I’m a Mop!

Is the swiffer a mop? No, I’m a mop!

As a successful lifestyle blogger, I’m really, really good at being a person. But after a while, being a person isn’t enough anymore. So I thought to myself, if I’m this good at being a person, what else can I be? The answer was clear: to be truly productive, I had to also be a mop.

Successful lifestyle bloggers multi-task, and this is the ultimate multi-tasking: I’m a successful person and a successful mop. I can exercise and clean at once. I’m multi-tasking at the kind of multi-tasking I’m doing. So successful!

With these mop socks, it was so easy to transcend my humanity. I just put them on, sprayed some Green Works on the kitchen floor, and danced around for a while. It sort of raised my heart rate a little bit, and the floor got sort of cleaner than it was before.

The socks made me more successful than a person, and less successful than a mop. Now that’s what I call an adequate day’s work 🙂

 

Photo by Maggie Gottlieb

A SandwichQuest Origin Story

I started SandwichQuest to find the perfect sandwich in Los Angeles, but I already knew that the perfect sandwich existed in Chicago.

The sandwich of my dreams comes from an unassuming storefront in lakeview called Panes Bread Cafe. They make their own bread and everything I’ve ever ordered there has been incredible. But nothing compares to the Turkey Turkey. It’s a simple turkey sandwich with avocado, roasted red pepper and chipotle mayo on a soft/crispy tomato bread. And as with all the simplest things, there’s nothing simple about it. The favors meld in a way that’s cosmically transcendent, and I thought about the sandwich so much that I started SandwichQuest to replace it, like rebounding to get over an old lover.

I used to love this sandwich when I lived in Chicago, and as with all old loves, I was afraid I was building it up the more I pined for it. It would be never be able to live up to the sandwich in my memories.

My friend Cynthia humored my deep love for this sandwich and we hit Panes almost immediately when I got to Chicago this week. To my relief, amazement, and delight, the Turkey Turkey was just as I remembered it. SandwichQuest continues, but this will always be my sandwich.

Grade: A+

Spiritual Wholeness Quotient: On par with discovering a box of old photos that should be faded and discolored, and finding that instead they are even more vibrant than you remembered

My Deepest Secret: How to Make Anything a Meal


Hello, loyal readers. Being a successful lifestyle blogger is not as easy as it looks. In order to share my self-actualized, spiritually whole lifestyle with the masses, I need to be willing to let you into my life. You come here to get the secrets of the universe, and there’s a lot of pressure on me to deliver.

Well, now that we’ve known each other for a few months, I feel like I finally trust you enough to divulge my most adequate secret. The cardinal rule of an adequate lifestyle:

If you put it in a tortilla, it’s a meal.

For example, if I put cream cheese, spinach, and salad dressing in a tortilla? That’s dinner.

Nutella and craisins in a tortilla? Also dinner…AND dessert.

Tortillas are easy to keep on hand, and any combination of ingredients from the dregs of last week’s grocery trip will co-mingle inside. That’s right, ANY ingredients, whether it’s leftover sauteed veggies or the last shavings from the bottom of a bag of shredded cheddar. No matter the ingredients and/or sauces, if you wrap a tortilla around it, it qualifies as a “wrap.”

You’re welcome.

 

 

A SandwichQuest Mirage

In case you’re new to My Adequate Lifestyle, I’m on a quest to find the perfect sandwich in Los Angeles. A sandwich that satiates my body and also my soul, that makes me feel spiritually whole. It is a SandwichQuest, and it is a serious matter.

Sandwich.

The Melrose Cafe was not on my SandwichQuest spreadsheet. I’d never even heard of it before (and haven’t since…hmmmmm). But my friend Eric and I were looking for a place to have lunch, and we walked there because it was nearby. The storefront is unassuming and easy to miss – almost too easy to miss.

As we were waiting in line to order, we started to wonder, “Aren’t these sandwiches pretty cheap for everything that’s on them?” They were. At the counter, the woman asked us which side we wanted – it was included with the sandwich, so she said. Highly questionable that a $7-8 sandwich would include a side. Something wasn’t right. Still, we both ordered salads.

Then two of these arrived at our table:

 

Side salad.

 

Immediately, we were suspicious. Two kinds of cheese? Three kinds of peppers? What’s the catch here? Did we actually walk into an unassuming storefront, or is this a deal we made with the devil? Were we even at a restaurant at all?

Then the sandwiches came out. I got the toscano panini, which featured turkey AND chicken, plus pesto and tomatoes and…avocado? Very Italian. I’m not complaining. It was a little too much meat for me, but overall was nearly perfect. It almost felt like a sandwich I’d made up myself. But…did I?

We each packed up more leftovers than should ever come from a light lunch, and stepped out into the bright sunshine. Had we just experienced a collective sandwich hallucination? WAS there even a Melrose Cafe? I guess I’ll never know unless I drive by or go back again or look it up on the internet. But some things are meant to be mysteries.

Grade: A

Spiritual Wholeness Quotient: On par with stepping through a wardrobe and finding Narnia, only instead of Turkish Delight there are sandwiches.

The Fickle Nature of Sandwiches

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Fresh, disappointing sandwich

In life as in sandwiches, sometimes things don’t reveal themselves to you immediately. The universe rewards patience. People take time to warm up, to trust. And perhaps, so do sandwiches.

I stopped at All About the Bread between therapy and a screening of Room. Somehow my sandwich escaped being soaked in tears, which is a SandwichQuest miracle all on its own. I ordered a turkey club, since it involved turkey and avocado. Quests need a control group; this isn’t anarchy. Mostly though, I was excited about the implication of good bread, and the logo led me to believe that I was going to an off-brand Jimmy John’s. Very promising.

When I looked at the bread, I was disappointed. I expected it to be softer. Not Subway-yoga-mat spongey, but softer. The flavors in the sandwich felt muted – the turkey and guacamole were there, but they weren’t there. The bread was…dare I say hard and flavorless? I expected better from a place that claimed to be “all about” the bread. But the things you love? Sometimes they disappoint you. Yes, even sandwiches. I wasn’t that hungry, so I put the second half of the sandwich in the fridge and went to drain all my tears into a Buncha Crunch box and contemplate the meaning of freedom.

The next day, I sat down to eat the second half of the sandwich because, well, it was there. And if you can even BELIEVE it, the leftovers were incredible! I’m not sure what it was – maybe the tomato had soaked into the bread just enough, or the turkey was softer and more flavorful – but all the flavors had come together. With a little time and space, the sandwich was free to become what it was. And it was excellent.

(This story has a postscript, which is that I was immediately shamed by my friend Will, who recommended All About the Bread, for not ordering the meatball sandwich. And so a second trip was made. Again, the sandwich was good (better than the turkey), but the leftover second half of the sandwich was absolutely transcendent. Finally, having the appetite of a baby bird pays off.)

Grade: A-

Spiritual Wholeness Quotient: On par with spending a long time searching for something, only to find that you’ve had that thing inside you all along.