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eat the rich

My husband is making Hungarian flatbread to go with our kidney bean hash (beans, potatoes, onion fried in a pan with spices) and brussel sprouts (local). Dry beans, cooked in the oven.

I got home from work and had a mocha with freshly made cashew milk (husband made that for me while I was working). Raw Indonesian cocoa and organic coconut sugar in the mocha. The coffee is light roast Bali Blue Moon.

For lunch I had a peanut butter sammich on homemade bread and some organic pickles. Yeah, I like peanut butter and pickle sammies.

Rest of lunch was some organic celery and an organic orange.

I'm going to stop saying “organic” at this point, because THAT IS ALL I EAT. Well, almost. We will get to the punchline in a minute here.

Breakfast was oatmeal. The from scratch kind in a pan. Got the recipe from the back of the Bob's red mill package. Until about two years ago, I could not stomach oatmeal. It smelled like gym socks and tasted like paste to me. Then I got this recipe and now I can eat it. It had raisins and raw blue agave in it. Also some of the last of the soymilk we made last week.

And also I had some grapefruit juice because I think I needed some Vitamin C.

We make all our own milks. Breads. Everything. And I make most of my own beauty products as well. We are pretty hard core militant vegans around here. DIY sort of mofos. Usually I keep my mouth shut, because, well, it's a survival necessity. Living in the middle of the midwest. Monsanto country. Hunter country. Dairy state milk fed asshole country.

I've had guys hit on me at work, then find out I'm vego and totally flip out. Creeps come up to me on the street and say things like, “Hey, you wanna go to Dennys with me and get some meat?” Seriously. Guys have said this to me a few times. Is that a line from a movie or something?

Anyway.

Today I had to clean a room and the people left behind a ton of groceries. It's like they went shopping yesterday, even though they checked out today. I took more groceries out of there than we got the last time we went food shopping.

And I couldn't eat a god damn thing. It's not food. It's chemical sludge. It's drugs disguised as nutrition. I looked at all that so-called-food before I hauled it out of there and I just got angry.

It really pisses me off how most Americans eat. How they live. Consume and shit and spread your disease and die.

If I had that kind of money. The kind to stay in a $200 a night hotel for two weeks and buy whatever I wanted. I sure as fuck wouldn't be shopping at fucking Wal-mart. And I bet for these assholes, this food was a step up in their diet. I bet they really thought they were being healthy.

I probably make about one third of what these assholes make in a year, and I eat way better than them.

The punchline is, I guess I had a bad day.

I was raised a class warrior, and it got into my blood and my brain early on. I really hate it when people say “Well, that's just how I was raised.” And that's the end of their part in a conversation.

Well, Fuck tradition and Fuck you.

I hate these bullshit American holidays. They take what should be a nice, calm, quiet time of the year and make it all crazy fast-paced obligatory stressed-out diseased cunt glazed double dipped bullshit.

My daddy raised bunny rabbits that he let me name. In the fall he'd snap their necks and freeze them. In the freezer, he'd write the bunny rabbit's name on the bag and we would eat selected bunny pals all winter long. “Go down and get a bag of Frank,” he'd say.

My parents taught me the value of food. What it takes to survive. Where it comes from. What goes into it. And that what goes into it goes into you.

I am really fed up with Americans eating chemicals in the place of food. Of eating animals they didn't kill themselves. Of never cooking anything from scratch except once or twice a year, and then making a big deal out of it.

You know, It's just how I was raised.

7:47 PM - Sunday, Nov. 26, 2017

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