Some Cures For Post-Election Indigestion

We take a break from poetical reverie and social commentary to mark an important day. It is ELECTION DAY in the United States. Democratic process is being... er... processed. That is to say, those who are eligible and registered to vote can, for the most part, cast their ballots--that is, make their choices and wishes known unto all the electorate.

I say "for the most part" because this country is not completely unlike others, in that there are nefarious efforts underway to ensure that many people who are eligible and registered do not have the opportunity to make their choices known. It should be illegal for any State government to issue laws within the last four weeks leading up to an election, much less at the last minute, adding ridiculous rules about how voters must prove they are eligible and registered.

All I can say is this: VOTE EARLY! If you live in a swing state, I feel your pain. If you are a voter who is among the marginalized or threatened, I pray for you on this day. I pray for all of us. 

VOTE.

Then go have a drink. Or two. (Responsibly and not alone. Cabs are standing by).

Tomorrow, no doubt, we will be UNITED as a NATION of people who have POST-ELECTION INDIGESTION, of one sort or another.

To ease BELCHING and FLATULENCE, brew an infusion of chamomile, peppermint and balm, in equal parts. Drink a cup before eating (if you are up to it), three times a day.

To ease CONSTIPATION, decoct 2 tsp to a cup of water yellow dock, dandelion and aniseed. Drink three times a day.

If you drank too much on Tuesday night (and for the many months preceding, or even years), you might have been contributing to CIRRHOSIS of your precious LIVER! So, get out your tinctures of milk thistle, 2 parts to 1 part each vervain and dandelion root. If these are alcohol based, for HEAVEN'S SAKE put them in hot water so the alcohol will evaporate away from the herbal component! (Don't add insult and further injury!) One Half TSP of this mixture, 3 times a day.

If you are JUST PLAIN PISSED OFF, you might need to slow down with some good old fashioned barley water.

BARLEY WATER

4 to 5 oz. whole barley

4 pints boiling water plus 1 cup

rinds and reserved juice of 2 lemons and 4 to 6 oranges

natural sweetener, to taste (honey, agave nectar, natural sugar, maple syrup)

tiny splash of rum (unless you are working preserving your liver)

1. Gather your lemons and oranges. Cut them in half and squeeze the juice into a bowl. Fish out any seeds, of course. Set aside the juice. Cut up the rinds in to strips or hunks and set aside; no precision necessary.

2. Throw the barley in with 1 cup of water into a quite large pan. Bring this to a boil for about 10 mins. Remove from the heat and strain the liquid off, rinsing the barley. (This is merely to cleanse the barley.)

3. Return the barley to the pan with 4 pints of water. Add the rinds of both lemons and at least four oranges (this mostly depends on the size of your pan).

4. Turn up the heat until the liquid is simmering. Continue simmering your emotions and your barley for either one hour or at least until the barley is completely soft. Pull the pan off the burner and let heat diminish to lukewarm.

5. Strain your barley liquid into a pitcher you can cover, discarding the rinds and barley.* Add the sweetener of your choice, to taste, and the reserved juice, along with the splash of rum (not for you LIVER people...)

Drink a cup at meals.

Barley water is supposed to help lower blood pressure and regulate digestion.

Queen Elizabeth II drinks barley water at every meal. 

Of course, she doesn't have to deal with the stress of general elections, does she?

_____

* You may want to squeeze the liquid out of the barley. I keep an empty flour sack in my kitchen, that I use for drying washed greens and beans; that would be an admirable tool. After straining the liquid into your pitcher, place all the remaining material in the bottom of your flour sack, twist and squeeze! Then dump the remaining pulpy mess into your green waste disposal container, or (better yet!) compost pile.

N.B.: You know I am not a doctor, and so these are soothing recipes for the nerves. Further, I am tongue-in-cheek-facetious; I do not advocate drunkenness.

Songstress

Never had there seemed so many hours
as lately there had been, like flowers,
all requiring music, by turns and towers.

The map of the head of the point
is convoluted,
possibly even polluted,
but in any case, inside out,
so a call came in from the tenor section,
requiring the sort of response,
by way of melodic line,
from one tonality to another,
or at least to the needed destination.

This, but one line in a fugue,
muddy, and instrumentally Moog,
guiding arrivals and departures
for all the birds of the sky,
as well as the cleanups, nigh,
of their minor mishaps,
evident all over the tarmac.

The phone rings again,
introducing yet another part,
and so the counterpoint thickens, thins
waxes and wanes into a sticky wicket thicket
—Ah, only a desperate sales call;
they had tried a dozen times before,
but perhaps the thirteenth time
will be the charm,
and the hapless caller
thinks to disarm
my brain.

Meanwhile, the music unravels
into a rubble-like rumbling gravel,
and seeks to go bounding along,
like a steam calliope,
to the circus,
as if that is truly
what should happen next.

From her cheeks to her hair,
the flames rise beyond care,
threatening to set curtains alight,
not to mention the folded laundry,
but thankfully in time to warm the dinner,
hopefully before the call goes out,
not at all for the fun,
to 9-1-1.

Please quell the flare,
and give this songbird flight
from the musical madness
of chairs in pairs,
lines and signs;
find resolution on your own,
ye dogs, cats, cars, cans and kin!

This girl needs a biscuit, some flan,
and a warm, soothing tisane.

© 2011 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen