If Slaughterhouses Had Glass Walls

“If slaughterhouses had glass walls, everyone would be a vegetarian.” ― Paul McCartney

For those of you who know me this will come as little surprise – I’m a bit of a tree hugger.   Not in the super fantastic way, where I drive positive change in others and help improve our culture’s carbon footprint.  And not in the terribly scary way where I use leaves as toilet paper and collect my own drinking water.  But, in the middle of the road way, where I buy ‘green’ when its convenient, and sometimes when it isn’t, and I feel guilty when I choose to do something selfish and wasteful.

It’s a rough life (no but, actually, really).

I won’t get into all the details, but the point of pointing that out, is that I do truly and honestly care about the world.  I think as humans, we are largely bastards who are driving Mother Earth to an early grave.  There will probably be a future post on the reasons I love dystopian books, related to that.  But I digress.

So point one – I am a tree hugger.

I am also fat.  No, really … I am.  I’m fat.  I never was heavy growing up, in fact I was on the smaller side.  And then I got married and had kids (wait – don’t say it, I’ll get there) and I let their eating become my own. 

Saying I’m fat so openly makes people very uncomfortable, and I’m not sure why.  I am what I am, and while I don’t love it, I’m perfectly ok accepting that it’s a result of choices I’ve made.  And so, I’m fat.  And I don’t need you to say anything to the contrary, or try and make me feel better about it.  But again, I digress.

Let’s take a minute and go back (way back) in time - when I was single I was largely vegetarian, even vegan to some extent.  Although never religiously, because - eating out.  I ate a lot of raw foods, and did (still do) believe in most of the vegan tenants on eating for a healthy body and a healthy world.

Then I met my wonderful husband.  Who is accepting, and supportive, and pretty handy at fixing things (me included).  Also, he exists on meat and potatoes. 

Some time later, we had three beautiful babes.  And my kidlets, who go to daycare, got a taste of chicken nuggets and pizza and cookies early in their lives.  And once they knew those things existed, there was no stopping all those little-people-food-feels.

So now we are in the present: I work; try and be a decent wife and mother; take care of a small farm with various animals; try and write when I can; try and ride my horse when I can.  My time is … let’s say limited.  So I got lazy.  I ate junk (I’m talking McDonalds, people) a lot.  And I drank beer a lot, because – kids.  And BEER.

So point two - now I’m fat.

Over the last few months I’ve been reading, and rereading, some fantastic books on food.  I’m not talking about diet books, but books on where our food comes from.

The most recent book I read was Skinny Bitch.  I swear, the book was written specifically for me.  Vegan teaching with a dash of vulgarity, and loads of sarcasm?  Yes please!

And I am reinvigorated!  I realize now that so much of the shame I have carried because of my increasing size, isn’t about being large at all.  It’s about the things I am eating to get there.  Some of the most popular foods are destructive to our bodies and our world, it is sickening.  And that’s exactly what I was – sick.

So, I jumped back on the proverbial wagon.  It hasn’t been easy.  All the naughty foods are hard to resist, for very designed reasons.  But they can be resisted, and we’d all be better for it. 

I am trying (going to!) restrict the following things: meat, dairy, refines sugar, white flour, caffeine, alcohol (except organic red wine).  At least as much as I can – which sould be nearly all the time.

Why am I blogging about this?  Because I think if I put it out there I’ll be more likely to stick to it.  And I WANT to stick to it!  And I want to hear your stories!  I want to support other people going through this, and I want support myself.  Because this is HARD, people.  Walking past restaurants with their tantalizing smells sucks.  Going to Happy Hour after a long week and not getting a beer is agonizing.  And I want the food, ALL THE FOOD.  But in the end, it isn’t worth it.

So there is it.  I am a tree hugger.  I am fat.  And I am jumping back on the vegan wagon.  Hopefully I only fall off a few times.

Fantastic books I have read and highly recommend for anyone who eats food:

Skinny Bitch (Freedman, Barnouin) - http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/196613.Skinny_Bitch?from_search=true

The China Study (Campbell) - http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/178788.The_China_Study?from_search=true

The Food Revolution (Robbins) - http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/64087.The_Food_Revolution?from_search=true

What to Eat (Nestle) - http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/268963.What_to_Eat?ac=1

And anything (everything) by Michael Pollan - http://www.goodreads.com/search?utf8=✓&q=michael+pollan&search_type=books&search%5Bfield%5D=author

Back to School Writing Challenge - Week 2

Hello friends!  The first week of the Back to School Challenge has come and gone.  How did you do?  I have to admit, I drug my feet … I know, I know - it was my idea!  The same gnarly mind bugs that make me fret over my novels talked me into procrastinating.  It’s annoying, and an excuse, but … it’s a thing for me.

