Jeffries Sisters Do NC

Disclaimer: I started writing this post this morning, took a break, and got back to it late at night. It is now 1:30 am. See if you can guess which point in the story I start to get a little sleep-deprived.

About a month and a half ago, my sister Lara and I ventured to North Carolina, mostly to enjoy the glory that is the food of Charlotte and Asheville. I took a lot of pictures, and intended to blog about it immediately uponst my return. When I got home, I realized I couldn't find my cord-connecting-camera-uploady-computer thing anywhere. I still haven't found it, but I did find Ann's. And now, fair readers, I share with you the glory that is my long weekend down south. (That ended up sounding more like an innuendo than I intended.)

I'm the shortest one in my family.

We started our journey at my parents' house, where I picked up Lara. See my car in the background? That's the last time it ever appeared unscathed. About two minutes after this picture was taken, I backed out of the driveway and slammed the front bumper on the steep driveway edge. About ten minutes on the road, I start noticing a terrible sound coming from the bottom front left corner of the car, like something's dragging. I pull over, check the tire, but don't notice anything weird. We continue on our journey, with Lara occasionally voicing concerns and me responding with "Meh, it's probably fine..." Just as we hit DC, the sounds start to get truly alarming, so I pull over into a Checkers parking lot. That's when I discover that the bottom of the bumper has scraped off and is dragging along the road, taking a bit from around the tire with it. (I'm pretty unfamiliar with car anatomy, so that's about as good a description of what was happening as you're going to get). I'm standing here, looking a bit flummoxed, when a gentleman who appears to maybe be a janitor comes strolling across the parking lot. He says, "Oh, no, sister, what did you do here?" I babble on a bit about my predicament, and he says, "Well, you're just going to have to pull this off." He then proceeds to rip the loose part of my bumper off of my car. I respond with alarm, saying, "Whoa! Um. Is that ok? I don't know that you should do that." He points out that I can't keep driving with part of my car dangling behind me, and that it's damaged beyond repair anyway. I'm not 100% sure letting a questionable stranger yank pieces off my car is the best idea, but he does have a point, so I let him carry on. After refusing to give him my number, but promising to meet up at Checkers again so he can buy me a milkshake, we hop into my now battered little car and continue on our way.*

We continue our eight hour drive, which mostly consists of me insisting we listen to country music (because we're in the South, duh) and Lara mostly being a good sport, but occasionally begging that we listen to her music (which is a fair request; she has infinitely better taste in music than me). We eventually arrive in Charlotte, at the super-swank hotel suite she'd reserved for us.

Softest bed in all the land

It had a living room and a kitchen and this giant-as-crap bed. A year of singledom has really enhanced some of my poor sleeping habits, namely my tendency to flop across a bed like a dying spider and kick whatever people/cats might be in my near vicinity. This beauty, however, was big enough that I could share with Lara without face-palming her in my sleep. 

We got dolled up, and made our way out to Cowfish. 

ADORABLE.

The food was amazeaballs. I had the Granny's Southern Pimento Cheese veggie burger and pretty much screamed with delight through the entire meal.

This drink was a bit too strong for me, as evident by my dead fish eyes.

We also dined on edamame.

Tiny and tasty.

The next morning, I woke up bright and early to go to Y2 Yoga and meet the lovely Katie Levans of Sweet Tater fame. A week previously, when Katie suggested I go to the advanced, fast-paced 90 minute class at her HOT yoga studio, I considered the fact that I am an intermediate yogi used to practicing at a moderate temperature and had only been practicing on a weekly basis for the past couple months (as opposed to my former daily yoga addiction habit) and answered with a resounding "Heck yes".

