdays.htm).

As Paris Hilton , who often carries a dog in her purse, would say:  Hot. 

Check out Neil’s classes at DailyOM and enjoy these Dog Days. 

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I love that macrobiotics has a long, rich history, full of great characters.  Much, much more than a diet, macrobiotics has a whole community of people who have devoted their lives’ work to spreading the word of healthy, whole foods and the personal transformations contained therein.  Nice use of "therein" eh?

Aveline Kushi was a pioneer .  She left her hometown, and then native Japan to come to America.  It was after Japan’s whole identity had been decimated by the A-bomb.  She had gone to study with George Ohsawa and he had encouraged her to go to America and teach with Michio Kushi, with the dream of creating one peaceful world .  She came over here in the early 1950s and they created a life together–with Aveline at the helm in the kitchen –teaching the power of food. 

Michio and Aveline had their hands in the importation of tofu , futons , acupuncture  and the cultivation of organic foods .  Aveline’s cookbook is a macrobiotic bible .  Some of their early students include Dr. Dean Ornish , Gloria Swanson  and John & Yoko .  Their influence traces back to the beginnings of the health food movement.  LOOOONG before health food was cool. 

Aveline passed away 9 years ago this month.  Every year since her death, a number of people have received the Aveline Kushi Award here at the Summer Conference.  It goes to people who have shown the same spirit and commitment to this work.  This year it went to Masao Miyaji and his wife Evelyne, who started Masao’s kitchen in the Boston area .  It is a restaurant that has served macrobiotic-quality food for many, many years. 

Other recipients included Francisco (Chico) Varatojo  and his wife Eugenia, who started the Macrobiotic Center in Lisbon, Portugal. 

Patricio Garcia de Parades, who I remember as the hottest guy at the Kushi Institute 17 years ago (BUT I CAN’T FIND A PICTURE OF HIM ON THE INTERNET!!! ARGH!), also won the award for his lifetime of service which has culminated in his running of the Kushi Institute of Japan. 

And finally, Dr. Martha Cottrell, the coolest 81 year old I’ve ever met.  She should have gotten it just for cutting rug on the dance floor, but she’s also brought her medical training and experience to bear on the last three decades of her macrobiotic practice.  She was instrumental in bringing macrobiotic food and studying its amazing effects on a group of HIV/AIDS sufferers in the early ’80s.  When people just weren’t doing that stuff. 

I didn’t know Aveline that well.  I met her after she had gotten sick and I remember her humility around that.  She said "Yin and yang… lifetime study".  She was utterly gracious and grateful for all the care she received–macro and medical.  Although people were reverent towards her, she was utterly playful, even insisting on performing a kimono striptease  every year at the conference talent show.  That is sorely missed.  She had the teensy body of a hummingbird and the spirit of a proud, beautiful, lion . 

My last conversation with Aveline took place in Boston, over the phone.  I was calling to find out if I could stay at the Kushi House that night, having landed in the city sort of by accident.  I had been reading the novel Memoirs of a Geisha which described what I imagined was the Japan she had grown up in.  I told her about the book, the culture of the geishas… how amazing Japan seemed to be… how it made me think of her.  She listened politely.  She took it all in.  And with perfect comic timing, she said:  "Ahhh… so nice… you become geisha?" 

Aveline was a riot. 

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Every year, around this time, a bunch of macro freeeeeeeeks get together to talk shop.  15 years ago it was in Vermont , at Green Mountain College in a little town called Poultney.  There was a big ole tire swing that dunked hot macros in a cool swimming hole.  There was bulghur wheat and fruit spritzers  and talk talk talk about brown rice and beans and vegetables. 

The conference has moved around a bit in the last few years, but it’s finally settled in Palisades, New York at a lovely conference center  which actually has AIR CONDITIONING , which anyone on the East Coast will appreciate right about now.  I know it’s not the most environmentally friendly thing to flaunt, but there ain’t no swimming hole… although there are lovely views and walks, and the bulghur’s still good and the spritzers are cold and the beds are much comfier  and the talk talk talk has remained the same as always; mind-blowing, inspirational and life-changing.  I took my friend Hiram this year and he’s still buzzing from it.   

