The Astromaid Chronicles

Slow Travel, Creative Living, and Speculation

Page 2 of 25

A South American Wedding Voyage, Part One

HEY GUYS! Here I am, after several weeks’ absence. I swear, we’re not dead. We’re not starving, kidnapped, or even carried away by the freak tornado that appeared in Candelaria 24 hours before our wedding.

We’re alive, and well, and actually in Valparaiso at the moment. But that’s not what I came here to write about.

Blogging–no, sorry–using the internet in Candelaria is difficult. There’s only that one freaky government signal to sustain the whole village, and though it reaches the cornfields it doesn’t quite reach Jorge’s parent’s house. So updating the blog, or checking emails, or even communicating with loved ones while in the pueblo is nigh on impossible. So all of my internet activities are slightly backlogged.

I’ve been writing these blog posts in my head for days now, waiting for the moment where I could sit down and elaborate some of these tales. So where do I begin?

At the beginning, of course. Here’s a whirlwind summary of how it all went down.


Kelli and I eagerly appear at the CLE airport for our flight, very much on time. I run into my best friend’s mother at the airport, because things like that happen to me. We go to our gate, the flight is a little delayed, we are getting progressively more wine drunk in celebration of our upcoming wine tours in Argentina, and then suddenly it’s time to board. We board.

Forty minutes later, they tell us we have to get off. Some sort of light for the fuel gauge is not operating, one that MUST be operating prior to take off. The mechanic to fix it won’t be there for two hours. Everyone groans and deplanes. We scoot into the line immediately, eager to reschedule our flight for some sort of magical, immediate replacement that will still allow us to make our connection in Miami.

Last glimpse of Ohio Winter

Goodbye, Ohio? Just kidding. You have one more day here.

It doesn’t happen. The only flight we can take is one leaving almost 24 hours later, routing through Texas. American Airlines mechanical failure strikes again! Remember the engine failure from Lima to Baltimore in 2014? They offer us a free night at the Sheraton, which we take, only mildly soothed by the promise of clean, fluffy beds in exchange for our immediate departure to Argentina. I have no winter jacket, since I left it in the back seat of my father’s car since I was on my way to summer in South America why would I need a jacket? At the Sheraton, Kelli finds what may or may not be a bed bug. We change rooms, expensively dine, and steal all the free shampoos in both rooms (the one thing I had forgotten).


The day we were supposed to be arriving in Mendoza, at noon. We lament this, awake late, and go to the North Olmstead mall to eat greasy food and shop unsuccessfully for bathing suits. We have interesting Lyft experiences, catch our last glimpses of Ohio winter, and show up hopefully to the airport around 5pm. Kelli has to check her carry-on bag at the gate. When we arrive in Texas later that night, we are relieved, but there is little time between flights and a gate agent tells her, somewhat unconvincingly, that her checked carry-on will show up in baggage claim at her destination…wherever that may be. We board the flight to Santiago, Chile, eager for free wine and movies.

I watch The Martian, and realize my longheld dreams of being an astronaut might not actually come to fruition after all. Maybe I’m not cut out for long-term space travel. Maybe I’m only meant to be a lower atmospheric day-tripper. These are things I’ll have to figure out once I enter the space program, I guess.


Hello, Santiago! We make it to the Benito Juarez airport, which is full of expensive wines, Chilean Spanish, a Starbucks and…Ruby Tuesdays? Yep. We consume delicious quesadillas, doing our best to while away the hours until Argentina. We do yoga in the waiting area, pilfer Starbucks’ internet, waiting for the fucking plane to board, and then finally, magically, we are on the plane to Mendoza. About an hour later we are landing on the other side of the Andes, going through customs, and then we are waiting at the one lone baggage claim in the mostly-dilapidated airport that looks more like a forgotten regional airport than a bonafide international airport.

Kelli’s checked carry-on luggage is the first to appear, much to our surprise. Then the rest of luggage appears. SCORE! Wild luggage success. We scurry out of the airport, into the sweltering heat…and Jorge is waiting for us, smiling with his arms open wide.