This was stupid. My first tip-off was when I noticed the physiques of my fellow yogis as I entered the studio. I consider myself to be in pretty good shape, but apparently I should stop doing that. This people had abs you could grate cheese on. Butts you could bounce a quarter off of. Arms you could mow a lawn with (I don't know what I mean by that... just, you know, really freaking ripped arms). My second tip was when class started, and I began to sweat more fluids than I realized my body possessed. (Seriously. I drank about a gallon of water and didn't need to pee for like two days.) Then my body started to just kirk the fuck out. I thought I was going to be ok until about forty-five minutes in. My muscles were shaking and my vision was going blurry and my lungs felt like they were wrapped in a soggy towel. And don't even start with me, Bikram-lovers. This was the temp of a Bikram class, only instead of moving slowly and gracefully, we were doing a damn aerobic work out.

Now, normally, I am a bit stubborn in yoga. I don't keep working until I'm going to hurt myself, but I like to go a little tough on myself. I don't like to take breaks in child's pose. I really like to push my body as hard as I can. It became clear, however, that if I didn't take a breather soon, I was going to pass out. Or throw up. Or throw up and pass out in a pile of my own vomit. So I took my slice of humble pie and left, slipping and squelching across the sweat-soaked floor. I hung around the lobby regaining my quickly-dwindling motor functions, and gasped about how crazy intense the class was with my fellow quitters break-takers.

Eventually, I decided I would feel like a big loser if I didn't at least go back for the last fifteen minutes, so I tip-toed back into the studio for the cool-down portion of the class, and savasana, which I felt was much-deserved despite my thirty minute break. Once class was over, I staggered over to Katie and we got ready to go meet up with Lara (who had wisely opted to hang out in Barnes and Noble).

Katie, for those of you who follow her blog, is just as charming in person as she is on the internet, and her hair is even more magnificent in life than in pictures. She promptly took us on a tour-de-Charlotte, beginning at a nearby farmers market.

Note to anyone traveling anywhere ever: befriend a food blogger and make them tell you where/what to eat. Best decision of my life. At the market Katie marched around, sharing delicious recommendations, the most epic of all being Buchi Kombucha. The Fire flavor, to be exact. Sweet Jehovah. The best thing my taste buds have e'er encountered. Horrifically, it is only sold in North Carolina. I consumed no less than a dozen bottles on the rest of our trip. I am not kidding at all.

Katie then took us off to the hipster portion of Charlotte. I was delighted to discover that hipsters exist in South Carolina, and even more delighted to hear hipsters talking in Southern accents. We wandered around a funky little thrift shop for awhile until Katie had to go to one of her many yoga excursions.

This is about the time I started dressing like a homeless person.

Lara and I poked through fun, artsy little shops and I bought entirely too much jewelry. Then we went to Fern, a fantastic vegetarian restaurant at Katie's suggestion. Lara and I both stuffed our faces with their famous Om burgers and some Buchi. After Fern, we decided to bid Charlotte fucking adieu and carry on to Asheville.

Have you ever been to Asheville? You should go to Asheville. It's where I would live if I wasn't a stupid actor. It's this amazing liberal artist environmentally-friendly hippie town that serves nothing but the best damn gourmet vegetarian health food your little heart can imagine. I saw more tattoos, dreads, and piercings than I see in NYC. Walking down the streets, I just about had a joy-seizure.

After checking into our (much cheaper) (much shittier) hotel that I had been responsible for booking, we were starving and went out in search of more food. We got dinner at the Green Light Cafe, where we had more Buchi and both had enchiladas with mole. For some reason, we pretty stupidly got the exact same thing at every restaurant we went to. Probably would have made a heckuva lot more sense to get different things and try each others' meals... but here we are. 

We wandered around downtown for a bit, and then decided to turn in for the night. Lara isn't twenty-one yet (less than two weeks from now!), so we bought some beer and got drunk in our hotel room watching 30 Rock. The Jeffries gals are nothing if not classy.

The next morning, we decided to go hiking in the mountains around Warren Wilson College. 

Braving the wide, wild wilderness.

We found a Christmas tree made out of pinecones.

I was thrilled.

We found a pretty little scenic nook.

Like a fairy princess of sorts.

Then I picked some wildflowers and arranged them in a beautiful bottle.

So, so beautiful.

All this hiking about made us thirsty, so we headed back into town for some rejuvenating beverages. Lara, ever the java-lover, had some coffee.

