Tag Archives: kombucha

Hmm, that Kombucha thing, not so sure…

You know, you’d think that someone — me, for instance — who has a brain, who knows how to think and stuff like that, would have realized sooner that since kombucha is fermented it would likely have an alcohol content…

Even while the level is low in it, I’m super-sensitive to alcohol.

I had a small glass of that stuff yesterday afternoon, and then could not, for the life of me, figure out why I was having such a stupidly hard time concentrating on the rewrites of the play.

My entire day derailed from then on. I could not focus, and even though the changes the director wanted me to make to the play were in red on the printed script and very easy to see, it was a colossal effort for me to hone in on them and then type the changes into the Word file. I’d look at the red highlighted stuff and then think: How on earth am I supposed to do this?  So a lot of stuff I wound up double-highlighting in blue and setting aside to “look at later.” Just crazy stuff.

And my energy level was weird; I couldn’t even do my yoga. I really started to get a little depressed because I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. Luckily, I talked on the phone with Kara for quite awhile in the evening and that distracted me from feeling like I was losing my mind.

It wasn’t until this morning, when I woke up feeling really disappointed in myself for not getting enough done yesterday when I have another meeting with the director on Friday — then it occurred to me that maybe the kombucha had messed up my energy somehow. And so then I looked it up and, yes, there’s alcohol in there. Trace amounts, but it’s in there.

So, I guess I’m gonna have to have a little talk with kombucha and tell it that it’s not working out…

It’s kind of humiliating, though. When I initially looked at the changes the director wanted (this is for the brand new revisions I did last week), I saw that they were really simple changes that I could do in a heartbeat, and then move on to plenty of new stuff by Friday. So, to get stymied like that, and lose a whole day of work. Wow.

It reminds me of the time I accidentally ate a guy’s chocolate chip cookie that was laced with Molly and my day was fucking shot.

(You can see that I’m not one who likes to not work…)

(You’d never know that I’m someone who spent about 20 years of her life with severe “recreational” drug problems… Now I can’t tolerate them at all.)

Well, so. I hope your Tuesday was significantly better than mine! And Wednesday is indeed before us, a fresh slate. (Unless you’re one of those people who lives somewhere where Wednesday is already on its way out — i.e., Australia, or someplace intensely foreign like that.)

I wish I could be in Australia right now, though, to see one of those concerts Nick Cave & Warren Ellis are doing with the Symphony Orchestra in Melbourne. I’m guessing it is going to be just stunningly beautiful. (Their film scores.)

(Which reminds me that Nick Cave’s Red Hand Files newsletter yesterday was really funny, although it left me with a vision of him that I’d rather not have in my head.)


I guess in keeping with this feeling that an undercurrent of change is underway in my life, I’ve been feeling lately that I want to work with the elderly again. Not give up writing, or anything, but just spend some hours in my week leaving the constant confines of my crazy head and do something meaningful, something “outward.”

I’ve done a lot of work with the elderly — not as a nurse or anything, but in connection with my ministry degree, I did a lot of what are called Pastoral Care education hours, because my professors thought I would be a good fit for a Chaplain. Since it was clear, I guess, that I was way too radical to ever get a church of my own or anything.

I wasn’t keen on that Chaplain idea because it just seemed like all I would be doing was dealing with people on the brink of death and families who were grieving — all the time. Crisis mode, all the time.  That is just not me. Although I was trained in hospice care and early Alzheimer’s care, and I actually really did enjoy that.

But, if I start doing that stuff again — you know, then you’re one-on-one with people, and you’re bonding, and creating deep connections — and I have 2 plays that I’m up to my eyeballs in, and a million other projects in line after that. And I’m going to have to travel — what’s the use in having such a  hideous passport photo if no one in far-flung foreign countries (like, Canada) ever gets to see it??

I think I’m crazy. I’m not sure why I think my life needs more meaning at this particular juncture. It probably actually needs less at this point, but I just haven’t figured that out yet.

Last evening, Kara said, “Come on, Marilyn. You need to relax. Let’s go get that cabin in the caves for a couple days. Bring your laptop if you have to, but let’s go.”

And she pointed out that there was a hot tub… one of my favorite things.

