CSA Weeks 21-24: Done and DONE.

Whew! That felt nothing like 24 weeks, darlings. Maybe it was because we only bought a half-share and were therefore less overwhelmed by random produce, but this year’s CSA was much more manageable than last year’s. Let’s see how it wrapped up (spoiler: anticlimactically).

Week 21 didn’t happen because it flipping snowed. In October! I hate the East Coast sometimes. The One Straw crew didn’t feel safe driving to the market, for which I couldn’t blame them. It was the first time in 23 years they missed a summer market day. Everyone stayed home, and we got twice the veggies for Week 22:


There we have some garlic, bok choy, sweet potatoes, multicolored peppers, broccoli, and it looks like some scallions. The bok choy, peppers, scallions, and broccoli went into this lovely stir-fry with some cashews:


I’m sure we added some garlic, too. Garlic is great because it can just hang out in the Crisper and keeps for a nice long while.

We’ve been really into dicing and roasting sweet potatoes this fall. Sometimes I do them plain, with just some olive oil and salt and pepper, and other times I add a little maple syrup and ginger. I can’t remember what I did this time, but it was delicious. Fun fact: roasted sweet potatoes are an excellent breakfast.

Week 23 didn’t happen either, but not because of any shenanigans by Mother Nature. Red and Lucy and I went to the beach because I had a three-day yoga training weekend. It was wonderful and exhausting and we took a huge pan of Vcon’s Pumpkin-Baked Ziti with us so we wouldn’t have to cook. Here’s a picture of my girl meeting the ocean for the first time:


So we got double the veggies for Week 24, which seemed an appropriate way to finish out the season:


So much leafy greenage! We got spinach, mizuna, mustard greens, bok choy, broccoli, and I think that’s it. We got two of a few of those, so forgive me for being a little confused.

We had to make space in the fridge, but in doing so we found some sticky grossness and also some random bits of onion skin and other detritus. So Red brought out the vacuum:


I suppose we didn’t use all the sweet potatoes after all, as we had one left over for to make this soup:


This is Double Mustard Greens and Roasted Yam Soup from Vegan Soul Kitchen. We made it last year and loved it, so I was glad to have it again.

We picked up some carrots and made this stir-fry with the mizuna, some of the broccoli, and one of the heads of bok choy. It doesn’t look like much in the photo, but it was yummy.


When we realized we had missed a bok choy and a head of broccoli, we kicked ourselves, then steamed up the broccoli and sautéed the extra bok choy with some garlic and all that beautiful spinach. Over rice, it made a perfectly simple and satisfying dinner. And thus did our 2011 CSA experience come to an end.

Like I said, this year was much better than last year, but we were still finding our feet then. This year, we’re old pros. I’m very thankful for One Straw. One of the things I love about them, aside from their excellent food, is their communication. Joan is always available to chat on market days, and she sends out emails when there’s something we need to know. I found her CSA wrap-up email especially interesting, because she explained how this year’s cracked-out weather really affected their harvest. We had a super-hot July and then a really rainy September, so the hard winter squash didn’t fare too well. The beets didn’t have a good time of it, either. The spinach was delicious, but it made only infrequent appearances at the market. Because of a lack of sunshine, the broccoli heads were very small (and being broccoli lovers, we noticed). Evidently many East Coast farmers experienced the same conditions, and flooding left some without a harvest at all. This is very sad, because I’m sure they are small family farmers, like One Straw, and the weather determines their livelihoods. It really brings into focus just how interconnected we all are, and I hope next year is kinder to those who dedicate themselves to feeding us healthy, natural food.

Lazy snow day.

Lucy and I had a snow day on Thursday. It was awesome, because I spent 75% of the day in my pajamas watching TV (there was an American Gothic marathon on, and I lucked into some Buffy and X-Files as well), and she hung out on the couch. She’s been dying to go out, though, so I managed to close off our deck so she could have some fresh air:

Not to be confused with Longcat.

She tolerates her coat. It’s the third one, so she better—she nearly destroyed the other two, which were made of cheaper stuff. This one’s L.L. Bean, and so far we’ve got no complaints.

Eventually, all that strenuous TV-watching got me hungry. The night before, I’d made dosadillas, and they are totally a gift that keeps on giving. Buy a pack of tortillas, make your filling, and you’ve got a 5-minute meal whenever you want it. Lately, I’ve been enjoying them with a bit of sour cream on top. We have Tofutti in the fridge (that stuff lasts forever—I had forgotten all about it), but you can use whatever. I won’t judge you.

Om nom nom, dosadilla will eat your face!

Here’s a picture of a nice salad I made last week. It’s only spinach, cucumber, and kalamata olives with some random vinaigrette on top, but it was incredible. The perfect pre-yoga dinner.


And that’s it for now. Maybe tomorrow I’ll tell you about baking granola bars. You’d like to hear about that, wouldn’t you?

Noms of late.