Mmm.

I had beet and carrot juice.

OMFG BEETS.

We probably had lunch too, but I don't remember that happening so you don't get to hear about it. We then began to more thoroughly explore Asheville and its many fantastic shops. I proceeded to spend money I don't have on jewelry and soaps and knick knacks. Lara found these glasses.

Well done.

I found this cat.

What a perfect little cat house!

We stopped in a precious little tea shop for afternoon tea, where we learned that there was a nearby store that sold copious quantities of Buchi. We hastily gulped down the rest of out tea and sped off to buy a box of 20 bottles. It was very expensive and worth every glorious drop. We stopped back at our shit-tastic hotel for a nap (it really wasn't that bad... like at all. It just wasn't that great) and then went out to the holy grail of vegetarian dining, Laughing Seed. They specialize in raw vegan food and all that is good in the world. Tell me you don't like health food, and I'll take you to this place. And you'll effing love it. Promise.

I ate this.

What is this devilry?

Doesn't look like lasagna, right? Well, it is. It's raw vegan lasagna, and it tasted like angels. I'm sure all my non-health nuts don't believe me, but seriously. So damn good. 

The night commenced with more hotel-drinking and 30 Rock-watching. The next morning we stopped in a quaint little shop for some particularly tasty coffee, poked around a couple more stores, and were off. But not before taking a picture of Lara with a giant-ass iron.

No but seriously, what the hell?

Ten hours later and we were home. All in all, it was a really fantasmic trip. I would highly recommend either of these places to anyone who likes Baltimore or Brooklyn and always wondered what those cities would be like if they were in the south with healthier food. Hit up some of the many food bloggers in Charlotte - they'll tell you where to go for great eats in either location. If you do ever go there, pleasepleaseplease bring me back absurd amounts of Buchi Fire. I can't speak for Lara, but my share of Buchi was gone in 4 days. 

*This car situation straight up makes me want to kill myself. This is a brand freaking new car. I bought it in November. It has taken me a grand total of 7 months to seriously damage it. And of course, my broke ass can't afford to get it fixed anytime soon, so I'm just driving along with my rattley, gimpy bumper. Le sigh.

Kids, Cats, Theatre

This is an exciting week for me. On Friday, I open my kick-ass show Gorgeous Raptors.

Have you ever seen a sexier design?

This is rather ill-timed, as I have to be on the road at 6:30 the next morning to drive up to NYC and retrieve my long-lost roommate Ann. I figure the best way to handle this is to stay out unnecessarily late partying with my cast mates on Friday, then dragging my hungover ass out of bed at 6:25 before making my trek up to New York.

So, the opening of my show and my reunion with Ann are the main highlights of this week. I also have recently fostered a friendship with a group of small children that live near one of my clients. Every time I walk past their house, this group of 5 and 6 year olds come running off the porch hollering "CAN I PET YOUR DOG?" Then we all hang out and visit with DC, an elderly, laid back chocolate lab. Our conversations usually go a bit like this.

"Can I touch his ears?"
"Sure."
"Can I touch his nose?"
"Sure."
"Can I stick my fingers in his mouth and touch his teeth?"
"No."
"Is that his balls?"
"Almost. Not quite."
"It looks weird!"
"It looks like a tongue!"
"Can I touch it?"
"Nope."
"Does he eat grass?"
"Sometimes."
"Can I feed him grass?"
"You can try."
"Can I feed him my gum?"
"No. Hey, I wasn't kidding. You really can't touch him there."
"Is this your phone?"
"Yep."
"Can I call someone on it?"
"Eh. Sure. Why not."
"How do I do that?"
"You have to try and figure it out. If you do, your prize is you get to call someone."
"Look at me blow a bubble!"
"Look at me ride my bike!"
"Look, I'm petting him with my foot!"

These kids are one of my favorite daily occurrences. I'm not entirely sure they have parents, though. I've never seen them.

