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.
Showing posts with label 21-day challenge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 21-day challenge. Show all posts
Monday, September 28, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
When vegans attack: domestic edition.
My filter failed again last night when Red told me he wasn’t going to continue to be vegan once his challenge ends on Tuesday. “You’re not?” I asked. He said (and he says it better than I can here) that he’s gonna give the vegetarian gig a shot. Now, this is a huge change from his current omni diet, and I should have been dancing on tables and covering him with kisses in my excitement. But, for whatever sorry-ass reason, all I could see was (what I perceived to be) his rejection of veganism as a lifestyle. Never mind that I too was once a loud-and-proud vegetarian, who slurped ice cream and flipped omelets and regularly deployed my friend Jess’ method for making the perfect grilled-cheese sandwich. No. I, in my myopia, was sad that three weeks of veganism had failed to convince my husband to quit animal products cold tofu.
Do you see how moronic I was being? Do you? LAME, Burnout, very lame. Y’all, what is wrong with me that I tear up over pictures of baby cows but then try to engage my husband in a philosophical argument about the supreme logic of veganism when he’s already made the major decision to go vegetarian? Vegetarians, I’m sorry. I try not to let the holier-than-thou gremlin out of her cage too often, but I was weak last night, and not as compassionate as I wanted to be. There are lots of differences between Red and me in the ways we experience food, and I failed to put myself in his place when I was huffing in frustration about how eating eggs and dairy still dooms animals to slaughter. He’s doing the best he can, and has made huge strides. I’ve told him that I don’t want him to do any of this for me, that if he does he’ll only end up resentful and hungry. He has to make these changes on his own schedule. I’m proud of him, but I sure did a shitty job of showing it last night.
http://www.nataliedee.com/
Do you see how moronic I was being? Do you? LAME, Burnout, very lame. Y’all, what is wrong with me that I tear up over pictures of baby cows but then try to engage my husband in a philosophical argument about the supreme logic of veganism when he’s already made the major decision to go vegetarian? Vegetarians, I’m sorry. I try not to let the holier-than-thou gremlin out of her cage too often, but I was weak last night, and not as compassionate as I wanted to be. There are lots of differences between Red and me in the ways we experience food, and I failed to put myself in his place when I was huffing in frustration about how eating eggs and dairy still dooms animals to slaughter. He’s doing the best he can, and has made huge strides. I’ve told him that I don’t want him to do any of this for me, that if he does he’ll only end up resentful and hungry. He has to make these changes on his own schedule. I’m proud of him, but I sure did a shitty job of showing it last night.
http://www.nataliedee.com/
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Vegan Challenge: Day 1!
Okay, so I actually thought about calling it V-Day, but that just makes me think of Eve Ensler and The Vagina Monologues. Which is awesome, but not what I was going for. Either way, today begins Red’s 21-day vegan kickstart challenge. He had his last supper yesterday, and woke up this morning bright-eyed and ready to tackle three weeks of blissful veganism.
I jest.
Actually, we both woke up feeling like death on a Triscuit. Our hot water heater busted over the weekend, I had a hellacious allergy attack, and we’re still frantic about our reception. So we did not wake up bright-eyed about much of anything. Still, we woke up, which means we came out ahead.
I’ve been posting on PCRM’s kickstart forum, and I’m surprised at the number of people who are all, “I want to go vegan for my health, not for any political or lifestyle reasons,” or “I’m not planning to be a vegan convert.” Oh, you’re not? Then why are you participating in a vegan kickstart? Why are you here if we can’t suck your brains and initiate you into our tofu-worshipping cuuuulllttt?! I snark, but I did try to gently suggest that even though health is a major reason people begin considering a vegan diet, they tend to learn about animal rights and environmental sustainability along the way. After all, the personal is political. It’s another example of what Red calls “falling down the rabbit hole,” but in a positive way. Besides, if it was merely for my health, I’d find it a lot easier to fall off the veggie wagon.
That said, I do feel for the people with unsupportive, meat-gobbling family members. Maybe I’m just a bitch, but if I wanted to try going vegan and my husband didn’t, he’d either be 1) cooking for himself, or 2) hungry. But I know how stressful it can be to live with people who don’t understand your choices, so I’m empathetic and hope that they can find a way to make it work. Red, however, finds himself baffled by the dozens of vegetarians doing the program. He figures that they’ve already done the heavy lifting, so kicking dairy and eggs should be a piece of (vegan) cake. I understand their desire for a supportive community to help them remain accountable, but they do seem to have the omnis outnumbered. Hopefully there won’t be a vegetarian-omni kickball game.
Triscuits are vegan. Nom nom nom.
I jest.
