'Pink slime' you say? Here's the truth.

Is it okay to start a second blog when you hardly ever write in the first?  I pose this question to which there will be no answer (I assume no one is reading this anymore) with a brain filled with too much information and nowhere to put it.  After three years of schooling in public health, I have finally taken a course that excites and interests and frustrates me to the point of migraine headaches and nausea.  In a good way.  I am filled with a dread for our national and global future, frustrated by the climate of politics in my country and disgusted with the amount of misinformation out there in regards to science.  I don't proclaim to be an expert on much, but there are certain areas of science, medicine and the environment that I know a lot about.  I also simply have a desire to know the truth.  Not the headline or the abstract, the whole story.  Take the story of "pink slime" as an example.  I say story and put that phrase in quotes not to be sarcastic, but because it's the truth.  There is no such thing as "pink slime".  It is a phrase made up by a former US government scientist, written in what was presumed to be a private email that eventually went public.  "A lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to get its pants on" - Winston Churchill.

Let's get our pants on.  I will be the first to admit that I think hamburger is kind of icky, as are hot dogs, bologna and any other meat product of questionable origin.  But a lot of people think they are tasty.  And I don't begrudge anyone that which makes them happy, within reason.  The fact of the matter is "lean finely textured beef (LFTB)",  as it is known in the beef industry, is part of hamburger.  A safe part.  I'll take you through what I know.  Cattle are slaughtered for steaks and whatnot and when you do all that cutting, there is a certain amount of fat and muscle that doesn't make the grade.  These trimmings are more likely to have been contaminated by intestinal bacteria such as E. coli (the oft-maligned, sometimes rightfully so, bacterium that lives in the gut).  Instead of wasting that fat and muscle by throwing it out or threatening the food supply by using it as is, a company came up with a way of utilizing the meat.  It involves centrifuging the trimmings and removing a large amount of the fat.  Hey, we're healthier already!  This is where we get the lean part of LFTB.  The next step is to process the remaining beef to eliminate the threat of bacterial contamination by treating it with ammonium hydroxide or citric acid.  These compounds raise the acidity of the LFTB making it a less than cozy environment for bacteria to reside.  The LFTB is then added in with other ground bits of beef to make hamburger.  The use of ammonium hydroxide caused a major stir.  Ammonia?  In our food?  What?!  Settle down.  Why doesn't anyone freak out about the citric acid?  Because we conjure images of orange juice instead of the noxious blue liquid that leaves our windows with a streak-free shine.  I've got some news for you.  You're not eating glass cleaner when you eat hamburger.  Or certain baked goods, puddings and other processed foods.  That's right folks, ammonium hydroxide is used in many different food products.  And, the finished product of LFTB contains very little leftover ammonia.

So I again say I think hamburger is icky.  However, people like to eat it.  And they will continue to do so.  Now that "pink slime" has been removed from certain hamburger blends do you think you are safer?  Nope, probably just the opposite.  Are we going to be importing more beef from other countries to supplement our supply?  Likely yes.  Do these other countries have reliable inspection processes at slaughterhouses?  Maybe, maybe not.  Roll the dice, eat your burger and know that this story of "pink slime" has led to plant shutdowns, company bankruptcies and JOB LOSS.  And if you don't believe me, check this out:
Star Tribune Editorial
South Sioux City News 4      

Okay, so back to my original question.  I think I'm going to start a science blog.  This was my test.

To make a long story short...

I am not going to go through everything that has happened since I last posted (a long, long time ago).  Things happened, I had a nervous breakdown, some other things happened, I started seeing a therapist, got some meds and here we are.  Yay.

What I will say is that there were a few scary weeks in which I cried every day.  Mostly just constant tears, but moments of hyperventilating-can't-walk-from-the-bathroom-back-to-the-living-room-and-end-up-on-the-hallway-floor-sobbing.  Not okay.  So I bucked up and went to the world's best therapist.  She's fabulous.  Turns out I don't think very highly of myself...which is weird 'cause I thought I thought otherwise.  I'm working on it.  Among other things.  I've started by cleaning up the clutter of my life.  The physical clutter, you know, stacks of papers and books, misplaced items and all that.  The idea is that by changing my behaviors I can change my internal image of myself.  My goal is to reach a moment where I can believe that I'm worth it without having to tell it to myself.

