Raise a glass of green juice

I know I've extolled the virtues of drinking the plant blood a gazillion times, but on this day of Irish days, do yourself a gigantic favour and get a juicer so you can raise a glass of green juice with me. Most points programs have the Breville or some other juice-o-matic as a reward option and if you troll your fliers or Amazon or used goods sites, you'll see these babies go on sale often.

If you're the picture of health, juicing will take your bod to the next level of cellular wellness. It's a direct hit - no chewing, no pesky fibrous husks for your guts to process, all sunshiney, enzymey goodness.  It'll boost your immune system, help fuck off cancer, give you bucketloads of energy and make your insides superhero material. If you're the picture of health issues, juicing will help you turn a major corner.

The store-bought juice is not good. It's pretty much dead. Sugar in a container. And squeeze the veg more than the fruit (three to one is ideal), with your fruit in the lower glycemic range (granny smiths, pears, grapefruit, berries). Don't be afraid of the time it takes - you develop a routine in no time and I promise that shoving all that goodness down the feed tube will erase any feelings of time guilt. Start it as a weekend ritual and replace your cup of coffee. You'll never look back.

And to those lovelies who have already gone to the green side - my man, my Ma and Pa, my brothers and sisters-in-law, my two gorgeous girl cousins and a certain gentle giant teacher man, my rockin' aunt, my cancer twin S, the ravishing Miss D, E, J, L and M, the champagne peddler, B, and her daughter (if there are more of you, please, please tell me) - you light my fire. 

Here's to St. Paddy's Day and viva la juice!!