~ * ~

Once a month in our apartment, I trim the cats' nails. Ann finds their indignant little meows and squirms hilarious, and always makes sure to be present so she can laugh at Stella and Kirby's misery and take pictures of them. Since she was going to have to miss it this month, I thought it would be a good idea to film myself trimming their nails and post it on her Facebook wall. About the time I started on Kirby's second paw, it started to occur to me the this was probably just going to be a boring, awkward five minute video. Kirby was clearly thinking the same thing, and helpfully decided to make things more exciting. Of the three people I've shown it to, two of them found it funny. I figure these are good enough odds to warrant sharing it with you.

Alright, amigos. I'm off to slurp down the rest of this smoothie and rent out apartments. Happy Wednesday!

When I Hear Songs They Sound Like This One

I should come up with a cute name for my lists. I really like them a lot more than normal, paragraph-style writing.

1. My computer is dying. Fast. I bought it old and used for $400 last year from my friend Pedro, who is  a computer whiz. It's a 2008 Mac, and he guaranteed me a year out of it, and free fix-ups if it were ever to kirk out on me. He's fixed it up for me once, and I've had it for a year. I feel like I've gotten my money's worth. And now, on it's last leg, he very helpfully has helped me pick out a new (refurbished) one. Until I actually buy it, I can only see about 2/3 of my screen. Keep that in mind if this post is riddled with typos.

2. On Friday, a huge storm wreaked havoc on apparently everyone in the Mid-Atlantic region except for me. Over a million people were without power (many still are), huge trees down, streets closed, all kinds of calamity. On Saturday, a day when almost everyone was without power, I left my air-conditioned apartment to lie poolside. Unfortunately, I couldn't actually go in the pool, because it was filled with leaves and branches and crap. I forced myself to stay out an hour longer than I wanted to and risk heat stroke so I could even out my tan. By the time I finally went inside, I felt dizzy and mildly nauseous. First world problems.

3. I ate 2 pints of blueberries in one sitting last week. All the antioxidants probably cancelled out the cancer I got from laying in the sun without sunscreen for two hours. Delicious and helpful.

4. I'm working on a show that opens in a couple weeks. It's called Gorgeous Raptors and it's part of the Capital Fringe Festival (big DC theatre fest). If you live in the area, you should come see it. If you don't live in the area, you should take a trip to your nation's capital and come see it. It's a funny (and sometimes upsetting) coming-of-age story about social outcasts. I play a hot girl, a middle-aged hippie, and a sheep, and I pretty much just make out with people whenever I'm onstage. You don't want to miss it.

5. I saw someone sleeping in a shopping cart last night.

6. I haven't been doing very much yoga lately. Not really sure why. I noticed in the past week that I've been getting a little more stressed about mundane things than I did when I was practicing on a regular basis and that my shoulders have been gradually creeping back up towards my ears. My body is getting a little bit tighter, and I'm holding my breath more often. I've been trying to get myself back into yoga for the past few months, but my motivation was more focused on my arms, which were losing their previous svelteness. Now, I'm feeling a stronger pull back to my practice, and I think it's because this time I'm missing yoga, not just exercise.

7. This is the best song I've heard in a year. It gets me like nothing has in a long time.

Adieu, buttercups! Happy (almost) 4th of July!

An Ode to Ann

This is my best friend Ann. Isn't she beautiful?

Just lovely.

This is how she usually looks when I see her.

Just awful.

Ann is one of the most intelligent, accomplished, hilarious and kind people I know. She is also utterly insane. Ann and I have a friendship that some might consider dysfunctional. It mostly consists of me telling her useless stories, her making terrible faces and screaming confusing threats at me, and both of us staying up til dawn a few nights a month talking on and on and on about every feeling our little hearts possess. We live together, and sometimes frequently it feels like we're married (the relationship I described is how a successful marriage thrives, yes?)