Here’s a random food post for you long-suffering readers. Still grooving on Appetite for Reduction, so that’s what we’ve been eating lately:


This is Ginger Bok Choy & Soba with some cubed tofu. It was really good, except for the part where soba noodles cost four times as much as regular noodles. Eff that, I say. I buy my pasta at Costco, even the whole-wheat stuff. Seriously though, the ginger adds a nice zip to this dish and the noodles are very comforting.


Arabian Lentil & Rice Soup may be my favorite soup yet from this book. Red compared it to chicken noodle, and it does have that homey, snow-day appeal without, you know, the carcass. We added extra carrots, because carrots rock. The rice soaks up the liquid after it sits awhile, but I just added a little extra water when I packed the leftovers for lunch and everything was aces.

We desperately need bowls that aren’t stark white.

Applesauce Soup! Okay, not really, but that’s what I’m calling it. This is Butternut-Apple Soup, and it is like Thanksgiving in a bowl. We had to hack this one a bit, as our hippie grocery was out of butternut squash. We bought three small acorn squashes instead, reasoning that it was a pretty fair substitution. The recipe calls for dicing the squash and adding it to the pot, but if you’ve ever tried to peel an acorn squash, you’ll know why I decided to roast them and then scoop the cooked flesh out instead. It worked like awesome. It gets pureed anyway, so where’s the harm? It tastes pretty good, too—a little sweet for me, but it all balances out. This is the kind of thing I would serve to guests at a fancy holiday party, with a little sprig of fresh rosemary on top. Like the lentil-rice soup, it thickens in the fridge, but that just means you’ll spill a little less.

And here, my darlings, is what I made last night:


This gorgeous specimen is Cauliflower Pesto Soup, and yes, I chiffonaded that basil and artfully arranged that pine nut just for the photo. One of my coworkers sent me this recipe that appeared in the Washington Post, which is basically the exact same thing. The fine print says that it’s adapted from the Appetite for Reduction recipe, but the only change I can see is the amount of pine nuts, and those are optional anyway. Oh, and a little extra olive oil, which the soup totally does not need. So, I wouldn’t really call that adapted, more like ripped off. Anyway, I made it Isa’s way because I don’t suck. And the soup is divine. So easy and so good for you, but luscious with basil and garlic. My basil lives at my in-laws’ house because they get all the sunlight that we don’t, and the basil was pretty pathetic when it lived here. Under my mom-in-law’s care, it’s perked right up. I love fresh basil.

I ate my soup with a side of this:



Sad puppy face is because Red is away for work this week. Lucy and I are both despondently lounging in front of the TV, nuzzling each other for comfort. God, I’m so dramatic. He’ll be back late Friday. Until then, the house will be quiet and the fridge will runneth over as I’ll have no one to help me eat everything.

Speaking of Lucy, she is still on activity restriction, but she had her stitches out over the weekend. The vet thinks she may have injured a tendon as she seems unable to retract one of her toes. This doesn’t hurt her and doesn’t affect how she moves; it just means that one of her toes sort of magically grew a couple centimeters. Leave it to Lucy, y’all.

Queen Puppyface: In stitches, yet again.

There was suckage in Casa Burnout last week, but let me assure you that it all turned out fine.

Wednesday was a regular day, albeit one that was a little extra aggravating on the work side of things. I got home, made stir-fry with Red (side note: peanut oil really is better for crisping up tofu), and chilled out. Oh, it was peaceful and I was happy. La di dah.

Then Lucy came in from outside tracking blood all over the floor.

Now, this has happened twice before, so my panic instinct has been blunted. The sight of blood doesn’t faze me, and she didn’t seem distressed, so I got the bag of medical junk from the bathroom and we went to work. Red located her cut (a small one on one of her rear legs, just above her paw), then held her while I cleaned it with peroxide and wrapped it up. It kept bleeding, so we re-bandaged it with extra gauze. That seemed to do the trick, so we settled her on a blanket and loved on her for a while:

Woe, woe, woe, all is woe....

She really is a good girl about having her injuries dressed. She didn’t snap or growl at us, even though I’m sure we hurt her. She’s so gentle and sweet-tempered and I always feel bad when I have to break out the peroxide and medical tape.

Anyway, we were having a fine time down there on the living room floor when OH MY GOD WHY ARE YOU BLEEDING LUCY PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD STOP BLEEDING.

Our amateur wound-dressing efforts had failed, and how. At this point, the decision was made to head for the emergency vet. Our partnership has been a profitable one for them, so why fight it. We tugged an old sock onto Lucy’s foot, covered it with a plastic newspaper bag, and hustled her out to the car. It was 9:00 by this point and I was nearly in tears. Red and I both felt like shit for not going to the vet immediately instead of trying to handle it ourselves.

Picture us, dear readers, as we made our pathetic entrance to the vet half an hour later. I am panicked and blinking in confusion at the fluorescent lighting, Red is trying to be stoic, and Lucy has managed to put a hole in her plastic bag and is squelching blood all over the floor.

To top it off, the second they got us into an exam room, she peed everywhere. Combined with the bloody paw prints, the place looked like a crime scene. A sweet tech took Lucy away to fix her up and I started crying for real.

