I went to the fair

Friday night Ian and I met Andrea and Maddox along with their dad and Tracie at the Wilson County Fair. Despite the lack of beer, it was a pretty cool fair to just walk around and people-watch.

I did not get to see any sheep, though, and I’m pretty bummed.

I call bullshit

I saw this linked from Rex’s blog and decided to give it a try. I figured using my married name, Megan Morris, would yield more results of people most definitely not me since I haven’t had much time to infiltrate the interwebs with my shenanigans under my new name yet.

I was mostly right, though one of the blurbs that popped up did find a somewhat correct version of me.

This is not me

Hey look, here I am!

I figured I would try again using my maiden name, and expected the search to result in a mostly correct graph, as an ego search usually yields plenty of links to items that are most certain about or by me.

Boy was I wrong. Nothing, not one damn thing, that popped up on the screen was related to me or any of the results you’d get if you plugged in “Megan Goodchild,” with or without the quotes in your own search of my name.

Nope, not me.

Incredulous, I tried again. Still nothing, though the graph looks distinctly different this time. The same blurbs had popped up on the screen, so I am not sure why the program decided to give more weight to other items this time.

Still not me.

Obviously this is not an exact science, and interpreting the results of this graph as identity, persona, who you are, etc., is faulty logic anyway. This isn’t who I am, it’s who my name is. Which in itself is a little disconcerting, as we identify so strongly with our names.

And while I’m not Megan Morris the sports enthusiast, I am also not Megan Goodchild the bookworm.

I am, apparently, unidentifiable. And I rather like it.

A struggle with myself

It’s been a little over a week now with my foray into vegetarianism, and I’m calling it so far, so good. I haven’t really had any cravings until this morning when I opened the refrigerator door and smelled the pastrami lunch meat (Ian’s). It smelled good. Really good. But then I thought about how eating a piece, just one piece, would set me back so far; and about how horrible I would feel for letting myself down; and about the poor cows and they way they are treated. And I closed the door and walked away.

Growing up with a father who ran a Jewish deli all of my life (and continues to do so), I was often lectured on where certain cuts came from on the cow. And, on the rare occasion I accompanied him to work, I was taken into the giant walk-in freezer with random cow products hanging around. That always freaked me out. I’m kind of surprised I didn’t give up meat sooner.

Or maybe I shouldn’t be. Maybe I never questioned my ethics of eating meat because without meat, my father would not have had a job. Although, maybe without meat my father wouldn’t have had a job so he would have gone to college or chosen a different profession, one that he wouldn’t have hated so much. Maybe if he had had a different job, one that he liked, he wouldn’t be so bitter and hateful about everything.

I doubt it, though.

ANYWAY, so I’ve not eaten meat in about a week and I have to say I feel pretty good. I’m probably eating less, which really wasn’t my intention since I’m not trying to lose weight. But while I’m eating less, I’m eating healthier. Quality over quantity, right? And despite being woken up about four times since 4 a.m. this morning, I feel quite alert—definitely not like I’ve been trudging through my day. Although, I don’t really know if I can credit that to my lack of meat/increase in healthier foods or to the fact that sometimes I just have good days where amount/quality of sleep just doesn’t seem to matter.

I also will say that I think for the first time in my life I understand how people trying to lose weight feel, and I have developed a great sympathy for the struggle someone has when telling themselves “no, don’t eat that, you know that you shouldn’t.”

I know my reason for telling myself “no” is different, but opening that refrigerator door this morning and thinking “No you should not eat that pastrami” was the first time I’ve ever had to really exert willpower with food. It was a revelation of sorts, I guess.

I suppose I am lucky in that sense, but in reality it wasn’t that hard to say no. And I think that’s what really tells me I’m doing the right thing for myself.

Riding the wave

Link has been very friendly lately. I think he’s warming up to the idea of being a lapcat. Maybe. And I don’t want to say anything about him calming down because I’m afraid I might jinx it.

But I like him more and more every day. I’m glad we adopted him. Even though I still feel guilty about Gordo moving upstairs.

