Food Choices

For the last few years or so, I've been a mostly vegetarian.  I ate fish.  However, I am thinking about trying my hand at being vegan.  Now I am not usually one to care about what other people think, but I guess I do kind of care when it alters my life in any way, shape or form.  Why can't people just mind their own business and let me live my own life the way I want to?

Reasons that eating vegetarian or vegan around other people can be a trial:

 Most people don't know what it is and can't pronounce it. Or they don't know the difference.

 It's hard to get a decent meal in a regular restaurant.  And that is important when you are a foodie like me.

People who've heard you're a vegan or vegetarian expect you to be really thin when they meet you. Sorry!  My genes don't seem to work that way.

People expect you to be humorless, strident, and out to convert them.  I really don't give a shit what you eat.  I think everyone should think exactly like I do, however I know that is unrealistic.

People automatically think you're a radical, tree-hugging peacemaker, which maybe you are, but still....

Your in-laws think you are strange. Hell, even your own family thinks you are strange!  It's possible that this was true even before I became a vegetarian.

Your friends tell you that a cheese-less pizza is not really a pizza and will not split one with you.

When you tell someone that you're a vegetarian (because they asked!), they tell you that they really want to eat healthier and then go into all the reasons(i.e., excuses) why its too hard and they can't. But you weren't interested in having the conversation go that direction, and you can't seem to get them to get off it.

It's really tiresome the billionth time somebody asks you, "What do you eat?" with that you-must-be-crazy look on their face.

The food you pack for meals becomes the topic of conversation...EVERY DAY!

Others feel driven to point out that vegetables are alive too! (insert huge eye-roll here)

People will never believe (no matter how often you tell them after they brought it up) that you eat this way all the time, even at home. (After all, you can't live without meat, can you? *snicker)

When people find out you don't eat meat, they jump to conclusions and automatically have the argument, "If we didn't hunt, more deer would die from starvation, and anyone who thinks differently is IGNORANT."  I personally don't care that you hunt and eat what you (hopefully) humanely killed.  Who said anything about hunting?  I didn't.

People assume you'll be offended by every little thing.  Look, I honestly do not care what you put into your own body.  Some people might preach to you, but don't assume all vegan/vegetarians are the same.  Do all black men play basketball?  Do all Asian woman give great messages?  Do all Native Americans wear feathers every fucking day?  Quit stereotyping!

Due to your vegan, non-violence philosophy you must restrain yourself from strangling your "friend" when he tells the "screaming tomatoes" joke for the fifteenth time.

People assume you are vegan because you are trying to lose weight. Then they say, "lean chicken is the ticket! Remember, lean chicken!"

 Your spouse becomes an instant expert on vegan-ism (after all, they know YOU right?) and try to order for you in restaurants.(I will not discuss the eggplant parmigiana incident at this time.)

If I hear that I am taking food away from the bunnies (lettuce) one more time....

People think that you must be anemic or have some other sickness if you're vegan. You just can't be getting proper nutrition! They keep pointing out, "You look kind of pale today" or "You look tired" or "Are you feeling okay? Are you really feeling okay?"

People assume that being vegetarian means you don't do anything unhealthy, like eat chocolate or drink, so when you do those things, they act all shocked. They do make vegan beer and wine you know. (But no one is shocked when your meat eating friend smokes...Hmmmm...)

People you eat out with get exasperated when you try to determine what exactly is in the food you are ordering. (If it were an allergy, it would be fine, but since it's a choice, it's weird.)  This really pisses me off.

It's tiring that your vegetarian lifestyle being the big topic of conversation at EVERY social dinner you attend.  (this blog is different, it's mine and I'll discuss anything I want to.)

When a person you are just introduced to hears that  you are vegetarian, he says,"Oh, what about your husband. Is he normal?"  Wait. What?

When I steal a line from Phoebe on "Friends" and  tell someone that I don't eat anything with a face and they sarcastically reply "well potatoes have eyes and lettuce has a head."  I love that.  Never heard before either.

Being told "You can pick the meat off." In exasperation, I once replied,"Well, for me that would be the same as if I crapped on your food and told you that you could just pick it off. Would you?"

How many omnivores get asked what their typical meals are? And how many of them are quizzed on their balance of nutrients or eating ethics?

