Honey

So I wrote a big giant post about being vegan and then this serendipitously showed up in my blog reader from Boing Boing:

I must have this tshirt. It’s just too much of a coincidence to pass up!

It’s only been a few months since I packed up the cheese and waved a sad goodbye to scrambled eggs, since I consciously turned my back on all those assorted milk derivatives (and there are many of them), started diligently inspecting ingredient lists, and headed out on yet another adventure of self discipline and understanding.

For almost as long as I can remember, my favorite meal in the whole world included a grilled cheese sandwich, white bread toasted with plenty of butter, melted American cheese oozing out the sides. I never really thought I’d see a day when I would have to look for something else on the menu (and look really hard, for that matter). I’m a white bread girl who doesn’t particularly enjoy cooking and even after all these years, still feels a little suspicious of “healthy” food. When I was a kid, my mom would sneak crumbled tofu into my spaghetti and though I would eat it, I thought it was pretty weird.

So why am I vegan?
The number one reason that I am vegan is pure laziness. I don’t really like to think too much when it comes to my daily physical upkeep. I pretty much wear the same clothes, commute the same way, and enjoy the same meals. I am a habitual person who strives in a consistent environment. I feel comfortable in a rut, and will often wake up and realize that I’ve been doing the same thing (the same way) every day for weeks, months, or even years.

When it comes to my diet, I certainly prefer anything that is well outside the fruit and vegetable family. I’ve grown accustomed to tofu and quinoa, romaine and red peppers, but if the choice is between a big salad and a big bacon cheeseburger, I’d go for the tasty, meaty goodness every time.

And so I did. My consistent, habitual diet has always included more steak than vegetables, and certainly more candy than fruit. It’s been easy to eat this way, not only because it tastes so good, but also because I could walk into any restaurant or cafeteria and order anything off the menu. I didn’t have to think about it, and so I didn’t.

I began a life-changing process a few years ago that started with The Artist’s Way. As a result of writing consistently every day, parts of myself and my life opened up in a way I’d never seen before. So much of my denial fell away, and I was left staring at a reflection of someone who was stuck in a few too many addictive ruts. I didn’t like what I saw, and so I started (slowly) to change. Some changes were easier than others (the hardest by far was quitting smoking), and at times I’ve temporarily slipped on a majority of my addictions. These times of regression have only served to prove to me that it’s real and true: my life is better in a million ways as a result of being honest with myself and changing my behavior.

By choosing to be vegan, and continuing full awareness that I am a person who prefers a nice, deep rut, I have effectively placed myself on a self-piloting track. It’s true that I have to think a little more about what may be entering my digestive system, but for the most part, I can look back on the last few months and know that I have eaten more fresh produce than I have consumed (and enjoyed) processed foods.

What’s it like to be vegan?
At first, the novelty of the idea and the thrill of self denial kept me inspired to resist the salty, rich deliciousness that pervaded my daily diet, mostly in the form of cheese. As a vegetarian who was mostly intolerant to soy, cheese became a staple, spread generously over most of my standard meals. In retrospect, I realize that being vegetarian was far easier than being vegan, way easier than I thought it was at the time. I enjoyed a lot more options, especially when dining with family and friends at a typical restaurant.

As a white bread girl, my favorite dining establishments primarily serve American food. Unfortunately, as a vegan, I no longer enjoy the same experience. Settling into a comfortable booth at a laminated table with interesting artifacts of Americana staring down at me from the walls and the occasional (and welcome) game on a suspended TV, I excitedly pick up the menu, open it up, and begin to peruse the contents. I become a little more disappointed with every passed over item, if not section, of the menu. Dejectedly, I spiral down through the menu, checking and rechecking for anything that might possibly fit into the pigeon hole that is my diet, ending up inevitably at the same place every time. I stare at a limited list of salads, invariably requiring significant modifications that will make the iceberg lettuce even less appetizing.

Although I’ve learned to avoid my favorite restaurants and force myself to “try new things”, there are frequently times when this experience cannot be avoided. I would even proclaim that the majority of restaurants do not have a single, solitary vegan option on the menu. I’ve only begun to ponder what it really means that so many of us include an animal product or byproduct in every single meal we eat. Part of me observes this as a strange and alien cultural phenomenon, this unfailing, deep dependence on bovine and other gentle, caged creatures.

I might be one of the luckiest vegans on the planet because I live in an extremely vegan-friendly town. Hurray for Portland! A search for “vegan” on yelp.com comes back with 262 results. I would never have discovered the deliciousness of my favorite local restaurant, Papa G’s, if I hadn’t taken the big plunge into veganism. Places like the Paradox Palace Cafe, Nutshell, and Vita Cafe cater only to vegetarians and vegans. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else with these self-imposed limitations, that’s for sure.

I’ve felt amazing since going vegan. I have a ton of energy, my attitude has improved, and my body feels better. I’m eating a lot more fruit and vegetables, and my taste buds are adapting in order to enjoy these new and exotic foods, like apples and carrots. The most exciting new addition to my tasty palate is avocado. I’ve never liked avocado in any form, including guacamole, until eating more and more of it as a vegan with few alternative options. I am now an avocado convert. If you ever want to feed me anything that has an avocado element, I will be more than happy to oblige. (Now if only I could have even the slightest tolerance for mushrooms…)

My dietary strategy has changed somewhat as a result of the change. I find myself snacking more often, since a) I don’t like to cook elaborate meals, and b) I’m consistently hungry pretty much all the time. A lot more of my time is spent grazing, usually while doing other things as well. My most favorite snacks at the moment are avocado on toast (of course), vegan pizza, and fruit salad. Yum. I think I’m hungry right now, actually.

