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It has already been four days since the year’s biggest day, and I can’t believe it. Nor do I want to. You think one day, you’ll get used to feeling sad after Christmas is over, but for me, it seems to be getting worse. When I was a kid, the day was great until about 6 or 7pm; these days, the sucking begins around 3pm. And it usually only lasted into the next day. Now, I’m counting how many days past until about January 25th, then two days later, my mind wanders to “Oh my, I’m older again…!” I don’t like the fact that I must age in order to take my mind off of the passing of Christmas.

More and more lately, I realize how I attach viewings of my favorite Christmas shows to certain events in my life. Not big events, but mundane ones that make me happy nonetheless. Rudolph reminds me of my dad, who always made sure we knew it was coming on (back when CBS aired it a week or two before Christmas, and not four days after Thanksgiving the way they do now.)  We all love Rudolph, and call the Abominable Snow Monster by the name of a certain aunt ;)  I remember watching it one year before going to a work party of my dad’s, while using hot rollers on myself for the first time, possibly (I think I was about 7.) I also remember that party, and the gifts I got, and still have- a set of two My Precious Puffs, these weird looking little puffy things with faces. They were scented like perfume I think, you could wear them on your wrist,  and came with a comb and mine had a drum set and record player. I still have my blue one, but no clue where the orange one went. Toys in the 1980’s were something else

My second favorite is the original Frosty the Snowman, with Jimmy Durante. It feels wrong to decorate the tree without having Frosty on. And with this one, I associate memories of tangled strings of colored lights, my mom’s old tree ornaments, and the small trailer we lived in at the time. I love my mom’s ornaments, many of them handmade by her grandmother in Oregon. I love old beaded ornaments. And the ballerinas her grandmother made- just beads and pipe cleaners, but three of my forever favorites. I used to sneak them out of the ornament box and play with them. I think they are no longer fully intact- and the white one may be gone completely- but the tree is not the same without them.

The Grinch holds his place as the one my sister and I will watch over and over separately, then over and over when we are together. I think TBS used to show it and A Christmas Story together, before the current must watch 24 hour marathon. Which I missed this year, sadly. I have been able to see Mr. Grinch about 4 times this year on CN and TNT, and look forward to digging out our ancient VHS copy when my parents and siblings have our Christmas January 2nd. A change I don’t like (thanks to our brother’s offshore job- why must rigs keep workers over holidays? That seems so stupid to me) but try to like because it extends Christmas just a little longer. Kind of.

So I plan to finish up my holiday season making more goodies than any of us needs, and maybe squirreling away a few cookies for my own personal stash, as a way to keep the feeling going. I really don’t like the way the end of Christmas feels, and I am certainly not good with change (is it sad that I am a mere 28 and already I am feeling too much of my life has passed by? That I am waxing nostalgic about the ‘good ol days’ when they were barely 20 years ago? No, not too weird )  I also have a few UFOs in the crafts basket, and a few more needs to starts, courtesy of Scott and the book I received from him. Maybe by the time the next holiday season rolls around, I will have enough on my plate to keep me busily distracted, and unable to focus on the super quick ending.  And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be able to convince everyone that doing Christmas closer to the way we used to wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Here’s to hoping, eh?

I’ve been spending time lately between the houses of my parents and my sister (which are next door to each other.) This is mostly because I feel the need to have a break from our current place of residence, for various reasons, and most of all, because my sister’s house is a blank, albeit horribly messy, canvas upon which I hope to fling my influence. Or something like that. And one of my aunts is opening a daycare, and I’m waiting for the call to come paint a giant Cat in the Hat And then there’s wedding planning, but that’s another rant for another day.

