fresh from your neighborhood

 When you’re four years old, an upset tummy can make the world feel like an out-of-control merry-go-round. But when you’re in your older years, a troublesome bloated tummy can make you feel like you swallowed a small elephant…

So, I sit here waiting for it to subside and wonder what caused this dispepsive state. Was it breakfast, served hot and fresh, according to the lighted menu board…or, was it the coagulation of fat from my veal parmigiana with feta and linguini in a light sun-dried tomato pesto? Or, was it a tapeworm, hiding in infantile form, microscopic and miniscule? 

And if it was a tapeworm, does it have a personality? Is it religious? Does it prefer frying in butter or beef tallow? More importantly, does it have a girlfriend? Or is it a girlfriend? Could it be just one in a plague of streaming tapeworms cascading through the recreational rides of my colon? God help me, maybe I have a whole colony down there. Maybe they’re having a particulate party…maybe I should go to the bathroom to wait for the consequences...maybe I should write my will and consider a lawyer. After all, if I do have a tapeworm invasion, it’s only a matter of…and what if they have a well-funded building program?

Should I try a celery-scented colon cleanse? A blueberry enema? A fixed probiotic diet? Should I become a fruititarian, swearing off all highly oxalated greens? Engage in the holy act of carnivore, with a side of four eggs at every meal? What say you, Bobby Kennedy?

It is no wonder why my gut...and maybe your gut...is kind of like a washing machine on the spin cycle. all those vegetables piled high on crates in the regional distribution center have more miles on them than a four-time divorcee. They've been sitting around for weeks and weeks, far from their source of origin. 

They've had time to decay, like the fish I smell in most restaurants, thousands of miles inland from the ocean, meat decaying so rapidly the owner knows your meal has more in common with Russian roulette than a fresh meal. Like a run-on sentence, the after-effects will go on and on and on...

Have you ever tasted fresh fish...from the morning's catch? If you have, you may never eat a farm-raised fish the rest of your life. 

Have you ever tasted fresh cider? You may never drink canned apple juice again.

And you may never have a sick stomach again....if you choose what is fresh from the fields, fresh from the ocean, and most importantly, fresh from your neighborhood.