To say I'm a work in progress is an understatement of epic proportions.  But aren't we all?  I don't think that I'll ever get to a point where I think I've got it all worked out.  And that's totally okay.  What I hope for is to be present in my life.  For many years I've felt as if I'm just living on the surface, getting from one day to the next.  It was all I was capable of.  Get up, go to work, go home, go to bed, start again.  That's if I could manage to talk myself out of bed, most days I could, with the promise of a nap or telling myself that when I get home I can do nothing.  And my days off were often spent horizontal staring at the TV with glazed eyes.  My escape.  My retreat from real life.  If someone asks me what I did on my day off and I say nothing, the most often given response is "well it's nice to do nothing sometimes."  I wonder if it's so nice when it's all the time.  I still struggle with this.  I think it's become habit now rather than necessity, but I'm not sure.  Right now, in my kitchen, there are clean dishes in the dishwasher that have been in there since Super Bowl Sunday.  February 5th.  It's the 27th.  You can imagine what has become of the dishes that have been used and dirtied in the meantime.  I keep telling myself that I'll do it in a bit.  I'll do it later.  I'll do it tomorrow.  I'll do it when I get home.  But I haven't.  And I don't know why.

I still isolate myself.  I still don't reach out to my friends and family.  I'm still a work in progress.

I live in the city for cripe's sake! Sort of.

The Starbucks lady was in a much better mood today. She wasn't working the register so that may have had something to do with it. And it's Friday...so there's that. Regardless of the reason, she was downright pleasant and all is right with the world.

I haven't made any plans with the ex, but am pretty sure that I will end up going out for drinks against my better judgment. Even though I've thought a lot about how it's a really bad idea and that I should remain sober and in control. There is still the possibility that it will happen that way and there is also the distinct possibility that we won't go out at all. It's not like he has my number (even though it's the same one I've had since the late 90's) or like I have his (because he definitely does NOT have the same number...I tried that when I couldn't find him last time) so unless we're on facebook at the same time, no plans will be made.

The 24 yr old is working two full time jobs and apparently has no time for anything or anybody. Except beer pong. I understand people have their priorities. Whatevs. The summer of boys is turning out to be a big dud. I suppose I can always check out match.com again and see what fresh batch of lame-o's are on there. I also need to check and see when that subscription is up again so I cancel it before they renew without authorization.

I'm off to take Max for a walk since the dew point is back in a reasonable range. I am all about heat, but when it's 90 degrees and the dew point is in the 70s, just walking from my car to my house made me sweaty. And Max is only comfortable in a very small range of temperatures. Like my Mom. Hopefully we don't have any coyote sightings. That's right, you read correctly, I said coyote. There has been one roaming around my neighborhood and I wouldn't have believed my neighbor when she told me about it, but I'm pretty sure I saw it the day before she told me. It was running down my street and I thought it was a stray dog that looked a bit like a German Shepherd. I now have to go outside with Max to watch for this coyote so he doesn't try to eat my dog. This puts a crimp in my morning routine since Max likes to just run around the yard aimlessly for about 15-20 minutes before doing his business. I usually get up 20 minutes before I need to leave. You see how this is a problem. I can't exactly get ready while I'm sitting out on the porch waiting to scare off a wild animal. And what the hell am I going to do to a coyote anyway? Hopefully it's afraid of all people as I am not a very big one.

Maybe she could hear me rolling my eyes?

