Ate two tortillas with cream cheese and salsa. Felt somewhat better. Drank a glass of iced tea. Felt quite better.
Went back to bed, slept great, woke up feeling fine. Big smile, happy about the day.
Juice fasting is not the miracle of rejuvenification I was hoping for. I’m glad to know that apparently Mexican food (or a 15-second approximation thereof) is.
An advance warning… I’m working up to a very big, very angry rant. I’m trying to figure out how to do it with at least an attempt at humor. But it’s about something that makes even Jon Stewart (warning–incredibly boring and virtually agrammatical official bio page) so pissed-off he can barely contain himself. (It’s Bible-thumpin’, fag-baitin’, dislike-of-sodomy-pretendin’, foster-parent-denyin’, covenant-one-man-one-woman-marryin’, nation-under-God-swearin’, Will-and-Grace-fearin’, Larry-the-Cable-Guy watchin’, masculinity-clutchin’ homophobia. That’s what it is.)
More on this fun and fascinating topic later…