Meat

You may have an image in your mind of a vegetarian as a skinny little emaciated person.  Well, I've been a vegetarian for thirty-five years now and I'm here to tell ya I haven't been able to wear my skinny jeans since early '76.  What motivated me to make this choice?  Eating meat seems icky to me so I don't do it.  End of story. 

For this - and other off-beat decisions - my family and friends may think I am a weirdo, but they tolerate me anyway so it's all good.  Over the last decade vegetarianism has become more mainstream, but its popularity hasn't made it any easier to get untainted food.


Beef broth lurks in vegetable soup

Meat lurks everywhere.  Tomato basil soup?  Chicken stock.  Cheddar broccoli soup?  Ditto. The artichoke dip has crab meat in it.  The spinach balls are made with sausage, the mushrooms are stuffed with ground beef. Get the picture?  In Spain they even put ham in their potato chips.  Meat.  Meat.  Meat.  Meat.  It's everywhere, in
everything.  Argh!!

Even after all this time, my decision remains a social challenge.  We went to dinner at the home of very close friends and our hostess proudly served us homemade beef stew. "You can just pick the meat out," she said.  I hear that a lot.   

Yesterday I went to a luncheon where I offered to "brown bag" it.  I was assured this would not be necessary because there would be a salad served.  This not being my first rodeo, I specifically asked if there would be bacon bits in it and was told not to worry.  Indeed, there was no need for concern.  There was no bacon in the salad.  It did, however, come with two inches of shredded turkey on top.
After thirty-five years, salad isn't all that thrilling anyway.  Too bad there wasn't dessert.  You can't go wrong with a good dessert!  This attitude might explain the reason why I haven't ever been able to fit back into those skinny jeans.

Anyone for rocky road ice cream or perhaps a brownie à la mode? 



Three kids, three preschool stories.

Three kids, three preschool stories.  Art Linkletter was right.  Kids say (and do) the darndest things.

                                                 
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Josh had just been in pre-school a few days when I received the kind of phone call no parent wants to get.  The gal at the other end of the phone was so frazzled she could barely speak.

     "Mrs. Zimmerman, I am so sorry!"

     "What's wrong?"

     "I'm just so, so sorry!"

     "Is Josh okay?"

     "This happened so fast, I couldn't stop it!"

     By now, I am a total, complete wreck.  "Is my son okay?" I yelled into the phone.

     "Yes, yes.  But when we sat down to have lunch, before I could get him his peanut butter sandwich, he grabbed the hot dog that belonged to the kid sitting next to him AND ATE THE WHOLE THING!"

Yes, I'm a vegetarian.  No, my son isn't - a choice he clearly made in preschool.

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I went inside to drop Jessica off at preschool and she was invited to sit in the circle.  She sat down next to a boy with a horrible runny nose.  Green stuff was pouring down his face.  We've all seen it.  It's gross.

The next day, same exact scenario.

The third day, same.

That evening Jessica said to me, "I don't want to sit next to that germy kid tomorrow."

I lit up!  Clearly my little three-year-old was a genius! I had suspected as much, and now here was the confirmation I needed.  Face it, how many kids talk about germs when they're three?  I bragged that night, oh how I bragged!  Told the husband, called the grannies, casually mentioned it to friends and neighbors.  I was on cloud nine.  My daughter, a future Madame Curie!

Next morning as I drop my smart and lovely daughter off at preschool, the germy kid and his mom are behind us.  Mom kisses her son and says, "Have a great day, Jeremy!"


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Our house had a den off to the side of the dining room and tucked away on the inside wall of that room was a fish tank that contained Goldie, world's greatest goldfish.  You couldn't see the tank from the dining room, you actually had to step into the den to see it.  On this morning, I did just that and discovered my three-year-old Katie in her pink blanket sleepers, teetering on top of a box, placed upon a chair.  Her right hand was plunged up to her armpit in the water.

     "What are you doing?"  I asked.

     "Sshhh....I'm fishing and I almost got one!"  She replied.


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