Actually, we both woke up feeling like death on a Triscuit. Our hot water heater busted over the weekend, I had a hellacious allergy attack, and we’re still frantic about our reception. So we did not wake up bright-eyed about much of anything. Still, we woke up, which means we came out ahead.
I’ve been posting on PCRM’s kickstart forum, and I’m surprised at the number of people who are all, “I want to go vegan for my health, not for any political or lifestyle reasons,” or “I’m not planning to be a vegan convert.” Oh, you’re not? Then why are you participating in a vegan kickstart? Why are you here if we can’t suck your brains and initiate you into our tofu-worshipping cuuuulllttt?! I snark, but I did try to gently suggest that even though health is a major reason people begin considering a vegan diet, they tend to learn about animal rights and environmental sustainability along the way. After all, the personal is political. It’s another example of what Red calls “falling down the rabbit hole,” but in a positive way. Besides, if it was merely for my health, I’d find it a lot easier to fall off the veggie wagon.
That said, I do feel for the people with unsupportive, meat-gobbling family members. Maybe I’m just a bitch, but if I wanted to try going vegan and my husband didn’t, he’d either be 1) cooking for himself, or 2) hungry. But I know how stressful it can be to live with people who don’t understand your choices, so I’m empathetic and hope that they can find a way to make it work. Red, however, finds himself baffled by the dozens of vegetarians doing the program. He figures that they’ve already done the heavy lifting, so kicking dairy and eggs should be a piece of (vegan) cake. I understand their desire for a supportive community to help them remain accountable, but they do seem to have the omnis outnumbered. Hopefully there won’t be a vegetarian-omni kickball game.
Triscuits are vegan. Nom nom nom.
Monday, August 31, 2009
T-minus 8 days….
I’m getting excited! And not for our wedding reception either, because all this planning and cleaning is making me wish we didn’t like our families and friends enough to throw them a huge party after we already did the hard work of getting hitched. No, I’m getting jazzed for PCRM’s 21-day vegan kickstart! YAY vegan immersion! It’s just like learning another language, only tastier and without goofy accent marks.
“It’s all well and good for you to be excited,” you might be thinking, “but what about the poor husband that you’ve coerced into this, you vegan minx?” Well, fear not. I coerced him about as much as I’m coercing you right now. Red has made noises off and on about going vegetarian, or more vegetarian, etc. He gave it a shot back in January, but faceplanted pretty quickly—I think because he didn’t really have a game plan in place, he reverted back to ordering lunch at work and his good intentions went downhill from there. He’s pretty much vegetarian at home. He keeps cheese in the fridge, but happily eats whatever I cook. (Aside: last night was yellow squash-corn fritters, adapted from 30-Minute Vegan. Awesome with Tofutti sour cream.)
As you can see, he’s been taking tentative steps towards this for a while. When PCRM sent me an email about the 21-day challenge, I forwarded it to my family and double-dared them to try it. (‘Cuz everyone knows you can’t turn down a double-dare.) Well, Red mentioned it to his coworkers. When one scoffed, “Yeah, I bet you couldn’t do that,” it was ON LIKE DONKEY KONG. His coworkers are also way harsher than I am: I was willing to give him a dispensation during our reception, since it’s been planned for months, but the Grand High Council of Cubicle Inquisitors has declared that his mouth will be a no-fly zone that day. Damn, coworkers, that’s cold even for me. Upside: we’re no longer having cheese trays at the reception.
Red has asked me to do it with him, so I can have access to the message boards and recipes as well. We’re active on the PCRM’s forum already, meeting new people and shoring up support for when the challenge begins on September 8th. I’m holding myself out as reassuring vegan earth-mother, brimming with encouragement for the newbies taking the plunge. (Ego much?) I shared this post from Vegan Freak after someone bemoaned the difficulty of giving up cheese, and she said it helped her avoid the temptation to indulge in a cheese-fest. So maybe this earth-mothering thing will help a few people after all.
Red’s stubborn streak will serve him well during his three-week vegan odyssey. Not only is he determined to succeed, he’s also determined to exact tribute from his doubting colleagues. (Last I checked, his prize for completing the challenge is a lunch of his choosing. Whether this lunch will be vegan remains to be seen, but I’m hopeful.) He’s also said that he won’t be giving up cheese once the challenge is over, because it would invalidate his Italian card. We’ll see how my attempts at cultivating patience work out, because living with an omni grumpy because he can’t have cheese or milk chocolate and is sick of reading labels might strain my nerves. I’m already reminding myself that it will be the cheese withdrawal talking. Rest assured, there will be plenty of updates as we navigate this new cheese-less territory!
The famed casu marzu, maggot cheese of Sardinia. Still want cheese?