An hour and a half later, Lucy was stitched, bandaged, and feeling no pain. I’ve seen her more drugged before, but she was definitely stoned out. The vet assured us that the cut was minor, only four stitches were needed, and Lucy would be fine. I finally stopped crying, and we bundled her back into the car for the trip home. Sometime after that, we got her settled on her bed and covered her with a blanket, then tried to sleep ourselves. We both woke up several times to make sure she was still breathing.

It will not surprise you to learn that I called out of work the next day, and that Red went in late. He scoured the yard for pieces of glass or metal that might have hurt her, but couldn’t find anything. We have no idea how she might have done it, but this seems to be her injury M.O. Other people’s dogs eat chocolate or socks. Ours has a knack for hurting herself outside.

Once he went to work, Lucy and I napped. She was very good about staying on her blanket, and I bedded down on the couch so I could keep an eye on her. We went outside once or twice, and I must commend the vet for finding the perfect bandage covering: an IV bag. Seriously, you guys, if your dog is anything like Lucy, beg your vet for a few of these beauties. They’re tougher than newspaper bags and last longer. Lucy didn’t even bother chewing at it.

Since I had this unscheduled free day, I decided I might as well make good use of it. With the able assistance of my buddy Captain Picard and his crew, I cleaned up the kitchen and made Lucy a batch of Vegan Flower’s Oats & Molasses biscuits. Because I was still feeling awful about Lucy getting hurt, I cut them out in tiny heart shapes (ever-so-slightly smaller than the shot-glass cookies):

They are Lucy-approved.

Sometime around noon, Lucy decided she felt well enough to flout the doctor’s orders and hop up on the couch while my back was turned. Strict rest and no jumping, my ass.


Since then, Lucy has gotten a little better each day. It’s futile to keep her from jumping onto the couch or our bed, so we just let her do it, because one jump is better than the three or four subsequent jumps that would follow if we shooed her off. It’s hard to tell if she’s pulled out any of her stitches (black stitches on a black dog—really? no one thought Day-Glo orange might be useful?), but she’s getting around fine and mostly leaves her leg alone. She even tolerates taking her antibiotics, most of the time.

If you’re keeping score at home, this makes three extremities that have been stitched or stapled, plus one elbow (that was a benign tumor, though). We’re keeping our fingers crossed this is the last. In the meantime, Lucy will be ruling her kingdom from the sofa, snacking on homemade treats and gazing longingly at the snowy yard.

Lucy in the Sun with monkeys….

Just a quickie this evening, darlings, but I couldn’t let the weekend finish without giving you a heads-up on Lucy’s latest media coup. Jill at the Baltimore Sun’s Unleashed blog was kind enough to ask us to test-drive a cute-as-hell Paul Frank collar and leash. Once I saw that it was orange and had monkeys on it, how could I say no? The results, as you can imagine, were adorable. Pop over there to read our review and see pictures of Lucy and BaltimoreGal’s lovergirl pittie, Stella!

In case that isn’t enough Lucy for you, check out these snaps from our photo session:

Enough with the flash already!

Hi! Are you here to play with me?

Serious dog is serious.

This modeling stuff is hard work!

Close-up with tongue!

Who’s my pretty girl?

Lucy is, of course! Naturally, she’s gorgeous, but when the time came for us to buy her a new collar, we wanted one that was as sassy as she is. The collar that she came to us with is still serviceable, but it’s plain and at 1” wide, a little skinny for her big, blocky pittie head and thick neck. Thanks to rave reviews from It’s a Vegan Dog’s Life, I had been longingly browsing K9 Closet for some time. Recently, Red and I finally decided on a collar. Lucy is now the proud owner of a sparkly red Hot Rod collar, which, as you can see, looks fabulous on her. At 2” wide, it fits her better too. It’s a martingale combo, which means it has both a martingale loop (in case we ever need to clip her leash on immediately and don’t have time for her harness) and a side-release buckle for easy removal. The best of both worlds! I was a little concerned that a collar made of vinyl might be on the stiff side, but Lucy is pleased to report that after a day or two, the vinyl softened right up and is very flexible. It’s lined in satin for extra comfort.

Then, to make things even snazzier in the collar department, It’s a Vegan Dog’s Life offered a collar flower giveaway! Now, my girl is not exactly the dainty floral type, but these flowers were so adorable I had to ask Molly to send us one. I chose rainbow, because really, what is better than rainbows?

Good dog, bad photo.

The giveaway also included this cute sticker, which will soon grace the bumper of my car.

You have no idea how much I need this reminder.

From nom-worthy recipes to fashionable accoutrements, It’s a Vegan Dog’s Life has ensured that Lucy will be well fed and glamorous. Thanks again, Molly!

Carob cookies!

Not for me, dear readers! Perish the thought. I’m a snobby chocolate-loving vegan who thinks carob is barely fit for human consumption, but Lucy sure loves it! This weekend, I made her carob biscuits from It’s a Vegan Dog’s Life. Since we had carob chips and the recipe called for powder, I threw the chips into the chopper to grind them up a bit. They didn’t get powdered very finely, but Lucy didn’t care.

