I’ve only known a few vegetarians in my lifetime. These are people who have never opened a box of macaroni and cheese in their lives. They shop in the produce aisles, at roadside stands, and at black market Amish bake sales. I’m sorry, but you can chop, parboil, and puree a radish all you like and it’s never going to taste like a Snickers bar.
Years ago, while waiting to pick up my kids from preschool, I noticed one of these emaciated souls eating something that looked like candy. My curiosity peaked, I asked her what it was and she offered me a piece of crystallized ginger. It had nothing on salt water taffy, but tasted sweet, with a nice little bite to it.
Of all the home remedies that were forced on me as a child (one of which involving a hose and warm water, that would make any suspect confess to a multitude of crimes) my mother never gave me ginger. It is a proven remedy for headaches, as it reduces inflammation in the brain.
I’m pretty sure that my brain is in a constant state of inflammation. I don’t suffer headaches often because I possess a skull roughly the size of a gym bag, easily accommodating lycra biker shorts, towels, energy drinks, and oversized brains. But my neurons seem to be under-performing lately.
I can only attribute that to brain cells spontaneously combusting every time I try to form a coherent thought. Admittedly, I killed a lot of brain cells in my misbegotten youth, when I enjoyed a liquid diet that would put down a fully grown wildebeest. In the interest of science, today I’m enjoying a liquid diet composed mostly of diet ginger ale.
If my blog is less chaotic than normal, and noticeably free of dog jizz, then I owe a debt to Canada Dry. Still, I’m not likely to resort to Mom’s method for curing constipation. I don’t have any crimes to confess.