[cue sappy love music]


[hugging and then more kissing]

Yeah, yeah, after a month apart, I had to stroke his beard a little more than normal, I admit. We get into a taxi and are whisked away to downtown Mendoza. The heat collides with the sonorous, Italian-reminiscent Spanish vowels, and between the sweat and the soot and the palm trees I remember what the fuck it is  love about this place, why these foreign destinations are so intoxicating, why these voyages are not only desired but necessary.

Once we check into our little room at the hostel, Jorge’s friend Gustavo comes over and we begin to straight summer hang–poolside, with freshly cracked beer, all sorts of bug-swatting, heat-relishing, summer style.


We sleep in, then Kelli and I have a slow but methodical yoga session next to the pool. In the afternoon we go on a wine tour, our first ever in Mendoza! We visit two wineries and one olive oil factory. They are all interesting and varying levels of delicious and clean. We each leave with a case of wine. Oops! Or should I say, SCORE!

Mendoza Argentina bodega

Standing in front of the wine barrels we wish we could be swimming in!

Mendoza Argentina bodega

It’s a good day for a bodega stroll. 90 degrees outside, but 60 degrees in the wine cave!

Argentina Wine Tour

Wine tasting. Would you believe some people tossed their wines after tasting them? THE HORROR.

That night at the hostel, we have a cookout and invite all of Jorge’s friends. It is full of meat and wine and bread. I feel like a glutton, as always, since it is a stark contrast to my regular, chosen diet. We have a delightful, drunken time. Hurray, Argentina! Hurray, Malbec! Hurray, South America!

We go to bed, bellies satisfied and South-American-plump. We need the sleep, because much greater treks await us. And so much merriment is already surrounding us, and so much more awaits!

Not only is my best friend Kelli with us, experiencing this region that is so special to Jorge and now to me, we are about to celebrate our love and our union in the southern hemisphere, with Jorge’s friends and family.

Next installment: Commence the Candelaria!

South America Packing List: Winter 2016 Version

About this time last year, I was hopping planes from Peru to Chicago to India in order to celebrate the wedding of my good friend Kalit. Kelli and I made the voyage together from Chicago to India…but this year? We’re going from Cleveland to South America, to celebrate my own wedding.

This Saturday, we’ll head to the C-L-E for our summery Argentina & Chile excursion. We’ve got plenty of things on the docket: Mendoza wine tour, all of Jorge’s extended family (including the far-flung relatives I’ve never met), our wedding reception RURAL STYLE, bus rides through the Andes, and the lovely VALPARAISO, with all the graffiti, sea shore, and hill climbing we can stand.

Much like last year, I’m facing the problem of what the hell do I do about the different temperatures in all these places I’m going? Because right now, in Jorge’s homeland, it’s like 100 degrees. And in Ohio, right now, it’s 18 degrees.

One thing is for certain this time–I can at least leave my winter jacket behind in Ohio. It’ll go like this: my dad will pull up to Departures…he’ll slow to a crawl, keeping an eye out for the police officers who want to shoo everyone along before they’ve had time to even cough…I will shed my soon-to-be-unnecessary jacket, feigning I’m-about-to-unload-officer motions…I’ll glance heavily at the snowfall around me…and I will barrel roll out of the car with my backpack already strapped on, gathering momentum until I feel the whoosh of hot air as I glide through the sliding doors of the Check-In area.

VICTORY. No winter jacket…no hypothermia…no ridiculous, laden bags.

For my four week trip out of the USA this year, I am packing light. Or, as light as I can muster given that I need out-of-the-ordinary things like jewelry for my wedding dress and various flats in case I change my mind last minute.

Jorge warned me the other day to be prepared for the heat. I mean, it’s a valid warning, though my immediate reaction was “Pfff, OK. Like I need to prepare for that.”

But I do. I mean, if you get somewhere that’s 100 degrees and you don’t have a single pair of shorts or a single sleeveless shirt…that’s a special kind of hell already. Your limbs gotta breathe.

