Tuesday, February 19, 2008

How Much Spam and Where the F is My Cereal?

Today, I'm feeling a bit conflicted. I'm feeling lazy and unproductive because I cannot find detailed information on the food imports of the CNMI, although I have searched for hours, but it's slowing down the development of my program proposal and paper. I'm feeling a bit guilty and overwhelmed by the idea of it all. I'm supposed to tell the director of public health what the hell to do with the obesity problems the islands are facing, when I've never been there before and have little access to a very limited amount of information? Sure...right after I tell Martha Stewart how to decorate for a party, and tell the parents of whining children in public places how to parent. I appreciate the value of sharing fresh, new ideas and innovation, but am not feeling confident that I should be the one to do so in this situation.

Aside from that, and I suppose somewhat food related...the best part of my day was a text I received this morning. I left my apartment at 6:30 AM and about a block away from my front stoop I realized I had forgotten to pack the cereal I bought this weekend. I am a person who relies heavily on routine, punctuality and fiber. I spent careful minutes packing my bag last night, as I do most week nights, with clothes, fruit, school work, etc. - the necessary items for the following day (sometimes two). I thought I was all set, and as I lied in bed I even made a few mental notes to myself about what I should grab in the morning. The fiber-licious Trader Joe's Granola Raisin Crunch cereal I had purchased days before, and deliberately left in the back seat of Deuce's car so not to forget it, was not one of the notes. Hours before I had taken it out of his car, placed it on the roof so I could reach into the trunk to get my bag, and poof- that was my last memory of the purple box. I even thought to myself- DO NOT forget that. So, needless to say, I came to a screeching halt, said a breathy "Fuck" to myself and looked down the street where last night's roof-placement had occurred. No luck. "It's just cereal- whatever, but it's THE cereal. My 1pm bathroom break cereal. It's so good. I can get another box, but not until Wednesday! I must text Deuce. Maybe he saw it, and put it in his car and didn't bother to tell me because it's cereal for Christ's sake and I can live without it for a day. I will see him tonight- it's all good. But I MUST TEXT HIM NOW. Ok, calm down. Text him after the gym, when the sun is up." I did. He wrote back, and God damn it I am a lucky girl. "It's in your pantry. [I saw it on the car last night] I brought it inside." He didn't sign it "Your love machine," but it was early and I'm so grateful that he took the energy to explain as much as he did. It's so nice to know that as I'm losing my mind, he's got my back.

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