Regardless, it’s done now and I enjoyed it!  I won’t pretend I came up with anything mind-blowing because, well, I didn’t.  But I stopped stressing over my current MS and just wrote something for the heck of it – and that was fun!

Any lurkers out there: you’ve now seen what I wrote.  It ain’t poetry.  Think about participating this week.  *nudge*

Now for this week's challenge ...

Write a story in 300 words, or less, without using:

he, him, his, she, her, hers, they, them, their (you get the idea) 

GOOD LUCK! And have fun ... mostly, have fun.

Back to School Writing Challenge - Week 1

I took a break from writing this week, when I got stuck on my current manuscript.  After some self reflection I noticed a trend.  It goes something like this:

I am writing!  I have ALL the words.  This will be the best thing EVER.



This is fine, I can edit this later.



What am I missing? ...the words are missing! WRITER'S BLOCK



Screw it, I'll move on to something else.



*moves onto new project on the other side of the street*

I am writing!  I have ALL the words.  This will be the best thing EVER.



When I realized this I cried, and drank, and cried, and ate.  I decided I should just give up, because - nothing matters anymore! Then I pulled myself up and did what I always do ... I headed to the twitterverse for handy-dandy blog posts by writers, agents and editors.  I got tons and tons of fantastic ideas (honestly, the writing community might just be the.best.ever) and I decided to combine them into *pause* the Back to School Writing Challenge!

Each Wednesday for the next 5 weeks I will post a writing challenge.  Each challenge will be a little goofy and easily done in one night.  The goal is to break out of habits and write things just for the sake of writing.  I hope it helps me, and I invite you - yes YOU - to join.  Just post your response in the comments section.

There are no prizes other than the joy you will get from making words.  And the comfort you will give this writer by showing I don't have to go through this alone.

And without further delay *drumroll* the first writing challenge ...

Think of the word that best describes the last thing that made you laugh.  

Do a Google image search on that word.  

Write a story in 300 words, or less, inspired by the image. 

(bonus points if you link the image)

Now - go, go, go!

Contagion

I found this buried at the bottom of my files. It's something I started a long time ago and will likely never pick back up again. Still, it was fun to write so I thought I would share. I thought about trying to turn it into a short story but I don't think there is enough to work with. So, here you go: an unedited, going-nowhere story.

You're welcome.

###

The people that survive the contagion say that it feels like your soul is being ripped in half. Not that many people survive, so its hard to tell if that's true.

Krysta Nuckols refuses to acknowledge the patients’ screams as she goes about her morning routine. Dr. Vanquish hired her three months ago, and she can’t afford to loose this opportunity by doing something stupid. He created Contagious Nightmare Therapy in medical school and has since become the leading authority in regenerating positive subconscious thought patterns. Becoming a member of his office staff takes two years of grueling tests. Krysta passed the background checks, drug, and gene testing easily, but only barely survived the personality training. She was lucky to have gotten her role as the lowest ranked staff member in the ward. She imagines a movie screen at the end of one of the long halls, playing old horror movies, and continues.

An animalistic howl rattles the walls of the hospital and Krysta has to close her eyes to keep from dropping her tray. The image of her grandmother floods her closed eyes and she relaxes. 

Dr. Vanquish’s breakthrough was isolating the part of the brain that fosters contagious nightmares. As it turns out, it is a part of the brain that you can live without, but removing it usually fatal.

She continues down the hall balancing a tray full of small paper cups filled with pills: reds for the new patients, yellows for the ‘screamers,’ and blues for the ‘goners.’ Arriving at the head nurse’s station she places the cups with red and yellow pills on the counter.

“Good morning Ms. Newbury. Morning supplements are ready.” The old nurse just grunts. Newbury hardly ever speaks and when she does, she’ll makes the staff wish she hadn’t. Krysta sighs as she takes a left and down her own hall with the tray of blue pills. The main ward is made up of three hallways, each specific to the stage of therapy. The operating rooms for each stage are at the end of the halls, and the nurses’ stations are all clustered at the center of the floor, where the hallways come together. New hires are eased into the ward by restricting their contact with patients. Krysta only has to deliver pills on the silent hall of the recovering patients. She hopes she never gets promoted.

Holding her try in her left hand she turns the first knob of the day: suite 301 - Stuart Shaumyan. Krysta slips into the darkened room and waits several seconds while her eyes adjust to the lack of light. The air smells of iodine and bleach, and she tries to breath through her mouth so she doesn’t get sick. Stuart finished his final stage yesterday. Krysta has never treated someone so soon after surgery. The floor warden told her to be prepared.

