Just eat

As my taste buds are on a cosmic trip midway from Jupiter to Mercury, I mutter to myself, "why?" Why have you forsaken me? Somewhere along the way I lost my fever for the flavor of food. My organic kick is down for the count. My carb intake is astonishing paramount. Besides, it's the only items that I can keep down, next to bread, crackers, soup, and cardboard. Certainly, I'm being a big baby about the situation, but I love food! I appreciate food. I adore the art of food. Oh the pain of a pedestrian palette.

I spent $8 on lunch which included two large slabs of beef and gravy, a heap of mac and cheese, utterly disgusting, and spinach sopped in butter, furthermore disgusting. Two bites later and I was mortified! What was I doing? Thus far, I've had half a peanut butter chocolate cookie that my fabulous husband baked, a piece of whole wheat bread, a trifle of Godiva chocolate. My brain screams a beautiful organic baby lettuce tossed with fresh tarragon, mint, basil and topped with perfectly blanched French green beans, thinly sliced watermelon radish, three poached quail eggs and a few sliced fingerling potatoes, but my stomach dictates, “must eat slop!” Honestly, I am thankful for the gift of life, yet Pregnancy is somewhat of a Greek tragedy such as Tantalus .

Shellie’s Proverb: Never sow your seeds where chickens feed.
On the bright side, it is not whether or not I enjoy what I eat. Despite that I no longer cook in restaurants, doesn’t mean that I don’t practice the divine art of flavor. I get just as much pleasure out of cooking for loved ones. I am hosting two dinner parties this weekend. I will bet my lucky rabbit’s foot that I peck my way through the six dishes that I will orchestrate so grandly. In this situation, it’s the best that I can do. If you can’t beat it, cook for the ones you hold dear to your Corazon.

Lesson: A resourceful Grasshopper must make fried rice from left over rice.