Being the firstborn of three, birth order personality analysis states that I be ambitious, bossy, grounded, stable, and focused on education. My sister, number three (and therefore the baby) is supposedly the funny, adventurous risk taker.  Someone we both worked with once said “the two of you have your birth orders mixed up- Katie is the one who knows where she’s going, and you are so free spirited.” And she was kinda right about it. Katie is 21, owns her own house (yeah, it’s a trailer in dire need of many repairs, but for one person and her massive clothing collection, it’s plenty. And she freakin’ owns it!!) She knows she wants to be a nurse, she did well in school, was somewhat popular, and her employment record is not six miles long. I, on the other hand, refuse to admit that I’m 28, I’m anxious 98.4% of the time, I’m a bit of a clown, I once flew to Iowa to meet someone (without telling anyone but my sister and a couple other people) and I still have no idea what I should or even want to do with my life. I think it’s because I’m 7 years older, and that by the time Katie came around, our parents were slightly more settled, and were able to offer Katie more. Plus, she’s always been pretty gregarious, and I’ve been on the painfully shy side of reserved. And these have all lead to their fair share of skirmishes.

Being the oldest, I had the parents to myself for two years before our brother was born, and at some point, we had to share a bedroom- which meant he would play Barbies with me and I would trudge outside to dig in the dirt with Tonkas with him. He once stole on of my Barbies and hid it somewhere on the top bunk, but other than that, I don’t really recall him getting into my stuff. Somewhere around 2nd grade I think, we got our own rooms. Then came Katie. We moved to a bigger house, then to another after nearly a year, and then another still, and this was when la petit bebe and I began sharing a bedroom.

Parents of more than one kid everywhere know the familiar shouts of “get out of my room!!!!!” and the following sounds of kid pushing kid, slamming door, plaintive cries. Then comes the yelling of mom and/or dad, threats of belts meeting butt flesh, “let your sister play!!!” But no one knows the horror that was sharing a room with Katie. First, there was the Barney poster. I was in fifth grade, a fragile time in a girl’s life. Not that I was ever allowed to have friends over (b/c I wasn’t), but I had a few evil cousins who would have loved to tell the world that I had a Barney poster. And that I loved Barney. Yeah, Barney the big dumb purple dinosaur. Not Rubble or Fife. So, I did what any creative 10 year old would do- I moved said poster behind the bed. If you can’t see it, it’s not there. Katie took this as the greatest personal affront, and tattled, which got me fussed at. Then! She stole my first gold ring. I’d just gotten it for Christmas, and had never gotten to wear it. She took it to school, and that was all she wrote. I could have killed her. Those were the offenses I remember most, but she was constantly in my stuff, and I was forever trying to get her out, getting myself yelled at or grounded- which is something I will never understand. How could I be wrong, by simply wanting for the little beast to leave my things alone? Parents always want to make an example of you in the weirdest possible ways.

Over the years, some things got way, way worse, things I don’t want to write about, but that the people who know me best know about. There was the ganging up. Usually by George and Katie against me, in what I would refer to as the “Capricorn Resistance” (b/c they are both stubborn ass sea goats. I’m an Aquarius. We really are flighty and free spirited.) Sometimes we would gang up on him- his simply being the only boy meant he got away with murder in ways O.J. Simpson could only imagine. If he did it. We knew about his fake id. We knew about his drunken nights at age 14, while our parents turned a blind eye, and let him not do housework. Well, they never made Katie do it either, and that’s why she’s content to sleep with a mountain of dirty clothes and towels on her bed. That absolutely disgusts me. It’d be like sleeping with dirty feet. We still have our stupid fights-  I am a homebody and she is not. She acts like she always knows best, but she forgets she’s really not experienced enough in many things. I say potato, she says “why don’t you make us some fries?” She’s my sister. We get on each others nerves in Olympic proportion. I seem to have adult onset adhd, which leads me to babble and fidget constantly, and it annoys her. She talks to me like I am new to this planet and how life works, and it pisses me off. But dammit, I am proud of her and sometimes wish I was more like her. Not in a jealous way, of course. I don’t wish to be a nurse or ever work dialysis again. But to have one ounce of her direction- I’d be a force of nature. And she can paint, too, which I actually am pretty jealous of (my identity has long been “the artistic one.”  But I think my definition of artistic needs changing, b/c I can sculpt and I’m a sucker for anything overly detailed. I’m futzy )  And besides, when you have a brother like we do, you need a sister. Because he’s kind of a jerk sometimes, and it’s nice to have someone who knows you aren’t just crazy oversensitive when he does something hateful to make you cry. Like biting off your Fun Time Barbie’s feet and blaming it on the dog. True story.

