Bacovegetarian

"The soul may be a mere pretense
The mind makes very little sense
So let us value the appeal
Of that which we can taste and feel."
Piet Hein, A Toast

Yep, that’s right. I'm a bacovegetarian. You’ve probably heard of the lacto- and ovo- kinds of vegetarians who also eat, respectively milk products and eggs. Me too. I couldn’t live without cheese, and on my weekly trips to the local egg lady I obtain the most wonderful fresh delicious eggs. Recently Tech Support Guy ordered an egg dish at a local restaurant and we barely recognized the anemic tasteless egg-shaped thing on his plate. He reported that it had a vaguely egg-like flavor, but had hardly any taste at all.

But bacon is, well bacon. Now, don’t judge me. I won't ever eat deep fried Snickers. I can’t stand the things big agriculture does to pigs. Shooting them full of antibiotics within days after they’re born, cutting their curlicue tales off because they pack them so tightly together that they’ll eat each other’s tails otherwise. Feeding them nasty muck and making them stand in their own poop.

We recently saw the movie Food, Inc. which doesn’t talk so much about pigs but will make you cut beef out of your diet unless you’re a soul-dead consumer seeking a slow death from nutritional deficiency and obesity-related diseases. The local county fair is a positive hotbed of irresistible bad food seemingly designed to make you sick and fat at the same time. I particularly love that all the trash cans wore patriotic dress and reminded the overweight customers to keep America beautiful.

So, I pay more to get organic bacon, certified as cage-free or humanely treated. I’ll eat bacon on/in anything: tomato sauce, potatoes sautéed in garlic and bacon grease, buttered toast. I haven’t sunk to coating my bacon with chocolate as they do at the fair, but I’m not saying it couldn’t happen someday. If only I could figure out how to get bacon into my morning coffee, I think I would have invented the perfect food.

Lunacy and Imagination, Part 1

“As things so very often are
Intelligence won’t get you far.
So be glad you’ve got more sense
Than you’ve got intelligence.”

Piet Hein

My imagination waxes and wanes with the moon, and sometimes it feels like sense and intelligence seem to ebb and flow inside me. Lunacy or imagination?

These nights, here at 32° 46'13" N, 116° 57' 22" W, the waxing moon is still only a part of itself. Each night, outside my bedroom window, it rises in the east a bit earlier, but still looks like an old woman haunted by loss. Yet when the moonrise finally creeps above the trees, the light seems distracted – perhaps by other planetary events beyond our view from earth – and not paying full attention to me below.

Of course, through the miracle of the interweb (sic), you can go Here to calculate your very own longitude and latitude.

The night is no longer young. Before the moon rises, night is lost in middle age. The shadow of pallid moonlight on the dew-damp stones outside the window makes each stepping stone look like it’s shrugging its shoulders. It looks like the preoccupied gesture a weary mom makes, brushing her arm past her tired face, in wordless reply to a persistent child needing attention.

The moon is a mere shadow if its former self. The first month of this new year is almost over, but the waxing moon promises there’s life after January. The phases of the moon usher in and out seasons. Not a blunt and banal four seasons, but more like 400. More than once a day, the whole world changes right before my eyes.

Take, for example, my back yard. My garden is like a river: I never step into the same garden twice. During the waxing moon, my imagination seems to swell, and I seem to have more sense. Then later, like the waning moon, I realize that while I may be better informed, I’m often none the wiser. So much for internet intelligence.

While it may be obvious to the point of banality, Seasons always return, but each is different. This winter may be similar to last winter, but it is not the same. And this waxing moon is smiling at me.

This post was inspired by a post from From Greeny at Sometimes You Get What You Need with a picture of a smiling moon...