Red and I brainstormed about how to get the maximum number of cookies out of our finite amount of dough. Making drop cookies works well, but they are often big and we end up breaking them into pieces. We don’t have very many cookie cutters, and those are big too. Then, I had an epiphany: shot glass. It worked like, well, like you might expect a shot glass to work, which was awesome. I hereby officially recommend the shot glass for cutting out dog biscuits, because you get a biscuit that is the perfect size for just about any dog. And if you have a bigger dog, like Lucy, you don’t need to feel bad when you sneak him or her a second one.

They look like mini chocolate-chip cookies!

And that is pretty much it! If you have a dog or love one, especially a vegan one, the recipes and tips at IAVDL are super-valuable. Thanks for another winner, Molly!

Can I have another cookie, mama?

Frustrating pit bull conversation #7,421.

Because I enjoy beating my head against the wall, I opened my mouth in defense of pitties the other day. You can guess what ensued.

Background: I’m Facebook friends with a young lady whom I used to babysit. (Newsflash, Burnout: You’re old.) Recently, she posted a link to a petition urging Congress to ban pit bulls (because we all know how well Facebook petitions work out). I knew she worked at a doggie daycare, so I was confused and commented to that effect. I don’t have the comment because she deleted it, but it was something like, “How can you want to ban pit bulls if you work at a doggie daycare? Come meet my pittie!”

The following conversation transpired. Because I’m a bitch and firmly believe that the younger generation isn’t being taught to write properly, all typos have been preserved. (No, I don’t capitalize on Facebook. Count yourselves lucky I capitalize here.)

Her: yea and one of the reasons i work there is because pitts are not aloud. no i dont blame the dogs i blame the people who bred them this way in the first place.

Me: yeah i know a lot of people feel that way. we get plenty of looks when we take lucy out. then they meet her and love her! since you love dogs i'd encourage you to check out best friends animal sanctuary (utah), bad rap (cali), and recycled love and bmore dog (both baltimore), all of whom work with abused pitties and advocate responsible dog ownership. after all, pitties aren't the first dogs to be demonized (german shephers, dobermans, rotties) and they won't be the last.

Her: ive met allot of pits, and yes some can be good but everyone has the potential to snap. and i dont like any breeds that are built and bred to protect, dogs are saposed to be mans freind. they shouldent be used for protection at all ever. and no i dont want to check out pit bull rescues.. i will never own a pit or would recomend a pit to any one. and if anyone wants to own one fine, but they should know that they will have to go threw allot. they wont be let into allot of places, certain vets, dogy daycares, apartments, dog parks, and there are allot of countys who have already banned them.

And with that, I went to snuggle my Lucy, possibly detouring to the kitchen for a fortifying glass of wine. Even though it was delivered by a less-than-articulate 20-year-old, the message that came through loud and clear was, “Your dog’s vicious. No one wants her around. She should be outlawed.” Hello, if I wanted this bullshit treatment I’d move to Denver. Red and I were well aware of the hoops we’d be made to jump through by choosing to live with a pit bull, and it has been 100% worth it, whether or not Lucy will be turned away from doggie daycare. I could spend my time dissecting her argument—dogs shouldn’t be bred for protection? Your doggie daycare welcomes German shepherds, doesn’t it?—but it should be obvious to anyone reading this that it’s full of holes and myths. Still, I can’t pretend I wasn’t discouraged to hear such breed discrimination from a so-called dog person.

Oh, and Camp Bow Wow? I’ve searched all over your site—including the local franchise site—and can’t find a single mention of bully breeds not being permitted. So either your employee is talking out of turn, or I call false advertising. The former would seem to be the case, as a link on your News page to Tracie Hotchner’s Dog Talk podcast #148, which aired on October 17, 2009, indicates that an earlier pit bull ban had been dropped and that all dogs would be evaluated as the individuals they are. What gives?

Photoshop says Lucy doesn't have flash-eye. It is wrong.

Baltimore gets Rescue Inked!

So, um, apparently this weekend was all about climate change actions. I had no idea, because my weekend was filled with burly men, tattoos, and pit bulls. In short, my weekend rocked.

As I told you here, New York-based animal rescue group Rescue Ink responded to our call (via a tattoo pledge) to bring their brand of in-your-face activism to Baltimore. This weekend, it happened. On Saturday, the Baltimore Tattoo Museum donated their time and services to ink everyone who wanted a pawprint tattoo. For $100 (split between Rescue Ink and the Baltimore Humane Society), each person chose either a pre-drawn dog or cat print. Red and I got there early, expecting a crowd. We weren’t the first in line, but we definitely made a good call in not sleeping in that morning. Because I’m difficult and had been planning to get Lucy’s pawprint for a while, I made the donation, then paid for my artist, Laura Rachel, to tattoo me with the print I made of Lu’s foot. Laura is a crazy-talented tattoo artist with an amazing spirit. After she tattooed me last year, I knew I’d be going back to her again. She was a great sport, letting a camera crew from a local university film us while she worked. It was the most badass fundraiser ever, I tell you! My parents even came to support us!