I think I have a weird position among my extended family. I’m not bad enough to be a true black sheep, but I have not followed the path as usual, either. I’m 27, living not in too much sin, childless, and have never been in trouble worse than a speeding ticket. I did cuss out a cop once, but he really had it coming. I think the biggest misconceptions about me among my family are that I either am a stickler for tradition, or I completely buck it. I like to think I am actually a nice combination of both- I love tradition so much, I’d like to start a few of my own

In our house, the holidays were a mix of anticipation, sneaking, yelling, and a little bit of Mr. Clean. My brother and I, two years apart in age, discovered one year that the gifts our mom put under the tree weeks in advance could easily be snuck into without her knowledge. We got away with this for a few years, until we either bragged about it to our sister (who tattled), or mom discovered a slightly ripped corner or wrapping paper on one box. We were threatened with an end to all Christmas gifts (that we didn’t really believe), and we came to the conclusion that we really did like the surprise of the big morning, so we decided to knock it off. Besides, we always knew what we were getting each other- our dad would pick us up from school on the last day before holiday break, we’d go to Pizza Hut, then Wal Mart, armed with twenty bucks each. George and I would make a beeline for the music section, while Katie was escorted to the toys with our dad. We’d each pick out the cassette or cd we wanted, discuss, then go pick something for Katie.  And this was the truly fun part for me- my sister is seven years younger than me, so I would pick something we’d both like. She wound up with a nice selection of Polly Pockets this way.

The weeks of our break from school also involved our mom making us clean. She’ll deny it now (she swears we never did housework)  but I have the permanent dishpan hands to prove the contrary.  Once we moved to the house they currently live in, the cleaning became a mega event- my mom, tchotchke queen of the south, has more dust collectors than any one person should. We had to run the collectible dishes in the dishwasher, dust each little knick knack and tiny picture frame. This always seemed to take months, but it likely only took 12 hours. We’d shampoo carpet, move furniture, clean out nooks and crannies we didn’t know even existed, and at some point after dark, our mom would exclaim “well, I guess this is ok…this house @%$#^%$~^” It could never be clean enough. Of course, I think if she were in a white, padded, sterilized room all by herself, that wouldn’t be clean enough, either.  But the end of this day meant something we all enjoyed- putting up the tree.

Long ago (sometime in my third year I think), our parents decided that artificial was the way to go. So we always had a fake tree. And, sometime around my 16th or 17th year, our mom decided a 9 footer was the only one she’d want. Also, I decided to pack as many lights on it as I could, so I have been forever stuck with that task. This year, she’s getting a prelit tree, and I think those are the best invention since inventions were first invented. So we’d stay up, watching whichever holiday specials were on (I think the last one was the old “Frosty the Snowman” cartoon, one of my favorites), and we’d string lights, hook ornaments, and try not to pack the front of the tree with too many.

A couple of weeks would pass, we’d have our mom’s family’s party, usually around the 20th, and on the 23rd, my brother and I would find silly ways to celebrate our actual favorite holiday- Christmas Eve Eve. It mostly involved our hoping that the fireworks display at our Paw Paw’s would be even better than the year before’s, we’d walk around in the woods, and one year, it involved me and a few friends trying to climb a 20ft cement wall in a Bronco. Never again. I think the excitement of that day was that it meant Christmas Eve was still to come, and that the holiday season still held so much fun to be had. We could still watch our well worn VHS of Christmas cartoons that were only shown once during the 90’s, we could drink our fill of instant cocoa, and discuss what we thought we were getting.This day would pass, we’d spend Christmas Eve night at our grandparents’ (until 8 years ago, when our Paw Paw passed away, the holiday just isn’t the same without him around), and around 8 or 9, we’d go back home, and watch A Christmas Story, until our parents shooed us to bed.