That said, I’m prepared for the damn heat. I have like, three summer dresses, two pairs of shorts, all of the tank tops I’ve ever laid eyes on, and two bathing suits. I’m prepared for the heat.

But I’m also prepared for other things. Let’s take a look at this snapshot of my packing progress today.

Yeah, yeah, it looks like I've only packed five things. I swear there's a backpack with other stuff in it.

Yeah, yeah, it looks like I’ve only packed five things. I swear there’s a backpack with other stuff in it.

What are we looking at here?

Sunglasses: check.

Passport: duh. Check.

Bindis: check. You never know when you’ll need a bindi to color-coordinate with your outfit at your Argentinian wedding.

Rattle: check. This is a magical rattle and was part of a larger rattle from my best friend Heather, so this is either self-explanatory or more confusing.

Mermaid leggings: check. I may very well not put these leggings on, especially since they are skin-tight and made of a fabric that seems like it would induce epic sweating. But, let’s be real…if I get to South America and there’s even one moment where I WISH I had these leggings and I DON’T? I’ll have failed as the resident Astronaut Mermaid. After all, it’s wise to plan for a little bit of space in your luggage…and whether that space ends up fitting mermaid leggings or bootlegged bottles of Malbec wine on your way back into the country, or BOTH…hey. That’s your call.

Those are the essentials….so far, at least. Luckily, my wedding dress is already in Argentina, waiting for me, probably sweating on my behalf in the San Luis heat. That’s one item you wouldn’t want to forget for your wedding in South America, but thankfully I sent it ahead with my personal husband courier.

Oh, and don’t forget to check back for more updates on our wedding, Southern Hemisphere Edition…there’s more Wedding Woes and Wonders ahead! Signing off, for now…

Jorge Ditches Winter and Sandusky Discoveries

Well folks, the husband has officially left the country! On January 18th, he set off for Argentina, where he’s already relaxing in pools, drinking Fernet, visiting all his friends and family, and probably becoming tanner by the millisecond….while I’m left to wither and grow brittle in the Ohio winter.

*sigh* Jerk.

(Just kidding, Jorge. I love you and approve of your southern hemisphere tanning and soon I’ll be there to participate as well. Except I won’t be as deliciously bronzed as you, just mostly lobster red.)

I’ll be joining him in a couple weeks. But right before my spouse’s sudden departure, two of my good friends arrived in their RV for a couple of weeks of shenanigans with the Sandusky crew. We’ve been participating in all sorts of goodies, including a trip to Chicago, lots of shared dinners, and good quality friend time.

I’m definitely not one to feel lost without my significant other by my side. But it does take an adjustment period, and it always stings in the beginning. Time apart is nothing new for us–in our roughly three year relationship, we’ve spent up to six weeks apart three times already. So four weeks in Argentina before I arrive won’t be the worst.

But the first few days are always the saddest..and where I’m reminded how cold a queen bed can be without someone else in it. And how strange those creaks and rustles are throughout the house without the ability to scream for Jorge. (Is the gutter scraping the house? Or is someone knifing their way through the front window? I’m not sure.) And how much I maybe actually relied on him to handle certain tasks like disposing of the cooking oil and making our bed.

Since his departure, I found out something unexpected about Sandusky: there’s a weekly meditation group. Converging Paths Meditation Center meets every Tuesday at 7pm at the old Knights of Columbus building. We all went a couple weeks ago because we heard there was a kirtan. The group was so lovely that I have decided to make this part of my routine in Sandusky.

The group has been around for years. I’m shocked that I didn’t find it until now, but in a way, I’m also not surprised. Though I’ve had a daily yoga practice for years, it wasn’t until a Buddhist meditation event in Nashville that I even realized the power of intentional meditation outside of my yoga practice.

Ashtanga is considered a moving meditation; and I definitely count it as my form of daily meditation. But since my trip to India a year ago, I’ve had one resounding echo within: meditate more. As in, outside of my yoga practice. Additional meditation. Intentional meditation.