She walks up to Stuart’s bed, very aware of the sound of her own breath in the otherwise silent room. She tests a quiet hum, but it feels wrong so she goes back to listening to her breath go in and out of her mouth. Stuart is staring at the white wall opposite his bed. Everything in the ward is white, even the equipment. Color and texture are considered traumatic for patients. She stops at the foot of his bed and he shifts his focus. His eyes are flat black and she shudders when his empty gaze stops to rest on her.

He takes a long, slow breath and turns back to the wall without so much as a word. She also take a breath, but forgets to breathe through her mouth and bile rises in her throat.

“Good morning Mr. Shaumyan. I have your pills here. Would you like them now?” He doesn’t respond, but holds out his hand. She walks to the side of his bed and places the pill cup in his palm. Without shifting his gaze, he snaps his hand shut, catching the pills and her hand in his vice-like grip. She stifles a yelp and tugs at her hand, trying to get free. She starts to shake as her chest tightens, and tears build up in the corners of her eyes.

He’s just a man. He’s just a scared, sick man. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing. The patients are not dangerous.

She forces herself to stop struggling. Stuart stares at the wall with no sign of emotion. Krysta’s shaking starts to lessen. He obviously doesn’t mean her harm. He just hasn’t figured out how to control his new mind.

“Mr. Shaumyan, will you please release my hand?” She waits but he doesn’t respond, so she tries a stronger tone. “Stuart. Release my hand at once, you are hurting me.”

He turns back to her mechanically, his cavernous eyes staring her direction but not seeing anything. When his lips part, he doesn’t sound human.

“The Dark One cannot be stopped. You will not get rid of the black. You will be consumed by it. You will never win. You can never win.”

Krysta froze.

Stuart turned back to the wall, released her hand, and placed the cup of pills to his lips. He swallowed the pills dry and let the cup fall to the ground. Not trying to hide anything, Krysta bolted from the room and slammed the door. She leaned against the wall and cried, hoping no one would see her.

Her hand burned.

Oatmeal for a Week

I get the question "how do you do it all?" at least once a week.  My immediate answer is always (and will always be) sarcastic - badly.

But seriously, it is hard to keep up with a full-time job, 3 kids, a husband, a small farm (and related 11 animals), a writing habit and all the sundry things needed to keep life going.  One thing I find helps, is spending a few hours over the weekend prepping food for the week ahead.  This is by no means revolutionary, and yet so many people don't do it.  

I think there is a misnomer that making meals for the week is difficult, when in reality it's quite simple.  What can be hard is committing yourself to eat the same thing several days in a row. You can prep for different meals each day but it takes far more planning and effort ... and I, for one, don't have the time or energy for that.

One of the healthy-ish meals I like is McDonald's oatmeal.  Seriously people, if you haven't tried it you're missing out.  There are many reasons the natural eating voice inside my head is screaming "that isn't actually healthy!" but it's closer than a fried chicken biscuit, so for now I am going to say it's healthy ... ish.

I prepped my breakfast for the week this morning while the kids watched an episode of Smurfs (original).  What you'll need:

• two small apples
• golden raisins
• craisins
• instant oatmeal (I prefer maple and brown sugar)
• lemon juice
• cinnamon (optional)

If you have large apples, you might
only need to use one

Start by coring the apples and cutting them into small pieces.  I prefer to quarter the apple, then slice the core out, but that's just me.  After they are diced you will want to coat them in a teaspoon, or so, of lemon juice to keep them from browning.  I also sprinkle with cinnamon because they will soften over the week and the spice sinks in making them taste like candy.  I store the week's worth of apples in the fridge.

To create the package I take to work, I combine a tablespoon-ish of raisins, craisins, and two tablespoons of apple.  I reuse kids' yogurt containers for this because they are perfect size and I don't care if they get lost.  I make a couple of day's worth at a time but you could do the whole week at once.

I put the apple/raisin container inside a take-out soup container along with the dry oatmeal packet.  I like take-out containers because they can withstand a lot of microwaving, plus I try and reuse as much as I can.  I take the whole thing to work, and it doesn't even need refrigeration.  When you're ready for breakfast just toss all the ingredients together, add water (2/3 of the oatmeal envelope is the right amount of water ... seriously.  Easy right!), and microwave for 2 minutes.

Everything fits in the soup container 

There you go, super simple, cheap, healthy-ish breakfast for 5 days in less than 30 minutes.  Not bad, eh?