But I’d rather be done with all the rewrites on the play, which I have to accomplish within the next couple of weeks, and then go to a cabin in the caves with a hot tub. And Kara. I sure do love talking to her. The conversation just goes places, you know? And then I could really relax.

I don’t even remember what I’m like when I relax.

I do know what I’m like when I’m not relaxed and I just don’t find it very attractive…

Okay. On that mixed-signal note, I gotta scoot. Have a wonderful Wednesday, wherever you are in the world — even if it’s just a memory now! Thanks for visiting. I love you guys. See ya.

Image result for cabins at old man's cave

Miracles Sort of DO Happen!!

I’m not sure how they managed it, but the United States Government delivered my new passport today and the hideous passport photo that was taken of me — the one that surpassed in hideousness my driver’s license photo — no longer looks quite so hideous!!

It’s still not a photo that I ever want anyone to see, but it looks better than it did before because now it has a bunch of squiggly blue lines running through it.  I guess this is just one of the reasons why it’s great to be an American. The Government runs a bunch of squiggly blue lines through your face when you least expect it and then little miracles happen.

Well. On another topic.

I tried kombucha for the first time today.

For a very long time, I have thought about trying it but it just sounded so disgusting that I thought it would make me gag. Here are some possible side effects of kombucha:

  • If contaminated, side effects include stomach problems, yeast infections, allergic reactions, jaundice, nausea, vomiting, head and neck pain, and death.

That’s pretty exciting, right? How many other drinks, if contaminated, can say that?

However, the kind of kombucha I am always looking at and not buying is sold in the refrigerated health-drink aisle at the store, not homemade stuff. Probably not contaminated or I would have seen the horrific reports by now. (However, the mass-produced bottle is covered in those Sanskrit-looking symbols that look like you should either meditate while drinking it or practice yoga — hopefully kundalini or tantric yoga, but I’ll have to get back to you on that.) (Yes! I’m always looking for reasons why sex is absolutely required in every area of my life. My beverages, my yoga, etc., etc.)

I just now looked online to see again what the benefits of kombucha are, and I immediately saw a blurb from Web MD that claims that, when taken by mouth, it is safe for most adults.

So then I thought, oh god, don’t tell me people do kombucha enemas…

So I looked that up and it turns out: sure they do!! Why wouldn’t they??!!

Jiminy Christmas.

Anyway. So I finally tried it today (by mouth — the possibly safer way). (If I were ever, ever, EVER persuaded to try it any other way, I’m not going to blog about it.) (Which I’m sure only makes you wonder now what I’m actually doing when I’m not blogging about something…  Hmm. Indeed.)

But here’s a hint: Don’t mindlessly shake the kombucha bottle while staring out the kitchen window, wondering if you remembered to text the director of your play back or not,  before you open it.

I forgot the stuff is super carbonated (fermented). It absolutely exploded all over the place when I twisted off the cap. And I kid you not, it instantly tarnished my silver ring. My favorite ring of all time, mind you. So that was weird.

I still drank some of it and it’s not bad. We’ll see if it does anything, I don’t know — inexplicably wonderful. Not to mock people who swear by it. It’s just that I don’t have any health issues that I know of; I’m only drinking it because today was the day that I stood in the refrigerated health-drink aisle at the store and thought: Maybe this stuff is awesome. So I bought it.

Actually, now that I think about it, today was the day I bought quite a few things at the store that I don’t normally buy. I wonder what’s up with that? Maybe it’s astrological and planets are aligning in some sort of weird way. I don’t know. But I bought things like gluten-free pretzels — turns out they’re hard as little rocks and not very salty.

I bought organic, non-GMO extra-garlic hummus — tried some of that, too, and it was amazing.

I bought organic Greek yogurt with peaches and raspberries in it, rather than with strawberries and blueberries in it, which I usually buy, like clockwork; month after month, year after year.