Like any marriage friendship, there are sometimes moments where one person must go off and pursue their dreams, and the other must wait quietly at home for them, trusting that aforementioned traveling dreamer will return once again. As some of you know, Ann recently abandoned me to go to publishing school at NYU for six weeks. I've been surviving this separation by talking to the cats with alarming frequency, not doing the dishes, and carrying Ann's headshot around and asking it for advice (on outfits and boys and whether or not hiding behind the dumpster for 30 minutes talking to the raccoons is "too crazy"). Originally, we had planned for me to visit her this weekend. Unfortunately, it was brought to my attention last week (by my bank account) that my broke ass really can't afford a trip to New York at this moment. To fight through my anguish and disappointment, I have decided to share a Word document I've had on my computer for awhile now. Unbeknownst to Ann, I've been keeping a list of all the bat-shit-banana-balls things she yells at me. And now, dear readers, I share it with you.

Shit Ann Yells at Me

- "Powdered milk!"

- "Cooooorigs, tiny cooooorgis, tiny coooooorgis!"

- "Sweet Sasparilla!"

- "Koala bears!"

- "Orangutans!"

- "I'm comin' to kill you, Juniper!"

- "Coooooooooookie Crisp!"

- "Coooooooourtney Cox..... Arquette."

- "Saaaaaaaasquatches!"

- "CHEESECAKE."

- "Banana hammock!"

- "Superglue!"

- "Cheeeeeeeeeeese!"

- " Coooooooookies!"

- "Maramalade!"

- "Cheesecake for Betsy, Betsy likes cheesecake, Betsy's a cow but she likes cheesecake, she likes cheesecake but she doesn't like Katie"

- "Todaaaaaaaay's the daaaaaaay of murderrrrrrrrrr!"

So. There you go. In twenty years, when Ann is the CEO of some major publishing company, New York Times best-selling author and the most famous playwright in all the land...

Remember this.

Hooray for Life Changes!

I have a new job!

I've been feeling in a bit of a rut for the past year. My original career plan was to dog walk for my company for a couple years, then start up my own company this fall. As that time has been approaching, however, I've been increasingly wondering if that is the right choice. Running a business is a pretty big responsibility (even one as low-stress as dog walking). I wasn't sure that I wanted that at the age of 25, especially while trying to maintain an acting career. After going back and forth on my potential plan for almost a year, I finally decided that I wanted to try something else. With that decision, however, came a whole mess of anxiety. What if I hate my new job? What if no one will hire me (I have a theatre degree and 7 years of animal-care experience - doesn't necessarily translate to high-demand job skills)? What if I can't take time off for shows and auditions like I can with my current job? Add to that the building sense of embarrassment that I don't have a "grown up" job (stupid, I know), and you've got a recipe for a somewhat angsty year.

Then, in the midst of my fluttering around, researching various job opportunities and trying to spice up my resume, I get an email from the leasing agent in my apartment. He's looking for someone to fill in for him part time, and thinks I would be great at the job. A couple weeks of discussions, negotiations, and paperwork later, and I'm the new part time leasing agent. For now I'll be working at the apartment one day a week, and if that goes well, my dog walking boss will consider letting me have off more days.

I'm super freaking pumped, friends. I've always thought I would do well in sales, but have shied away from a lot of sales positions because I think they have a tendency to err on the unethical side. This company seems to really strive to be genuine and honest, and it really is a great place to live. I love the sense of community here, and will feel really great encouraging people to move in. Plus, while this isn't a full-time position, I think it will be the boost on my resume I need to eventually branch out and up in the job world. For now, I'm just really happy to be able to keep dog walking (which I adore) and take steps forward in my career while still being able to do as much theatre as I can squeeze into my life.

Plus, I'm excited to wear something other than sweaty gym clothes to work everyday.

This is how I imagine leasing agents dress. Sexy, no?

66% of This Post is About Animals

Oh hey there. Did all my new Facebook friends like how I spammed every damn person on my friends list with my new FB page? I thought you might.

It's been two weeks since my last post. To make up for this horrible lapse in time where you were unaware of my daily motions, I've compiled a list (of course) of some things that have recently occurred in my life.