Five days clean

I feel like I’m trying to quit smoking.

Yesterday was my first meal at someone else’s house as a vegetarian, and it was at Ian’s dad’s house. They were gracious; his dad’s wife Tracie got some portabella mushrooms and we tried a new recipe—vinaigrette, rosemary and crumbled blue cheese—that was awesome. Even Ian’s dad, who seemed skeptical at first, loved it.

I think this could work.

An accidental vegetarian

I have not eaten meat since Monday afternoon. I know to some of you that doesn’t seem like a long time, but as someone who generally has some sort of meat at least twice a day, it’s a big feat.

But it hasn’t really been a concerted effort. In fact, it’s kind of just happened by accident.

For lunch on Monday, I had half of a turkey sandwich and a salad. When dinnertime rolled around, we didn’t really have anything in the house except for some canned vegetables. Not wanting to spend more money on restaurants, and realizing (thanks to Mint.com) that I spend way too much on side trips to the grocery store, we decided to just eat the vegetables. So dinner was spinach, Velveeta Shells and Cheese, and corn. Ian seasoned it nicely, and it was a good, filling meal. I had it again Tuesday for lunch.

Tuesday evening after work I met up with some blogger friends for a couple of drinks and, knowing I wouldn’t be back in the ‘Boro until around 9, I ordered a grilled cheese and some fruit.

Wednesday I had a personal pan cheese pizza from Pizza Hut for lunch, and for dinner I had Cheerios and some sunflower seeds (I had gotten home late again because I attended the Nashfoto meetup, and we still didn’t have anything in the house to eat. Well, that and I wasn’t very hungry).

So today at lunch a co-worker and I were deciding what we wanted to eat when I realized I have, essentially, been eating vegetarian for the last several meals. I thought, “Why stop now?” and ordered a veggies-only sandwich from Which Wich.

Philosophically, I can see myself being a vegetarian. I don’t like the thought of putting processed meat in my body, I hate the way the animals are treated that yield the meat that I eat, and according to the Eat Right for Your Type guy, I would do best on a vegetarian eating plan. The more fruits and vegetables I eat, the better I feel.

But y’all, I’m lazy, lacking willpower and in love with barbecue.

It’s just easier to eat meat. Anywhere you go: fast food places, relatives’ houses, restaurants… they always are going to have some sort of meat available.

And barbecue. Oh, the barbecue. I had never eaten barbecue until I moved to the south (hell, I didn’t even know how to spell it correctly until I started my current job and my boss schooled me on it), and now I consider myself somewhat of a connoisseur. Shit, I look forward to the Jack Daniel’s BBQ Fest almost as much as I do my birthday. And I find my birthday to be more worthy of celebration than Christmas.

And here’s the other thing: Ian is the cook in our house. Sure, I can cook, but he actually likes to cook. We have this thing where he cooks and I clean up. It seems to work out all right. But I would pretty much bet the house that Ian will NOT EVER become a vegetarian. And I can’t exactly ask him to make special vegetarian-only meals for me. And how much money and food will be wasted? It’s hard enough sometimes to use all of what we buy to make a meal for two people. Cooking for one is even worse. I know, I lived alone for six years. It sucks. You eat a lot of Mac and Cheese and frozen pizzas.

So, Internet, I ask you this: Is it doable? Can I be vegetarian? Obviously the willpower and laziness thing is up to me, but are there any tips that can help me? Can anyone point me in the direction of some sort of magical vegetarian cookbook where the meals are super simple and quick to make, use ingredients I can find at Kroger, and are fucking tasty as hell?

And how do I resist the cravings for meat? Do they ever go away? I’m not having them yet, but I’m assuming once I commit myself to vegetarianism they’re going to come at me, doing anything they can to fuck up my game.

She missed him

Whenever we come back from a vacation, BK always acts like she didn’t even notice we were gone. But she can only keep up her act for a few hours, and by bedtime she’s made it pretty clear she’s attached to us.

Especially her daddy.