LIFE’S WONDERS PRAISED IN SUGGESTIVE, ODDBALL, AND NONSENSE WAYS
As a counterpoint to my usual cynical antics, I’ve committed myself to a weekly, year-long discussion of my life’s joys. But, never one for the more traditional approaches, I intend to keep things a little off side, a tad outlandish, and always one foot outside of polite company.
//ICY COLD LEMONADE//
How I survived my childhood, I’ll never know.
I mean, you’d think there’d be a limit on how much sugar a little kid can consume.
I once took a packet of Koolaid powder, mixed it with the requisite full cup of sugar, and then mixed those two with only a swallow of water in a small plastic Gatorade bottle. I drank this – all of this – during a 40km bike ride between Cambridge and Paris (and back). And I lived to tell about it.
But the Koolaid thing was a one-off. My usual drink of choice was chunky-ice lemonade. Here’s the recipe: mix a can of frozen concentrated lemonade into a pitcher of ice cold water, then stir like you don’t really give a shit and just need this sugar in your body, like, right the hell now. In other words, it should have the consistency of a slushie.
Usually I’d drink this sweet nectar of godly bliss in one sitting or (if I was really off my game) over the course of a single day.
I know – I wasn’t the healthiest of kids. Instead of playing sports and not getting fat, I spent my summer afternoons poking a bear named Mr. Diabetes. And, man, did I poke him a lot.
I’m older now, maybe even more responsible. For a long time, lemonade was a drink I thought of only infrequently. It was a like a long lost childhood friend who’s remembered only when you’re feeling a little down and need a pick-me-up. Those were the days, you’d think, back when I was still innocent and pure.
Lately, though, I’ve rediscovered lemonade. And let me tell you, dear friends, it’s kind of been the best, especially on the really hot days we’ve had this summer. I work in a shop that has no AC and very little ventilation, but on those days when I’ve stocked the shop fridge with this glory of citrus salvation the heat doesn’t seem so fully soul sucking. In a way, it’s a godsend.
Now I know what you’re thinking: but, Zac, consider all the sugar you’re consuming with every glass of lemonade you drink.
And to that I say: I have considered it. And you know what? Sugar is damn delicious.
What’s the worst that refined, super processed white sugar could do to me, anyway?
Kill me? Maybe. But I’d probably slip into a diabetic coma first and have really trippy lemonade dreams.
That’s not so bad.
Did you miss last week’s entry on WORKPLACE INJURIES? Catch up here.
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