Today, I am considering becoming a semi-vegetarian. Seriously.
Flashback mode for a moment.
After several weeks of gorging myself with fried chicken legs, roasted chicken, DQ Blizzard, pork chops slathered with gravy, ground pork in tomato sauce, chicken afritada, beef teriyaki, braised beef, beef in a pot, instant noodles, sunny side up eggs, pan-fried tilapia, and the ever-present soda, I found that I was more fatigued even after more than eight hours of sleep.
Lethargic is the word.
Yesterday was the lowest point of it all, and I thought that I may be dying because of an undiagnosed illness (rap on wood three times as you read this, please!).
I slept at around ten last night, thinking that I should get myself checked up by a specialist in nuclear medicine as soon as Monday rolls along.
This morning, a force compelled me to get up early and do a bit of marketing. I’m not one to ignore signs from the other realms so I dressed up, went out and hailed a jeepney to the nearest wet market.
The day was still young. Church goers were just starting to file out of a cathedral; first mass has just ended.
When I arrived in the market, some stall owners were still doing the opening rituals.
Within the main building, the entire area where fish and chicken and other meat are sold was bathed in the golden glow of incandescent bulbs.
The aisles in the market were still empty of customers haggling with the meat sellers. The fish mongers were still in a good mood; one guy danced to his own headmusic while he transferred tilapia from ice boxes to the stall.
At the other end of the dim inner sanctum, aluminum doors roared, hinges squeaked, and bakers removed the first batches of pandesal from their ovens.
Further on, the vegetables — still crisp and resplendent in their green finery — beckoned my sluggish self.
I bought what seemed to be the freshest items in the stalls: sweet potato tops, swamp cabbage greens (kangkong), cucumbers, and okra. I didn’t want to stock up on so much greens because they are easily perishable even if stored in the fridge’s crisper.
Then I bought some fish, as I have a cat who needs nourishment. But also because I was nostalgic for pickled fish (paksiw) the way Tata cooked it.
The ride home was uneventful.
When I got home, it was straight to the kitchen for me. The uber demanding kitty meowed her feline lungs out because she knew I had been to the market and could smell the fish in its packaging. She only kept quiet after I gave her a piece of mackerel.
My body must have sensed something different was going to happen for breakfast and started working up my salivary glands to frenzy as I thought of slicing up some ginger and garlic and onions and then sauteing the swamp cabbage with the spices.
So saute I did. I also cooked paksiw and boiled rice. I also had instant coffee.
A few minutes later, I had everything laid out on the table for a fortifying breakfast. The first bite made me think of my tropical jungle home. I felt that the simple dishes of ginisang kangkong, rice, and paksiw nourished the nooks and crannies of my soul.
Then I remembered my mother’s stash of grass — wheat grass, that is. She has a couple of sachets of it and I took one.
Wheat grass is probably the latest health hype; it is being marketed as the best antioxidant ever, and the extraction method of the healthful components guarantees that one will reap all the goodness there is in the wheat grass.
Okay. I tried drinking freshly extracted wheat grass juice before and it tasted just like I imagined that it would: grassy.
Still, the ones who discovered the healthy properties of wheat grass believe that dosing on chlorophyll is healthier than bingeing on potato chips and DQ Blizzard.
Mom’s wheat grass stash was in powder form. I emptied one sachet onto a glass of cold water. The color reminded me of sewage ooze. Or the greenish gunk that accumulates on aquariums. When I drank it, the green ooze also had the aftertaste of aquarium gunk. Still, I downed the entire content of the glass, convincing myself that it’s all good.
Ahhh. That wasn’t so bad (*shudder*).
I feel healthier already.
If anyone could give me some useful info on being a vegetarian, please e-mail me at derangedpalmist(at)gmail(dot)com. I would really appreaciate it.