It’s a stellar macro line-up this year:  Tom Monte , Martha Cottrell, David Briscoe, Christina Pirello , Lino Stanchich, Ed Esko, Denny Waxman, and Michio Kushi himself .  The Big Kahuna.  And that’s just naming a few.  

I will be teaching Healing with Hypnosis and a Macro BBQ Cooking class.  It’s not too late to join: It starts July 22nd. Click here to register. 

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I had some friends over for dinner last night and served two of my favorite dishes–Mock Tuna and Quinoa Salad with Hazelnuts. They’re both from The Hip Chick’s Guide (although one I stole–with permission–from Christina!) so if you’ve made them ten thousands times, forgive me.  If you have not, now’s the time to throw a dinner party and serves these summer lovelies:

Mock Tuna 

 No, you’re not making fun of a fish. This recipe is for those of us who had a very intimate relationship with little cans in our cupboards and who miss the idea of opening them regularly. Tuna is very yang and contracting–considered too strong an energy to take in regularly, especially for a woman. Ditto salmon. Macrobiotic recipes generally stick to white-fleshed fish, which are lower in fat and more easily digestible. Therefore, to imitate the sensual pleasure of tuna fish, we use tempeh.

1 8-ounce package tempeh

1 tablespoon umeboshi vinegar

1/3 cup Tofu Mayonnaise (see p.123 or store-bought)

Black pepper to taste

Any spices you desire–cumin, curry, paprika, saffron etc. (optional)

1 celery stalk, diced

1/4 red onion, finely diced

Steam or boil tempeh for 20 minutes to make it more digestible. Break apart with a fork until you get smaller-than-bite-sized pieces. Sprinkle the umeboshi vinegar onto the tempeh, mashing it in with a fork until you get a tuna-fishy saltiness. Mix “mayonnaise”, pepper and any other spices you enjoy. Mash into tempeh. Add vegetables. Serve or refrigerate–it tastes even better the next day.

Makes 4 servings.

Quinoa Salad with Hazelnuts

1/2 medium red onion, sliced fine into half moons

4 radishes, cut fine into half moons

2 Tablespoons each of ume vinegar and brown rice vinegar

1 1/2 cups quinoa

3 cups spring water with 1/4 teaspoon sea salt

2/3 cups hazelnuts

1/4 cup chopped parsley or chopped mint

1/2 cup raisins, washed and drained

Mix the onions and radishes with both vinegars.  Place a plate and weight on top and press for 1 hour to pickle. Wash quinoa thoroughly to remove the bitter saponin on the outside of the grain.  Roast in a dry, heavy-bottom fry pan until dry, stirring constantly until grain begins to turn golden and puff up a little.

Bring water and salt to the boil in a saucepan, stir in quinoa, cover and bring back to the boil.  Turn the flame down low and simmer until all the water is absorbed (about 20-25 minutes). Remove from heat, fluff with a fork, remove from heat and return into a mixing bowl to cool. Wash and roast hazelnuts at 325 degrees until nuts are golden and skins crack and loosen.  Rub the nuts in a dry dishcloth to remove any loose skins. Chop roughly. Mix hazelnuts, quinoa, pickles, herbs and raisins together, including pickling liquid.  Serve garnished with chopped nuts and sprigs of parsley or mint.

Makes 4 servings.

Variation:

Yummy if not yummier. Substitute pearled (polished) barley for quinoa (cooks 2-1 like quinoa in about 30 minutes). Replace hazelnuts with toasted pecans, use dried apricots that have been soaked and chopped instead of raisins, and add fresh chopped dill at the end to replace the parsley or mint. You still use the red onion and radish pressed with the vinegars.

P.S. In the photo, I’ve included an arame dish, a golden beet, and greens with cilantro/mustard/ginger/rice syrup dressing. 

