So I'm still not sure whether this is a wholly Western culture thing, or maybe it's global, or maybe it's just in Ohio, or maybe it's just in my family? but I grew up eating things to celebrate. When there is something to be happy about, there is going to be cake to be happy all up in. And around and through. Cake and pasta? Mozzarella sticks. Also lasagna. And cheese plates. French fries. Those almond crunchy cookie things my cousin Stef makes. If you do not have these things, you are not celebrating properly. (Often these things in themselves become reason to celebrate.)
I'm about a week and a half (sweet gluten-free ravioli it seems so much longer) into an experimental eating regimen I've imposed on myself to see if I can't cure the ol' Forever Stomach Ache of My 20's. Not to be dramatic but it has been the WORST WEEK AND A HALF EVER THAT YOU'VE EVER HEARD OF. Also, my stomach feels amazing and hasn't hurt in like, six days. I know. I can't believe it.
You ego-maniacal psychologists in the audience (?) will look at my new eating regimen (which was not created by me and is not created to lose weight - this is a topic for another day but I want you to know I'm being reasonable and healthy and am consulting people much smarter than me on this) and say, ah yes, so predictable. SO predictable that you would do this now, Maria. Because life feels like it's in a bit of a limbo, and not the good kind with margaritas and all that but the bad kind; where you feel like change is coming but you can't tell what kind, and you're not even sure what kind you're hoping for anymore? And maybe also the kind of limbo where God is like, so... "how's it going down there - sorry I haven't been able to check in lately? I'm busy elsewhere." He of course does not and has never said such things but my heart has inaccurately heard them, and continues to.
So, psychologists, you may be right that this month-long stomach-healing food thing is a coping mechanism for a larger hole of weirdness in my psyche. It is giving me something to think about and focus on when the rest of life is full of brow-furrowing misunderstandings and long-suffering WAITING. So, I fill my time instead with 4 page grocery lists and boring crock pot recipes (my GOD the vegetables.)
People who have done this particular intestine-friendly eating regimen before warn me I will start to experience pregnancy-strength cravings for some of my favorite food about halfway through. So far I've had two food-related dreams, one about Diet Coke (and I'm a Pepsi person, so um wtf) and one about Jimmy John's, which is especially weird because if I could have anything I wanted right now, Jimmy John's wouldn't necessarily be on the top of my list. Although I wouldn't refuse a #9 Italian Club right now. I wouldn't refuse it.
I think more than the food, what I am craving right now is some kind of good news.
Guilt: "Maria, darling, you can't be serious. You got up this morning and stood on two functioning legs. You drove a car that you own to a job that pays you. You ate food for each meal. Your husband called to say hello and he has a beard. Your dog pretty much lives and breathes for you. Don't EVEN with the "I need some good news."
-END OF INTERLUDE-
I'm sorry, I'm ungrateful, but I want to work through that by still being honest with you and telling you that in addition to a Diet Coke (seriously what is happening) I also want some good news. I am craving a phone call; an email; a Facebook message for goodness' sake with something that would CHANGE things. I'm craving that speeding up of my heart, the flash of heat to my face, the scrambling for my phone to call other people and tell THEM the good news.
And I'm craving the Good News Cheeseburger that will follow. Just you wait.
I know I haven't been around in a while. Well, I wrote something today. Here it is. Do you like it?