Health & Spiritual Fitness – Page 5

Posted on July 24, 2013July 18, 2014 by Frau Kolb

ON Losing Weight NOW! The Super-Simple Frau Kolb WAY to be fit and fab YOU!

Chilled Champagne is an essential ingredient in any diet I undertake. So WHEREVER you are, pour yourself a tall skinny glass of bubbly and let’s toast to the prospect of a new you!

Now, I’m going to tell YOU. I am NOT a nutritionist. I am not a fashion model. I am a woman that LOVES FOOD and eats a lot. I’m not particularly young and Yet, I’ve lost weight as needed after gaining weight ass needed for pregnancy and post wrestle with life-threatening bout of evil breast cancer (cause: a genetic mutation).

Since November, when my beautiful doctor, a man, older than me… I calculate he must be older than me, he went to medical school and became a luminary in his field… told me, “It is time we talk about your weight.” I was twenty five pounds heavier than I am today. I just shrugged my shoulders. I thought: “Hey, I’m older now, I had cancer, I’m busy, I have kids, blah, blah, blah.” In other words, I thought: I have to be FAT. Everybody is FAT after a “certain age…” Yet, sitting before me was a really good looking super-skinny and well coiffed presumably older-than-me MAN. I was a little beaten down, having surrendered to the idea well, frankly that to be NOT beautiful, to become attractive, or lacking in sex appeal in my immediate and future future was an unavoidable destiny FACT. (OUCH!) I had surrendered to the idea of being older and overweight ass unavoidable TRUTH. Because I believed I was old and… well… I had no choice butt accept my big bottom as a reality knot to be untied.

Anyway, I made a lame attempt at defending myself, I told him, “I go to the gym,” and I said, “I eat healthy.” My doctor LAUGHED at me. He did.

“EVERYBODY always says that they work out or don’t eat so much but the fact is that gaining weight is a simple mathematical equation: too many calories and not enough movement to burn off the calorie count.” He said.

NOW, he had my attention. “Are you calling ME a cliche?” I asked, outraged for an instant, wanting to get offended so I wouldn’t have to listen. “YES!” he laughed. Skinny, tall, and blond, my beautiful doctor said, I was indeed a, “Cliche.” This made me angry, because ONE thing I pride myself on is on be myself, unique. So… I said, “Do tell.”

Well, my doctor gave me two guide lines:

1. Cut every meal you get (in a restaurant ESPECIALLY) in half and eat only half, every time.

(Note: In my case, I eat the protein and avoid the starch.) This shrinks your stomach, which is essential.)

2. Excursive at least one hour everyday. YOU must do enough to sweat, then rinse it off. This Rinse off, may seem obvious, but it is essential to your health that you remove the toxins from your skin that your body excretes through exercise, daily.

Starting in November, I applied those two guidelines. I started by walking, then running or… sometimes… dancing. Biking is also really important to me. Now, I’m SKINNY ME: weighing less than I did a decade ago. BRAVO!

I also changed the following:

I no longer drive everyday. At least one day per week, I walk or bike EVERYWHERE. (This is ALSO good for the environment.) This works especially well when going grocery shopping… carrying food home on a bikes, keeps it real what YOU buy. Best of all NO frozen food. I’ve never been a big fan of canned or frozen prepared, highly processed, foods. I’ve always preferred ORGANIC fare and I know that this fact alone makes me healthier and more resilient than most. NOW, I’m a little stricter about what I eat… but I eat real food: organic animal proteins, salads, fruits, veggies, dairy, and FOR ME: NO GLUTEN. NONE.

Fast Food, has always been completely out-of-the question for me. Butt, IF you are a driver-through bandit, you like your McD’s on the GO, or TACO Terror, or worse you eat any food that involves a person taking your order via a microphone and throwing a bunch of chemical sculptures of food into a box for you then you better STOP IT! Because, just like smoking, some habits have no upswing and can only slow you down and make you ugly.

I cook. More and more, my families meals are delicious and less expensive than eating at the Ritz, for kicks. Anyway… IF you would like to discuss, this topic further… ask me a question either here, on the comments or on the Frau Kolb/Talkinggrid Facebook FAN PAGE! Yeah… In the mean time: GET OUT there and MOVE. EAT LESS. EAT FRESH! Enjoy LIFE! Embrace FUN, laughter, good times are your pals when facing any challenge. Don’t forget simple corny and gut wrenching JOY ass a remedy! Cheers and BOTTOMS UP!

