Liver and other meat
Sep. 14th, 2003 07:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vaneramosPhoned Jon and Sylvie but nobody was home. Decided to go out to lunch by myself.
It was my first restaurant meal all month. Dining out is one of my favourite indulgences, so I'm showing great restraint here. I've exercised extra caution about money lately. I'm trying to pay off some credit card debt and at the same time save for a couple of things I want to do.
The small one is go to a Radical Faeries gathering at Amber Fox with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bitterlawngnome on Canadian Thanksgiving. That shouldn't be too difficult. The other one is to attend the week-long GALA Choruses international festival and Pride weekend in Montreal next July. I need to set aside $20 a week until next summer to make it feasible. These are ambitious but cherished goals for me. Apart from a camping trip north of Lake Huron with my daughters last summer, I haven't travelled outside Southern Ontario in seven years (I think it's fair to not count a few visits to a boyfriend who lived five minutes across the border in Buffalo). Besides, I haven't visited Montreal since Expo '67, when I was three.
These days I'm having an easier time doing this, saving for a long-term goal, instead of settling for the quick fix. It's another sign that things are getting better inside my head.
The funny thing is, I've gone overboard. Or maybe the correct word is underboard.
Several times this month I set little goals like this: "Okay, let's get some work done today, then tomorrow I can go out to a coffee shop."
Or: "I've got $15 in spending money this week. If it lasts until Monday I can go out for brunch."
But when the time comes to reward myself, I end up thinking, "Let's save the $15 and things will be easier next week."
I'm not sure I should be tricking myself by deferring the littlest rewards, but I haven't started to resent the Old Skinflint yet.
So I walked around the corner to Eggcetra. I had in mind something mindlessly artery-clogging, but once I sat down the phantom of my doctor showed up. Cholesterol is not a serious problem, he tells me, but iron is. I'm mildly anemic.
"You're not one of these people who doesn't eat meat, are you?" his phantom asked me.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. "We already had this conversation in your office last year."
"Yes, and you were doing very well, but you've slacked off since the last time we talked. Do you like liver?"
"Yes, pretty well."
"Well you can eat it once a week."
"I stopped eating liver because I thought it was bad for my cholesterol."
"Don't worry about your cholesterol," he said. "You've got the good kind."
Why do I have to relive these stupid conversations? I ordered liver, bacon and onions instead of the egg and pancake fest I had in mind. Liver might not be bad to my tastes, but it isn't as exciting as, say, chees fondue, or sexy as shellfish. It's not even deliciously barbaric as a rib-eye steak with the blood vessels still pumping, unless you're a vegetarian. Liver, frankly, is boring.
But the scenery was not. To my left sat a table of young people, one of whom was a 23-year-old version of Bruce Willis. Yum, yum, yum, what is this delightful new entree?
Cosmic Whatever, help me, I'm starting to think, "Young people."
At the table to my right sat four gay bikers. Sadly, they never glanced in my direction, but they sure gave off the vibes. I mean, a biker who crosses his legs and laughs a high B-flat? A shaved-headed leather daddy who struts his pelvis like an ostrich?
The third was a tall, beautiful Asian fellow. He had a quiet demeanour, but the others seemed to hang off every word he didn't say. I must admit he had something about him.
The fourth, however, a bear with a dark, trim beard was the most mouth-watering meat I have seen in a restaurant in ages. So I fantasized my way through the liver.
Afterward, I crossed the street to the park, found my favourite bench by the river, and immersed myself in some Sunday afternoon reading.djjo has loaned me Bellwether, by Connie Willis. It is absolutely hilarious, enough to make me chuckle aloud in both restaurants and quiet city parks, startling joggers and golden retrievers. The book is whimsical, a perfect reminder of the sweet DO with that mischievous twinkle.
Here's a cozy Sunday hug to Danny and everyone else as well.
It was my first restaurant meal all month. Dining out is one of my favourite indulgences, so I'm showing great restraint here. I've exercised extra caution about money lately. I'm trying to pay off some credit card debt and at the same time save for a couple of things I want to do.
The small one is go to a Radical Faeries gathering at Amber Fox with
bitterlawngnome on Canadian Thanksgiving. That shouldn't be too difficult. The other one is to attend the week-long GALA Choruses international festival and Pride weekend in Montreal next July. I need to set aside $20 a week until next summer to make it feasible. These are ambitious but cherished goals for me. Apart from a camping trip north of Lake Huron with my daughters last summer, I haven't travelled outside Southern Ontario in seven years (I think it's fair to not count a few visits to a boyfriend who lived five minutes across the border in Buffalo). Besides, I haven't visited Montreal since Expo '67, when I was three.These days I'm having an easier time doing this, saving for a long-term goal, instead of settling for the quick fix. It's another sign that things are getting better inside my head.
The funny thing is, I've gone overboard. Or maybe the correct word is underboard.
Several times this month I set little goals like this: "Okay, let's get some work done today, then tomorrow I can go out to a coffee shop."
Or: "I've got $15 in spending money this week. If it lasts until Monday I can go out for brunch."
But when the time comes to reward myself, I end up thinking, "Let's save the $15 and things will be easier next week."
I'm not sure I should be tricking myself by deferring the littlest rewards, but I haven't started to resent the Old Skinflint yet.
So I walked around the corner to Eggcetra. I had in mind something mindlessly artery-clogging, but once I sat down the phantom of my doctor showed up. Cholesterol is not a serious problem, he tells me, but iron is. I'm mildly anemic.
"You're not one of these people who doesn't eat meat, are you?" his phantom asked me.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. "We already had this conversation in your office last year."
"Yes, and you were doing very well, but you've slacked off since the last time we talked. Do you like liver?"
"Yes, pretty well."
"Well you can eat it once a week."
"I stopped eating liver because I thought it was bad for my cholesterol."
"Don't worry about your cholesterol," he said. "You've got the good kind."
Why do I have to relive these stupid conversations? I ordered liver, bacon and onions instead of the egg and pancake fest I had in mind. Liver might not be bad to my tastes, but it isn't as exciting as, say, chees fondue, or sexy as shellfish. It's not even deliciously barbaric as a rib-eye steak with the blood vessels still pumping, unless you're a vegetarian. Liver, frankly, is boring.
But the scenery was not. To my left sat a table of young people, one of whom was a 23-year-old version of Bruce Willis. Yum, yum, yum, what is this delightful new entree?
Cosmic Whatever, help me, I'm starting to think, "Young people."
At the table to my right sat four gay bikers. Sadly, they never glanced in my direction, but they sure gave off the vibes. I mean, a biker who crosses his legs and laughs a high B-flat? A shaved-headed leather daddy who struts his pelvis like an ostrich?
The third was a tall, beautiful Asian fellow. He had a quiet demeanour, but the others seemed to hang off every word he didn't say. I must admit he had something about him.
The fourth, however, a bear with a dark, trim beard was the most mouth-watering meat I have seen in a restaurant in ages. So I fantasized my way through the liver.
Afterward, I crossed the street to the park, found my favourite bench by the river, and immersed myself in some Sunday afternoon reading.
djjo has loaned me Bellwether, by Connie Willis. It is absolutely hilarious, enough to make me chuckle aloud in both restaurants and quiet city parks, startling joggers and golden retrievers. The book is whimsical, a perfect reminder of the sweet DO with that mischievous twinkle.Here's a cozy Sunday hug to Danny and everyone else as well.