What’s next?
As a number of my friends already know, I’m fascinated by people who enjoy a raw food diet. Not willing to stay in place for too long, I’ve already begun to take steps toward realizing an all natural, all the time, eating experience. I’ve run out of cereal and rice milk, and have replaced my morning meal with fruit. It might take a minute to adjust the quantity and types of fruit I consume for breakfast in order to maintain maximum physical efficiency. I’m listening closely to my body and adjusting things accordingly. It is with great pleasure that I continue to discover my body’s desires in more and more subtle ways. This is yet another sweet joy of getting older (and wiser, I hope).

Preface: I commute from Northeast Portland to Wilsonville, every day to go to work. According to Google maps, I have a 22 mile commute. Although I rode my bike every day last summer, I eventually broke down and bought a car when the rain started. I rode one time to work during the winter and promptly came down with a cold.

Since it’s June, and every part of me wants the weather to be better, oh yes - and gas prices are soaring! - I’ve been riding my bike to work lately. Although I’ve ridden multiple times the last few weeks, somehow I have invariably been caught in a rainstorm every single ride, which could be worse if it were colder, so I’ll refrain from complaining.

Yesterday I rode downtown to catch the bus at the usual time. I did the smart thing and wore all my rain gear: rain pants, rain jacket, and booties over my shoes. I felt soaking wet anyway by the time I got to the stop and felt grateful I only had 15 minutes to wait. Unfortunately, the bus never came. 20 minutes after the bus was due (and 15 minutes before the next one was supposed to arrive), I gathered up all my commuting gear and headed over to my only other option, a slower bus that only takes me a third of the way to Wilsonville. Unbeknownst to me, it’s also one of the most crowded buses. There I was, soaking wet with all this crap I have to carry around cause I ride a bike, bumping into people and making them very uncomfortable.

Eventually, the bus arrived at Barber Transit Center and let me and my bike off. I checked the schedule and found, to my dismay, that I had missed my connecting bus by 4 minutes. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and the next bus wasn’t coming for 35 minutes. I thought to myself “It can’t be that bad - it won’t take me that long”, and headed out on the long road to work.

Unfortunately, it was that bad and it did take me that long. I haven’t ridden much over the long winter months and I’m not quite as in shape as I used to be. I dragged the pedals around, sweating into a t-shirt I knew I wouldn’t change, panting up hills that don’t compare at all to what I could scale effortlessly in San Francisco. I was approaching the Tualatin Park and Ride (still 7 miles from work!) and realized I just wasn’t going to be able to make it all the way on my own.

I had just dismounted from my bike, ready (and willing) to spend at least a half an hour stuck waiting for the bus, when the bus I should have caught in the first place rolled up to the stop. Relieved, I climbed aboard, using my purchased transfer to go another 5 miles. I did have to ride the last couple of miles to work, but I was so thankful to finally be there that I barely noticed my own fatigue.

I don’t know why I enjoy this kind of torture. Riding my bike, my commute takes 90 minutes, each way, on a good day with no traffic. In a car, I arrive at work in under 30. I figure I use 2 gallons of gas total every day on my commute. This equates to about 8 bucks (right now). Taking the bus costs at least four dollars a day, sometimes five if I’m real lazy and I take a Wilsonville bus part way. So I’m saving between 3 and 4 dollars a day, a few times a week (10 bucks maybe?) to spend three hours in the rain, suffering horribly as I ride up and down the hills. And that’s not all. I am forced to rely on an inconsistent bus (that may or may not already have the maximum number of bikes on board).

I guess part of me thinks that any day now the sun is going to come out and I will experience the pure bliss of freedom only found on my bicycle. I love going days without having to be behind the wheel of the car. Driving is stressful, even more so than those ridiculous rides to work. I’m saving a little bit of money, but the best part about that is that I don’t have to go to the gas station as often, so I don’t have to get all depressed about how fast prices are going up. Mostly I think that I just really love riding my bike, and doing it for a few hours a day is pretty much as good as it gets, even if I do get soaking wet from the oh-so-typical Northwest rain.

I tried Pilates and went vegan today. Here’s a picture of my vegan lunch.

I’m giving up coffee, again.

I love coffee. I love the way it smells and the way it tastes (with cream and sugar, of course). I love everything that coffee means: a fresh start, a new beginning, a catalyst for action, a social event, and a kick in the pants. I love drip coffee and mochas equally, and my favorite mocha is served by Vivace on Broadway in Seattle.

Unfortunately, coffee makes me tired and grumpy. It takes a few weeks of drinking it regularly before I notice the change. Gradually it’s harder and harder to get up in the morning and I feel sluggish in the evening. I don’t sleep as well and my energy level is way below par.

Yesterday was my first day without a morning mug of joe and I’m already feeling more like myself. There was an extra bounce in my step this morning and I’m maintaining a more consistent feeling of satisfaction through the day. Coffee’s a hard friend to leave, but I think it’s worth it, for now.