Just when I had some time (and the ability to stay awake) to read and comment on your blogs, I find I'm having a hard time commenting on some of them. It could be me...it could be blogspot...or it could be an act of Satan. He's like that, you know. So I hear. I don't know Satan personally or anything.
I will keep trying in between working, changing diapers, giving baths, trying to stay awake, and avoiding Satan's phone calls.
In the meantime...have I told you about C's 2009 "Quest for the Perfect Steak?" It begins this Saturday. I think I'm being given the copyrights to blog it. We'll see how it goes.
I'll be eating meaty portobellos or something on the quest. Despite a brief relapse during pregnancy (I craved things with iron and protein) (when not in the throes of yet another sugary dairy product yearning) I'm not really into eating things that once moo-ed. I'm not PETA about it or anything...just picky, is all. Plus, cows are kind of cute (in a dopey bovine way).
When I was ages 9-14, we lived in a house that was backed up to a cow pasture. We used to (a) name the cows, in particular the baby cows; (b) feed the cows leaves from the trees that also backed up to the cow pasture; and (c) hop the barbed wire fence to go play in the cow patties.
Our favorite cow patty games were: That's SOOOO Gross Scientific Experimenters (taking a fallen tree branch and sticking it into fresh cow patties to see the inside) (they're green inside by the way...which makes sense, since grass is their primary food) (well, these cows at least...these cows were regular, organic cows, not those hormone-doped up cows we all have to deal with today) and I'm Going to Get You, Sucker! (taking a fallen tree branch used during That's SOOOO Gross Scientific Experimenters and chasing each other around with it, occasionally scoring and clipping the other person on the shoulder with a tad bit of cow poo) (as an adult with 20/20 hindsight, I now see this was horrifically dangerous--runing around with cows in a cow pasture, not to mention highly unsanitary and we could have suffered terrible, terrible deaths from e. coli poisoning...which may be the whole point of childhood, I sometimes think: court Death, unawares).
My favorite childhood moments were being woken up to shouting and mooing, hooves clicking on pavement: yet ANOTHER cow had somehow managed to jump the cow fence and wander into 1980's suburbia. All the dads ran out in their houserobes and slippers trying to corral the cow until the farmer could show up in his pickup truck/trailer and take the cow home.
I like to think we neighborhood children gave the cows the idea to jump the fence and come visit us, just like we visited them. I think their favorite game was called See How Many Dads in Fuzzy Slippers You Can Make Scream Like a Girl and Run Away in Fear as You Pretend to Charge Them--Human Dads are SOOOO Dumb!
It's because of these memories I have a deep fondness for cows and so I generally avoid eating them if I can help it. Thus, chicken (hideous, vile creatures) and portobello mushrooms for me on C's Steak Quest.
-A
::state of being::
- amy
- I'm a teacher by day and a writer by night. I'm working to turn that the other way around. I write better than I speak. I have a 4 year old girl who speaks better than she writes. The End.
::awesomeness::
This came from Only A Movie (thanks, E!)
::transcendation::
Magical Thinking by Amy Samson is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Based on a work at www.amywritesmagicalthoughts.blogspot.com
4 comments:
I'm a portobello gal too! Love them.
*L* my uncles used to try and roll cow paddies and smoke em... what can I say.. they were desperate.
Cows aren't that dangerous except for maybe germs.. we used to play baseball in the fields on this farm my grandfather worked on. Course the cows weren't that good at catching the balls. The balls would just thud as they hit their sides..
yeah... I guess my uncles were cow abusers.
I am with you on not eating beef. Actually, I am not eating any mammal type animal. On occasion, I will eat chicken, especially if it is disguised.
My child went semi-veggie on Jan. 1st, so I've been right there with him since. Mostly because I am too lazy to cook two meals and I always have salad for lunch anyway.
For a while, he wouldn't eat anything that he didn't think he could kill one on one if he were starving, so he thought he could handle chicken. Then he had some sort of undercooked chicken incident and he was all done. He has no problem eating shellfish though, so I guess he is not a *nothing with a face* sort of vegetarian.
Here I am blogging in your comment forum...
We eat so much chicken, it is a wonder we don't have feathers.
And the cows are cute. My grandparents raised cattle for beef. I've been opposed since the 4th grade. And cow patties are gross. The game we played went more like "Let us see if we can scare the horse so that it rears up so you slide off into a cow pattie." We loved those silly cows.
In fact, I have rolls and rolls of film dedicated to the cows and their said patties.
The same grandparents had an egg processing division of their farm. The chickens are mean and will peck. To get chickens to quit pecking, we would throw eggs at them which would distract their little brains and they would begin eating the egg mess. Canibals! So we'll leave it with I eat chickens. Enough said.
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