Four a.m.  The footsteps began, creeping across the hall. My door opened, and a hissing “Chrisssty! Hey! Get up! It’s here!” Sometimes I’d bound out of bed, and we’d race down the hall. Others, I’d grumble about how early it was and roll over, which led to my covers being violently snatched away. Then I’d have to get up, and follow the bounding, Tigger-like brother to the living room, and watch as he inspected everything under the tree. One year, he thought the answer to his Christmas prayers had been answered- he wanted a four wheeler for as long as I can recall. And every year, he’d be so sure he was getting it, finally, and then, it never came. One year, our parents, holiday pranksters they are, decided to have fun with this. They typed a return label on the back of an index card, from the “Honda Corporation,” and taped it to a box the size of a small fruit crate. He saw this, and starting going “Honda?!? Honda!!!” Our dad, going unnoticed on the couch, ordered us back to bed. Around 6, he bounded back across the hall (as he also did every year), and we would each grab an afghan, and take our seats, me staring at the tree and lights, he salivating over “finally” getting his ATV. Sometime around 7, the rest of the family would wake, and we’d have to fix coffee for our mom, and then situate for the gift passing.

Now, as far as the four wheeler goes, Katie and I were in on the joke. We kept this secret for weeks, waiting for the day when we’d get to see his eyes bug out of his head, and then the confusion we all knew was coming. He was handed the box. He grinned, “These are my keys, right?” “Just open it,” our parents grinned back in unison, in a way that would give the Cheshire cat the creeps. He tore into it, careful not to rip the “Honda” address label. He took the lid off the box, and found inside…a pistol. No keys. Just  a Civil War-era powder pistol in a glass front case. “Where…where are my keys?!?” he wailed. “There are no keys! Hahahahahahaha!” We laughed at his disappointment, and he said “I can’t believe ya’ll would trick me!” He did like his gun though, so I guess it wasn’t a total loss.

I miss these unspoken traditions with my family. The shopping after school and pizza, the trouble to be had on Christmas Eve Eve, and being rudely awoken every December 25th around 4am. Having Christmas Eve ON Christmas Eve, instead of the week before. Maybe it’s the loss of traditions we are so used to growing up that causes sadness during this time. I know as a kid, I would feel so sad late on Christmas day, because it was over for another year,  the tree, the lights, the food, the anticipation. My brother would go back to being that lunk across the hall who hogged the tv and couldn’t manage to get up at 6 for school. Our house would go back to being a bland mess. There were no more fireworks. No more days off of school. No more hiding our mom’s Aaron Neville tape or cd. And maybe too, this is why it’s considered a child’s holiday. I think adults like seeing happy, sugar fueled children behaving for a few weeks, hoping for the perfect gift. Or threatening them with a call to Santa when they misbehave.  I also think my sadness comes from realizing that we’ll never have Christmases exactly like those we used to again. Maybe it’s another reason people have kids, to hold on to that in any way they can. Since I have only cats, I will tell my nephew about how George used to wake me up so early, how we’d sneak down the hall to inspect the goods, and be ordered back to bed for a couple more hours. I only hope he’s as excited on that morning as we always were, and that when his sister is old enough, he’ll bound across the hall at 4am, so they can race to the tree and help the day last that much longer. I think that’s a tradition worth keeping

The internet is a great facilitator to my obsessive whims. I’ll remember a doll from the 80’s that I really wanted but never had (say, Rose Petal Place), and off I go, looking for whatever I can find. Three hours later, I’ll have found pages dedicated to that entire doll series, and all things RPP that were unreleased, plus fan pages for Charmkins, Strawberry Shortcake and My Little Pony. Then off to ebay to window shop for all these things I never had. It sounds sad but it’s really not. And one day, I will have the money and shelf space for that Charmkins collection I’ve been planning since 1986.