How things have changed.  Now I’m the one living a relatively quiet life, away from the Kushi Institute, listening to NPR and surfing celebrity-gossip websites .  I’m going to movies, and worrying about the oil spill  and generally being steeped in regular culture.  So it’s always an amazing thing to hang out with other macros and remember the actual "cult"  that I’m in. 

I spent last night on a panel of macro "experts" at M Cafe  in Culver City.  If you’re not from Southern California, M Cafe is a reason to visit.  For the last five years, M Cafe  has provided gourmet macrobiotic food to the hip and trendy masses of West Hollywood, Culver City and now Beverly Hills .  Apparently Ellen and Portia  have brunch at the Bev Hills M regularly.  If they’re smart, they have the killer vegan benedict .

So M Cafe hosted this panel as an anniversary event.  It included chef Lee Gross,  Mina Dobic and yours truly.  Mina  cured herself of ovarian cancer–which had spread to the bones–25 years ago, having been given two months to live by her doctors.  The whole story is in her book, My Beautiful Life.  Since then, she has been a macro counselor to thousands of individuals, helping to save countless lives in the process (by the way, if you’re recovering from a serious health condition, you need to skip the rich food at M cafe for a while and contact a counselor like Mina.  See resources for a counselors near you).  

Also on the panel was Lee Gross , who went from traditionally trained chef to Macro Masterpiece Maker.  After cooking for Gwyneth Paltrow  for a few years,  he went on to develop the original menu at M Cafe (click here to see the current one).   Eric LeChasseur (owner of Seed, another great macro joint in Venice, CA) was the original pastry chef.  Their mouth-watering M cafe fare has only gotten yummier over the years.  

Between the three of us, we had a lot to say.   Mina’s schtick is turning lives around, Lee’s whole gig is seducing the body into radiant health via the tongue and I’m into inspiring healthy people to feel even better and to learn about the power of food. 

We’ve come a long way, baby.  In the fifteen years since my friend confronted my denial of other people’s denial, things have changed.  Books have been published .  Big stars have blown the macro horn.  Medical doctors are taking up the plant-based diet charge with gusto . 

It felt really good to talk to the group of people who had gathered for this panel–people who were curious and turned on by the macro thing.  I said at one point: "If you’re just getting into this and it feels like the most exciting thing you’ve ever come across and inside your head you’re silently screaming ‘omigod FOOD… omigod it’s like the BIGGEST THING… this macro thing is MIND-BLOWING!!! I’M SO EXCITED!!!!’ , don’t hold yourself back.  This thing is huge.  And I don’t just mean that the movement is getting bigger or that celebs are into it.  That’s just window dressing… 

I mean it’s huge inside of you.  It will change your life.  Your body.  Your mind.  Your whole direction .  In beautiful ways you never anticipated."  And I looked into their faces, so relieved and happy to have someone wave their freak flag for them .  And I looked inside the restaurant, which was full and BUMPIN’ with customers. 

"Be excited" I said.  "You should be". 

By the way, Lee and I will be speaking again at M Cafe in Culver City next week; Tuesday, June 22nd at 7 o’clock.  To be a part of the action, and eat an amazing gourmet Lee-cooked meal, contact Cindy at cindy@thechaya.com

Here’s the recipe for M Cafe’s Scarlet Quinoa salad.  Mmmm… Perfect for summer.

Mina’s website has tons of recipes too, which are more traditional and medicinal.  Enjoy. 

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I did it. 

Am I still here?

Okay, okay, it’s not THAT radical a move.  It’s not like I’m Sean Penn  and moved to Haiti. 

I just got off Twitter .  I didn’t do it because the whole concept of Twitter annoys me (although it does).  I didn’t do it because I was never really tweeting, having never gotten the knack of the pithy remark that is somehow worthy of transmission to strangers (but I wasn’t and I didn’t). 

I got off Twitter because The Library of Congress  is going to keep every tweet ever twitted, in perpetuity.

