I unhappily report that today I began to think of Woody's pizza and regret my vegetarian decision for the looming future. I have a mere 30 days to continue shoveling in as much meat as possible, to fortify my body and brain for the upcoming famine.
I didn't realize it would feel this way. It's something akin to the normal diet routine. As soon as you decide, especially on paper, that you're going to limit some facet of your existence, it becomes that much more attractive. This is why I never did too well with rules. People tell me things to do/not do and my brain slogs with questions about situations in which those particular things would be appropriate or even necessary. I'm always looking for the exception.
I wish it were just something I could pawn off on a creative bent, a natural-born tendency that should be categorized, noted and somewhat revered. But I'm pretty sure it's a personal lack of character development in the area of boundaries. Mine are very poorly established, you see, and I'm in no rush to change that.
On the upside, thinking aloud about Woody's pizza to George has let us make an unbiased group decision that we need to eat there this weekend. I'm looking especially forward to the Hot Wing Chicken & Bleu Cheese pizza, plated -- hopefully at the same time -- with a BBQ Beef & Bacon slice. These are my absolute favorites. Thinking about them right now is making me salivate.
While I was at Barnes & Noble today, I checked out vegetarian recipes. I've found only one entirely vegetarian magazine and then several disappointing books dedicated to the subject. I can't help but notice that people are neglecting to target this growing community of eaters in an appealing and relevant way. For example, if a dude goes vegetarian because he needs to get his cholesterol down, he's not going to want to read a "diet" book about the subject. There's no well-rounded cookbook (with great photos, I might add) that covers all types of vegetarian eaters, from the dieters to the cheese-lovers. I may have to look into this. . .