May 8, 2012
I was becoming more and more conflicted about eating cooked food. My sisters and I had met at the cemetery to visit Mother’s grave and I, unwisely, mentioned that DD and merm were thinking about eating only raw food. My oldest sister frowned and said, “That’s not good.” She then proceeded to give me reason after reason why she believed she was right. Funny thing was, they were a lot of my own initial objections. Then she started talking about walnuts and Omega 3s and the conversation slowly but surely was steered away from raw food.
I didn’t say much about it at work. I was enough of an oddball as it was. My vegetarian fare was scrutinized by my co-workers much more than the lunches brought by the carnivores. Once, I’d made a Peanut Butter Loaf by my mother-in-law’s recipe. When asked what it was, I made the mistake of calling it by its proper name. Even just before I retired from the hospital, people would talk about my “Peanut Butter Meatloaf”. It didn’t matter than I tried, valiantly, to correct them. There wasn’t any meat anywhere close to it. It was, laughingly, “meatloaf”.
DD and merm were still on their cruise. Nine days can be a long time when you really really want contact. Internet access on the ship was anywhere from sketchy to non-existent and it was extremely expensive to even try to get online. I waited. And waited. And waited.
Seemingly months later instead of days, they were back. A few days passed and merm sent out an email. They were going to try eating just raw food. The parents were planning to do the same. I still wasn’t completely sure. I did like my grits and eggs in the mornings and my fried potatoes when I got home from work.
I had to do a little more thinking and searching. I wasn’t quite ready to take the plunge.