Sometimes people want to know exactly what I eat. This is what my blog would look like if I tracked all my food. (BO-RING.)
What a day. What a day.
I’m retraining myself to wake up with new eyes each morning. To come at each day like a kid on Christmas morning. Only instead of “OH MY GOD PRESENTS” it’s “OH MY GOD LIFE.”
It seems to be working because despite going to bed at 1am, I flew out of bed 4.5 short hours later, all:
I had planned to go to ashtanga at the studio but opted to enjoy a slow cup of coffee and a private practice at home. It was 75 degrees and sunny in Charlotte today (be still, my heart) so I threw open the window and welcomed the coming dawn with a brisk sun salute.
At 5:30am I wanted toast with PB, honey, cinnamon and banana so I made it and packed it for the drive to work. But by 8am when I actually left, it was totally smoothie time. So this happened:
This is how I make green smoothies: Green Smoothies 101
We had three back-to-back-to-back events at work this week, which means free fruit trays.
I slammed an apple on the way to the gym before heading to job numero dos for the afternoon/evening.
I was all ready to hop in my car and inhale my lunch at stoplights when I made a game time decision to slow the F down and enjoy my meal in the sunshine. I plopped down on a rock and ate this:
This is how I make my salads: Anatomy of a Salad
[I had a photoshoot the day I did this video. I realize my makeup looks waaaaaay over the top.]
Salad = romaine, spinach, cashews, brown rice, carrots, peppers, avocado, oil, balsamic.
On the way to my car, I spotted a little dead naked rodent in the grass and died a little inside. The poor baby had fallen from this monster of a tree:
Quite a tumble for something the size of (but far more fragile than) a shot glass.
Upon closer inspection I noticed his little lungs were actually still hard at work trying to keep his tiny body alive. I died a little more and scooped him up into one of my yoga towels. This is an automatic reflex for me. The hoarding of old and/or sickly and/or dying and/or pregnant animals is in my DNA; it comes straight from my mom who got it from hers.
(He’s a squirrel… I think.)
He was clammy and cold and a little bit purply-blue. I kind of thought he’d just die but at least wanted him to be comfortable. (But he didn’t!) Instead, he kept getting better. His breathing calmed and he turned a pale pink and even squirmed around a bit. (Not paralyzed!)
At this point I had to get to work in Charlotte and decided to take him with me. I know some wildlife purists would argue that I should have left him and let nature take its course. I am not one of those people. Deal with it.
He is currently safe and sound in a shoebox in my bathroom (far from the cats, don’t worry).
I have a mason jar in there wrapped in towels that I’ve been refilling with fresh hot water every few hours to keep him warm and bought kitten formula to feed him with a syringe.
I know what everyone is going to say and the answer is yes, I tried calling Wildlife Rescue all afternoon but they wouldn’t answer the phone. I’ll take him tomorrow. Until then, he’s all mine.
Once Baby Hank was situated in his box, I made an iced coffee with almond milk and headed off to job numero dos.
I cannot tell you how stressed I was that my squirrel would be dead when I got home. He wasn’t. So I ate carrots and hummus to celebrate while making dinner: teriyaki rice with chickpeas and spinach, sesame tofu and green beans.
I’m gonna go sketch out plans for my future zoo… And probably eat chocolate-covered almonds with peanut butter.