Colorado. Runner. Yogi. Fucking hilarious, like, 17% of the time.

sniff, sniff II

Were you hoping I was feeling better? Me too! Weird. I'm not.

Also, I'm cranky because I haven't eaten anything today because thinking about eating makes me want to puke. But now I'm hungrier than I am nauseous and while I wait for someone to volunteer to bring me food (trust me, it will happen eventually. A boyfriend/mother/stalker/random coworker will offer)  I wanted to write about the whole vegan thing. I was mostly vegan for the first few days of last week - exceptions were made for the bread I had made that had nonfat dry milk in it and some grab-n-go peach breakfast pies that I just really loved and didn't want to throw out or give away. Everything else in my home that was not vegan was piled into a paper bag and delivered to the lovely family of six that regularly fed omnivore Emma. Their haul included such gems as

  • A half eaten bag of Reese's Pieces
  • A half eaten bag of beef jerky
  • A half eaten bag of marshmallows
  • Two half full cartons of eggs
  • Several cans of Campbells Chunky Soup that I have had for several years and clearly didn't want to eat, even as an omnivore

I know. How ever was I so generous. Of course, I have delivered a fairly constant stream of cookies and brownies to that same house, so I'm going to call it a wash.

Anyway, after the bread and pie were gone, I became what you might call an actual vegan. For reals.

Im not extorting you to go vegan, lovely readers. I just think the pissed off face and protuberant udders are kinda cute.

I have to say it feels weirdly natural. There have been several restaurant dinners that have been a little tough, but not because I want the cheese - more because I'm trying to walk a line that isn't completely 'ok tell me every single ingredient of every single vegetarian dish' but also isn't like my old friend Sam-the-vegetarian  who had a strict don't ask don't tell policy.

I think, oddly, that it's so far been simpler for me than vegetarianism ever was. Possibly I'm a very small subset of the personality type that enjoys being told what to do - you know, a masochist. (Yes, I have been watching Secret Diary of a Call Girl, why do you ask?) Even if that's not the case, the answer to the question 'what to eat' has now been narrowed from 'anything in the store/on the menu' to a much smaller list of options, and that's sort of freeing. The Grand Inquisitor would be so proud of me for admitting that.

Are you fed up with me being all 'ooohhh veganism is easy' yet? Cause there's a caveat. As I may have mentioned, I am sick. Icky awful haven't done more than shift from couch to bed to couch and whine and read Shapely Prose and Jezebel. Today, when I was taking one of my many naps, I dreamt of mozzarella sticks. Ooey - gooey - stretchy - cheesy - mozzarella sticks.  With marinara and that crispy outside deliciousness. I'm not talking about figurative dreaming. I literally dreamed I was eating them. I could taste them.

I'm eating vegan moo shu and  spring rolls because lo and behold a delivery person came through yay. And man alive, I would kill for a mozzarella stick. Even if the flu meant I didn't technically get to keep said stick. Gross.

you know I love you more than one man should

sniff, sniff