Driving Googled Americans Up the Wall-E

I really liked the movie Wall-E. Watching Wall-E’s confusion in the beginning of the film was reminiscent of Short Circuit’s confusion ending up in Oregon. Except Oregon was nothing like the pollution Wall-E was left to rummage around. And unbury treasures that were popular in the time of short circuits. Like plugs. And outlets.

Maybe it’s just me but I don’t feel like the movie got much attention. 

Was it for lack of dialogue?
Pshh, I’m pretty sure that “the Artist” is up for like eleven nominations. 

Was it because it went over the heads of children-the intended audience?
I’m pretty sure I was into Short Circuit and I had no idea what the cold war was or the song “who’s Johnny” which debuted in my birth year. 

And I’m not so sure it was entirely intended for children.

Was it because Americans are in denial about their sustainable practices and weight problems?
Because the movie certainly used a cute little, expressive robot to showcase how far the American physiques have changed since the days of short circuits. 

With those robotic chairs, we can have our pie and eat it too!

Americans are the best at everything. We win Olympic gold medals and we win at robotic chairs. It is called being an American. 

If you type “why are Americans” into Google, the first predicted text to pop up is “why are Americans so fat.” It doesn’t say why are American fat. It says, why are Americans SO fat. 

I’m doing far more sitting at this job than past jobs. I’m also dealing with more weight management issues at this job than previous jobs.

Maybe I should start writing for Google…

I wonder if Wall-E toys were used in Happy Meals. Maybe that’s why the movie didn’t get a lot of attention. Google stole the attention with all the questioning.  

Until we all short circuit and adapt into robots, we may continue to be googled by such complexly, simple questions such as “why are Americans so fat?” And it may take another 20 years for us to assess overweight and obesity in health severity instead of aesthetic scrutiny.  Oddly enough, scrutiny helps encourage healthy behavior. The way Americans scrutinize smokers, outlawed lighting up indoors and tax cigarettes has changed significantly since the days when ‘Who’s Johnny?’ played on the tape deck above the ashtray in the ‘ole paneled van.

When did Happy Meals start hurting?

I’m sure a day, not too terribly far from now, the happy meal toys (and food) will be so heavily taxed it may be a fattening delicacy like fois gras. Oh wait, that’s not American.

 The New Happy Meal

Whatever Will Be Will Be Good

I finally joined the current century. I upgraded my phone! I went from rebate to a white, 16gb 4s rectangular thing. It’s magical. It’s also necessary. A miniature computer makes living in a foreign territory quite un-foreign. 

I’m keeping up with the Silver Lakians. To do so, one must be in thrift store digs holding a rectangle. My email footer says “sent from Mcmurph PC” … now I’m the hypocritical joke.

I fit in. 

I fit in…but I’m still getting lost.

I left said rectangle at home while I went out for a run today. After all the eating and drinking in the hills I needed a bit of exercise. Running up and down hills is confusing. And hard. And I got lost. And when I walked into my apartment later than anticipated, I thought my roommate and her boyfriend were reaching for the defibulator upon seeing their faces see mine. I was as red as a pinpoint on the electronic map I left at home. If only I was holding that rectangle with that 4G GPS. 

After cleaning myself up, I started out on another “exploring my hood” adventure. This time with my friend and tour guide, Siri, in hand.

On this rectangle, an “app” is not food. But an app can tell you where to find food. Urbanspoon is an app. AroundMe is an app. They are both tasty but you can’t eat them. Almost as confusing as the curvy, hilly streets.

Ahh, how the modern hunting and gathering has cut out the work-or rather, the exercise.

So to see some of these red pinpoints on my map app, I set off to wander up and down Sunset Boulevard for 2 hours while talking to my dear friend Kory. Kory lives in Charleston, South Carolina.

Time zones are not on our side. We are kind of the same person occupying different coasts. 

Kory is at a university hospital doing outpatient dietetics. So am I.  Kory thinks too much. So do I. Kory is a bit sad right now…trying to figure it all out. I am sad for her. So I bought her a card. And I wrote in it.

1.22.Twenty12
Dear Kory,

You are a peach. A peach & a half, actually. I miss you often. Very often. And the moment in my life that you were a part of.

First off, happy 30^th! I wish getting older gave us more answers-or led us closer to “the answer.” Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it gives us the answer that there aren’t real answers at all. That everything is a journey. That we are all fluid. That when things are good and we meet amazing people we need to recognize it.  and them. and celebrate that moment- because it passes.

And it makes life better but harder too. Because we’re always trying to top that moment. Or hold onto it while we continue to grow. And then we compare everything to it. And try to get the best of every world we live. And our hearts just fill to the max! And it’s exhausting.