Love,

Frau

Posted on July 15, 2013July 18, 2014 by Frau Kolb

A Lamentation for a DEAD BOY

Dear Friends, Family, and OTHERS,

WE have come together on this morning to morn the death of a boy. Yes, he was killed. Yes, he was walking alone. Yes, he had a pack of artificially colored, flavor enhanced, plastic coated candies in hand. He did. He did ALL of the above and NOW he’s DEAD.

Of course, his family are upset. They say it isn’t fair. They cry. They hurt. But, from a certain perspective, BROWN HUMANS serve well for target practice and the fact of killing unarmed brown children is A-OK in THAT twisted context.

NO PROBLEM!

NO ISSUE!

NO JUSTICE!

Ass, you can tell, I’m a little pissed about this latest NEWS story, butt I’m even more pissed to be pissed off angry, dejected, HURT by the NEWS of children dying just because, children killing is OK in video games and we all LOVE a good murder mystery. WE delight in the viscous triumph of GOOD over EVIL. To some people, Zimmerman, was justified in killing a traditional enemy, a pest, before it could grow more powerful and perhaps threaten the existing, “white,” power structure.

Now, I put “white,” in quotations, because I believe it to be a big part of the problem we face is that some people call themselves “white,” whereas others are NOT, “white,” they are sometimes called, “BLACK,” or “RED,” and even, “Yellow,” in the same color-coded system that divides the pie in uneven slices. The function of the feast is to serve KINGS with almost the entire pie and for all the other people to get crumbs. It doesn’t matter your “race,” if you believe this BS you short change yourself because YOU isolate yourself and miss out on all the abundance of universal LOVE and happiness that could be yours and is mine, on occasion.

Even today, as I write this angry letter to NO ONE in particular, I am content enough because I can write, read, and think. Mostly, thanks to my beautiful father, who was once a poor boy, near starving, shining shoes to help feed himself and family, growing up in a famously corrupt colonial power and YET kept afloat by his staunch belief that EVERYTHING was somehow…always, weirdly and wildly… alright.

Forever,

Frau Kolb

Posted on July 14, 2013July 18, 2014 by Frau Kolb

Confusing Puzzle

Ah LIFE!

Everyday, we are invested in figuring it ALL out, Keeping IT together. Sharing our little glued together and framed versions of reality is what keeps us all in business. Right?

Each day we wake up and we have to start all over again, because while we slept the world changed, and everything we thought we knew faded and then its core re-enforced itself and is more the same than EVER! Ah!

Oh Sisyphus, with your heavy load (I once saw a video of a handsome dark plum of manly muscle and masculine appeal lugging a huge tractor trailer tire up countless stairs, get out on the roof of a narrow building and then loop back to the start, at an art gallery in downtown LA.) and tireless strivings… YOU know the drill.

Please don’t spill seven billion (puzzle) pieces, of knowing and being that form a part of my collected experience, onto the red shag carpet in the imaginary living room that is my sweet chocolate mind. If you do, then we will have to pick up all the pieces and find a place for each one. THAT mess would take an eternity to correct!

So… unless you have a spare eternity in your back pocket DO NOT attempt at touching mine.

Thank you,

Frau Kolb

Posted on July 4, 2013July 24, 2014 by Frau Kolb

Dear Paula Deen

I don’t know you. I did not even know of you before last week. Forgive me, but I don’t watch commercial television and I absolutely never would trust a cook that looked like you (overweight, flabby…) to instruct me on any issue related even tangentially to nutrition. In other words, even the junkiest comestible that I might consider ingesting is informed by my concern for the planet and my individual well being. Moreover, it is likely to be the brand of gourmet and/or even organic junk sold at Whole Foods, where I most frequently invest the bulk of my sufficient grocery budget. Anyway, I cook. I cook everyday for my family, because I CARE about FOOD and nutrition. It is a spiritual concern for me. Anyway, Madame Deen, you have become pertinent, timely, of interest, since it became public that YOU casually use the N word with glib innocence of how very BAD a career strategy for a television/celebrity chef purporting to cook Southern FOOD, but actually altering the history of the southern cooking to erase the influence of African cuisine upon the dishes traditionally prepared in the South.