Something I have been looking for since about 2002 is this set of Pyrex (I assume Pyrex) mixing bowls with a little fruit design on one side. My aunt Nini got them one Easter, and I thought they were the cutest bowls ever. Just clear glass bowls with simple, vibrant fruits done in near Marimekko style.
They reminded me of these shirts I wore when I was younger, they were white with allover prints of tiny hearts or stars in primary colors. I think they came from Tarjay. Anywhoo, no one in my family seems to recall these bowls. And I couldn’t tell you if my aunt still has them, because she moves a lot, and they could frankly be anywhere. And, as I was about 10 when she bought them, I wouldn’t have thought to ask the pattern name. I thought you just bought based on the picture on the box, names were not any part of that. Live and learn, I suppose.

So, I’m on a mission to find them. When I moved out for about the third time, I told my mom I wanted to do my kitchen in fruits. She bought me some apple dishes that while cute, were more down on the farm and less modern-cartoony than I liked. I spent a good chunk of the afternoon googling every word and word combo that I thought would give me the results I desire. No luck so far. But I did fall upon a site and Flickr group that I’m sure will give me hours of enjoyment- and lead me down the rabbit hole of collection. Crazy Daisy is a pattern that I grew up with. My mom still has a few pieces if I’m not mistaken. It’s fun to see all the patterns through the years and find some that I could see in my kitchen, sharing counter space with a certain set of fruity mixing bowls. If only I could find the darn things. So check out the site http://www.pyrexlove.com/ and peruse all bowls and casseroles that your grandma might have made tuna surprise in. And be thankful that tuna surprise wasn’t one of your mom’s favorites. Yecch.

So my dreams of being a good little vegetarian haven’t been totally squashed. We’ve actually had a few meatless meals since I gave up (mostly stir fry, but we do a lot of that anyway, so no big whoop.) I have noticed now that even going a few days in a row without meat, if I happen to eat a little bit of it, one of two things occur- either heartburn with a side of reflux, or some wicked stomach upset. We had Popeye’s last night, and I have been paying for it ever since. Let’s just say, my stomach wrote a check my butt couldn’t cash. Or colon, whatever. And tonight was Taco Bell (b/c Brian and I had a little spat, and dinner was served around 11:30p.) I’m still paying for both of those meals.

I am currently looking for new ways to do beans and rice. The dish from my childhood consisted of red beans, sausage, a box of Zatarain’s mix, and white rice. We had it often (and just a lot of rice in general, which is why I haven’t eaten rice in about 10 years. I got tired of it so I quit it ), and I never really cared for it, unless my mom made her from scratch cornbread. She doesn’t cook often, but she sure as hell puts her big toe into some corn bread and biscuits. Canned creamed corn she burns, but baked goods she can do. I had some chickpeas and saffron rice once when my aunt was married to my Uncle Ray (who is Dominican), and I really liked it. Sooo, I’m planning to redo old school red beans and rice by making a chickpea stew, and serving it over yellow rice. So far, my plan includes using a can of tomato basil soup, some balsamic vinegar and a few other spices (and a red bell pepper), and serving it over the rice. If I could make it like a paella, I think it would please me greatly. I’ve never had it, but it looks really good. So I will post my recipe for chickpea stew and saffron rice once I have made it

Also, I’m enjoying a couple of vegetarian/vegan cookbooks right now. One, “Vegan With a Vengeance” by Isa Chandra Moskowit, has a plethora of creative recipes with clever, punk-inspired titles (and I love the tips from the author’s cat.) The Fauxstess and lemon cupcakes will be given a spin in my kitchen fo sho. My favorite vegetarian cookbook ever of all time and forever is now officially “Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone” by Deborah Madison. I never knew that making a simple tomato sauce for pasta, from real live tomatoes, could be so easy. When she says it’s for everyone, she’s ain’t fibbing- the recipes are so simple, yet most of them have made my mouth water (the way she describes celery makes me want to snack on some, even though I detest it and always have.) It’s a big book, too, and it reads like a foodie novel. It’s awesome I think anyone, even die hard carnivores, would be hard pressed to not find something in that book that they would enjoy. And I’m not even into the desserts chapter yet!