So this group found me at the right time, it seems.

It’s a weekly meet-up that feels both nourishing and restorative. I’m not a person who likes to make too many plans. If I have a couple extra-curricular things in my schedule during a week, even if they’re things I WANT to do, they can feel cumbersome or overwhelming. There’s just something about the looming  date and time of an event that has a compounding dread effect inside me.

But this meditation group doesn’t make me feel that way. If there’s one thing that I can commit to, it’s a weekly group of people that meet up and sit in silence. Hell yes.

Anybody wanna join me? 

NiceTalk, Nice Gig

I’m starting a new category today called #ShareTheWealth, where I share interesting and potentially lucrative or money-saving ideas. Today’s item came from my friend Justin Gray, a nomad often on the lookout for interesting jobs that support a life drifting with the wind. He has an uncanny ability to find some gems like this one below.

If you’re like me, maybe you’ve recognized the fact that you are fluent in a language people want to learn, but have never really jived with the whole “teaching” thing. It’s been a weird aspect throughout my life, I must admit. As a vagabond, the opportunity to teach English abroad is EVERYWHERE. Literally. It’s the most plentiful job opportunity out there (not that it always pays well, however).

But I don’t like to teach. I just don’t. I’ve known since a very young girl that I would never be a traditional teacher. It has never appealed to me. Creating lesson plans make me feel unsettled, and needing to control classrooms of 5 or 15 year old’s makes a factory job sound preferable. Can’t there just be some way to simply CONVERSE with people in my native language and get paid for it? You know, just skip the 9-5 English Teacher part and convey my skills another way?

Turns out there is. 

NiceTalk. It’s an app, and it comes from China, and it pairs English language-learners with native English speakers. What’s a good way for students to practice English outside of the classroom? Use technology to connect them to native speakers halfway around the world! Duh!

This app is like something from Back To The Future. As a teacher, I log on, and sooner or later I’ll get a call from a student. Once I accept, we’re looking at each other, thousands of miles away, talking as though face-to-face. Once each call is done, I send the student a comment or suggestion, and then I’m able to receive more calls. I can log on or off whenever I want (keeping in mind the time in China when I’m online).

Nicetalk Tutor App

And I get paid. $10/hour. Not bad for a side gig, eh? Even though some calls might last only a few minutes, they can add up quickly. The app pays weekly, as long as you’ve hit a $20 threshold. And all for just conversing in your native language, free of lesson plans and report cards and wearing sensible gray skirts.

The app itself isn’t the most polished or English-proficient tool. There’s definitely some Engrish-grade flubs here and there, and sometimes the app freezes. Overall, though, it’s easy to learn and quite user-friendly.

Prior to becoming a tutor, you must apply for the position via the app. This involves submitting an introductory video, which will be assessed by NiceTalk employees. If approved, you fill out your profile and begin accepting calls immediately. The profile includes things like education, languages spoken, and basic interests, so potential students can select tutors they jive with.

If you’re good, or sociable, or helpful, you’ll get repeat students. So far, I’ve talked with a wide variety of students: an 11-year old boy just before his grandparents finished making lunch…a 20-something physics teacher who studied in the UK…a 16-year-old girl who called just before her morning classes began at high school. And so many more! I never imagined I’d be able to peek into the home life of a regular Chinese family, or inside a high school. It’s a really cool cultural exchange for that reason. You’re able to glimpse slices of life that you might never come into contact with otherwise…and have some pretty interesting conversations along the way.

If you’re interested in signing up and you want to help a girl out, use my referral code: MTVE2B1L. Or just go to, sign up, and start tutoring!

Juice Cleanse Log, Days #3 and DONE


9:00AM: Up and at ’em! No yoga this morning since I have a doctor’s appointment first. I slug back one of my favorite juices, carrot-apple-ginger, but somehow it tastes less delicious after two full days of vegetables juices. Still, it’s not bad. I look fondly at the Keurig.

