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I just can't get enough of the pineapple.
I just can't get enough of the pineapple.

Hop on board the pineapple express

Current trends in nutrition preach the benefits of eating a seasonal diet in accordance with where you live. This nutritional theory encourages eating locally grown food, preferably native to the geographic area you reside in and in accordance with what is in season for best health. Eating papaya in February in Wisconsin doesn’t exactly jibe with this.

We’re so used to seeing bananas in our produce section, at our health club snack bar or even at the gas station check out stand that it doesn’t usually occur to us that bananas are not indigenous to North America. There was a time when air-shipped bananas from the Chiquita farms in Costa Rica, Panama, Honduras and Guatemala were not found in an American grocery store produce section – so, people did not eat them. The modern convenience of importing and exporting our food supply is something we often take for granted.

I totally "get" and embrace this "eat local" trend – it’s a throwback to a "natural" way of living and consumption. It encourages community food production and support of your regional economy – both of which I am all for.

But, sometimes cravings win out.

In complete rebellion against seasonal or local eating, I have been indulging in some major pineapple action. Maybe it was the anticipation of our recent trip to Oahu, where the Dole Plantation produces a bounty of this spiky fruit. We drove by the pineapple fields, which surprised me with their low profile. I somehow envisioned that pineapples grew on trees, not on short, stocky plants.

Or perhaps this pineapple frenzy was the product of an instinctual pull toward the enzyme Bromelain in response to my hand injury that is still plaguing me. Pineapple contains tons of this enzyme known for its anti-inflammatory and healing properties. Forward-thinking surgeons often prescribe Bromelain as a post-procedure supplement to assist with bruising and swelling.

Bromelain also helps with digestion, which can be wonky while traveling, so consum…

I saw that on Facebook!
I saw that on Facebook!

Hearing vs. seeing...on Facebook

No one ever "hears" about anything anymore. No one seems to say, "I heard about that." Now it’s, "I saw that." And odds are - they viewed it on Facebook.

Are we desecrating our sense of hearing with endless postings about every detail of our lives on social media? Will auditory dissemination and recollection of personal stories, events and news simply disappear soon? Will telling a friend (in real life) about a happening just be a boring redundancy if you’ve already posted it? Will there be any need for a "catch up" lunch or cocktail if there is nothing new to relate? Is social media creating a sonic comprehension collapse?

Further, if something is not posted on Facebook did it even happen at all? And if you don’t post it on your timeline or create a "page" WILL it ever occur? You know what they say about a tree falling in the forest…

And can you even be selective about who "hears" about what anymore? It used to be that when you told a tid-bit to someone, perhaps they would relay it to someone else unless bound by confidence, but now does the luxury of keeping anything sacred exist?

Unless you really privatize your Facebook page, really, anyone can search you and see what is happening your life.

This is a great thing when you are trying to get the word out about a new business, a fundraiser or cause, but isn’t it just getting a touch cray cray when you run into someone you haven’t seen in years and you start to do the whole catch up spiel, tell them what is going on in your life and they say, "Oh yeah, I saw that."

Or how about when what you see on social media finagles its way into your subconscious? A quick glance at the Timeline embeds subliminal info that can taint real life social happenings. You find yourself thinking, "I think I already saw that" or "Where did I see that?" when someone redundantly recounts something to you that you have already seen online. Seemingly new information has a spark of familiarity and an air of déjà vu. These vie…

Lindsay shows her new iPhone some love.
Lindsay shows her new iPhone some love.

I'm a Google (or, at least, I was)

If you read this blog at all (or even glance at the photos) you will notice a recurring theme of discomfort with technology. This issue has resurfaced yet again, when I finally relented and got an iPhone.

You’ll recall that I fervently opposed the Apple device due to its touch screen keyboard. Well, the contraption I went with instead, the Motorola XPRT with it’s mini QWERTY only punished me for my loyalty to an old school keypad.

I developed a nasty case of tendonitis/texting thumb that required several trips to a hand specialist and eventually a cortisone shot. After a brief period of temporary relief, the pain returned (and continues to plague me) with a vengeance. I realized I could no longer employ the two-thumb typing method on those little buttons I so adamantly held onto.

So, after almost two more months of holding out for my Sprint upgrade to come due, finally, on March 1, I made an appointment to swap up. I still wasn’t completely sold on the iPhone going in. Even though I use a MacBook Pro for my computer, I wasn’t convinced that streamlining and completely utilizing the intangible iCloud was for me.

I was totally Google-based for my email, contacts and calendar, making a Droid a realistic, convenient option. So, I pitted the iPhone against the Samsung Galaxy.

It took me all of three minutes in the Sprint Store to declare, "I want the iPhone!" so loud that children in the vicinity giggled, assuming Bart Simpson had made a surprise visit to have his phone serviced. (That one may go over your head unless you’ve heard me speak, or worse, yell). The kicker?

I opened the iPhone settings menu and saw the "Gmail" option beautifully displayed to me. It was as if the phone was telling me to purchase it. "See, we’ve made this easy for you. Touch the Gmail button and you will have your Gmail."

"Fantastic," I thought. "I can just input my password and still use all my old Google apps!" Brand new iPhone, seamless transition – just what I wanted! I c…

Too many choices can lead to a fashion disaster.
Too many choices can lead to a fashion disaster.

15 wardrobe essentials to prevent fashion disaster

My wardrobe is overwhelming me.

I try not to be a clothing hoarder. (Hashtag: #FirstWorldProblems.) I diligently make routine donations to Goodwill. Bags full of garments I am willing to part with exit my home regularly and yet, so much attire still remains. Gazing at "my side" of the closet, I am overwhelmed by the collection of fabric hanging wistfully. Open a drawer and my heartbeat quickens from the stacks of T-shirts that no one person could get through in a year. One human certainly does not "need" this much variety.

In fact, too many choices inevitably lead to a fashion disaster.

Enjoying style is one thing. But the over-consumption of attire I have participated in is confronting me every time I meander into my closet. I am a bargain shopper, so if it’s on sale for $5 and it intrigues the avant-garde in me, I snatch it up and add it to the masses. But, those purchases add up, pile up and crowd together.

As I get older, I understand the concept of investing in better quality, most likely more expensive wardrobe basics/staples and having less of them.

There is a part of me that wants to part with the majority of it. Pare down the clutter into minimal basics. Inspired by an email from that touted "15 Pieces, 10 ways," I wondered if I could reduce my wearables down to the basics, a scant 15 items. Would my inner fashionista be satisfied with fewer choices? Perhaps she’d even be relieved at a clearer picture of coverings. Maybe reducing volume would inspire creativity in the mix and match realm.

Before I attempt to downsize on my own, I queried some of Milwaukee’s most influential style mavens for their advice. If they could only have 15 pieces in their entire wardrobe, what would it come down to? I went to an array of sources, so find the gal you identify with most and heed her advice! Or mix and match their suggestions to create your own custom, 15-piece collection! Be mindful of their overlaps like black leggings or the "little black dres…