Sunday, June 26, 2011

Stockpiling provisions, guarding and snarling.

So, with the baby due to arrive in the next 3-6 weeks, I can happily say we basically have everything we need for him. Right now I'm washing all of his blankets, towels, and clothes so they'll be ready to go whenever he is.

I'm not too nervous about taking care of him at this point, but I am sort of irrationally nervous about my own food supply. As I've mentioned before, I find the concept of not leaving the house for several days/weeks to be a scary one. The idea of not being able to go to the grocery store is especially frightening. Yes, I realize I have a perfectly capable partner who is more than willing to go (he even went to the Winn-Dixie today to see if they had tahini - which of course they did not - to see if he could save me a trip to Whole Foods), but a weird voice in my head says "What if he messes it up and I staaaaaaaaaarve?!?"

I'm used to cooking about 95% of the food I eat. Being vegan in the middle of Louisiana, I don't really have much of an option. But I know I won't be able to keep up my shopping and cooking habits immediately after having the baby. And one can only survive so long on Lebanese takeout (much as I love it). So I've started to freeze leftovers in individual portions. Today I plan on making a vat of lentil stew, and I'll freeze whatever we don't eat tonight. Tomorrow I might make red beans and rice.

My struggle to guard my food from the cats has intensified. Though I enjoy cooking, it is definitely a bit of an effort these days. I feed the cats CAT FOOD twice a soon as they see me open my eyes I'm greeted with incessant, desperate meows. When it comes near the time for their evening feeding, they strategically place themselves near me and give me the intense, unblinking cat stare. I will love them, feed them, and allow them backyard access, but I do not want them anywhere near MY food. The fruits of my labor in the kitchen are for the benefit of David, the baby, and ME.

David thinks the cats deserve more variety in their diet, and that it's cute when they beg at the table. I respond to such behavior by scooping up said cat(s), tossing them to the back yard, and finishing my meal while they look at me through the back door with their wide, pathetic, cat-refugee faces. I'm not falling for it. Stay away from my food. Grr.

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