Now, I wouldn’t be writing you a letter IF I had not had the pleasure of reading a letter written by Michael W. Twitty.

I also, by the way took the time to see this nasty little clip where YOU humiliate a man, on camera, in order to “show,” how harmless your verbal whip is.

Paula Deen Defended Souther Atttitude Towards Race In Fall 2012 by Joe Satran for Huffington Post.

Here is an article by Janus Adams, for the Huffington Post, examining both the letter and the incident.

For those of you that need more information about the details of this case: Here is a useful link by Daryl K. Washington for “Black Legal Issues,” on-line.

The evidently brilliant culinary historian, Michael W. Twitty, and Southern Food, expert, eloquently addresses you and the public, with the aplomb and verve of a diplomat, inviting you to the table of reconciliation, forgiveness, and mutual respect. This move, or action, has profoundly impressed me. This letter is a splendid piece of writing, delightful to read. I have rarely read such a moving letter, it is just short of the biblical… anyway… it is amazingly well written and reading it I learned that BBQ is a direct import from the people that were kidnapped and brought in chains like fruit stacked in the bottom of dirty disease ridden ships to the New World, the people that were scattered like seeds across the Atlantic (WHO KNEW?) the people that brought drum music and songs with that beat, the root of ROCK n’ ROLL, WE ALL LOVE.

(Oh, how proud I am that around fifty percent of my blood is of the beautiful ripe plum toned people of mother AFRICA!) I am proud of my color, my heritage, my accent, my good looks, my physical strength, verbal accumen, my English, my Spanish, my colonial past. I am also, like the vast majority of American African people, a mix of human stock. I am Anglo-Celtic (ethnically) and Spanish (language and blood line). I am at ease with being the child of multiple cultures, many peoples, at times enemies, at times best friends, lovers, HUMANS angry and bitter one second and sweet as cherries the next… OH, Paula…. You fat ugly cow! YOU got me thinking! Consider that! I am actually THINKING about YOU! Hah! As a classist elitist ivy-league Manhattanite ART brat, I look down on YOU! Get THAT! I think I am BETTER! (But not really, Paula, I know we know YOU know you are a bigger ass because YOU make tons of money selling your shit and I’m a little independent artist writing this shit for virtually for FREE) Hah! (WE humans LOVE being superior and I’m NO different, really.) NOW: I’m THE ASSHOLE, right?

Anyway, I think… we ALL take turns being assholes no matter how hard some of us try not to be because the price of civilization, thus far is SLAVERY. (Just go ask Plato how he got to The Symposium and he will tell you he was carried through the dirty muddy alleys of Athens via imported SLAVE labor.) Everywhere all over the world there are slaves working, RIGHT NOW to make the crap we buy and throw away without even thinking. YOU see ALL that garbage on the streets? All that shit was once shiny new shit waiting to be bought and discarded. It was made by workers, here with little and elsewhere with virtually NO RIGHTS in far away or “exotic,” places we’d rather forget and therefore don’t even bother thinking about. Tragic. Right?

I am annoyed by so many things, lately… I could go on and on Paula, but I won’t bore you with my superior rant. I will go out and pick up some garbage or play on electric keyboard some scattered lazy music. Or I might go play on Facebook with my fabulous artist friends. I am FREE so I can do whatever I want.

I know Paul that IF you could you’d buy me and my kids and whip us IF we did not dance fast enough at your freakin’ southern wedding.

I’m writing this letter to YOU. I know you will not ever read it. I know even IF did read IT (can you actually read, Dear? IF you can, read some Bell Hooks, why don’t you?) you will NOT get it. I know that you KNOW that I know that WE know that it is a NO KNOW to say the “N,” word, for YOU or ME, ever again. You got that Paula? IF so, get your fat flabby melanin deficient self (I wouldn’t say all this to your diabetic face, butt I know you ain’t gonna be reading this random little web-site read mostly by artists like Terry Amig and other progressive smARTy pants. Hah!) go down, on September 7^th 2013, to Shitoric Stagville, in North Carolina, so you can break some bread with someone that actually would eat with you. I am not sure that I would or could because YOU and I do not have the same diet.