So I go to Starbucks this morning for my grande iced vanilla soy latte 'cause that's how I roll when it's 77 and humid at 8:30 am. If it were cooler I would have gone with the tall hot caramel soy latte. I used to drink the coffee made at work, but after we were out for a week or two and I got used to Starbucks and the Peace Coffee that I make at home, the coffee at work now tastes like ass and I want no part in it. I cannot, however, drink regular black Starbucks coffee. It makes me feel like I'm on crack and then I crash into a post-caffeine hangover where I feel nauseous and have a headache. So I opt for the latte, with soy milk because I only drink organic milk and while they sell little Horizon milk boxes, I don't think they offer it for use in their drinks. I could be wrong about that. (Side note: I just looked up from my computer and noticed that it is suddenly pouring rain and super windy outside. I'm hoping for hail so I can get the massive scrape on the side of my car fixed from when I had a run-in with a concrete post.) Back to Starbucks. I only have a half hour for a coffee break so I just want to get my latte and head outside to read Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang (Hi-larious, but I have no link for this book...I couldn't decide on amazon or barnes and noble...you should support your local bookstore, unlike me who bought it at Target). There wasn't a line so I was fired up, until I slowly came to the realization that the lady in front of me with the cute southern accent and the rolling briefcase was buying several mugs, wanted them filled with coffee and also wanted to buy a bunch of the little graham cracker/cookie/snacks that they sell. Sigh. The girl takes my order anyway, but they only have one register open and while they have the manager there plus three worker bees, no one seems to think it would be a good idea to open the second register to deal with the obvious sales rep for whatever. Then the lady with the cute southern accent and rolling briefcase offers to pay for my drink because I'm having to wait for her. Except she wasn't that nice about it. It was sort of like a backhanded payment because she thought I was annoyed at having to wait. True, but not the point. She thought this because, while I had accepted her offer, I was still standing there...because I was certain that she wouldn't be able to tell the register girl that what she was paying for was a grande iced vanilla soy latte. Just making sure that Starbucks was properly compensated for my beverage. I was as gracious as one could be after having her drink begrudgingly paid for by someone who was buying an obnoxious amount of shit for 8:30 in the morning. Later in the afternoon I went to grab some lunch at the student union, I get into the shortest line and slowly realize why it's the shortest line. Yep, the lady with the cute southern accent and rolling briefcase is now buying a bunch of Panda Express meals complete with fortune cookies. Unfortunately, I was not directly behind her so I had to pay for my spicy California roll and strawberries. Dang. On an up note, I spent my lunch break reading while taking long glances to the side at the two shirtless guys with nice bodies putting up a tent on the lawn. Not a bad way to spend 30 minutes if you ask me.

I've been afraid this was going to happen...

...I got recognized by one of the pizza guys at my local Davanni's. I have officially gone there so many times to pick up my medium, thin crust, veggie works pizza that dude behind the counter was like "That's Asia" to the guy at the register and "I totally remember you" to me. I can only say that at least he's cute and I believe that he thinks I'm cute too. I was taken aback though because I just got my hair cut short and dyed blonde with red underneath yesterday and feel like I would be unrecognizable to someone that I don't see that often. Like, for instance, Pizza Guy. He's not even there every time I come in. Yikes. I probably order pizza once or twice a month. Maybe three times. It's hard to say...I'd have to check my bank records. And I don't want to do that. It might be sad. I really can't help it...I happen to love pizza, dislike grocery shopping, get too lazy to grill or cook and today it's too warm outside to turn on the oven. I have a salmon fillet in the fridge that I was going to cook on the grill, but I just didn't feel like it and decided that pizza sounded delicious. And I'm having one of those I-had-a-few-cocktails-last-night-and-just-want-to-eat-crap-all-day kind of days. I had chips and salsa for a mid-morning snack. This whole Davanni's thing is not the first situation that has led me to decide that my life is becoming more and more like Miranda on Sex & the City. Chocolate instead of sex was the first one. Not that I'm on strike as she was, but still. There have definitely been times when I've made brownies or eaten several pieces of dark chocolate instead of trolling for a random guy to have sex with. It's safer I suppose, but not as satisfying. So I now have to be on the look-out for an old boyfriend with one ball...and run away!