“It’s all well and good for you to be excited,” you might be thinking, “but what about the poor husband that you’ve coerced into this, you vegan minx?” Well, fear not. I coerced him about as much as I’m coercing you right now. Red has made noises off and on about going vegetarian, or more vegetarian, etc. He gave it a shot back in January, but faceplanted pretty quickly—I think because he didn’t really have a game plan in place, he reverted back to ordering lunch at work and his good intentions went downhill from there. He’s pretty much vegetarian at home. He keeps cheese in the fridge, but happily eats whatever I cook. (Aside: last night was yellow squash-corn fritters, adapted from 30-Minute Vegan. Awesome with Tofutti sour cream.)
As you can see, he’s been taking tentative steps towards this for a while. When PCRM sent me an email about the 21-day challenge, I forwarded it to my family and double-dared them to try it. (‘Cuz everyone knows you can’t turn down a double-dare.) Well, Red mentioned it to his coworkers. When one scoffed, “Yeah, I bet you couldn’t do that,” it was ON LIKE DONKEY KONG. His coworkers are also way harsher than I am: I was willing to give him a dispensation during our reception, since it’s been planned for months, but the Grand High Council of Cubicle Inquisitors has declared that his mouth will be a no-fly zone that day. Damn, coworkers, that’s cold even for me. Upside: we’re no longer having cheese trays at the reception.
Red has asked me to do it with him, so I can have access to the message boards and recipes as well. We’re active on the PCRM’s forum already, meeting new people and shoring up support for when the challenge begins on September 8th. I’m holding myself out as reassuring vegan earth-mother, brimming with encouragement for the newbies taking the plunge. (Ego much?) I shared this post from Vegan Freak after someone bemoaned the difficulty of giving up cheese, and she said it helped her avoid the temptation to indulge in a cheese-fest. So maybe this earth-mothering thing will help a few people after all.
Red’s stubborn streak will serve him well during his three-week vegan odyssey. Not only is he determined to succeed, he’s also determined to exact tribute from his doubting colleagues. (Last I checked, his prize for completing the challenge is a lunch of his choosing. Whether this lunch will be vegan remains to be seen, but I’m hopeful.) He’s also said that he won’t be giving up cheese once the challenge is over, because it would invalidate his Italian card. We’ll see how my attempts at cultivating patience work out, because living with an omni grumpy because he can’t have cheese or milk chocolate and is sick of reading labels might strain my nerves. I’m already reminding myself that it will be the cheese withdrawal talking. Rest assured, there will be plenty of updates as we navigate this new cheese-less territory!
The famed casu marzu, maggot cheese of Sardinia. Still want cheese?
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Letting my freak flag fly.
Over the weekend, I posted Stephanie’s piece about what eventually happens to pregnant dairy cows (and their calves) on my Facebook page. I didn’t watch it, because I don’t feel the need to. I’ve seen enough slaughterhouse and CAFO photos and videos to last me the rest of my life. Still, I was feeling a little aggro and posted it to let people know what, exactly, is wrong with dairy. It’s a question that vegans never seem to be able to escape, right up there with, “But wheeeeere do you get your proooootein?”
So. Yes. Disturbing slaughterhouse video documenting an all-too-common atrocity. Watch it if you will. Red did not watch it, but he did ask me if all dairy cows are treated in such a way. I admitted that I didn’t know for sure, but that I expected that the vast majority of them are, given that the industry isn’t going to let unproductive mama cows settle down in a nice pasture somewhere to give birth, then live out their remaining years (did you know that a cow’s natural lifespan is about 20 years?) in peace. It’s just not done. They’re viewed as commodities, not living beings. When a commodity is no longer useful, it’s disposed of. End of story, end of life.
Red was frustrated and felt that by Stephanie’s logic (and that of many vegans), he is evil for loving cheese and ice cream. “What am I supposed to do?” he asked in exasperation. Here, I sighed. *sigh* It’s never my intention to upset him or make him feel less than I am simply because I’m vegan and he’s omni. I am over-the-moon excited that he’s taking PCRM’s 21-day vegan challenge next month, and he’s not doing it for me, either. (I dared him, then his co-workers really dared him, and that sealed the deal. Vegan for 21 days he shall be.) I’m thrilled that not only is he willing to give it a shot, but that he’s committed to succeeding. Look for both of us to blog about it extensively! We bought an awesome new cookbook, 30-Minute Vegan, in preparation for the challenge. Last week he decided to quit eating beef after learning from Jenn’s thoughtful post that it takes 2,500 gallons of water to make a single pound of beef. He says he’ll go back to eating other animal products after the challenge is over, and maybe he will. What am I gonna do, stop loving my husband because he’s addicted to cheese? I married a guy, not a pizza. It’s hard to make this change. He’s gotten flak from coworkers and family members already, and he hasn’t even started yet. People are threatened by others who are willfully different.
