I started drinking green smoothies in the morning for breakfast, after reading about them on Wardeh’s blog, and the link she provided. They are fruit, blended up with some sort of dark leafy greens. I’ve tried spinach with apple and orange juice, spinach with strawberries and orange juice, parsley with strawberries, and parsley with mango and mint. The parsley mango combination is the best so far, but that might have something to do with the canned mango pulp I used. I’m pretty sure it has lots of sugar in it. But mangoes aren’t in season yet, so I’ll just have to wait for the fresh ones. Even then, doing anything with a fresh mango besides eating it right out of the skin seems like a tragedy to me.

Anyway, since I started drinking “green drink,” things inside have been good. I’m still not all put back together, since the birth of my third child, but greens really help. And the funniest thing I noticed is that even though the smoothies aren’t exactly what I would call “yummy,” they’re surprisingly not yucky. And after I start drinking one, my body starts crying for more. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt that positively desperate hunger for something that clearly means it’s something my body needs. I’ve never loved raw spinach, so whenever I use it, I usually cook it to smithereens. I love saag paneer, spinach soup, spanakopita, spinach pizza, pretty much anything with spinach, except raw. It makes my teeth squeak.

So I just went to the Good Earth to get some more greens. I usually don’t take the kids, because they make it take longer by a factor of 10, but I’ve been trying to let them know that I like them, so I invited Calvin to go with me. We went in to the produce section, and I asked him his opinion on what to buy. He didn’t want turnips or beets, but when I asked if we should buy some chard, he started dancing around, saying,” Yes! Yes! We should get lots and lots and lots and lots of chard!” I didn’t actually count how many times he said lots. Anyway, then I asked him what we would do with that much chard, and he said, loud enough for the whole store to hear, “We could make a big, big, great big giant FRITTATA!”

I wanted someone to comment on the cuteness of my 5-year-old waxing ecstatic over a frittata, but no-one said anything. Still, I was pretty proud.