And silly!

We are humans and we can’t control hardly anything. (and we have big expectations!). And we can’t hold onto everything and expect to also move forward. If that were the case, I would have like ten boyfriends all the time! (psh, no I wouldn’t). And that would be terrible! Because I can’t hardly handle one!

You are like me-that’s why I like you. That’s probably why Rick finds me “ok” for a girl and a human and a stupid 25 year old with an older brother and an older sister. (Rick, you lost that bet).

We try to hold onto everything all the time. And do it well. And our hearts and minds just can’t hold onto everything and continue to grow, and go with the flow, and process. And even if we did hold it all together and stay in one place, the world would go changing things on us! It's a sneaky trick this world pulls on us!
Then we feel sad. Or guilty. Or reminiscent for things in our past. And then we need to remember that life is always changing and it’s a journey to nowhere at all. And you can’t compare apples to oranges. It has ups and downs and looking back always seems better in retrospect. The future is uncertain. The present is what it is. So we keep going.

And we are getting smarter and we do have more answers. But it’s just our own answers.
But even when we hit 30, or 25, or whatever, we have to remember that we’re doing the best we can and we need to put our pretty thoughts and heads to rest. And be. Good.
I love you!
Meg

As I wrote to dear Kory, my rectangle app played me a song. A version of Que Sera.

The future’s not our….

Life is going on as normally as ever…

There are a lot of things we don’t understand, either. We need answers from you: what did you expect to find? What’s going to be our future?..

…Que sera, sera.

I started to walk back up my street. To get to my new version of home at this time in my life. And I passed the Microbrew on the corner called Good. My rectangle tells me it’s 0.25 miles from home. It neglects to tell me that 0.25 miles uphill feels like 0.5 miles.

My rectangle helps close the gap from Charleston to Los Angeles. There is also an app that yelps that my house is by Good and it’s not just a clever name. And I should go to Good. So I will. And I am. 

And while I type, my rectangle app tells me that I’m searching for a heart of gold, and I’m getting old.

I’ve been to Hollywood…

...and I've seen it from my bedroom window.

Danger’s Global Warming Warning

Let me just say that this holiday season was anything but a normal holiday season. 

One reason? Possibly my decision to relocate from Chicago (the burbs, let’s not get ahead of myself) to Silver Lake LA CA between Christmas and NYE Twenty12.  Hmm or maybe it was that it was warm and ice-less enough to take a run on Christmas in the burbs. Either way, it just didn’t feel much like Christmas.

Either Chicago was onto me and gave a solid persuasive attempt to keep me or that thing that Al Gore and my college chemistry teacher kept talking about is happening.

Global warming?

Global warning?

As I packed up some essential cooking utensils and favorite mugs I also packed on some pounds-That run was the last run I took.

After that it was a 2,000 mile drive down route 66. The submission to all the roadside food and kitschy Americana I could get. And a week of getting acquainted and dining out LA style with tour guide Danger.

Which is proving dangerous for my beach figure.

My habits and location are now a global warming warning for my figure.

St. Louis, Missouri. First stop. 2:30pm. Local Harvest café. Blocks down from my old digs. Good food. Good people. Smoker out back. Sold.

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma. Midnight. Nothing was open. Pizza Hut? It was a blurr but whatever it was, I needed. Some sleep. Some continental breakfast. 

Amarillo, Texas. Midday. Golden Light Café. Apparently the slaughter house of our nation, Amarillo served up a mean burger which I washed down with a Lone Star beer. The place was classic. I could spit on the line behind the bar. The only waitress thanked locals for Christmas gifts as they walked in. Sweet Child of Mine, Jack and Diane, and Mary Jane’s Last Dance played on the barely audible gloveless cook’s 1992 radio. Apparently no health regulations followed in international territories-The Lone Star State. Popped in and out of the antique lined street and jumped back into the car.

 Pit stop. Gas station coffee. Necessary after a midday beer and lots of driving.

Albuquerque, New Mexico. Late. Kelly’s Brewpub. Wanted some authentic Mexican but it felt like Albuquerque was trying to prove that it was more than chilies. Quinoa concoction, some of pop’s pulled pork and a house made red lager. I wasn’t in the Midwest anymore. Cool place. Cute accents. Crazy, great houses.

 

 

Santa Fe, New Mexico. Mid morning. I felt like I walked into a past time. Explored the culture of this old world, beautiful town with a latte in hand.

 

 

 

Navajo land. I bought a blanket. Be jealous. 

It’s amazing and so is the man who sold it to me. 

 

 

...And then there was Geronimo.

Flagstaff, Arizona. Evening.

