Day 310: Taste the Rainbow

Natural way to 'taste the rainbow'

There's something terribly satisfying about the launderette. It's not something I think I'm supposed to like. It seems like something that should be frustrating, but there's a definite sense of purging in a big wash, and it smells so intensely of washing - it's just more of an experience that whacking on a load at home (not that I'm knocking that - I won't complain when I can do that again either. Indeed, I shall rejoice). 

Mmmmm, cleeeeean.

It's a bit like salads. If you live/eat alone, your range of salad variety is limited. How many different vegetables are you willing to buy? How many leaves? How many pots of half-finished olives that could have been there a day and a half or a week and a half are you willing to have doing threats at you from your fridge? When I lived at Esalen, the salad bar was a legend and a blessing. Not only was a huge proportion of it fresh (we harvested lettuce, rocket, beetroot, carrots, kale and radiccio daily), but the range of choice and colour was awe-inspiring. So many people were coming for that salad every day that you didn't have to worry about leftovers. We made raw carrot and beetroot salad with sesame seeds, colourful capsicum surprises, different mixes of green leaves and bitters and all kinds of other delights fresh every day. 

Another benefit of communal living

You know that Lurpak ad with all the vegetables in a rainbow? you could do that on your very plate, every day. Much as I'd often love to do that now, it's more of a commitment, because you know that if you don't finish it up, that lettuce will be limp, the tomatoes all soft and poppy and the carrots going soft so you can bend them in half and they don't even snap. The rocket will go limp and yellow in the packet - and there's a difference between sweetcorn yellow and old leaves yellow - in taste, texture and smell as well as colour. And you're going to have to eat them yourself. Or throw them away. So... launderettes, lots of heat and cycles, washing smells and hot driers. Lots make it compelling. Eat your leftover washing? Hmmm. No. Not that much like salads really. It's also nothing like being naked in a swimming pool. Still, I enjoyed the memory. Thanks, Esalen.

I love that working involves running around a park, telling word at a time stories and throwing imaginary balls around - physically and metaphorically. 

Pretty, pretty. Tasty, tasty.

My felafel floored me. It was peppery and wonderful. It made me very happy. I even took the others back to recommend it. That's how good. And to think, I had burrito in my brains. Felafel is theoretically healthier, and they had purple turnip bits in. Winner. 

And since then... well, my mind's a bit all over the place, but it's all good. It'll settle. I hope I get to play some in the next few days. That'd be nice. It's always good to play.