10:00AM: At the doctor’s office. The nurse readies the cuff to take my blood pressure. “I’ve been juicing,” I blurt out, feeling a little crazed. “Will that affect any of the readings?” She takes my blood pressure, I don’t pass out. “I expected it to be a little lower,” she says. It’s 120/80. Maybe it’s the stress of missing food.

10:03AM: I get weighed. I’m a couple pounds lighter than the last time I weighed myself, which might have been six months ago. I thought drinking nothing but liquefied kale plantations would have shown more on the scale.

11:00AM: Time for errands! I flit around the city for a couple hours for a  variety of tasks, but one of my most important goals: buy miso soup. This will pair nicely with the tofu I bought yesterday. A friend at the health food store asks if I feel amazing from juicing. “Ehh…I feel good,” I tell her. “Not bad, but not crazy awesome. I thought it would be more sparkly than this.” I do mention the heightened sense of smell. There is at least one superpower that comes from juicing.

2:00PM: Errands run long, and I’m just getting home to drink my mid-morning coconut water! I slam it as fast as I can, irrationally happy that I have no more of these pink bottles of tasty-yet-unsettling coconut water. Then comes the lunch juice. I make the Green Lemonade again, which goes down easily. I feel good. It’s okay. It’s less than 24 hours until I’ll eat miso soup.

4:00PM: Gentle yoga with Jorge. I feel surprisingly powerful. But some of those wide-legged forward bends didn’t feel so good in the head/dizziness area. He does part of the Primary Series with me, and then we switch to gentle yoga poses. Om! As in…ommmm, nom nom. Food is happening tomorrow!

5:00PM: I have a late juice snack, this time a new mixture of beets, carrots, celery, oranges, lemon and basil. It’s great–much more delicious than the other beet juice.  Husband fries an egg in the kitchen. I slink away, glaring at him.

7:00PM: Dinner juice time! I have leftovers from lunch. It’s fine. It’s green. It’s full of kale. Just trying to imagine those nutrients massaging my stem cells, or whatever the hell they’re supposed to be doing in there.

9:00PM: Jorge cooks dinner now, and it smells so delicious I can’t bear it. Freaking heightened sense of smell. Someday…I will eat again. Though I might break the seal with miso soup tomorrow, I probably shouldn’t rush straight into a dinner like this.

10:00PM: Is my skin glowing? I think I look slightly more radiant. I’m not sure. It might be juice haze in my eyeballs. Or maybe the fascinating array of nutrients being slam-dunked into my DNA. Again, not sure about the scientific gears behind this. I drink a herbal tea and settle down for the night…and this time, my belly is HUNGRY!



9:00AM: Good lord, I’m hungry. Despite this, I start my regular Ashtanga practice, slowly and carefully. I make it to standing postures and then I have to abandon in search of hot water with lemon and a breakfast beet-mix juice. After making it, I notice my fridge is considerably less full. Like, I actually have a little bit of space in it now, after barreling through thirteen pounds of produce in three days.

11:00AM: It’s almost miso time. I will definitely eat miso soup for lunch. I cannot wait. I’ve never made miso soup at home before; hell, I’ve only had miso soup a handful of times in my life. But I have never BEEN. MORE. EXCITED. FOR ANYTHING.


12:32PM: THIS IS GONNA BE SO GOOD. I cut scallions, and cube the tofu. It is so firm and ready. What lovely tofu. It’s gonna be so nice to eat. With my teeth and my jaw and mastication.

12:35PM: I think it’s ready. I can’t let the miso boil once the tofu is in, I read that. I wait a few minutes for everything to warm. My stomach has very nearly burst through skin to get a taste of this broth.

12:40PM: This is momentous. MOMENTOUS. I call my best friend Brian to tell him about the fact that I’m about to eat this soup. He doesn’t pick up. I leave a voicemail of my first slurp of soup. GOD, IT’S SO GOOD.

1:00PM: Bloated with miso, looking at my empty bowl, pondering another one.

