Eating Strawberries Sprinkled in Himalayan Salt

I'm cold. I'm always cold when I don't sleep enough. "Mike, are these sheets dipped in ice water?" But Mike is already asleep, down for the count by 5:30 p.m., his full day at a school not unlike mine and his short night, again not unlike mine, all catching up with him.

It's so hard to let go of the weekends sometimes. Last night I was lying on the sofa, the place I plopped down when my tossing and turning was keeping us both up. "Turn off, brain. Turn off. This is my brain. It's in my hands. I'm placing it in a comfortable velvet box. Nighty night, brain. Now everything is black. Because my brain is off."

"Except for this trickle of battery power. Okay brain, I'm removing your battery pack. Shhh. Sleep. Good brain. You like sleep."

But it's not working. I look at the clock. 3 a.m. Three A.M.?! I must have fallen asleep. And woke up to the same miserable chant? Beautiful.

Today wasn't a bad day in the day of edumacation. Patrick Swayze passed away, but that was after school, so I didn't have to hear the kids say, "Oh, that one white guy? Who cares?" (I'm unfair. I have heard very few anti-white comments so far this year. A whole tirade of "English is stupid. Learn to speak Spanish!" just this week, but overall I think I'm staying positive. Having two extra-advanced classes of no more than 22 helps, especially when all the other classes are 40+ and growing of regular freshmen. Mike has not been so lucky, but the etiquette gloves are always off when it comes to a sub. Sorry, honey.)

I'm eating strawberries sprinkled with pink salt from the Himalayas. Honest people are losing their homes, and I'm eating fresh fruit with fancy salt. 

(I don't know how to end this. I wanted to convey that I'm not eating the salt Marie Antoinette-style - by which I mean arrogantly, as opposed to headlessly, but wouldn't that be a slumber party trick? - and if anything, somebody has to eat the salt. The salt is beauty, truth, and jobs, although admittedly some of those jobs are in the Himalayas. Unless it's a sham. In which case, this is me, keeping the good ole American sham alive. But if so, it's a pretty sham*, and it gives me something to look forward to when I can feel the 40+ freshmen almost realizing that the numbers are on their side.)


*I don't really think it's a sham. Believing in things is a relief sometimes, and this seems like a very harmless thing in which to believe.

You know what I could really go? A Mexican-style chess set made out of salt.

See, I have lengthy, responsible, charitable plans in place should I ever win the lottery, I swear. But then a stray strand of thought like "oooo! a chess set made of pink Himalayan salt!" appears and I can just see everyone in Oprah's viewership judging me because Honest People are losing their homes and I am ready to blow my windfall on a salt lick game board.

But come on, what would it cost? Plus, it creates a job.

Plus more jobs as pieces have to be replaced.

So, I will not feel guilty about using pretty pink salt. (Disney Princess Salt? Oh, look at me, captain of industry and marketing!) Instead, I will feel guilty about not taking a photo that shows off these rosy crystals like so many New Age sparkles. Cue the macro lens...

15 September 2009 |






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Carnival Splendor (2009)
Carnival Spirit (2010)
Carnival Spirit (2011)
Carnival Splendor (2011)
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