And did I mention how beautiful my new tattoo is? It truly looks like Lucy stepped in ink and then jumped on me. Oh, my sweet girl. She’s with me forever now. I can’t explain how happy I am to have been a part of this amazing day. Who says activism can’t be fun?!

On Sunday, Red and I headed to the Baltimore Humane Society for Pit Bull Awareness Day. The incredible people behind B-More Dog, a newer pit bull-advocacy group, put on a great program filled with pittie agility and drug-sniffing demonstrations, information sessions, and plenty of wonderful adoptable dogs to meet. Oh, and Rescue Ink showed up, too. They’d taken the train down from New York the night before, and after bemoaning Baltimore’s lack of nightlife (sorry, fellas), they graciously talked with everyone and posed for pictures. They signed my copy of their book, too, and complimented both my new tattoo and Lucy’s photos. It was a little weird pulling up my shirt in public for a bunch of strange dudes, but what the hell, it was for the pitties. They told us how bummed they were that they couldn’t make it for the tattoo fest, but they’d had a prior commitment. Oh, well. Next time, guys! We had a great crowd, too—enough people to generate a lot of positive energy and raise plenty of money, but not so many as to make the whole thing feel like a circus. Today, the guys are going to stick around and help with active animal-abuse cases and do a presentation at a local school before heading back home. As always, Jill at Unleashed is on top of it.

Johnny O, Joe Panz, Red, me, Big Ant, Batso, and Junior. Eric and G are off to the left somewhere.

I’ve been so overwhelmed with love all weekend. A lot of positive momentum was created, and I’m hopeful that all the dog advocates and responsible pit bull owners in Baltimore will continue to show the rest of the world that our dogs aren’t snarling monsters waiting to maul your toddler or have your kitten for dinner. If anyone has any doubts about that, Lucy will lick them silly. And, to quote Mr. T, I pity the fool who crosses Rescue Ink!

Quick but awesome roundup.

There will be a Vegan MoFo post later, rest assured. But right now, I want to call your attention to a few things:

• Today is Blog Action Day for Climate Change. Don’t want to drown in a hella storm or explain to your kids why there’s no ozone layer left? Ditch the animal products and go vegan. Then you can think about buying that Prius, because animal agriculture contributes more greenhouse gases than driving. ETA: Read Stephanie's incredibly informative Change.org post here.
• Carol J. Adams rocks my world. I want her to be my vegan feminist godmother. Read Mark Hawthorne’s interview with her here, then get yourself one of her books. The Pornography of Meat is on its way to me via Amazon, and I have been doing the dance of the nerdly all week.
• In less awesome news, Will over at Green is the New Red reports that the terrorism convictions against the SHAC 7 have been upheld. Basically, what this means is that, in his words, “Supporting and facilitating non-violent civil disobedience is not protected speech.” This is a huge loss to activists of all kinds, but animal-rights activists seem to really be feeling the injustice of the current “Let’s just call it terrorism and freak everyone out” mentality. It’s a crazy involved case, but Will breaks it down so non-law types like me can understand it.
• Rescue Ink is coming to Baltimore! Last month, I told you about the grassroots effort to encourage the guys to visit for a massive tattoo party. Well, it worked, and they’ll be here next weekend for a tattoo-in and outreach. The Baltimore Tattoo Museum, my ink parlor of choice, has graciously donated their artistry and services, and the Baltimore Humane Society has been instrumental in making this happen. It’s incredible that this has all come together in just about a month. I’m on a total activist high right now, you better believe it! We don’t have a lot of details yet, but I’ll post again when I know more. Hopefully Lucy sits still so I can make a print of her paw!

It counts as food.

We had a weird, sleep-deprived weekend. Beastie Girl, who survived her surgery in fine style, chewed off her bandage while we were living it up at a wedding reception. Red’s parents, who had stopped by to check on her, gave us a call, so we split early to go home and fix her. However, I enjoyed a very delicious vegan meal at the reception venue: wild rice and a puff pastry filled with roasted red pepper and other delicious veggies. Weddings can be very hit-and-miss, even when the bride and a bridesmaid are vegetarian, so I was very touched that my friend cared enough to make sure I received a tasty vegan dinner.

After we re-bandaged Lucy, we were so tired we just let her sleep with us. This resulted in half-assed sleep for everyone except Lucy, and Red and I woke up late and groggy. (I napped later, of course. As a matter of fact, so did he.) We did very nearly nothing all day, then ate popcorn and watched three episodes of Mad Men before bed.

Yesterday, I woke up with a scratchy throat and the intense desire to do nothing again. Instead, I made buffalo tofu bites. (I’ll post pictures once we take them.) They were yummy and pretty easy to make, but I would have enjoyed making them much more had I not gotten a nasty oil burn for my trouble. This is why I don’t like frying things. It’s minor, but it hurt like holy hell. I would be more descriptive, but my mother reads this. It hurts worse than being tattooed, that’s for sure. Off we went to our hippie grocery store, where Ellie the health-and-body-care lady fixed me up with some calendula gel. Wikipedia tells me that calendula is a freakin' marigold, so there you go. Once we got home, I (you guessed it) took a nap.