1. Sad news first - one of my rats died. He got really sick out of nowhere, seemed to have a bad upper respiratory infection and was struggling to breathe. I packed him up in his little travel cage and dramatically rushed to Virginia, to the only emergency exotic vet in a 30 mile radius that was open at 11 pm. He stopped breathing about 5 minutes after we got there. Watching a team of 4 people frantically trying to give my tiny little rat CPR (through a little straw) was slightly adorable, albeit sad.The vet thinks he was having heart failure, and that's what triggered the respiratory issues.They were really nice and didn't charge me the crazy high fee a trip to the emergency vet usually costs - just the body disposal fee of $24.  Now I'm trying to make sure to spend a lot of time with his brother, Pippin, so he doesn't get too lonely.

Rest in peace, little friend.

2. On a related note, the day before this happened, our friendly exterminator stopped by for his monthly visit. This guy is fantastic - he's really nice and very funny - but he is also utterly terrified of rats and cats. He's from Africa, and he told me that they use cats in voodoo to cast spells. He keeps trying to convince me that my cats are evil spirits and that it's really stupid to keep them as pets. He's a pretty good sport about having to risk his mortal soul every time he comes over to my apartment, and always jokes good-naturedly about it. However, the day after he came to our apartment, my rat died and Stella got a cold. I do not think this is a coincidence.

3. I walk two dogs named Pansy and Rogi. Pansy is a great dane and Rogi is half dane, half lab. They are both giants, and within 10 pounds of my size (Pansy >10lb, Rogi <10lb). Pansy is out of her head in love with me. She as abused as a puppy, and abused dogs frequently trust very few people - but the ones they do trust, they bond very strongly to. Rogi, on the other hand, is thoroughly unimpressed with me. I have never met a dog that gives less of a fuck than Rogi. It's kind of awesome.
Because Pansy and Rogi are both rescues with tormented pasts, they have certain walk requirements. Rogi is utterly terrified of cars, so she's generally kept away from them. Pansy is utterly terrified of dogs, so she's kept away from them. Both of them are very wary of people, and absolutely HATE black men with hats on. (It's pretty weird. I don't know why, but boy do they get angry when black men wear hats). Considering their combined weight is almost 250 pounds, any interaction that might result in them angrily charging someone/something usually ends pretty badly for me. I'm actually pretty good at keeping them under control (brushes off shoulders) but I still prefer to keep things quiet. Thus, our walks generally take place along back allies towards a nice, usually vacant field in Rock Creek Park.
Last week, we showed up to find a small herd of deer. Pretty common in DC - we have a crazy deer population. The lone buck stopped grazing as we approached and turned to watch us. All three of us froze and watched him, fascinated. This went on for quite some time. It was a little while before I realized that he was acting kind of strange. He had turned so that he was facing us head on, his tail had gone from upright to lowered and stiff, he wasn't breaking eye contact, and he was gradually lowering his head. I don't know much about deer body language, but in dog body language, that's a pretty clear "I am about to attack the shit out of you" stance. Not only that, but the dogs and I were all giving a pretty clear "Game on, muthafucka" response. My initial reaction was "Ooh! Maybe if I keep staring at this deer he'll charge us! That would be so exciting!" Then I realized that it would be more dangerous than exciting. I turned the girls around and we meandered away from the deer and his ladies.
The next day, we came back to find the deer back in the field. I was about to leave again, when I thought, "No way, dude". This is the only place I can take these dogs without fear of puppy PTSD relapse. Pansy always rolls around gleefully in the grass, Rogi sits like a dying toad on a log and stares at nothing, I make buttercup chains for them (which they and their owners, I'm sure, love). I wasn't about to let this piece of crap deer keep us out of this field. So, I marched over about as close as he would let me, stood and glared with all the aggression I could muster. He glared back at me for a bit, but then finally sulked off into the woods. I felt like a hero.*

4. My dad came to visit me on Sunday, as he usually does. He recently went to a gun show, and was eager to tell me about it. My dad is a Vietnam vet and former cop, so this dude knows quite a bit about guns. He brought with him a target practice poster from the gun show - you know, the ones that look like the silhouette of a person?

Yeah, these guys.

