Mel’s Cats and My Dream Diary- Thanks Mel!

After I came home all tired and stuffed from the yummy meal at King’s Cafe and fell into a deep sleep. I had really weird dreams that night: a British guy being tortured- his skin flayed and tongue cut off, he was thrown into an underground community of brainwashed mangy ghoul-like humans who were slowly being poisoned by water contamination. This led to a loss of sensation at their limbs and eventual death by spontaneous combustion- with guts, liver and all exploding into a sinewy mess.

Raw Update: I am at 70% raw right now, and I plan to stay that way for some time. I don’t want to stress myself up over detox. It should be least of my worries now. My body is telling me to take things slowly.

I had a hearty cooked meal last night with my friend, E at a Chinese Buddhist restaurant huddled in the streets of Kensington Market called King’s Cafe. I came early so I ordered a ruddy red juice cocktail consisting of carrot, beetroot and ginger. The ginger brought a nice zing to an otherwise earthy blend of beetroot and carrot.

Something’s brewing: buu buu bubbles

Here’s a dinner smoothie of plant blood. It contains two bananas, 3-4 dates, 1 orange and a handful of spinach. No sugar added. Hurray!

My boyfriend, one of the most open-minded people I know, recently found out that I was going RAW. He was like, “That’s all good but where are you going to get your protein?” I can’t imagine what my folks and some friends may think when they find out about new eating habits.

photo credits: Thomas Hawk

Life is full of transitions. From childhood to pre-teen to teenager to young adult to old geezer. During that time, we find that we go through a hell lot of physical, emotional, mental and spiritual upheaval. (Well, for me at least)

There are times when we find a path a little less taken to suit our current state of being and we may find that some people get skeptical about where your headed, appear unsupportive or may even snipe you down.

Despite being born on a tropical island in the equator, I never really ate fruits, except for an occasional piece of apple or watermelon slice and then, perhaps a coconut or two. There was just too many other yummy things to eat, everyone was main-course crazy anyway. And then, there was cake or pie. PIE.

I’ve been missing home lately. The types of fruits that visually reminded me of home. There would be abundant fruit stalls everywhere selling sliced guava with preserved plum powder dressing, pineapple slathered with dark soy sauce and fresh cut chilli peppers… you know, the works.

This is my cat Mr. P. Yes, as you can see,  Mr. P is in a diaper….but not for long.

He gets out of it within minutes. He abhors it. I have no choice but to line the entire couch and his private arm chair with diapers and masking tape. This is primarily the reason why I don’t have people over at my place. It’s an utter cat sty.