Once I woke up, survived a two-year-old’s birthday party, and realized my throat was still scratchy, I started slamming the Emergen-C. (This is the food/not-food part.) I went double-or-nothing and dissolved two packets instead of one, chasing it with Amy’s Lentil Soup. That’s good stuff, if you didn’t already know. I grabbed half a dozen Emergen-C packets to bring to work, then crawled into bed and passed out while Red and Lucy watched Family Guy.

Long story short, I feel like ass today, so I’m declaring Emergen-C a suitable topic for Vegan MoFo. I spent a tense few minutes this morning Googling its vegan credentials, but it appears to be animal-free. Honestly, I’d probably still take it even if it wasn’t, because I have a whole box of the stuff and need to feel better. Think kindly of me as I suck it down with hot water and a side of “Is it time to go home yet?” I don’t have a fever and I’m not achier than usual, but my ears itch and my throat is grumpy. I’m tired and my head is a little foggy. It could be allergies, or swine flu, or Monday. Stay tuned.

Calendula officinalis photo ripped from Wikipedia. Emergen-C photo ripped from themadeiras.blogspot.com, but don't worry, I'm sure it didn't belong to them either.

Curry in a hurry.

Red and I rocked out a massive curry last night: chickpeas, potatoes, and spinach (with a few frozen green peas for color) simmered in a thick tomato base. (The recipe is from Vegan with a Vengeance, btw.) It smelled amazing—all rich and spicy. I was so hungry, I dug right in. And burned the skin off the roof of my mouth as I bit into a chunk of scorching potato.

As Vegan MoFo kicks off, I offer this lesson: Don’t burn your mouth. It makes it that much harder to enjoy your food.

Yeah, I’m sitting here poking the roof of my mouth with my tongue, wondering when it won’t hurt anymore. Drinking coffee didn’t bother it too much, but eating granola bites sure did. Looks like I’ll be avoiding sharp, pointy foods for the next few days, which should help keep me away from the chips and crusty bread. We’ll see how the roasted edamame goes. (Aside: why is “edamame” not in Microsoft’s dictionary? Lame.)

I would post a picture of our feisty curry, but my camera’s not that great, the lighting in our house is uniformly unflattering, and I’m a crappy photographer. Plus, it’s a curry. You all know what they look like. I appreciate gorgeously plated food as much as the next girl, but my meals are built for speed and comfort, not style. If it looks like dog food but tastes great, I’ll eat it. As a matter of fact, I created a dish lovingly called Dog Food Surprise. Maybe I’ll make it soon and actually post a photo along with the recipe (I use the term loosely) so you can appreciate just how ugly it is. But oh, if you could taste it.

Speaking of dog food, we bought a bag of Natural Balance vegan food and have sloooooowly begun adding it to Lucy’s current food. I know plenty of people have successfully switched their pups’ food in only a week or two, but I think we’ll do it even more gradually since Lucy has such a sensitive stomach. Plus, poor girl, she’s having that lump on her elbow removed today. I don’t want to add too much new food while she’s recovering. I’m worried enough already. I know she’ll be fine, but that doesn’t stop me fluttering around nervously like a mother hen. (Do mother hens seriously do that, or am I unwittingly being speciesist?)

I’ll feel 100% better once she’s home safe with us tonight. In the meantime, I’ll be sure to let my lunch cool before snarfing it down.

Curry photo ripped from Things that Fizz & Stuff.

Vegan dog love.

One of things that’s pleasantly surprised me about this whole blogging thing is how welcoming and supportive fellow bloggers have been. The Internet is a whacked-out place, sort of like Vegas on acid. Truly, weirdness abounds. And yet, I have been greeted with delicious vegan love.

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Have you experienced the canine awesomeness that is It’s a Vegan Dog’s Life? No, you say? Why not? You don’t have a dog? Who cares? Bop on over there anyway. There is witty writing, tasty dog-treat recipes (that are suitable for humans!), rad giveaways, and dog pictures. What else could you want? (Duh, there are cat pictures too.) I’ve been following Emma’s and Rowan’s exploits for a short while, and they’ve inspired me to try and veganize my own sweet pooch. I don’t know if I have the energy to bake for them as much as their mom does, though!

I’ve also been lucky enough to win a handful of animal-rights buttons! Yay! I love buttons! I’ve already started adding them to my purse. I’d tack them onto my work bag, too, but that’s getting a hole in it, so I think I’ll have to switch to a new bag soon. Everyone likes buttons. They’re portable and don’t have the scary commitment factor of, say, bumper stickers. They’re an easy way to broadcast your message without being too in-your-face about it. Of course, in-your-face buttons can certainly be had, but these are cute without being militant. For real, three have puppies on them!


Huge thanks to Molly (and Emma and Rowan!) for providing such a needed resource…and place to look at goofy dog photos. As soon as Lucy’s vegan, look for her on It’s a Vegan Dog’s World!

Ramble on.

