Yesterday when I picked Lo up at school, I ran into her first-grade teacher, who lives in our neighborhood. "I saw you and Georgia jogging yesterday," said Mrs. C. "I see y'all doing that a lot."
"I raised her to run with me," I responded. "The same way those people on Octavia Lane--the ones who had the blue tarp on their roof for 12 years--raised their sons to finish that addition to their house."
It's at least as hard to find a good jogging partner as it is a decent carpenter.
Sometime right before Christmas, during one of those laps around the hood, George started talking about going on a vegan diet (she's already a vegetarian), and I agreed to try it with her once the holidays were over. I was thinking it would be a good way to get off the five or so pounds I anticipated gaining to start 2007. Anyhoo, Santa long gone and the 20 oz. Costa Rican steaks behind me, we started this past Monday.
I dunno. I was a veg-head for 19 years, from the time I was 18 until a year after Lo was born, when I started dreaming of slaughtering the cows myself. I was losing my hair. My nails wouldn't grow. I was tired all the time. I couldn't walk by the deli at Publix without licking the glass case. My first meat was beef Wellington at a dinner party. I have consumed everything from prime rib to pork sausage since.
For the past week, however, I have had no animal products whatsoever. I've consumed more beans and rice than I've eaten in 20 years. I'm not sure I can go without pizza for much longer.