1:30PM: Yeah, I’ll have a second helping. Bet your ass I will.  Brian calls me as I’m preparing the soup. He gets to hear the first slurp of the second bowl this time.

2:00PM: Juice fast complete.


That wraps up my first ever juicing log, folks! Overall, it was a fun experience, but it didn’t blow my mind. I’d definitely do it again, but probably a longer cleanse next time. However, not anytime soon.  I know this was a shorter duration, so maybe days four and five of the next juice cleanse will bring more interesting results.

Transitioning back into regular food took an additional three days, so it felt like this juice cleanse actually lasted longer since I continued with juices AND ate mostly soups (hello, miso!) for about two full days afterward. Even though during the transition I fantasized heavily about all sorts of foods I wanted to eat…thinking about how my body might feel and react to said foods caused (and still causes me) to weigh these options more heavily. And I think that’s a good thing!

In summation, I can safely say one thing: I really love food. I love preparing it, I love pairing it, I love eating it. I’ll probably do this cleanse (or even another one) again next year or whenever I’m feeling particularly unhealthy or unbalanced. Until that time though…viva la comida! 

Juice Cleanse Log, Day #2


8:00AM: Early morning, and we’re off to Cleveland! I take the leftovers from my dessert juice in a jar, and the leftovers from my lunch yesterday since we’ll be out of the house until 1pm. Oh, and don’t forget the glowing pink coconut water! There is an important meeting this morning, and I can’t be wilting in front of lawyers because I didn’t nourish myself properly. I nurse my hot water and lemon until almost 10AM. I am scared to drink the beet juice from last night again.

10:00AM: The meeting with the lawyer begins. She appraises my vivid red beverage and nods knowingly. “Are you juicing?” “Yep,” I reply. “This is a beet juice for breakfast.” She laughs. “I do that in the mornings, too. Disgusting, huh?” She understands me.

NOON: I shudder as the last of the breakfast beet juice goes down. There were little chunks of beet greens in it and for some reason it made me wanna puke. I reluctantly begin my coconut water and then lunch juice not long after. It’s gonna be a long ass day.

4:00PM: I skipped the post-lunch juice because I wasn’t hungry. How could that be?  I have consumed the equivalent of two meals through yesterday and today combined. But I’m just not. I lay down in bed because there’s a headache creeping in. Oh, god. They said this could happen. My body is rejecting the juice! Or maybe this is the cleansing process. 

6:00PM: I wake up, feeling a little better than before. I have my dinner juice, a hefty mixture of cucumber and, you guessed it, an entire crop of kale. It’s good but somehow not appetizing. Maybe the cucumber is too heavy. Maybe I’ve only drank juice for two days. Maybe I’d really like some of that fucking pasta my husband is making right now.

6:30PM: Fantasies about tofu commence. And tempeh. And vegetable soup. And more tofu. I can practically taste pan-seared tofu. I would give almost anything to eat it. ANYTHING.

7:00PM: Husband is cruelly using the oven again to cook food. Except is that a gas leak? I open the back door to let in some air. Man, it smells like something went wrong with the oven. He has no idea what I’m reacting to. Jamie tells me your sense of smell is heightened during fasts. This is what pregnancy will be like. Jesus God, save me already.

9:00PM: We go to Kroger to buy emergency apples for my juicing…and a package of tofu. Just in case. Just in case.

10:00PM: Oh, sweet herbal tea! There’s only one more day of juicing ahead of me. Just one more day of cucumbers, apples, carrots, kale, ginger, and lemons in liquid form. What is it like to chew? Will I even be able to after another day of juicing? What if your jaw works only from constant practice? I cannot wait to eat tofu. 

10:30PM: Belly rumbles, but still not really hungry.  Feeling sort of unsettled, somewhere between nauseous and bloated. Maybe I’ll never drink juice again. It’s time for bed. Only one more day left of this…and then I can eat tofu.

Juice Cleanse Log, Day #1

In a fit of wild-eyed optimism, I made the decision to do a juice cleanse as of the first Monday of the year. My regular routine is that I take breaks every so often from caffeine and alcohol, but to start this year off I felt inspired to take it a little further– give a juice cleanse a try. It was an idea I had toyed with for several years and the timing never felt right.

