I think he’s trying to tell me something. . .
September 24, 2009
FollowI ate a hamburger today
September 22, 2009
I became a vegetarian because of Billy Crystal.
His movie City Slickers bugged me on many levels, but one thing that drove me crazy was his adoption of that baby calf at the end of the movie. “I bet he sticks that thing in his car and they all stop at McDonalds for burgers and fries on the way home.”
I stopped eating meat that night back in 1990, and when I did it, I went whole hog, so to speak.
No meat, no fish, no chicken stock in my soups (yes, I asked at restaurants). I never could give up butter, cheese and eggs, but anything that required an animal to die? No problem.
I joined PETA, listened to Consolidated, stopped wearing leather and volunteered at an animal shelter. I grew to hate, still hate, how animals are raised and killed on factory farms.
But the first thing to creep back into my diet was seafood. God, I missed fish and shrimp and lobster and everything but clams. I rationalized those ocean creatures right onto my plate and into my belly.
I didn’t knowingly have any red meat or chicken until 2002, at a Portuguese Festival with friends, when pregnant with Jilly. The craving hit me as soon as I smelled the meat cooking on the outdoor grills. I was overcome and soon found myself inhaling a linguica dog. Heaven.
For the past seven years, I’ve loosened up a bit more. Unfortunately, the meats I want to eat, the ones I cannot resist, are some of the worst ones for you: bacon and sausages (kielbasa, salami, pepperoni, linguica, bratwurst, sweet italian, hot italian and even liverwurst). I still can’t choke down the “healthy meats” like chicken, turkey or even pork.
But, my family eats it all, so I now drive a couple of hours once a month to pick up all grass-fed, natural, living-in-harmony meat from a local farm. I tell people, “this cow had a great life before his throat was slit” with not-a-little irony.
And tonight I ate a hamburger. It was grass-fed, no-hormones-added beef that I grilled myself, but still I know that it was once a living, breathing creature. I paused a couple of times while I chewed and thought about this simple fact.
But, damn, it was good.
Last Day
September 17, 2009
Just over two years ago, I wrote this post about my husband starting a 2-year MBA program.
Today, is his last day.
I know I don’t have things as hard as some of my friends. My husband doesn’t travel for work; he still made it home for dinner most nights. He wasn’t deployed overseas; other than ten days doing a program in Brazil, his travel has been with our family. And, his work and school hours weren’t as heinous as someone starting life over as a chef; at least his Executive MBA program was designed to minimize the amount of on-campus time.
But, I’ve had to get used to him leaving for work before the sun rises so he can squeeze some studying in before his co-workers arrive.
I’ve had to tell the kids to quiet down after dinner because Daddy is on a call upstairs or signed in to a lecture.
I’ve learned to keep myself occupied with reality TV and Twitter before creeping into a dark and quiet bedroom.
And, I gained over 10 pounds these past two years. I never thought of his school and my appearance being related, but I wonder. I’m pretty certain that without Kristen, Bill and Jillian, I’d still have those 10 pounds, maybe more.
I haven’t been a “school widow” exactly, but there are times I’ve felt like I’m steering this big ol’ ship on my own. It wasn’t terrible or impossible, but it hasn’t been as much fun either.
When my husband “graduated” back in May, it was only a ceremony. We knew he still had a few more months of hard work ahead. For some reason, these four months have been the hardest on me mentally.
I remember one of the heads of his department speaking to us “spouses” at a gathering the night before the ceremony. He said that the period after school is one of adjustment for everyone and that it won’t always be easy.
He also asked us to hold back a few weeks before handing over the “Honey Do” lists we’ve shoved in a drawer for the past two years.
Screw the Honey Do list. Who’s up for Girls Night Out?
So, here’s to two years that, of course, went by in the blink of an eye. Here’s to all the hard work, the sacrifice and the compromise.
Congratulations, Baby. We did it!