This will probably be short and nonsensical, as I’m trying to memorize the text of my friends’ wedding ceremony. It’s hard to do this quietly at work, since I can’t read it out loud, so I’ll probably resort to typing or writing it out until I can get Red to practice with me. Ahhh, takes me back to high-school theater. Only, you know, I’ll be marrying two of my friends, not fumbling my way through A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

I’ve also been twitchy and jumpy lately. My skin itches, and I have a hard time concentrating. It will pass soon, but it sucks to be in the middle of it.

Politely declined a piece of strawberry shortcake for a coworker’s birthday. Not as hard as declining cake made especially for me, but no one seemed to mind.

I am loving Rescue Ink’s book. Kudos again to Jill for running the contest and for keeping up with this grassroots tattoo pledge movement thing we’ve started! So far, three coworkers have come up to me asking, “Was that you in the paper?” One has asked to borrow the book when I’m finished. She’s a cat person and has opted to not get a tattoo, but is more than willing to donate when Rescue Ink comes to town. Her favorite rescue is Best Friends out in Utah, where Red and I would love to go someday.

Red and I attended an information seminar hosted by B-More Dog, a newish non-profit that has a special love for pitbulls. We learned a lot of new things about dog body language and social skills. We’re also going to try target-training Lucy—getting her to touch a hand, toy, whatever. It’s a good way to get your dog’s attention, and a neat trick to show off. The more we work with her, the better prepared she’ll be for more formal training and (fingers crossed) her CGC test.

Sweet Lucy needs a tiny bit of surgery. (Sad panda.) For the past few weeks, she’s had a callousy, scab-like bump on her elbow, and it’s not going away. It doesn’t seem to hurt her, but she’s rubbed it raw a few times and it’s in a really awkward spot. Her vet recommended that it be removed, then biopsied just in case. Since the bump is still small, probably about a half-inch in diameter, it’s better (and cheaper) to remove it now, before it gets bigger and requires more stitches. Lucy is a good patient—twice last winter she cut her paw on buried glass in the backyard, and took the repairs and pills like a champ—but is not so good at convalescing. She wants to run and play like usual, not understanding that she has to stay quiet and rest. One day last winter, I gave her a doggie pain pill in the hopes that it would zonk her out, but it did not. So far, the only thing that does the trick is full anesthesia. So we’ll have a dopey dog for one day, then a frustrated, full-of-pent-up-energy dog for the next week or so. Oh, and she won’t be allowed to lie on hard surfaces, so our house will be carpeted with blankets and cushions like the aftermath of some skanky swinger party.

Thanks to this third medical incident, Red and I are seriously considering buying her insurance. She’s only two, and if she keeps this up, either she needs to get a job or we need to get insurance to cover some of the costs. Good thing Springsteen tickets sold out before we could get them.

Coming up: The conclusion of Red’s vegan challenge, our vegan-friendly wedding reception, and the end of Yoga Month.

Rescue (Ink) me….

As the lolcats would say, “I has a big mouf?” Sometimes it gets me into trouble.

In this current instance, it hasn’t. Not yet, anyway. See, my gal Jill, the pet blogger over at our local rag (ahem, esteemed and historically significant paper of record), started a contest for the best idea to get the burly, animal-loving guys of Rescue Ink to make an appearance here in Baltimore. (Full disclosure: Turns out they were here several months ago to honor the police officer who tried to save Phoenix, a pitbull girl who had been doused in lighter fluid and set on fire. Their visit was very low-key, so most people didn’t know about it, including me.) I’ve wanted a tattoo of Lucy’s pawprint for a while, so I threw that out as my idea, inviting the guys to come to town for a tattoo date. I was hoping to win a copy of their book.

“Are you really getting a tattoo of Lucy's pawprint?” Jill asked. “You HAVE to send some pictures!” I was (and am) totally serious. Serious in a fun way, that is. If going under the needle to get my sweet girl’s paw etched into my skin will garner some publicity for Baltimore’s animal-cruelty problem, I’m there. I thought it was a good idea.

So, apparently, do Jill’s other readers. Someone else offered to get inked as well. Then someone else. Over the last three days, more than 80 animal lovers have pledged to get pawprint tattoos if (when!) Rescue Ink makes an appearance in our fair(ish) city. At this, I was floored, as I imagine Jill was as she tried to keep track of the tattoo promises pouring in. I nearly passed out when she told me she was doing an actual story (with ink! on paper!) about the tattoo pledges. She called me, I tried to sound coherent as I gave her a quote, and voila, there it is on the back page of today’s Movies (?!) section. Read it!


We’re starting something here! The energy is palpable, even through the wires and tubes and magic and whatever else makes the Internet work. I’m sure Rescue Ink is busy, what with their show premiering tonight and cluing us in on their animal-rescuing, abuser-scaring adventures, but I have a tiny inkling that we might be able to pull it off. I’m thrilled I won the book (thanks, Jill!) and I want to do what I can to make sure the guys get here to autograph it personally, but it goes deeper than that. This is about my Lucy, who was thisclose to being thrown into a fighting pit and/or forced to have puppies until she could no longer walk. It’s about Phoenix, whose picture is taped to my computer and moves me to tears. It’s about the feral cats I fed last fall and winter, and the dog who trotted past us one morning but disappeared before I could grab him. The guys of Rescue Ink know what so many need to learn: that it takes real strength to show kindness and mercy to beings that are weaker than you, and to fight for their protection.