When I heard that on the radio , as I stood in my kitchen, it just hit me.  It was that little thing in my gut that probably should have been yelling at me for the last year or so.  It was the "NO FREAKING WAY" response to basically handing my life over to Big Brother.  And I don’t mean the TV show, although I am totally addicted to the British version of it , and even auditioned for it once. 

No, I mean Orwell’s Big Brother from 1984 .  If you’re too young to know what I’m talking about (and most of the twenty-somethings on the reality show of the same name have no clue where the name, or concept of Big Brother come from… they just think it’s an sort of evil, invisible family member… their ignorance makes it doubly eerie) I say to you:  google it.

Of course, I never tweeted anything of any importance.  Or anything that would implicate me in a crime.  Most of us don’t.  Most tweets are entirely and completely inane.  So why get my panties in a twist? It’s the principle of it.  When Uncle Sam  just scoops up a segment of the culture’s speech and owns it… when my musings go straight into a federal vault… I dunno.  There’s just something weird and wrong about that. 

And I’m totally denial that it begins and ends with Twitter.  Of course anything ever put on the web is, I presume to a geekier brain, traceable.  Armed with a warrant  and a resentment,  the powers that be could probably get a cyber map or your or my movements that would be CHILLING.  More detailed than anything Orwell ever fantasized.  God forbid someone should get their hands on my laptop  and see the sites I go to every day… what I bother to read about… who I email… that I’m obsessed with Sarah Ferguson and how she’s wrecking it for all us redheads .  It would be better than a CAT scan . 

Back in the day, we would walk around the farm, or the village, and just have thoughts in our heads .  Thousands of thoughts just floating around in the ole noggin .  If you wanted someone else to know of these thoughts, you had to tell them or write them.  And there were only about 30 people in your life who would give a rat’s ass about those thoughts anyway.  Most of whom you’d see at church  (or synagogue, or mosque), where you generally were discouraged from blurting out said thoughts.  So we were limited.  We lived in tighter circles.

And we were private .  And our nervous systems were calmer .  And no one had ever heard the word ‘blog’. Of course, there were different problems–very real problems–but one of them wasn’t that the federal government was collecting all your thoughts forever and for all time. 

P.S. I’m still on Facebook, but that creeps me out too.  I dream of deleting it.  Give me strength.

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Thank God, someone else actually did it. It’s here and its tagline is "We Believe You. You are not Alone", which is great for any caffeine addict to hear.  We feel like total idiots living in a world where everyone and their kids drink the stuff .  It’s not easy admitting powerlessness over a the world’s favorite, legal, and no-big-deal drug.

The site has great video clips of experts explaining the problems caffeine produces; adrenal exhaustion  is a big one .  It also has testimonials from recovering caffeine junkies, along with message boards and discussions.  Most of all, I like the site because it busts my denial about ol’ Joe.  With every corner owned by Starbucks, it’s hard to really grok that we’re dealing out a highly addictive, harmful drug to one another.  Its benign reputation is deceptive.

Did you know that caffeine is a naturally-occurring pesticide?   That’s right.  It’s Mother Nature’s way of killing bugs.  Any bug that munches on a plant that contains caffeine will become, oh, paralyzed and eventually die .  Call me crazy, but I have a policy about trying not to put anything in my body that ends in ‘cide’, which means murder.  It just seems to me, that if it kills a little bug, it can’t be too great for me–a much bigger bug.   And we wonder why it makes us edgy and irritable. Think about it:  Caffeine increases your heart rate  and taxes your immune system because it’s trying to kill you!

But CA is not the only thing I’ve used to get off the java.  In a flash of total obviousness, I remembered that I am a hypnotherapist!   I used to make CDs  for myself all the time which would take me into profound relaxation and tell me "you’re beautiful, you love your life, you’re happy" etc.  By bypassing a certain part of the conscious mind, these messages–whether I believed them or not–got into my subconscious mind and began to transform my life.  I would go on and off my hypnosis jags, depending on what I needed at the time, but it always worked.

