It's all about Fiber in my world. [Notice the proper nounage I granted the nutrient.] There are so many cancers that one cannot prevent, so why not focus your energy one the ones one can, after all? Take colon cancer, for instance.

Have you seen that commercial (I'm big on commercials these days) where the lady is eating (and quite unmannerly) small forests of broccoli, carrots, and apples just to get in her recommended daily value [25g] of Fiber—the message being something like "take my fiber supplement or be a glutton...your choice entirely"? It's b.s., all of it. This is one time, perhaps the only time in history, where I think a commercial was exaggerating in order to sell something.

Substitute half your white flour with whole wheat, for starters. Eat the recommended nine servings fruits and veggies a day—a serving is considered to be a half of a cup. There are wheat pastas out there, you know, along with brown rice—the difference in flavor is negligible. Choose whole wheat breads (and make sure that the first ingredient listed is 100% whole wheat flour!) instead of white, or better yet: rye or pumpernickel. Use ground flax seed in your recipes, and buddy up to oatmeal in the morning. Oh, and you must remember this last one until the day you die: FIBER ONE© CEREAL IS A SELF-SUSTAINING WONDER.

Have it as a cereal...with just a half of a cup, you get over half of the RDA of fiber. Sprinkle it on fruit parfaits, ice cream, and tarts. Add it to stews...it dissolves completely. Lastly, sprinkle it on soups in place of saltine crackers. It was in using the last of these suggestions that I received the all too familiar forehead pucker from Debbie. I was granted a similar look from her months ago when I added a dab of peanut butter to my oatmeal—I have my good friend Rhonda to thank for that idea (And it is delectable, particularly if you like peanut butter...and oatmeal.)—and my dear aunt has been suspicious of my eating habits ever since.

We had chili, deliciously beany chili last night, and, what goes better with chili than saltine crackers? I'll tell you what does!—Fiber One© cereal! Debbie peered down from the opposite end of the table as I made my addition and her face looked like it had a run-in with Picasso.

Brenda says that you can tell when Debbie's mad because her nose disappears in her contorted purple face...her looks of dismay are likewise noseless, but with less purple. I rolled my shoulders back and prepared to defend myself staunchly as Mom jumped in and patted her hand, intoning, "It adds roughage." I exhaled and nodded so vigorously to my defense that I think even my gray matter turned green.

Debbie looked bewildered, more than slightly disgusted, and said, "I've never seen that done before."

I was quick on the uptake with, "It's a serving suggestion on their website!" Because, you know, if it's published on the internet, it must be normal. Debbie dropped the subject and returned to her own chili muttering, bewildered, about the sanity of her niece. Her forehead looked ready for a kiss all evening.

It looked normal, relatively speaking of course, by this morning.

I think Miles and I are the last of our party to hit the road, so we should manage to be fashionably late, as always. This vacation means to much to us...this time we have with my mother. This is time we weren't supposed to have. I appreciate the opportunity.

Also though, I appreciate the sacrifice that my husband is making, being separated from the digital world that needs so much of his attention...and yet he is doing this for me and for my family. He is a very selfless man.

So the toothbrushes are packed, always a significant sign of departure in the Phillips residence, and the gas tank is full. I think it's time for a journey Northward, don't you?

I watch very little television, as I have mentioned before. I think all the reality TV ruined it for me—and, come on, now that Friends has ended, what's the use of even turning the thing on nowadays?

But I do it anyway, as I climb onto a piece of cardio equipment and look for a mind numbing activity to make me forget that I'm exercising. If they could just bottle that after-exercise high, it would save me a lot of time and a lot of sweat both.

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A brief bit of trivia:
The word, "endorphin", the post-exercise endogenous opioid biochemical compounds released in your body, is an abbreviation of the nickname "endogenous morphine", or morphine produced naturally in the body. So, now you know why aerobics instructors are so irritatingly giddy: they're high.

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But television, television is what I am talking about today. The title is beginning to make sense now, isn't it?

At one point, I had myself convinced that I didn't like the interruption of commercials...and so I flipped around until I had an infomercial to watch. But, what is an infomercial but an extra-long commercial, an extra-long commercial that occasionally repeats?—and yet, they keep me successfully entertained through the monotony of an elliptical workout.

"Eureka!" says I, as I stumble upon a fundamental truth: commercials are where it's at! Perhaps the reason I dislike commercials is that they distract me from what should be the especially interesting program about Amelia Earhart on The History Channel, and that by the time that the commercials have given the floor back to the spotlighted material, I can't stop thinking about the new super-sized m&m's©. Yeah, yeah, the radio in her plane wasn't working, they crashed in the South Pacific—but seriously, the size of those m&m's©!

And have you seen the one about the lipstick!? This lady applies it from this little reflective tube, takes a sip of coffee and—! NONE OF IT COMES OFF! And from the way that finicky cat, Morris, licks his chops, those 9Lives© Tender Nibbles with Real Gravy look pretty darned tasty. I'm salivating from the thought.

You get more bang for your buck with commercials. Thirty seconds and you have a story from start to finish...none of that thirty minutes crap! In the time it takes me to learn that Amelia Earhart was an aviator who disappeared mysteriously in 1937, information I already knew, I could have watched one-hundred and twenty mini-episodes! One-hundred and twenty mini episodes that would teach me that you can wear midriff-baring tops if you just eat Kellogg's© Special K Cereal! I didn't know that, did you? Or that your car can get totaled, your dog can drop dead, and it can be raining—but it's still a good day if your house smells like Febreze©! Man, do I need to get some of that stuff!

I wonder what interesting things I'll learn today! Ciao!

The Grasshopper is my in-town coffeeshop...so it's basically one of the seven wonders of my world. As luck would have it, it is situated next door to my gym, a fellow "wonder", and nothing rounds out a workout better than one of those huge, big-as-your-head muffins and a large cappuccino. Deliciously naughty.

I've been a good girl as of late, and have stopped only to buy a bottle of water for my walk home. They have an in-house brand of water, and though I like everything about the place—the coffee-licious aromas, the butternut squash-colored walls, the free Wi-Fi, and that huge flat panel TV in the corner—I just can't bring myself to drink something called, "Grasshopper Water".

I've never known a grasshopper to produce any sort of liquid that I see fit to drink, in my defense.