#greatread

At the age of eighty-one and feeling spry, the author, James Fogg, decided to go elk hunting once again to test his skill and endurance against a formidable foe. He had no clue whether he would be rewarded for his efforts as he ventured into the high mountain country of Colorado.

For this day try to choose the right one. 🖤

Books I’ve Read:

My Review....A great little book about what - you want to happen - after death, with your body, at your funeral and with your possessions. Illustrated with a bit of tongue in cheek to help make a serious subject a light, happy read. Everyone should read this book and keep it in their bottom drawer - everyone!

I recently went vegetarian. Not because I want to be vegetarian- all I can think of are those people who ask for a new dish at a restaurant if they find out the spatula used for the potatoes touched the meat- but because 1. I like animals and it upsets me how we’ve commoditized them, like the forks and knives we use to eat them, for our own pleasure, and 2. literally who the hell knows what the process is in this country in converting a living cow into the final hamburger paddy we consume. I just don’t trust what’s happening behind the scenes in that process, and in my mind, I would rather worry about the lentils I’m eating having fallen on the floor than why, when I bit down on the hamburger paddy, it crunched.

But don’t get me wrong-- I mean I loved meat. It’s delicious, especially in the form of meatballs or chicken wings-- it’s just I have this hang-up that won’t allow me to order these foods anymore because recently my heart thawed for animals in light of discovering I despite the human race. 

But like anything, when you’re trying to quit, it seems omnipresent in all that you do. Like, the other day at lunch, I ordered a salad which tasted like I was forking up garden soil, while and the girl next to me got a submarine sandwich- and not just any sub- one of those subs that has every type of meat on it imaginable-mortadella, soppressata and everything else that rhymes- dripping in olive oil, and tried (with difficulty) to fit the sandwich in her mouth with each bite.. It was like a TV commercial. And there I was, scooping up piles of quinoa on my fork hoping each bite be more dressing-soaked than the one before, so it wouldn’t taste like earth-medicine. 

Or sometimes you fuck up, not even because you want to. The other night at dinner I ordered a vegetarian pasta, and my friend, Jess, asks, “Hey, you want to try mine? It’s delicious!”

“Sure, what’d you get?” I asked, as I took the plate from her hand she passed across the table. 

“The ravioli. It’s soo good.”

And as I flicked one of the wavy-edged dumplings from my fork into my mouth and bit down, the flavor of meat filled my mouth, and I suddenly realized I was suddenly chewing short rib.. of which I haven’t had the likes since October of last year. 

And then, of course, when something like that happens, you’re shocked, right, but can’t make a scene, so I was like, “Mm-mmm.” Suddenly making the connection, “That. is.. delic-ious.” Fuck me and the horse I rode in on; I just ruined my streak and ate a cow.

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And then, of course, there are the times you just make people outright feel bad. Today, my boyfriend was like, “Hey, I defrosted these two cornish hens for us for us tonight..”

[First of all, what the fuck is a “cornish hen”? Does it have corn stuffed inside of it like a pinata? Is it from a place called ‘Corn’ such that it is Corn-ish? What is that word and why is it there as a descriptor? Also, let’s call a spade a spade, it’s not the 18th Century, it’s chicken.

“Tom.. I .. you know that I..”

He just stared at me from the couch.

[Also, let’s get something straight. If I am going to cheat on my veg diet for something, it’s going to be a fat $70 steak or Bon Chon chicken wings or Korean bulgogi or something. I’m not going to ruin my streak for cornish hen. Can you imagine?  “Why yes I am vegetarian but my boyfriend was cooking a luscious cornish hen last night and I just couldn’t resist myself.” Hard no.]

“Maybe you can make it..” I tried.. “for yourself..?” 

“You know what?” He threw down the remote. “I’m just not cooking for you anymore, you are such a pain in the ass.”

“No.. wait but.. I want you to.. I-”

“No-- I defrosted these and I need to cook these tonight or they’ll go to waste.” 

Again I just stared back. I am not going to eat some bony-ass mini-chicken to appease someone, especially if it’s on the verge of going bad.

‘I’ll eat anything else.. Like.. that pasta dish! I love that one.. Can you make that this week? The one with the peas..!”

“Justin, that has ham in it.”

Fuck.

“Ahh, well.. Can you just make half..? And then put my portion to the side ..And then add the-”

“I’m not doing that.”

“I’ll just eat cereal. It’s fine.”

Which is what it’s come down to essentially because no one wants to deal with me because apparently I am the most demanding piece of self-righteous garbage on the earth. 

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So it’s been touch and go. Mostly go (as in ‘jump off a bridge’). It’s hard to just function with people at a table without being the most annoying person in the room or the subject of intense interrogation. Are you trying to be skinny or do you have a moral issue? Why must you dissent?  But the worst part is being stuck in a situation with someone who is just wildly opposed to your ideology: a carnivore.

Which is why it was exceptionally awkward last week when I walked into a meeting to which I was summoned, and I sat down across the table from a man who started talking about a project he needed help marketing: a slaughterhouse.

This is not happening. I thought as I smiled at him from across the table. This is not happening. Over and over. 

“Yea.. and so you know.” He began. “It’s really nice and industrial on the outside and you open the door and the kill room is as clean as can be.” He remarked. “No blood or anything.. It’s wild.”

Can you imaging having to take notes on that? 

::typing::  Industrial slaughterhouse. Kill room very clean.

I couldn’t believe it. 

“You know.. they have a unique model where none of the animals hang on the racks for very long so the bacteria can’t fester.. They clean it out real fast so the turn is crazy fast.”

:: animals quickly rotated from hang racks extra quickly for human profit ::  [delete, delete]  :: rotated for efficiency ::

“The mom is actually really involved in the business,” He spoke jovially about the family. “She does a lotta things.. She takes care of the books but also suprervises the kill floor.” 

:: Mother --> accountant, angel of death::  [delete, delete] :: manages kill floor ::

Like, these are going to be the notes I save in the file on the corporate shared drive; so I hope that’s cool. 

“And the meat.” He continued emphatically. “It’s so good, it’s the leanest meat you’ll ever see, no fat..because of the way he cuts directly out of the back and on a diagonal, he gets it just right-”

Do you want to just slaughter the cow in front of me and demonstrate for me what you’re saying? Jesus Christ. Why don’t you show us the saw?

:: Hacks directly into animal’s most sensitive area, probably very slow,painful death. best steak you’ll ever have::

“And with the pigs..? They only do sausage..” He added. “You know.. because in the hotdogs you get the heart and the tongue and..”

“Oohhh-” I blurted out, looking at my watch suddenly (which stopped a month ago), like I had no idea I was late for the conflicting imaginary meeting I’d made up, and let myself out.

:: Only pig sausage b/c people who eat hotdogs are animal garbage disposals::  

Double click ‘Save.’  

Perfect notes. I deserve a promotion. 

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Anyway, so it’s been quite a ride thus far. Every day is another challenge.. whether because you find out that they surprised you with a vegetable soup made with chicken stock, or the salad you ordered comes sprinkled with some candied bacon that wasn’t mentioned on the menu description. 

It’s fine. A fun journey for sure. And one that I think only gets better when you can go back later and, well, review the notes. 

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