Well, my dad shows up with the one he was shooting. It has about 30 bullet holes through the head, 30 through the heart, and 2 slightly off to the side of the head that he missed. Shot from 25 yards away. And as I'm standing there in awe, admiring his bad-assery, he's lying on my living room floor, baby talking to my cats.

5. I was hanging out in downtown Annapolis this past Saturday. As my friend Emmy and I were walking down busy West Street, I see a freaking snake hurrying across the road. Naturally, I run out into the street and begin to try to nudge him to safety with my foot. He (she?), however, decides that I'm actually attacking him/her/it and begins striking at me. We do this little dance for awhile, me tapping with my foot and jumping back as I'm lunged at, gradually moving to the side of the street (the whole time Emmy is begging me to get out of the street and stop playing with the snake). Eventually I managed to coerce it over to the curb. Good deed of the day, ladies and gentlemen.

6. Two nights ago the treadmill in my apartment's gym wasn't working. I decided instead to go for a nighttime run in the thunderstorm. Pleasantly cool rain on my skin after a hot day, lightening streaking the sky - it was awesome. Just as I was thinking to myself, "Why don't I do this every night?" I was stopped by 4 police cars and a cop putting up caution tape, who informed me that I was about to jog onto a crime scene. Oh. Right. I live in Murderville. Thanks, my neighborhood.

So as you can see, I've been very busy getting up to all sorts of shenanigans. I promise my next post will be more timely. I know you'll all be waiting on baited breath.

*There is a highly significant chance that this was all in my head. The deer probably was just idly watching me that first day, and probably wandered off the second day because I was boring it. But when you're a theater kid, you've got to narrate your life to yourself in an epic way.

Thoughts on Ethical Eating

As you may or may not know, I'm a pescetarian (means I don't eat poultry or red meat). I don't usually talk about my eating habits unless asked, because I don't want it to come across as sounding judgmental, or like I'm trying to change others' eating habits. I believe diet is a very personal issue, and I don't think there is one "right" way to eat. However, I figured I'd share my reasoning for anyone who is interested. If you aren't, feel free to skip this over or send me hate mail.

I've always been a huge animal lover. I toyed with the idea of vegetarianism all throughout my teens. I would always ultimately abandon the notion, because I didn't think I could healthily maintain it. I grew up hating fruits and vegetables, and living pretty solely on very processed carbs and meat. The idea of a veggie-hating vegetarian sounded pretty dumb to me.

Then, when I was a sophomore in college, I began picking up the vegetarian pamphlets I often found displayed around campus. I'd always shied away from them, thinking that I didn't want to know how awful animals were being treated if I wasn't doing anything about it. Eventually, this began to seem cowardly to me. I figured if I was going to contribute to this industry, I should at least know what it was doing.

What I found horrified me. The fact that animals were dying for me was honestly not that upsetting. What really got to me was the terrible quality of life they had before their deaths. I won't go into details - if you're interested, check out the links below, but I don't want to shove information down your throats you may not want. I was troubled, but still not quite ready to make a change.

Reading a quote by one of my heroes, Jane Goodall, is what really did it for me. She said, "Thousands of people who say they ‘love’ animals sit down once or twice a day to enjoy the flesh of creatures who have been treated so with little respect and kindness just to make more meat." 


This really got to me. I have always been known as a Doctor Doolittle of sorts with my friends. I spent my childhood saving injured birds and squirrels and bats. I've always had a plethora of pets. Being an animal lover is a huge part of my identity. Reading this, from someone whose animal ethics I so admired, made me feel like a complete hypocrite. 


The day I came across this quote was my 19th birthday. I decided that I couldn't give up meat forever, but I could handle having it once a year on my birthday. So, that night I went out with my family, got a big Fuddrucker's cheeseburger, and then said goodbye to meat. 


People give up meat for many reasons. Let me make it clear that, for me, it is not because I find meat to be inherently unethical. I think the food chain is a good system that makes a lot of sense. I have absolutely no problem with responsibly hunted meat. I also know there are a lot of small farms that humanely raise and slaughter their animals in a very respectful way. The issue I have is America's meat industry. It is the terrible quality of life of these animals that I take issue with. 


