This is about as good as it gets, folks. This was my fancy dinner this week. I went all out. I’m talkin’ iceberg lettuce, avocado, and soy apple juice out of a box. I don’t know…can you actually find the food in the picture? I don’t think I have ever eaten a meal that was entirely the same color, or variations of the same color. It’s all…blondish greenish. (Can food even be blonde?)
From left to right: soy juice, what soy apple juice looks like, avocado (1/2), popcorn, olive oil, milk. These are the things I use on a regular basis. Currently, and probably to the shame of my mother and Dennis’, this is what my refrigerator looks like:
Yeah, not much. Just lots of juice, cheese, and condiments. I feel like I am in college again, except my fridge is bigger, it’s in my own dorm room, and I don’t have to share showers with forty strangers. It’s so pathetic. Here I am, a 27 year-old woman who only eats food she can pour, squeeze, or pop. Except in the case of avocados, in which case, I require only a knife and spoon. (I can hear Dennis’ mom now: “You’re crazy! You’re not eating! You’re gonna die there!” to which I will simply respond, “Oh trust me, I’m eating.”)
What happened to my desire to cook elaborate meals, have my cabinets full of spices and own a full set of fine wine glasses? My friends here cook big meals for us and I am really happy to join in. The eating of it, I mean. Join in the eating of the big meals. But screw cooking. No desire. Love the idea of it, but totally without the means, desire, or skills. Or color palette.