Oh no. Problems occurred. Altitude of 6,900.

Authentic, college hipster vibe of good beer and good coffee. Beaver street brewery served up some artsy goodness. Which was later served up by me. Needless to say, not as good tasting the second time. Even worse, only room available was a hostel style room without a bathroom. Going down to the toilet paperless lobby bathroom half delusional at 3am was less than ideal.
Macy’s coffeehouse for breakfast. Not my finest hours. But real good granola, yogurt and fruit breakfast. Couldn’t do coffee. That’s how bad I felt. It didn’t even smell good. Now you know how unfortunate this event was. I’d still go back to flagstaff. 

 

 Sedona, Arizona. Midmorning. After my illness and lack of shower, the streets were mocking me. I was dirtier than they will ever be. Sparkling town. Caters a bit much to high-end tourists. Fried cactus helped get me back on my road food track. Too preoccupied with nausea to truly enjoy the town but the red rocks looked a lot nicer on the way out of the town than they did on the way in. Maybe it was the cacti help.

 

 

Santa Monica, California. Late. Pizza again. I needed a shower and to not move.

The next morning started with a coffee on venice beach. “Good” microbrew down from my new digs in Silver Lake. And a late night diner experience at Swingers diner.

…the week following the road food continued onto include: Malibu fishery, barbeques in Topanga Canyons, In-and-Out burger on Ventura, horchata at an authentic taqueria down the hill from my place, An intoxicating experience at Musha in Santa Monica...

And the list goes on and on. And on.

One can get any food one wants in this town.

And not only is my global location a warning but so is my ability to fit into these clothes I hauled 2,000 miles.

Today I decided to be healthier. I took a hike in Malibu and picked an orange off a tree by my mailboxes. I’m going to try living off this global land and see where it gets me.

So far it’s gotten me west, up the hill from Sunset Blvd and a view of the Hollywood sign.

 

Happy Baking

 

Tis the season of scones and spice and everything sugar.

A Whole Worldly Market

So I stopped in Whole Foods Market and then jumped into Cost Plus World Market when my sister sent me a text message.
Does anyone say Market after Whole Foods anymore?

Does anyone use the words Cost Plus before World Market?

Does anyone say message after text..?

Am I living in ‘97?

The contents of said text message were anything but ordinary but neither is my sister. Instead of “Hey! Wanna meet at LA Fitness for a workout tonight?” It read “OMG! You need to go to Richard Simmons work out class!”

I chose not to respond.

Let me recall what I know of Richard.

Isn’t he like 97?

Later that night we had the Murph Family Dinner-a traditional Wednesday night event that’s been occurring since as long as I’ve been gone. While living in STL, my family, the significant others and my dog have been partaking in a Whole lot of good Food sans my presence.

In the past couple months I’ve had the pleasure of participating in this glorious event.

Let me tell you, having the ability to persuade slash officiate a beer chugging contest between my brother and brother-in-law after a lovely home cooked meal played a part in my decision to move home..

Brian took all. 5.6 seconds. No spillage disqualifications. Almost disgusting. Almost.

Ahhh, the skill set learned while he lived away. In a fraternity house.

At Murph Family dinner, my sister explained the thought process behind the random text. She found this article. Everything made sense. And I realized that it was true. I HAD to visit R. Simmons. And befriend him using my powers of persuasions.

And I may need to leave the class wearing a new, branded tee from, I’m guessing, 1997. Easily.

So unless something changes in the next couple of weeks, I will only have approximately 3 more Murph Family Dinners to be the Beer Chugging Initiator as I have officially accepted a position that will take me to another part of the world. And not just World Market.

Instead of going to LA Fitness, I’ll be doing fitness with R. Simmons in LA.

I’m hoping this job will make me a bit more marketable. And as a plus, a bit more worldly as well.
And with worldly, comes a plethora of new whole foods to try!!..meaning, it is necessary that R. Simmons and I become buds.

Valuing Harvest

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. By far and away. Followed by St. Patrick’s Day.

I’m so predictable: An Irish dietitian. 

Thanksgiving feels really real to me. It’s about food and family and friends. And that’s it. And that’s nice. It’s got a good vibe to it.

Except when it’s only purpose to kick start the consumer flurry of Christmas. Darn capitalistic agenda! You’re ruining Thanksgiving!

In light of the economic and political crazy at the moment, I am especially grateful for Thanksgiving. First off, I’ll be having it at a farm. Surely, with good food. And with good people.

One of which sent me an invite to “Occupy the Holidays.” If this means a sit in at the Thanksgiving table for a couple of days…well then I’m all for it.