As I continued through college, I began to become more interested in the environment. Through this, I began to realize the massive damage raising animals for food has on our planet. The amount of water and land needed to sustain a herd of cattle is staggering. A plant-based diet requires much less resources. However, I also learned that most of the plant-based agriculture in our country is ecologically devastating as well. I learned about chemical fertilizers, GMOs, and food miles. This led me to initially start buying organic produce, and eventually move on to buying almost all my fruits and vegetables from local, organic farmers markets.


When I initially gave up meat, I knew I would have to clean up my diet. My mom (who was very supportive of my decision) bought me a couple basic vegetarian cookbooks. From these, I slowly began to learn how to cook healthy food that was also delicious. As I began to research nutrition (I was very concerned that I give up meat in a healthy way), I learned that Americans actually get way too much protein. I learned that red meat and poultry are commonly believed by nutritionists to be a less healthy protein source than beans, nuts and fish. As time went on, I began to love cooking, and LOVE fruits and vegetables. I adored meat, but I was surprised to see how quickly I stopped craving it. Even when I have it as my birthday dinner, it seems like less of a treat than it used to. My taste buds evolved, and I've begun to lose a taste for it.


I am a pretty relaxed pescetarian. If I'm invited to someone's house for dinner, and the only food they have to offer is meat (and I can't make a decent meal out of the sides, which is what I normally do), I'll just go ahead and eat it. For me it's about putting as little money as possible into the meat industry, but knowing that the world won't end if I occasionally eat chicken parmigiana to avoid being an ungracious guest. Not eating meat is my choice, and I don't think it's fair to inconvenience others because of it. I eat fish because it makes restaurants easier; because I think fish has health benefits that other meats do not; because I am less troubled by the fishing industry than the livestock industry (although it is environmentally troubling, don't get me wrong); and because I grew up by the Chesapeake Bay and seafood is in my blood :). I occasionally buy shoes or belts made with leather, because it seems like a toss up to me which is worse for the environment - leather or synthetics. 


I think it's quite possible that eventually, one day, I'll become mostly vegan. I would give up eggs and dairy before fish, because, as previously mentioned, those industries seem more damaging to me, both to animals and to the environment. A few months ago I decided to only buy eggs from the farmers market, where I know the chickens have happy little lives wandering around the farm. In the near future I will probably do the same with dairy products. (I went with eggs first, because chickens are abused far more than cattle). 


My attitude towards my dietary choices is live and let live. I think everyone picks different things in life that are important issues to them, that they are passionate about. Some people only shop at small businesses. Some people join the military. Some people advocate against bullying. I gave up poultry and red meat. I don't think one of these choices is better than the other. I think it's important, whoever you are, whatever you think, to find a cause you believe in and make little (or big) changes to affect the world accordingly.


Having said that, people sometimes ask me if I think, in an ideal world, everyone would be vegetarian. I'm honestly not sure. What I do think is a realistic and desirable goal is that people eat less meat, and demand that our meat be humanely raised and killed, and that all our food not be pumped full of chemicals and hormones. I think the amount of meat we eat in this country is unhealthy for our bodies and environmentally unsustainable. If there were less of a market for such copious amounts of meat, farmers could afford to treat the animals better (by giving them higher quality food and giving them ample space, not just a tiny box they can't turn around in). I think this is a very real possibility. One of the things I love about capitalism (another blog entry for another day) is how we can very actively vote and create change with how we spend our money. Look at the green movement! Organic food and environmentally-friendly products used to be exclusive to crunchy, dreadlocked hippies. Now soccer moms are in on it. I can go to Giant and find a huge variety of vegetarian and organic options. When there is a demand (or lack of demand) for something, the market responds accordingly. 


If you have any thoughts on this, I'd be glad to hear them. I think food ethics is a really interesting topic, and would love to hear your opinions on these issues. For more info about some of the things I'm talking about, here are some links: 
The Vegetarian Resource Group
Farm Sanctuary
Sustainable Table