Bornfamous

It took a little longer than expected to get back online after moving 35 miles out into the country 11 days ago.

I’m on dial-up, of all things. Holy crap, I’m spoiled. For one thing, I keep forgetting to log off and write email and blog entries offline, so my friends can get through to me on the phone. [In fact, I just remembered to log off to finish this.]

I don’t have voicemail either, so the poor things can’t even leave me a message. I’m either online or on the phone with one of several friends most of the time, so my amazingly energetic, 76-year-old landlady has given up trying to call me. She just walks around to my side of the house and yells.

“VONNIE!”

Did I mention I hate that nickname? But she’s so adorable and so hard of hearing, I don’t object if she uses it. Just don’t you try it.

Nicole is off to La Jolla today, getting the royal treatment–a haircut and her choice of outfit to wear in an upcoming fashion show for cancer patients like herself. She looked so pleased and excited as she left this morning, I had to smile.

She worries me, though. Yesterday outside her garage, she said to me, “I’ve decided I’m going to go r-r-r-aufuhd.”

“What?”

“Rhaufuhd.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t understand.” Her French accent is very thick.

“R-R-R-A-W . . . F-O-O-D,” she said slowly, as to a young child.

“Ohh,” I said at last. “Why?”

“Because it’s good for cancer. I’m getting very congested lately.” It’s true, she’s been coughing a lot and having trouble finishing sentences. “But I hate the thought of it.”

“Why?” The thought of lots of salad, nuts and fresh fruit sounded pretty good to me.

“Can you imagine never being able to eat anything cooked at all?” Nicole peered up at me, shading her eyes from the bright sun.

“Oh. I see what you mean. No rice, no stir fry–yeah, that would get old pretty fast.”

“Exactly,” she said. “But I have to do it. I don’t want to die.”

She had told me earlier that she can’t have chemotherapy because of her chemical intolerance, so natural, alternative treatment is her only option. She’s been teaching me about nutrition since the first day I came to look at the place.

“The most important things Dr. Rea [a famous MCS doctor] says for MCS people,” she told me the first day, “are clean air, organic food, exercise and rest.” She’s been bringing me bowls of organic cooked millet or oats ever since, along with lots of welcome–and not so welcome–advice.

“Why aren’t you outside?” she asks. “When I first got sick, I lived out on the patio most of the day. I still do. You need fresh air!”

“Yes, but the sun is too hot,” I tell her. I don’t mention that my old desktop computer has to stay inside too, and I hate to leave it.

“Sit out in the mornings before the sun reaches the patio,” she tells me. “Read the paper. Talk on the phone, if you want. But stay outside!”

Yeah. Okay. I know the view is incredible but I’m a city girl. Views are supposed to be viewed, not experienced. Okay, I can tell this is going to take time.

Anyway, back to raw food:

“I’ve been curious about raw food myself,” I said. “I’ll do it with you.”

Heck, I hate cooking anyway.

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that. You don’t need it.”

“But it’s good for everybody, right?” I asked.

“Yes, everybody should eat at least 80% r-r-raw.”

“There you go.”

“Well, let’s try it then,” said Nicole, “a little at a time.”

I’ll be interested to see what she brings home from La Jolla. I’m sure it will be more than a pretty dress and a new haircut.

I think I’ve found a new friend.