I’m done with zucchinis, I won, and so the rules say I can have the rest of the week to wax philosophical about whatever I want. Someone suggested I use this time to talk about my addiction to expensive dresses and designer jeans, but I resent the implication that my purchasing habits at my favorite Decatur boutique, Boogaloos, are a problem; I’m merely being patriotic to my country and my president—who is also my boyfriend, if you must know—in these tough economic times by supporting my local economy. You’re welcome, economy.
But this is a vegetable blog and so that’s what I’m going to wax about matter-of-factly, if not philosophically.
We’re five weeks in to the project and here’s where we stand so far: Julie—5, vegetables—0.
- Squash, in
- Mushrooms, in
- Peppers, in
- Cucumbers, in
- Zucchini, in
Last night, as I stood at my kitchen counter eating fried zucchini for the third night in a row (while considering returning the deep fryer to Lauren), I looked at the dinner spread in front of me and took stock of my life. What has happened to me? Seriously. I was very happily, too happily, eating a plate of fried zucchini, farm-fresh cucumbers with cheese and crackers, and home-grown tomatoes, but not a lick of meat.
What. The. Fuck. And not only that, I had gone out of my way after work to stop at both a farmer’s market and the grocery store to put this little app plate together just for me because David left a day early for our vacation. So I A) put effort into preparing a meal all by myself for myself, B) it’s not cake, and C) it was basically all vegetables.
We’re living in the Twilight Zone at my house. Aliens have invaded my body. Somebody save me from myself and bring me some bloody meat.