So! I promised a delayed but technologically advanced bells-whistles-cute-fluffy-animals-driving-cars-kinda-hullabaloo of a blog, didn't I?
Err... truth is, I wanted to upload the video from the Oscarpalooza Party to share the japes and jollies that can only be two women in gowns wearing faux Lincoln beards and over-sized Argo glasses singing about Zero Dark Thirty et al., rhyming Osama with "llamas," "bananas" and "pyjamas"! But my Techie-tardness kicked in, and I realize now, in my return to what my co-host and I call normality, that might have been an... EGO BLOG! I would have been one 'g' short of frozen-waffle indulgence! And, you know, I like to make a point with this here mincing of words. I don't want this to be flat and microwaveable, or saccharine sweet, drizzled in sticky sap! I want to be sharp and spiky and lodge in you throat. Or brain. Or... whatever.
|Silver (actress and Beeb Presenter, Tara) loves her kale.|
So, apology accepted? Huh, huh? Can we be friends again? Huh? Because, dear Reader, I do think of you as my friend, and so the ego blog has been elbowed, balled up and thrown away in the rubbish along with all the other frozen and fake consumables. Because I ack-shually want to share something of importance with you today. YES! Importance! Brace yourself!
My fabulous stunt woman actress friend, Heidi, lives in LA and is all about health and physical conditioning. Yesterday, she shared a video. Now, I don't know what made me do it. Usually, I do not indulge in 17 minute videos during work hours--which for a writer and self-employed Britty-in-the-City, is really ALL hours--but something struck. Perhaps her wording, "Mom, watch this! This is how I strive to eat and live to be healthy and disease free."
Now, you know sometimes in life when you keep getting the same signals, and you think, "Hmm, maybe the Universe, or God, or the little Pink Fairy in the Sky, are trying to tell me something?" You know what I mean, right? Like, say, for instance, maybe when it dawns on you that you keep being sent chaps from above (or below, as is probably more appropriate) and they play the same half-arsed, effortless, phoning-it-in tune, and yet you still don't get the message that maybe, just maybe, you ought to break free from the quagmire of douchbaggery and date someone who actually makes an effort! You know, repetitive signals? Not saying that I've experienced that! No Sireee!
|Seriously, Tara, it was bloody yummy!|
I am no doctor or dietitian. Am not going to be all preachy, holier-than-thou, because shit, I adore State St Grill's sweet potato fries, cheese--oh God, the things I would do to make cheese a super food--angel hair pasta, sushi, sushi, sushi, Coldstone Creamery's Founder's Favourite, creme brulee, cheesecake... STOP! No, I am clearly riddled with foody weakness, but I'm just a gal blessed with great genes, trying to keep in her jeans and be a good example and a fit and able role model should I ever have mini-genies. I worry that I forget things. I worry that this will get worse. I worry that one in three Americans are diagnosed with cancer. But one can't live in fear, can one? However, if there is a path that one can journey and lessen the chance of illness, wouldn't you take it? Wouldn't you choose to? As my Yogi says, "Life is all about choices." I hope you choose to watch this. (And then chomp on some kale, seaweed, grass-feed meat and omega-3 rich fish.)
Namaste, you Mighty Mitochondrion-harbouring Souls!