Day One

I lay in bed this morning, trying to go back to sleep, but my mind kept returning to the dreaded SWF.  I had read that some people couldn't even hold down the nasty stuff, and I was worried that I might be one of them.  What worried me even more was that I would be able-- just barely able-- to keep down 32 oz. of warm salt water and that I would therefore be committed to drinking it every morning for the next ten days.

It's not as bad as I expected.  At the behest of the experts I invested in a five dollar jar of French Celtic uniodized sea salt.  French Celtic?  Hm.  Well wherever it's from, the salt is lovely.  Two nights ago my friend Berkeley made some fantastic zucchini, sliced, drizzled in olive oil and parmesan, and stuck under the broiler, and the fancy salt we sprinkled on it was noticeably more delicious than the usual Morton stuff.  Mmm... I'm definitely making that zucchini when this is over...

Anyway.

I chugged down my French Celtic seawater with nary a gag, but with plenty a scrunched nose, and began to chop and squeeze my lemons and limes.  It's a three-citrus cocktail, all organic: conventional lemons, Meyer lemons, and limes.  I stirred in my maple syrup and cayenne pepper, and suspected by the dark maroon hue of the resulting lemonade that I had put in too much pepper.  My first sip confirmed it, and as the day progresses, the spicy lemonade is only getting spicier as the cayenne pepper soaks and spreads through the solution.  I suspect that my last cups this evening will have transformed into a kind of lemonade/hot-sauce cross-pollination.

More later.