I also bought organic, non-GMO pure pomegranate juice. I tried a little bit of that, too, and that tasted really weird and it had little dregs at the bottom of the glass, like, maybe I was supposed to decant it. (I’m not sure why I was trying everything today, either. I never come home from the store and immediately start eating and drinking everything that I just bought. So something weird is obviously up with me. I’m obviously searching for something…)

I also bought organic, non-GMO coconut water with pure aloe vera juice in it and that was super good! It really was. However, due to the intestinal-moving properties of aloe vera juice, I’m guessing that you wouldn’t want to drink too much of it or you will never have any reasons to experiment, medicinally, with kombucha enemas.

Unless you don’t want to experiment medicinally and are only interested in the other thing people do with enemas… It’s okay. Rest assured, we don’t judge here in Marilyn’s Room! We’ve seen it all…

Yes. So. Weird shopping day for me. I wonder what’s up with that?

Plus, when I woke up very early this morning, I was once again thinking about that guy that I posted about yesterday — the older guy with the nice hippie family who was just out of prison, and I was 14. It was super intimate stuff that was all coming back to me, meaning stuff he was actually saying to me while we were together — I’m not going to post it here. My point is that, I have no clue why I’m suddenly remembering all this. It happened 45 summers ago. And I had completely forgotten about him. Now, all the details are sort of surging back — for what reason? None of it’s bad. He was very nice to me. He liked me a lot. He liked hanging out with me.

It makes me wonder, did he die or something, and now he’s spiritually revisiting his life in some way and I’m getting pulled into it? I have no clue.  All I know is that I’m eating and drinking weird stuff and remembering in graphic detail something from 45 years ago.

Plus, his mom was just so nice; so emotionally open and supportive. Nothing like the mother I had at home. I was always sort of spellbound when people had kind mothers who were easy to talk to. I really just longed for that. Once, when I was 11, I tried to tell my mom something personal and she said, “Don’t tell me this stuff; I’m not your friend. I’m your mother.” It hurt so bad. I felt so isolated.

It’s one of the things I really treasure about my birth mom. Even though she’s really quiet and keeps to herself and you’d think she’d be hard to talk to, I can tell her anything. Absolutely anything. And then she’ll usually say, “You’re just like me.”

I don’t know what would have happened to me if I hadn’t found her. Finding her and then realizing right away, wow, she is just like me. It was my sanity. Finally. I still had a lot of messed-up shit to deal with in my head and in my life (I was 25 when I found her and she was 38), but at least I finally knew that I wasn’t crazy.

What a blessing. I was nothing remotely like anyone in my adoptive family, but that woman who was sitting over there — the one with the really dark eyes, who was drinking a beer and smoking a cigarette, not looking at anyone or saying anything at all — I am just like that woman over there.

It was a true homecoming, like the kind they talk about in church.

Okay. I’m gonna do some (regular, non-tantric) yoga now and then study my Italian.

I hope you’ve had a terrific Monday, wherever you are in the world and wherever it took you!! Thanks for visiting.  I leave you with another one of those truly beautiful songs from that Neil Diamond album, Rainbow, that I blogged about yesterday.

I’ve been playing this song, and “Suzanne,” all day today. Just remembering everything. Fondly.  I love you guys. See ya. (PS: Nick Cave is actually gonna do something later this week — with one Bad Seed!! Hopefully it will be all over Instagram.)

“If You Go Away”

If you go away on this summer day,
Then you might as well take the sun away
All the birds that flew in the summer sky
When our love was new
And our hearts were high
When the day was young,
And the night was long
And the moon stood still
For the nightbird song
If you go away, if you go away
If you go away

But if you stay, I’ll make you a day
Like no day has been or will be again
We’ll sail on the sun, we’ll ride on the rain
We’ll talk to the trees that worship the wind
And if you go, I’ll understand
Leave me just enough love to fill up my hand
If you go away, if you go away
If you go away

If you go away, as I know you must,
There’ll be nothing left in the world to trust
Just an empty room filled with empty space
Like the empty look I see on your face
Can I tell you now, as you turn to go
I’ll be dying slowly ’til your next hello
If you go away, if you go away
If you go away

But if you stay, I’ll make you a night
Like no night has been or will be again
I’ll sail on your smile
I’ll ride on your touch
I’ll talk to your eyes, that I love so much

But if you go, I won’t cry,
The good’s gone from goodbye
If you go away, if you go away
If you go away

c – 1959 Jacques Brel; Rod McKuen (English translation)