Read, watch, and repeat. And get inked, if you dare!

Photo of Phoenix courtesy of The Sun.

Puppy love.

Red and I are blessed to share our home with one of the most loving quadrupeds I’ve ever met: Lucy, the Wonder Pit. She came to us via Recycled Love, where she was being fostered by a coworker of mine. When we first met her, she bounced around excitedly, nosing my pocket for treats and tangling us up in her leash. That day, we knew she’d be ours. She was only a year old, but she had already made an incredible comeback from a nightmarish beginning.

Our sweet puppy was bred by a teenager who, ahem, sold pitbulls to his neighbors. I don’t know about you, but where we’re from, that means he was involved in dogfighting. After two of his dogs attacked a woman, the police agreed and Animal Control raided his house. One of the dogs had recently given birth, and one of her pups—tiny Lucy—had had her ears crudely cropped with kitchen shears. Seriously, that asshole kid just lopped her ears right off so that when he fought her, other dogs couldn’t grab hold of them. Because she was such a small, earless thing, the Recycled Love staff nicknamed her “Mouse.” Wee Lucy-Mouse quickly showed herself to be a resilient, happy dog, playing well with others (human and canine alike) and learning quickly. She thrived in her foster home, but no one seemed to want to adopt the black, earless pitbull.

Fortunately, as Lucy grew, her nubby little ears did too. Now, they are more like half-ears, though I still call her my Earless Wonder. Red and I do occasionally suffer bouts of ear envy when we meet pitties who have their ears intact—lovely, pointy ears that flop over just so. Lucy’s will never flop, but she loves to have them rubbed and scratched nonetheless.

Red and I talked long and hard about what it would mean to have a dog. I’d moved in less than a month before we adopted Lucy, and we were still making that transition. Plus, he’d never had a dog before. I warned him that there would be accidents. “Don’t get too attached to having a perfect carpet,” I said. True to my prediction, Lucy had an accident (two, actually) her first night with us. It was raining and she was afraid to go outside, and with all the excitement of moving to a new home, it was inevitable. Out came the paper towels and carpet cleaner.

For a while, it was like living with a little alien. “What are you?” I’d say to her during the long summer days she spent sprawled at my feet while I job-hunted. “How did you get here?” Even though my family had had dogs, everything Lucy did was endlessly fascinating because she was mine. In the mornings, I’d drink coffee and watch It’s Me or the Dog, hoping to pick up training tips. Later, we’d play marathon games of fetch—the Frisbee attempts didn’t go so well, since all she wanted to do was chew them to shreds. Lucy sailed through the first two levels of PetSmart’s obedience training, making friends and earning an honorable mention in their Halloween costume contest for her portrayal of Flavor Flav. At the same time, she also ran through the screen door in her excitement and destroyed books, pillows, and shoes if she was left alone.

She is not a fan of being crated. We tried—oh, how we tried. Her crate is large and comfortable, and we did our best to make it a safe place for her. And for a while, it worked. Then she decided that she was flat-out finished with it. She’ll go in there long enough to pull out the blankets and nest them on the floor. Now, Lucy has her own room, a development that makes me hang my head in shame. I don’t even have my own room! Lucy has a room with a luxurious futon, ceiling fan, windows, toys, and food and water. It’s doggie heaven. Yet, for a while, she even refused to go in there because she knew we’d be leaving if she did. I’ve been reduced almost to tears in frustration, trying to coax her into her room. Her nonviolent resistance could put Gandhi to shame. She had (and likely still has) classic separation anxiety, albeit at a manageable level. If she’s especially stressed, she won’t even eat the treats we give her when we close the door. Many a day I’ve come home to find her Kong, stuffed with almond butter, completely untouched. But as soon as she’s set free to overwhelm us with the sheer force of her joyous doggie love, she settles down and enjoys the treat she ignored all day. We’re home; all is well.

Red and I are committed to having Lucy be a true pitbull ambassador, a spokes-pittie who people can meet and realize that pitbulls are not killer monsters out to eat your babies. (Lucy likes babies, but only to sniff and kiss them.) She’s been featured on our newspaper’s pet blog (here and here), and we’re looking into furthering her training so that she can eventually become a therapy dog. “Aren’t you afraid to have a pitbull?” people ask, when they don’t simply look askance and cross the street. I can swear on whatever you want that I have never seen her display aggressive behavior towards another animal or person. “But she could bite,” they say. All dogs can bite. If a dog’s got teeth, she can bite. You have hands, so you could hit me. When Lucy plays too rough, we correct her. It’s what we promised to do, and we got a sweet, friendly pitbull for our trouble. “Be good—we bought you manners,” Red reminds her. When she gets into bed with us in the early mornings, it’s hard to remember what life was like without her. She’s a living example of what love and patience can accomplish. Good girl.