And last, but not least:

I hate always having to answer the question, "Why don't you eat meat?" In spite of all the reasons I could cite, the truth is that I just don't want to, and I shouldn't have to justify it every day of my life.

Love Is a Dog Named Daisy, That Pulled At Your Heartstrings One Petal At a Time

For the last month or so, I noticed that Daisy, our Lab/Airdale had been losing weight.  She also had a cough for a while now.  We had taken her to the vet about the cough previously but was told that it was from hair in her throat since she licked her paws habitually. 

At first I thought it was worms, so I treated her for that.  She starting eating better for a few days, but then Friday night she didn't want dinner.  Nor would she eat breakfast the next morning.  I couldn't even temp her with a hot dog.  Off to the vet we went.  By the way, Banfield Hospital at PetSmart takes walk-ins and are very nice and courteous.

To make a long story short, and because the best story is her life, not her death; my beloved friend Daisy had her pain humanely eased yesterday evening.  Unbeknown to us, she had been quietly suffering through the end stages of lung cancer.  She was so much stronger than I, I think. 

As I write this in the very early morning hours of my 37th birthday, I don't bemoan the fact that this happened so close to what normally would be my day. My day, my way, everything I say day, is what I always liked to call it.  I think that this was God's way of showing me what a wonderful gift I had in her.

We (I should say I) got her from the Humane Society when she was 11 months old.  She had been there a few weeks already after her owners had surrendered her because she ate the siding on the house while she was tied up all day while they were at work.  Lovely reason huh?  Anyway, my son and I (the hubby didn't want to go, thinking he would want to take them all) had went up there to find a companion for Harpo, our at the time, 2 year old Kelpie. 

We had walked in to the shelter and I remember thinking that there was no way a person could really evaluate whether a dog was for them in this environment.  There were about twenty people milling around, looking at the dogs.  The dogs were all jumping up to the wire that separated them from us.  They were running in circles, some pacing and whining.  But then I looked to my left and there sat my delicate, little flower, Daisy.  Although at the time her name was Phoebe.  She was skinny as a rail, and you couldn't see her eyes because of the hair hanging over them.  She looked like a straggly Ewok. My friend Sonja reminded me yesterday that when she had first seen her she had asked, "What the heck is that?"  I just replied, "That's Daisy.  Isn't she awesome?"  Eventually we did start getting her groomed as you can see by her different hairdos.

She had sat in her kennel, as regal as a princess.  Just patiently waiting, with only her tail wagging; waiting for me to find her.  We took her home that day. 

I could not have asked for a better dog.  Harpo was great, but he was man's dog.  He obeyed the hubby more than I and he was just not snuggly.  He was always on the go.  I wanted a dog that would let me love on them and hug them, and kiss on them.  Daisy was mine, through and through.  She didn't chase the cats, she never peed in the house, and always obeyed every command like she was born with an instruction booklet on how to obey your master. 

Daisy truly showed her worth a few years ago when I was diagnosed with MS and she became my service dog.  Even in her middle-age, she did well by me when I needed her.  I relied on her for balance and strength.  Now I rely on a cane when I need it.  Not as cute, but it works.

I could not have asked for a better friend in a dog than her.  I miss her.  This morning I instinctively moved to step over her when getting up this morning, since she, without fail, slept next to my side of the bed every night.  I put down three bowls instead of two for breakfast, before I remembered.  I went to let the dogs outside and stood there waiting for her to come to the door before I remembered. 

Daisy will forever be the flower in my heart.  And was the best dog ever.

Birthday Pondering

This year I will be 37.  I know that everyone says this but, I can't believe how time has flown.  I keep telling my son that before he knows it, he will be my age and wondering where the time has gone too.  He just laughs.  Whatever.

So I was thinking about what I wanted to do for the Ole birthday.  I'm thinking about doing a throwback and having a skate party at Skateworld like in the old days.  I hear that on Sundays nights they have 80's tunes.  But then I start freaking out like a kid giving out the invitation to her b-day party.  What if no one comes?  What if that just proves how delusional I am in thinking that I actually have more than one friend?  I think throwing yourself a birthday party is just too stressful.

I guess  will just stay home like I have the last few years and just wallow in my old age-ness.  Fuck it.