That’s never been such a big deal for me, but it is huge for Red. Once I got to college, I grew to be comfortable with myself—the weird, artsy girl with short hair, glasses and a pierced nose whom everyone assumed was a lesbian. (Sorry, ladies.) Adding “vegan” to the list of other-nesses was not a big trauma as far as my identity was concerned. Red has always been happiest when comfortably integrated into a group. It’s made him very perceptive to the needs of others, but it’s also making his life more difficult as he tries to move away, however experimentally, from the dominant meat-eating culture. I have to remind myself of this whenever I feel impatient. I am very much okay with letting my freak flag fly, if you will. Call me crazy, stupid, anarchist, tree-hugger, whatever you got, and it rolls off me. I know it’s just your defense mechanism talking, and I’m not losing any sleep over it. It’s a frightening new experience for him, however. He doesn’t want to be seen as alien.
Can I just take a break here to reiterate that he isn’t even vegan yet? All he’s committed to is a three-week vegan immersion. You can bet that no one would be disparaging him if he was going on Atkins for three weeks. It’s really brought home to me just how threatening even the idea of veganism is. I must seem like Osama bin Laden with an artichoke grenade. Jesus.
Obviously I’ll need to do a follow-up post. I just remembered that I want to address Bob Torres’ “Vegan Isn’t a Dirty Word,” which deals with the freak-flag issue head-on. In the meantime, I am learning about patience, Red is counting down the days to his Vegan-palooza, and we are both tinkering with new recipes.
Awww, we got maaaaarried.
So. Yes. Disturbing slaughterhouse video documenting an all-too-common atrocity. Watch it if you will. Red did not watch it, but he did ask me if all dairy cows are treated in such a way. I admitted that I didn’t know for sure, but that I expected that the vast majority of them are, given that the industry isn’t going to let unproductive mama cows settle down in a nice pasture somewhere to give birth, then live out their remaining years (did you know that a cow’s natural lifespan is about 20 years?) in peace. It’s just not done. They’re viewed as commodities, not living beings. When a commodity is no longer useful, it’s disposed of. End of story, end of life.
Red was frustrated and felt that by Stephanie’s logic (and that of many vegans), he is evil for loving cheese and ice cream. “What am I supposed to do?” he asked in exasperation. Here, I sighed. *sigh* It’s never my intention to upset him or make him feel less than I am simply because I’m vegan and he’s omni. I am over-the-moon excited that he’s taking PCRM’s 21-day vegan challenge next month, and he’s not doing it for me, either. (I dared him, then his co-workers really dared him, and that sealed the deal. Vegan for 21 days he shall be.) I’m thrilled that not only is he willing to give it a shot, but that he’s committed to succeeding. Look for both of us to blog about it extensively! We bought an awesome new cookbook, 30-Minute Vegan, in preparation for the challenge. Last week he decided to quit eating beef after learning from Jenn’s thoughtful post that it takes 2,500 gallons of water to make a single pound of beef. He says he’ll go back to eating other animal products after the challenge is over, and maybe he will. What am I gonna do, stop loving my husband because he’s addicted to cheese? I married a guy, not a pizza. It’s hard to make this change. He’s gotten flak from coworkers and family members already, and he hasn’t even started yet. People are threatened by others who are willfully different.
That’s never been such a big deal for me, but it is huge for Red. Once I got to college, I grew to be comfortable with myself—the weird, artsy girl with short hair, glasses and a pierced nose whom everyone assumed was a lesbian. (Sorry, ladies.) Adding “vegan” to the list of other-nesses was not a big trauma as far as my identity was concerned. Red has always been happiest when comfortably integrated into a group. It’s made him very perceptive to the needs of others, but it’s also making his life more difficult as he tries to move away, however experimentally, from the dominant meat-eating culture. I have to remind myself of this whenever I feel impatient. I am very much okay with letting my freak flag fly, if you will. Call me crazy, stupid, anarchist, tree-hugger, whatever you got, and it rolls off me. I know it’s just your defense mechanism talking, and I’m not losing any sleep over it. It’s a frightening new experience for him, however. He doesn’t want to be seen as alien.
Can I just take a break here to reiterate that he isn’t even vegan yet? All he’s committed to is a three-week vegan immersion. You can bet that no one would be disparaging him if he was going on Atkins for three weeks. It’s really brought home to me just how threatening even the idea of veganism is. I must seem like Osama bin Laden with an artichoke grenade. Jesus.
Obviously I’ll need to do a follow-up post. I just remembered that I want to address Bob Torres’ “Vegan Isn’t a Dirty Word,” which deals with the freak-flag issue head-on. In the meantime, I am learning about patience, Red is counting down the days to his Vegan-palooza, and we are both tinkering with new recipes.
Awww, we got maaaaarried.
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