So maybe I’m starting to view my original goal as less of a one month challenge to continuity, and more of a lifelong evolutionary process. So perhaps I haven’t really given up as much as I’ve just begun to fight

Ok, so I’m throwing in the towel. After much thought on the matter, I have decided that I’m not doing well with this because the time isn’t right. I have a really weird attitude towards vegetables and fruits now (which is odd, b/c I love fruit so.) Sunday night, I plowed through an entire bag of grapes, after initially not wanting them at all, because I had it in mind that “grapes are gross.” I like grapes, I have never not liked them, so it confuzzles me. Anyway, here is the food log from Friday- Monday:

Friday:

• Cereal w/ organic 2% milk, orange
• Either veggie corndogs or more cereal (hey I’ve slept since then..)
• Homemade focaccia with pesto, sun dried tomatoes, black olives and a bit of mozzarella- little pizzas

Saturday:

• Cereal and 2%
• 2 oranges
• #6 Baja Chicken from Taco DingDong. Yup, back to that…
• ricotta

Sunday:

• 2 orders of cheese sticks from Sonic (I really like cheese, recall)
• Popcorn chicken meal from Sonic. I paid dearly for that later, with some wicked heartburn and acid reflux. I did not miss that.
• Bag of green seedless grapes

Monday:

• Orange
• Hebrew National hotdogs (2) and chili, cheese, yellow mustard, Sunchips, Neapolitan sundae

So I am not doing great, but I did at least try a few new things. And I am happy to report that that will continue- I’m still perusing, marking recipes for vegetarian meals and snacks. I’m just not in the best frame of mood to totally commit currently, but with more planning, I think that in a few months, I may try again. Or I may find some other way to tailor it to my specific needs and personality. I’m not ruling it out There are always options! And I’m glad I tried at least.

Things are getting better, slowly but surely. I’m not really craving meat currently, so that’s a plus. Here’s what’s gone down for the last three days:

Day 11-

• Handful of cherry tomatoes and saltine crackers (we needed groceries)
• More saltine crackers for lunch (I think…)
• Taco Bell- 2 bean burritos and a triple layer nacho (meat free! and only 79 cents!)

Day 12-

• Bolthouse Farms berry smoothie, after some much needed grocery shopping
• Captain D’s- fish!!! I had to pick Brian up at lunch, and instead of being responsible and making lunch at home, we went out, and they were the least crowded (and I hate to say the lesser of all evils, but eh)
• Steamed broccoli teriyaki with water chestnuts, sesame seeds, Simply Asia brand sesame teriyaki noodles, and chow mein noodles. I made a sauce for the veggies, and Brian actually commented that he “really liked” the sauce, and I should definitely make it again He rarely says anything more than “it’s ok/alright” about most of my cooking, so that made me really happy. Plus, he’s not a huge fan of broccoli, so score.

Day 13-

• Lemon yogurt and an orange with a glass of pomegranate lemonade. Love the lemonade.
• Yakisoba brand stir fry noodles. It’s seriously ramen for grown-ups. So easy, so good. Next time I make stir fry, I will serve it atop a bed of these noodles. They are on my buy again list.
• Bean burritos/nachos with pico de gallo, black olives and nacho cheese. I just stirred it all together, baked it for 20 minutes, and served it with tortilla chips and whole wheat tortillas. I like the ww tortillas. They’re kinda sweet, so it adds an interesting flavor to the burritos.
• Sonic sundae with hot fudge, caramel and nuts. I needed ice cream.