Until 2016, that is. So last weekend I spent some time arranging the necessary implements–I laid out the reboot juicing plan, made sure my juicer was ready and shiny, and spent *too much money* on the 55 lbs of produce needed.

Here. You'll need this for just one juice. [Photo Credit:]

Here. You’ll need this for just one juice. [Photo Credit:]

Monday came. I was ready. By Monday evening, things had deteriorated so far that I needed to start an hourly log, just in case I didn’t make it to the other side and people were curious about my final hours.

JUST KIDDING! But I did start a log, and here it is. 


Noon: I’ve technically started my juice cleanse today, but nothing is different yet because I don’t normally eat breakfast until after I finish practicing Ashtanga yoga. Also, I binged on roasted vegetables last night because hey, I’m not gonna be eating for three days! Still, I feel empowered by the difference of this Monday! Juice Cleanse, You’re Great!

1pm: I’ve drank the standard hot-water-and-lemon, as well as my breakfast juice, Carrot-Apple-Ginger. Both of these also constitute my regular waking routine some days, so I am winning hardcore.

2:30PM: It’s time for my snack, 16oz of coconut water. I bought the most expensive kind imaginable, the kind that a friend swore tastes like the coconut water she drank out of actual coconuts in Brazil. For some reason it is pink. They say it’s because of antioxidants but when I think about it, I don’t even know how antioxidants work. I am not a huge fan of coconut water, but this beverage is heavenly delicious. It’s almost so good it makes me feel weird. The pink is disconcerting.

3:00PM: Lunch juice! “Joe’s Mean Green”, a juice that requires 16 pieces of kale and subsequently, about $15 dollars to make. Whatever. It’s so fresh and maybe just a little bit too sour! I can practically feel the nutrients washing through my cells and snapping my DNA into shape.

5:00PM: Time for another snack! Man, they don’t give you any time to get hungry on this plan. I make a juice with pineapple and yellow bell pepper. It is so awesome, I’m definitely making this one when I eat regular food again–if that time ever comes? I can’t believe how smart this juice plan is! Good god.

6:30PM: Dinner Juice is upon us. I make a “Green Lemonade”, which again uses 16 kale leaves (which is essentially just one whole bunch), celery, apple, spinach, and cucumber. It’s very green. Like, extremely green. It’s good…I suppose.

6:45PM: Still drinking dinner. Flip through facebook as I drink. Belly is rumbling.

6:50PM: Stumble across a taco meme posted by a friend. Oh, god! Tacos! That sounds SO GOOD.

6:55PM: I wonder what I’ll make for dinner–stop it. Stop it right there. You’ve got this great juice and that’s your dinner, now drink it and like it.

7:00PM: I wonder what I’ll make for dinn–nope. NOT AGAIN. You are not eating today, nor for the following two days. Get used to it.

7:30PM: Still drinking the juice. Man I’d love to go make some dinner right now.

8:00PM: Still drinking dinner juice. Finally make a herculean effort to swallow the rest in a huge gulp. I shudder. It’s down.

9:00PM: Welp, it’s time for dessert. More juice. Yay. This time, I make a beet-carrot-orange juice. It looked so refreshing on the menu plan, but this is just not nearly as tasty as I hoped for. I hope it doesn’t give me nightmares. But think of all these nutrients! It’s so worth it. I struggle to choke it back. My cells have to be rejoicing somewhere inside me.

10:00PM: Time for my nightly herbal tea. Though what I’d really like is a slice of bread that Jorge just finished baking….GOD. THE SMELL. I need to escape into the bedroom. Time to hope this chamomile does its job. I fall asleep, belly moaning and visions of tacos dancing through my head.


Day #1 had its ups and downs…and in retrospect, every day of the cleanse was different from the rest! I’ll post more from my log soon!

Have any of you done juice cleanses? What was your first day like? 

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