BY: Gina "Greasy-o" Guarascio
Mayonnaise.
It was a creamy white concoction I knew I should stay away from, but the fries glistened with grease and called out for more, so I dipped. Mayonnaise mixed with roasted garlic, rosemary and then some ketchup, it was just about the best thing I’ve ever tasted. Accompanying this marvelous mayo, was a masterpiece of meat (local meat), a yummy soft bun, (no doubt organic), and some kind of fried mushrooms and onions crispy and caramelized on top. Dipped in mayo, this mound of meat was just about the best thing this mouth has ever tasted, compliments of the local kitchen, Restaurant Six89. Talking about "the local kitchen" it has been said that the new restaurant downtown, ella, which calls itself "the local kitchen", has the best burger in town. Now, I have had a chance to sample both (I called it a work assignment, seeing as I decided to write about mayonnaise. Next, I will assign myself the breaking story, "who has the best dessert"), and both are praiseworthy for sure. They are made with locally raised beef, and puffy, fluffy white buns. And, similar to any handsome man with the same qualities (local beef and fluffy buns), they both leave you immensely satisfied, but eventually heavy hearted.
(When one writes about Mayonnaise, it must be noted, that when traveling south of the border, Mayonnaise is the ultimate "go with everything" condiment. Latinos love the mayo so that there is even a song about it, aptly called "La Mayonaisa". When thinking about cultural integration in Carbondale, perhaps we need to look no further than the Miracle Whip.)
Oil.
Acting bitchier than my anxious border collie on the now-anxious mailman, I thought to myself, "I gotta eat!" It had been at least eight hours and four massages (given, not received) since I had ingested calories and I felt I was beginning to cannibalize myself. And I know from past experiences, when you starve yourself, your body doesn’t start by eating up the excess fat in the thighs and tummy, it goes right for the boobs. And that’s something I just can’t afford to lose. So I’m at the Snowmass Mall, about to drive home in a snowstorm, again (Epic!), and my boobs are shrinking. I look left, I look right... Behold! Taste of Philly, Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory and The Daly Bottle Shop (liquor) all within about ten steps. Eureka! Warm-looking foreign people looked at my shallow eyes, my sinking chest, and offer to help me. "I’ll take a Philly cheese steak please... Yes, I want the foot-and-a-half long one," I say. The senor in the back throws some peppers, onions, garlic and meat on the extra long skillet and then pours about a quart of oil out of a pitcher onto the vegetables and meat I will momentarily ingest. OIL, Mmmm. Then off I was to the chocolate factory for a caramel apple imbedded with peanuts like a Bagdad reporter in a tank or the trenches, (going for at least a B-cup in the chest here), and then for a bit of grog to wash it all down just one more short shop away. What a gastrointestinal goldmine up there! I felt like I was on vacation for just a second, smiling at all the tourists with apples stuck in their mouths like pigs ready to roast, browsing the 50% off $50 faux fleece frumpy wear, thinking I might look cool in a "Snowmass Rules, Vail Drools" T-shirt... but then, wistfully, driving away from all that mall magic with only a foot-and-a-half hot steak to keep me warm on that long lonely highway home.
Lotion.
Naked bodies are my business. I’m always ready to spread the love. So far I’ve gone through almost a gallon jug of massage lotion this season. That’s a lot of lubrication. It slides and glides so easily over those worn and torn bodies. They come from all over the world, they absorb my cream as if in a dream, letting go of stress and steam. If only they could add some mayonnaise to their days... there could be nothing better than a rub and some grub. A little motion and some lotion (maybe some mayo) is all it takes to make the world a better place, I’ve found. Food for thought, you don’t have to be a certified massage therapist to give someone a rub. It’s a nice thing to do, just set you intentions straight (what I mean here is, don’t do it just to get laid, guys), get some kind of lotion and give someone you like some love.
Sweat.
It’s a 90 minute beginning Hatha yoga class that I teach or take every day in a room heated to about 105 degrees, humidity lingering around 40%. Everyday, I am surrounded by sweat. It drips on the floor and makes my yoga mat go "squish". If it’s a really good hot class, people fling it on the mirror, inadvertently, as they stretch, equal and simultaneously, in the Triangle or Bow Pulling Pose. Some people say, "Ewww, that’s so gross." I say, "Yes! I love sweat dripping down my nose, into my clothes, and onto the floor all of my days. Hey looky there, I think I see some mayonnaise."
Sometimes words don’t always slide right in to place. Sometimes you eat too much, drive too fast and drip oil on your favorite coat. Sometimes you sweat when you don’t want to. Life is funny that way, but you just keep on sliding by, whether it’s on the road, on the snow, in the classroom, the office or right at home. When life is lubricated, you’ve just got to go with the flow.
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