Smooth Operator

Drawing aside her veil of melancholy, the author encounters a surprising set-up for the definitive play on words.

I often doubt my capability to improve upon the low-level weight I've now long maintained, but every so often a new fount of confidence reinvigorates my surety.  Working with the knowledge that I will never voluntarily submit to consuming traditionally-prepared milkshakes (claiming mild intolerance to lactose and outward resistance to fat), a new strategy for easy calorie consumption arrived in my mind, advertised as a definitive solution to my continuing dilemma.  It seemed to me that I could concoct my own nutrient-dense drinks, based on a simple template and incorporating tasty, natural ingredients I might learn to tolerate when taken via straw.  I was once told by a dietician that frozen fruit, especially bananas, lend substantial body to smoothies.  They are a refreshing, sweet coagulator and preferable to ice alone, which contributes volume without the benefit of vitamins and calories.  Plain yoghurt would add a sour note, carrying with it protein; soy or almond-derived “milks” would benefit calcium levels and general consistency.  What’s more, should I feel especially adventurous/confident, an infusion of raw kale, coconut “water”, dates, figs, nut butter, or even “lite”-style ice cream might give the concoction real legitimacy as a meal supplement.

I was prepared to follow-through with a primitive variation on this recipe, and even went so far as to select Maine blueberries from the local grocer’s supply, having already chilled a peeled, halved banana in our icebox and readied the Almond Breeze.  Yes, this would be a test run with fare from my usual list of pantry staples, but it was a big step nonetheless and I was eager to see it realized.  Unfortunately, I did not get further than adding the second ingredient to my family’s much-neglected high-wattage mixer when a toxic aroma met the air.  I had already noticed that the blades of this ancient appliance were not spinning at a particularly effective speed, so it did not require much consideration to deduce that said contraption had a faulty motor and was presently in the act of burning-out.  The punch line to all this is that I had only JUST revisited Jack White’s 2012 alt-blues album “Blunderbuss”, and the pun born from its memory was more delicious than anything I might have concocted with my arsenal of safety foods.  Clearly, this was a classic case of Blenderbust.