YOLO / Conscious Binge-ing

So I saw this mystery show, I don't remember which one, I watch a lot of them, but I saw this show where somehow the key was that the victim was a columnist who had revealed she was traveling and that's why she got burgled and/or murdered. I don't remember which, maybe both, but that doesn't make a ton of sense -- How could she be home getting murdered and, at the same time, not be home getting burgled?

Anyway, the point was she shouldn't have written that she was on vacation. The other point is that because of this very distinct memory I did not want to reveal/blog that we are vacationing. Away from home.

But we are. And let me tell you Cleo our cat is home and she is vicious and so is our house/pet sitter Athena. She is tall and a Pilates instructor and will hundred-pummel anyone with her insane core if they try any hinky stuff. And Cleo has claws, so fuggetaboutit.

So now where was I? Yes okay, we're traveling. We got to spend four hours at LAX before we boarded our delayed flight and we got to enjoy some of the worst food I've ever had -- which is saying something because I've had some gnarly food.

We got to experience this swill at the LAX Rolling Stone bar because I wanted that table service atmosphere if we had so much time to kill. So instead of the food court's totally adequate veggie burger at The Counter, or the not-too-shabby-kinda-tasty burrito bowl at the Mexican place, we sat down and ordered a variety of items calling themselves different things involving eggs, veggies, and potatoes that really, really, really, when they came, did not taste like anything close to eggs, veggies, and potatoes.

Mike didn't eat it. Ax ate only the (defrosted, cold) fries with copious amounts of ketchup. I ate most of it, ok all of it, because the table was good, overlooking the passagata of roaming travelers, and I forgot to eat/did that weird too-busy-to-eat-I'll-wait-til-I-relax-to-eat thing and so by the time we drove down to the airport, parked, cleared security, got seated, ordered, and got served, I was desperate and would have eaten my own sweater, or sweatsocks. Which is maybe what the food kind of tasted like before I doused it in hot sauce and ketchup.

And so our adventure begins. I gotta say we are spoiled/ not spoiled/ everyone should be so spoiled when it comes to food. We get to eat real food so much of the time I'd almost forgotten what non-food food tastes like. It tastes bad, or like nothing. I'm not a super-fan of extremism on anything, but I am going to spend the extra time and money to support the local, small, ideally organic-ish farmers who are left when we get where we are going. I can't imagine anything more important to making myself and my family feel as good as possible than what we put in our bodies.

So yeah, I'm not going to starve versus eat GMO, pesticide(that's poison)-marinated crap if that's the choice, but that doesn't have to be the choice for us the vast majority of the time if I plan a bit better. It does mean restaurants, even seemingly "healthy" restaurants are a challenge. They're not using organic unless they say they are, for one thing. And not local either. For sure. I'm no Michael Pollan but I can do much better.

I know people, people of means who balk at the added expense of good food, like it's a yacht. I'd rather eat not poison, and I can totally afford that even though I can't afford a yacht. Especially if I do that, "Eat food, Mostly plants, Not too much," third part of the Pollan prescription.

Meanwhile thank heavens I have this big bag of organic dried mango for the plane ride. I gotta keep up my energy for binge-watching in-flight HGTV! YOLO. You Only Live Once. I'm gonna binge wisely.