I had considered making an "no coffee" one for myself a couple of years ago but, truth be told, I wasn’t ready.  I didn’t want to be done.  I guess I hadn’t really struggled enough .  But now I’m ready and my new CD tells me all sorts of good things like "I enjoy a peaceful, serene life.  My struggles with caffeine are OVER"  Stuff like that.  Oh and "I look like Gisele Bundchen". 

It’s been four weeks now  and I feel really good.  I honestly feel like I’m done.  It’s quite unlike the times I quit cold turkey, when I would eventually end up having a "should I or shouldn’t I" tennis game in my head.  With the exception of a couple of dodgy moments, I haven’t really thought about it at all.  I love listening to my CD and just sinking into all the positive messages… and my husband Tom?  He loves it too!

If you need help, reach out.

If you need hypnosis, contact me.

Jessica

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I have been wrestling with caffeine addiction for at least fifteen  years.  I remember, when I was working on a computer at many moons ago, thinking to myself while I slurped a cup o’ Joe cut with  amazake  "Mmm… this stuff is good" … and…

"this stuff is EVIL". 

I really don’t understand how it is that we’re all jacked up on caffeine (87% of all Americans have a caffeinated beverage every day) and there aren’t corpses  laying in the street every ten feet.  I am such a JERK when I’m on caffeine, although I’m too Canadian to let you know that.  I just seethe, while you spew your gobbledygook… I seethe and I endure you . 

It. Is. Awful.

But I’m not here to convince you to stop drinking it.  I promise.  Whenever I talk about my struggle with caffeine, it’s gets everyone all defensive and they start telling me how they only have half a cup a day… that it really doesn’t bother them… that Ambien  works just great for sleep.  Frankly–and please don’t take this the wrong way–I don’t care.  I am just glad to have crawled recently out of my own personal hell . 

Life is weird; one person’s hell is another person’s productive afternoon !  I know what my demons are and my personal constellation is unique; sugar, caffeine and a certain herb that is now available "medicinally" on nearly every strip mall in Southern California.  These are my three witches; they cast evil spells over my life.  I have danced with all three and each one has stuck her long, warty nose near my ear and said "You’re so screwed" .

The other two I manage to stay away from easily; Sugar,  the drug that goes back the furthest, took a few years to kick, but once I did, my body really got the message.  Now, in a store, when I pick up a product and scan the ingredients, if even the word "cane" appears before my eyes, my hand automatically replaces the item on the shelf.  My body rejects it even before my mind can make a clear decision.  The suffering it lead me to was too dark  and my surrender too deep. 

The aforementioned herb… well, that never had the grip on me that sugar did, but at one point in college, it did beat me into submission like a purple bunny  jumping on my chest a thousand times yelling "LOSER, LOSER, LOSER!"  Now I smell it on the street sometimes and think "Done". 

Caffeine has been the wiliest witch.  She peers from on high , on every corner, in every mall , on every cup going by .  It seems like everyone in the world… black, white, man, woman, cool, nerdy, rich, poor … lines up for her every morning.   Worshipers at her shrine. 

It’s not so easy to go against that grain . 

Not to mention that some sort of invisible coffee lobby keeps putting out material saying that it’s not bad for us.  That they’re are no side effects.  Oh yeah?  How about TOTAL PERSONALITY TRANSFORMATION?   On top of: cardiac stress, weakening of the immune system, messing with fertility, anxiety, insomnia, adrenal fatigue, mineral loss (leading to osteoporosis), and paranoia?

I’m well acquainted with all of these conditions because I’ve never been a daily user.  WHAT?  Oh no.  I go on coffee benders, like a pathetic business man  on an out-of-town spree.  I can go for weeks without the Joe, getting back to my "normal" existence, only to have the cravings pull me back.  So I know the damage it’s doing and the vast difference between my personal . 

But this time I’ve quit differently.  I’ll tell you how next week…  Stay tuned.

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