1627 Food for Meditation

Sometimes life serves up some interesting new things. Like when the airlines started charging for meals. I wonder if they had an onslaught of people trying to bring picnic lunches on board. Kind of like smuggling your own popcorn into the theatre. Or other snacks. There's nothing weirder sounding than contraband Goobers and Raisinets.
In a way, the airlines were assisted in their larceny by the TSA. What warm tunafish sandwich is going to survive the full body-scan without looking like so much plastique?
"Sure buddy, tunafish, until we get it back from the lab you're under arrest."
Woe to any foreign-looking thrifty types who are packing an extra packet of tofu. Or a hunk of hummus.
Worse, for those on liquid diets, you're restricted to 3-ounce bottles. Not even a very satisfying latte.
On the subject of weird sounding food, I've heard a new term bandied about on the schmoozing circuit lately—"Heavy hors d'oeuvres." Yep, sounds a little off putting doesn't it? As if consuming said hors d'oeuvres would leave one chunkier in the thigh. Perhaps a lumpy chicken thigh, wrapped in bacon, skewered on a stick and wet with glistening fat.
You got to admit, there's a very different sounding impression between "appetizers" and "heavy hors d'oeuvres." Heavy hors d'oeuvres almost seem to cry out for a trip to the health club.
Which, by the way, gave me food for meditation at this new exercise program I tried recently—"Speed Yoga." Lots of fun, you can do like three contorted positions in less than 30 seconds. Talk about power stretching. Good for untwisting you mind in a jiffy too.
Except I think I may have sprained my chakra.
As soon as I heal, I'm upping the program. Next level—full contact cage yoga.
America, ya gotta love it.