Go cook and eat with a person that is willing to embrace you, forgive you. Please WILL some peace and love between us BLACK (bullshit! skin can be the color of coffee or night butt NEVER actually black) and WHITE (pretty piggy pink, like you or delicious cream like my loving German husband, butt never actually WHITE, call yourself WHITE and know I hear you thinking you are “pure,” like SNOW and that you deserve more cherries in your freakin’ slice of the United States of American pie, which we, actually, ALL bake together every day of every week, in perpetuity). “Cousins,” sisters, twins ONE and ALL in THE Fun-House mirror, of the media where clowns like YOU and… perhaps… me (a little, LIKE you, ain’t I?) are magnified and glorified and turned into people that pay other people’s bills (thanks for paying your “workers,” Paula, unlike your granddaddy).

*Also special thanks to, artist, Dave Stull, for not allowing me to get all high and mighty about myself, ass though I don’t have my own prejudice and nasty side to contend with and, while I’m at it, special thanks to Joseph Campbell, Karl Jung, and YOU for reading this fairly flip and not entirely thought out semi-secret letter to Madame Dean.

**Also, thank you ARTIST BARRY. You got me to pay attention to the Dean debacle.

Yours truly,

Frau Kolb

Posted on May 17, 2013March 1, 2015 by Frau Kolb

Spring Clean at Casa KOLB!

17 May 2013

Los Angeles California

Yes it is true that I HATE to clean. I get angry, very angry, when I clean. I get mean. I am vicious. Merciless. Ruthless in my aspirations to perfection! I do not relent until das HAUS sparkles!

I mean it.

My anti-intellectual Jehovah Witness mother LOVES to clean. She loves nothing more than to disinfect and purify in flowing waters all manner of apparatus. “MY, my!” Said my German boyfriend then (husband NOW), “Your mother’s house is super clean,” the first time he visited. Typical of my husband is to be spot ON! 100% correct in his observations. Unlike the others he wastes not time talking trash.

“Why do YOU TWO have so many books???” She would whine, complaining of my father (a resolute intellectual, proud of his learning, immersed in aquiring more and young attorney in Dominican Republic when they met and I his offspring, a chip off the old mahogany, a little NEW YORKER book-reading fast talking bike riding brat). “They get so dusty!” She would moan as she wiped the books with moist cloth towels. She did all the washing by hand. She care(s)d about, “the environment.” She hand NO THING better to do than WASHING. She certainly did NOT read.

Except for the FREE literature from the Jehovah Witness’s and nutrition books. MOM was a health NUT. Thank goodness! She taught me how to eat right and without that knowledge I would not be beautiful svelte ME. [Thank you, Mommy, for being so clean (which impressed my husband) and taking good care of me. Thank you for NEVER feeding me canned crap or frozen dinners.] A pseudo yet passionate vegetarian she used to call the meat section in the super market, “THE MORGUE.”

From an early age, I collected paper and books. I love paper. All kinds of P A P E R! Handmade, however is my very special favorite. I love libraries. I live for both… somehow. I write in journals. I have all my life. So… I have boxes and boxes of boxes I have written and books I have bought. Books I have read and books I intend to read. I have collected books my whole life. Books are my grounding sanctuary. I feed my spirit by reading. I even read TONS of self help and spirituality books which have helped me figure out a style of being that WORKS for me. I call it, “The Vacation Approach.” It is how I live my LIFE.

YET… For over two years I had my books in boxes. Fearing that we would have to move away from our happy home in Los Angeles. Yet, it turns out that somehow my loving husband’s first promise of “California,” keeps proving to be the golden truth of our LIFE story. Anyway… last week, I took the books out of the boxes and seeing them AGAIN is like being born again from a deadly slumber.

Ah! The number of ordeals… the PA I N! The Heartache! I’ve had so many crash and BANG bad times with people in the last few years… IF the core of my LIFE were not LOVE I’d lose faith. Fortunately… I have my dear old friend, my true LOVER and Partner in LIFE and Marriage, MY BIGGNESS. Hartmuth Kolb is steadfast and true. WE fit together like puzzle pieces. He likes my books and appreciates that I am always reading. NOW in this tower of printed pages I have my home, where I cultivate peace decorated with the fruits of LOVE harvest over many a year and preserved with care as a sanctuary from the noisy world of NEWS and life and filled with wonderful books brimming with adventure.

IF you have been putting off Spring Cleaning, taking care of domestic chores. S T O P!

It is time to get your books out of boxes and remember what you are made of.

Warm regards,

Frau Kolb