Monday, October 20, 2008

Meaty Goodness

A short day at the Patch today, thank goodness. As I put on my Facebook page: "Alison is having a fight with the lamb she ate for dinner yesterday. The lamb is winning." Blech. 'Nuff said.

I love, love, love being noticeably smaller than I was 2 weeks ago. And I will do my utmost (within reasonable limits) to stay that way. But I'm realizing that my utmost does not include ingesting huge amounts of red meat every day. For one thing, it's hard (and expensive) to buy meat that's safer to eat: non-medicated, free range, etc. Why lose all this weight just to fill my body with toxins, hormones, additives? For another: well, before this low-carb thing started I was toying with the idea of being mostly vegetarian. It just feels like the right thing to do, for my body, for the animals, for the planet. With a carnivore companion in my life, I don't think I can be totally veggie. Also, when it comes right down to it, I like meat. Love it, sometimes. But I walked into Chapters this afternoon and one of the first things I saw was the cover of Michael Pollan's new book In Defense of Food. And this is the slogan on the cover: Eat Food. Not Too Much. Mostly Plants. It was as if it spoke right to me. Of course, life will be easier if mostly plants includes eggs. And cheese. And yoghurt. And maybe some really good chocolate, once in a while. As I've said before, baby steps, people.

I also love drinking 2 litres of water every day. Don't know how I went without doing so for so long. My skin is clear, my eyes are bright... 'course I pee every 5 minutes, but at least that allows me to get off the tractor-drawn wagon at the Patch for a mini-break every once in a while. Yesterday was insane. Working from 10am until 5, no breaks. Seriously. No breaks. Gulping food between wagon-loads of people. For those of my 2.7 readers who don't know what I do there, I sit on a wagon and sings to loads of customers as we ride out from the main gates to the Pumpkin Patch. And then again as they head back, clutching their pumpkins. It's a fine life, for 3 weeks. Any more and you'd go nuts. Being outside all day is actually wonderful, even in the rain, although we all moan and complain when it's wet. The pay is fantastic. The people are awesome. It's the same bunch of starving musicians every year; it's like a time warp. And the same tractor drivers, the same farm and produce store employees too. I'll say one thing about Harry Hogler (isn't that the best name ever for a farmer?): he certainly seems to inspire loyalty. I'll probably still be working there in October 2058, wrinkled and slower, but still singing "Oh Susanna" with all the energy I possess. They don't do breaks there, as I mentioned, but the pay is good enough to almost compensate for that. Oh, and I have a bit of a crush on one of the guys who works there, so that brightens my days there quite a bit.

You know what I would love, though? I'd love to be able to get my hands on a recent list of people who thought I was sexy, or crush-worthy, or whatever. Wouldn't we all? I would love to read that list and go Ohhh. So that's what he thought of me. Hee hee. But I will have to settle for being chatted up on the bus by the wild-eyed man wearing a big silver skull ring. I know he liked me.

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