Bulletproof Blueberry Coffee

So. This is going to be the most confuzzled post. First, it’s 10 pm which is way past my usual bedtime. Usually, I fall asleep in my clothes while the kids brush their teeth before bed at 8:15 and wake up around now to put on pj’s and climb under the covers to fall asleep again. Second, I’m typing on my phone, which is new. Well, new to me, and I am not used to it yet, nor is it to me. Third, we’ll, read on.

I think I mentioned the other day that we’re “dieting.” And because I read too much, and because the weight has been falling off a little faster than recomended, and because I know a few people who have had their gallbladder removed and I don’t want to add my name to those ranks … I made some bulletproof coffee to go with my breakfast of blueberries and kale.

Don’t ever do that combo. Ever. Bulletproof coffee is supposed to be enjoyed as a stand alone thing. Learn from my mistake. And just say no.

I spent the morning like the energizer bunny on speed. I didn’t get anything done, because my brain was going 80 miles a minute with to do lists and every song I’ve ever heard and conversations I had 10 years ago. It’s what I imagine the “h” in ADHD feels like. Finally, I decided to go outside and burn off some of that energy. It’s in the upper 50s (f) here, so shorts and flip flop weather. So why not!

We’ve been working on our back yard for, oh, a year. Just before the first snow we got a trailer full of compost (horse manure) from a neighbor and I decided to take the pile and work it into the garden.

I tilled the side yard, moved all the mulch out of my way, laid down cardboard, and covered it with three or four wheel barrows of compost. Then I ran out of cardboard and stopped to catch my breath. Then the neighbor started video recording her back yard, but we’ve had really bad experiences with neighbors of houses past and so I was paranoid that she was recording my ugly yard to turn me into the authorities for the mess that’s back there, so I was a wee bit paralyzed with that thought. Meanwhile I crashed and I crashed hard.

I haven’t un-crashed. And now it’s 10 and I feel like a cross between a zombie and … I don’t even know what else. A sloth maybe? Or. No, sloth works.

I am a sloth. A sloth who should never be allowed around bulletproof Bulletberry Coffee ever again.

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