I like that I can now see a Popeye’s commercial and not automatically go “mmmmm, chicken…” I feel it’s silly to say it’s getting easier (especially after having fish), but I am feeling so much better about the whole thing. On the menu for tomorrow (hopefully!)- eggplant parmesan subs and mini focaccia pizzas. They will make good little snacks for the next few days, because I still have some olives, and I found my favorite pesto (love) and some sun dried tomatoes. I just hope that I like the eggplant, and that I remember to take pictures. Oh, and I think I have lost 3 pounds. Our scale usually shows me fluctuating between one and seven pounds, but I weighed Monday and Tuesday, and the scale was showing roughly the same number. So yay for that!

Today was pizza. Only pizza. No wait, there were some saltine crackers in there way earlier, but for the most part, just black olive and pepperoni ( boooo, me) pizza. On the slate for tomorrow- grocery shopping, and my resolve to not only keep with it (well, start over and keep with it), but also to do better. My vegan kit from Peta came in Saturday, it’s basically a little booklet that gives celebrity accounts of why they’re vegetarians/vegans (Clint Eastwood, a vegan…who knew?), and details on meat industry brutality, and a few recipes. Reading about others’ experiences always seems to strengthen my resolve, so another goal I have is to read a little something about it everyday, as it may help. So here we go again! And hopefully a lot better this time.

The last two days have been a regular meat fest for me. Here goes:

Day 8

• Breakfast- don’t recall. I think it was probably soda
• Lunch- was actually dinner, because I get up really late. I was tempted to order an eggplant parm sub from Monjuni’s (in Ruston, La, and they have a few veggie-friendly dishes. I was just not in the mood for pasta.) Since I’m a weenie, I got the chicken parm sub. And breadsticks. And parmesan covered fries (those were sooo good.) I left the lettuce on my sandwich, something I never do, so woo for vegetables… I’m a riot.
• Dessert- Fried ice cream blast from Sonic. A regular sized one, so I don’t feel like a total pig. It was nice and cinnamon-y.

Day 9

• Brunch- Here’s where things went completely bust. I had a Sonic cheeseburger. For some reason, beef is a bigger no-no than chicken in my mind (like it’s not all dead animal?), so that has me feeling really guilty.
• Dinner- A number 6, Baja chicken from Taco Bell. I could have done so much better, but I figured I’d already slipped so far, that it didn’t matter. Yup, I am really terrible at this.

So, I have decided to finish my weekend of crap eating, and regroup, and do better. I’m even thinking of adding extra time to this, for the days I have screwed up. And, based on the advice of some of my fellow mark reps, I’m going to make my own eggplant parm. I can tell that meat makes me sluggish, even after not eating it for several days, then eating it again. I have to do better, and I will Time to make a grocery list!

I had hoped things would be going swell in this little venture by now- I’d be enjoying meatless breakfasts, lunch on brussels sprouts, snack on carrots…Not happening. Tonight, I really wanted a certain sandwich I mentioned previously. Not just one, but two. So, today’s food log:

• Breakfast- Cold pizza, meat picked off (1 piece), water
• Lunch- Diet Dr. Pepper. I had crazy heartburn, and didn’t want to eat, so I soda’d it up and took an antacid with a glass of water
• Dinner- Two Chicken With No Name sandwiches (with lettuce at least, I never do lettuce on a sandwich.) One could perhaps argue it was just one large sandwich, since they come on one folded pita round, but eh. It was two. And they were mind bogglingly delicious
• Dessert- Soy milk/ice cream shake. And now I feel so sick. It was good, and my first one this week (taking a break from soy every few days), so not having another until…who knows.

So, I am really struggling with my decision. It’s definitely easier for me to make meaty meals, or to just grab a burger or some chicken while out. I knew this would be difficult, but whoa, it’s starting to feel insurmountable. But progress, not perfection I suppose. I keep wondering if I’ll keep it up after August, or if I’ll even make it to the end. I do think that eating more fruits and vegetables (as previously mentioned) will be a good end product of this, and instead of beating myself up over supposed failure, I’ll just be glad that I tried my best and learned some new things. And I hope I do so much better tomorrow