Why is it that so much of our lives are wrapped around the thought of food. Often, you're home and you're too hungry to even talk about food. So you stand over the sink and start eating whatever you have--celery and some assorted nuts from a gift basket you got three years ago. By the time you figure out what you're going to eat, you're bloated, queasy, and no longer interested in food.
Then there are things you don't even realize you ate. You're on the run all day, you grab what you can, and at the end of the day you realize--you are a goat. You've eaten whatever you saw, whenever you saw it. And somewhere in your belly lie pathetically odd combinations of foods:
"A quarter pound of hummus and some Cracker Jacks."
"Fifteen pieces of bread and a jaw breaker."
Foods that have no business being together.
"Chicken salad, blueberries and a Mounds bar."
I think tomorrow I am having four pieces of dried pasta and an egg slightly poached. Busy day tomorrow don't ya know.