But really it is an invitation sent to remind people to “embrace community members that hurt, talk about success, listen to frustrations, and eat real food that nourishes your soul and body.” 

Nicely put. 

Maybe I like the vibe of Thanksgiving because in preschool we learned that the rustic Native American Indians taught those overly civilized Pilgrims to grow food and enjoy their company-A truly succinct, kid-friendly version regarding the harvest events in Plymouth.

Regardless of any corruption or conjured euphemisms about the event, it seems to bring about this thought process that getting back to basics and helping the community was the answer. 

Food was the currency. And it did nourish souls and liven spirits. Food’s currency has changed. Significantly. 

My dear friend sent me an article that states Congress wants pizza and French fries to stay on school lunch and is fighting the Obama administration’s effort to take unhealthy foods out of schools. 

Stay strong Michelle!

What a short sighted excuse to make artificial pizza sauces and ketchup conform with established USDA vegetable serving guidelines per day to close the deficit. I’m sure someone will be barking up a different tree when health care costs rise exponentially in the future. 

Just as the Pilgrims lacked the amount of Harvest to feed their entire crew, the government saw the benefit of feeding a terrific amount of poor quality food to a particular starving socioeconomic group. Side effect 60 years later…? 

Well besides the obvious, the American Dietetics Association is backed by companies like coca cola. I understand that in order to represent our profession to advocate for better food practices and preventative health one needs to influence Capitol Hill. Influence meaning money. It’s just a shame. Especially when our national dietitian convention meetings comply with exhibition stations that give my professional peers taste tests of fiber fortified diet coke..?

The American Dietetic Association Political Action Committee has asked for donations so our lobbyist can be “heard.” The top health care professional advocacy group to be “heard” last year was the National Community Pharmacist Association PAC. Well not surprising considering pharmacist have the ability to donate a lot more from salaries and their backing drug companies. 

Such drug companies that make cholesterol lowering medication to most likely help delay the rising health care costs. Drug companies that hold patents that lead to larger revenues. Revenues that can help pharmacist “speak louder.” A population that takes these medications who are at the mercy of the government regulated free and reduced school lunch programs and value menus. Income tax that aids Medicaid health care. 

I am all for helping the community and the underprivileged. I’m not so naïve to think the solution is simple. But it would be nice to get back to the basics a bit more. Putting more value into good food. Eating dinner at a table instead of in front of the TV. 

After all, it’s all short sighted. 

The Earth has been around far longer than we have. It makes good food for us but it will ultimately win regardless of what we choose to eat. 

It’s just nice that Thanksgiving can remind us to enjoy a harvest around a table with family and friends. In this moment.

Digesting on One-sie New Life

I think I need to change the name of my blog. Or at least the catch phrase.

The name of the blog remains correct. I am a nut. Or feel like one. Or write like one. Or D. All of the above. 

I think instead of “a sprinkle of life on nutrition” it should be “A series of major life events and their relationship to food.”

Not clever enough?

Yeaaa, I agree.

But seriously, I’m on some kind of higher list that is sending life event attendances my way. Maybe that higher list is called “being a 25 year old person with a large extended family and lovely friends who seem to be on a normal course of life.”

Not short enough?

Yeaaa, I agree.

Since late August I’ve been on a rocky course of transition. I’ve been traveling a lot and making several pit stops.

·   Pit stops being 4 weddings, 2 bridal showers, 1 funeral, 1 bachelorette party, 1 baby shower, 1 decline of a baby shower, a partridge and a pear tree.

There have been some ups. Some downs. Some slow moving times. Some realizations that this life is fluid. And some time to digest on all of these thoughts.

So while digesting, I pit stopped at my dietitian friend Brandi Breden’s house to celebrate the arrival of a whole new life course for her, her husband and their future baby. That…, or she had some slow moving “tract” of her own. Specifically in the GI department. Because it looked like she swallowed a basketball!

Guests were to make the mom-to-be a onesie. And in the honor of her new track and the arrival of Baby Drew Breden, I drew one out. 

Showing her that that sometimes her new life course would be made up of love. Of sweet moments with her little pumpkin. 

Sometimes a parents live-r can become a pain-cre-as and she may need to sp-leen on a good friend. 

Sometimes she might feel like there are so many little bits and pieces to keep on tract. And even when everything can be progressing normally, it might all come out like … well, that’s what daddies are for. 

To help.

Pick up the pieces.

Clean up the mess.

Hold mommy.

Because mommy is tired. From holding for 9 months.

We could all do with a little support.

When embarking on tracks that twist and turn and make the pit of your belly feel out of control. So we pit stop. And we help celebrate and support people who are moving down their course. We provide onesies big network of support.