Where to start?

Actually, a better question may be, what to say?

I’ve not been inspired to write. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s because my muse is living in Astoria. Or maybe it’s because my creative energies are divided. Or maybe it’s a mid-blog crisis.

(So, consider yourself warned: serious blogger navel-gazing ahead. Stop now if you want to spare yourself the angst.)

I think back to when I started this whole exercise, and what I expected it to be. Then, as now, I read lots of blogs of both types: the informational link-y type, and the personal journal-y type. I always saw this blog as fitting into the second category, because it seemed more natural (and easier) for me to generate content from my life than to go surfing around looking for interesting stuff to talk about. Because (as you may have figured out, given the plethora of links to such, um, off-beat publications as the New York Times and MSNBC) I’m not exactly an intrepid web surfer. I read a lot, but nothing especially unusual and not nearly as much as it would take to publish a well-curated informational blog.

So, a personal blog. That was the idea. I fancied myself winding elaborate, humorous, enlightening, snarky, sometimes sassy, and occasionally raunchy tales drawn from my life’s experience. But maybe I was just setting unrealistic expectations for myself. After all, I’m not a witty raconteur in real life, so why should I be one here? (Sure, I’ve got some sass, but it always comes out when I’m least expecting it, and it’s hard to generate on cue, say, when I’m sitting down to write a post and haven’t published anything in a week. Pressure? Totally not helpful in the sass department.)

Anyway, soon after I started, J-P and I were off traveling, which generated a host of stories, pictures, and ideas. Although, even then, I censored. There are still so many stories from our travels that I never told. I don’t quite know why. I think I was paranoid of blogger’s diarrhea. (And now it seems I’ve got blogger’s constipation. God, isn’t that always the way? You always want what you haven’t got.) When we settled into life here in Nashville, I still came up with stuff to talk about, but it got harder. I started to rely on informational link-y type stuff just so I could keep posting and not drop into blog oblivion, hoping to camouflage the lack of personal stuff. I was basically treading water.

I assumed the problem was a lack of inspiration. And maybe it was. But maybe the problem is just that I’m not the share-y type. Because in real life, I am definitely not share-y. Never have been. It’s one of those things I’ve always wanted to be better at and have worked on to some success, but my nature is just fundamentally not share-y. (Yes, I made that word up. Yes, I’ve now used it multiple times. Yes, I am probably improperly using a hyphen. No, I don’t care.) And inside of me there is always this insecure thirteen-year-old with braces and bad perm (shut up, it was 1990 in New Jersey) worrying about what will happen if I do share. If I make a joke that falls flat will people think I’m a dork? If I make a snarky comment will they think I’m a bitch? If I talk about some of the random shit that goes through my head every day will they think I’m weird? I know these are things I have no control over, and things that (at least rationally) I couldn’t care less about, but yet I do.

So then I start second-guessing my choice in that eternal dilemma: to blog anonymously, or not? At first, I likened it to the choice between being closeted and being out, and there was no question in my mind that I would rather be out. Also, the personal bloggers I tend to enjoy most are those who are out. I feel like I can appreciate someone’s writing more when I know their real name and what they look like. (Which, now that I’ve actually written that, strikes me as breathtakingly dumb, and if I ever heard someone say that in the context of, say, internet dating, I would immediately write them off. But, there it is.)

But the anonymous-or-not question is just a classic grass-is-always-greener problem. It really doesn’t change anything. If I were anonymous, would I really be any share-ier than I am normally? I am still myself, whatever the circumstances. Not to mention that writing anonymously comes with its own set of difficulties -- worrying about people finding out and feeling like you’re hiding something from those close to you. There is no right solution, there is only weighing the problems with each option, and choosing. I know that. But that doesn’t stop me from fantasizing about the writer that I would be if I were anonymous.

So, there it is. The inevitable Come-to-Jesus post where I ponder my motivations and the purpose of this whole thing.

Thanks for reading while I figure it all out.

I need a(nother) vacation

I was reading a blog post in which a woman (jokingly) said that her kids might have grounds for a class action suit against her, and my first thought was "Nah. With only three of them, they'd never satisfy the numerosity requirement."

Not today, but maybe someday

Downtown Nashville, Thursday, 2:35 p.m.

I see two middle-aged, dad-type guys walking down the street toward me. They are accompanied by two tween-age, daughter-type girls. The dads are walking in the middle, chatting quite amiably, with a daughter on either side. I contemplate the arrangement, and the thought crosses my mind that maybe -- just maybe -- this a family. Two dads, two daughters. Could it be, right here in Downtown Nashville? I am cheered by the thought.

But then, as they get closer, I notice one of the daughters' t-shirts says "Property of Jesus."

And, just like that, hope dashed.

The long way home

If only I’d known about this on Sunday morning. Because there is nothing -- NOTHING -- worse than being in the home stretch of a ten-hour drive and all of a sudden finding yourself shunted onto roads that take you TWO HOURS out of your way. Not that I could have done much about it short of charting a route from D.C. to Nashville via Detroit.

Hello from the land of sun and sand

So I've been accused of *ahem* neglecting Rhino Legs in recent weeks. To which I have no defense and am no going to bother making excuses. But I DO have a good excuse any further neglect that may occur over the next week, as I am at the beach, and the most energy I can summon is that which entails raising the gin and tonic from the table next to the lounge chair to my lips. Typing -- nay, thinking -- just takes too much out of me. So if posting is light or sporadic lighter or more sporadic than usual, I'm sure you'll understand.

Actually, I CAN believe it's not butter

Ed. note: Guest post on veganism by J-P!

I always hear vegans praising their delicious vegan cuisine -- how they have such a variety of stuff to make and don't miss animal products at all. Well, la-di-frickin-da. I have looked at vegan recipes for 45 minutes on the web, and all the stuff I have found is really plain and, quite honestly, not exciting at all.

And what really chaps me are all the recipes that advertise "the recipe even fooled the meat-eaters!" or "stuffed with 'ricotta.'" I can't understand why so many people making vegan recipes strive to make meatless equivalents of the foods they don't eat. Why does a Boca burger look like a hamburger and strive to taste like one? If I want to eat a veggie burger, I don't want it to imitate meat; I want to taste the oats, peas, potato, and whatever else went into making it. And making the product look like a meat patty just confuses me.

Beyond the processed "meat" products are other vegan foods that try to resemble their animal-based equivalents, but which are mostly made of processed soy. I've come across a lot of recipes for vegan lasagna and they often call for vegan cheese, particularly vegan mozarella. (The Italian family that I have married into just cringes that (1) there exists such a thing as vegan mozzarella and (2) someone would make lasagna with mozzarella instead of ricotta.) And cheese is not the only thing in this category -- there is vegan sour cream, vegan scrambled eggs, and vegan ice cream, to name a few. Why not just get all the pretense out of your meals? Call it what it is and don't try to make it better by saying that it is vegan bacon or whatever. Also, you can't tell me that soy cheese stuffed mushrooms are just as good as the original animal-based product the idea comes from. That is a matter of taste.

Another example: I was vegetarian for six years and one Thanksgiving I had tofurky. It comes frozen in a cardboard box and is a spherical, hollowed out ball of firm tofu that comes prestuffed with a mushroom and rice stuffing. For those unfamiliar with the tofurkey, I bet you're thinking to yourself, "But that doesn't look like a turkey and it doesn't sound like it's trying to taste like one. What is this idiot talking about?" I'll tell you what I'm talking about -- I'm talking about a ball of tofu that comes with a brown "skin" to mimic the roasted skin of the turkey. I'm talking about a product that you can buy with tofurkey giblets gravy. (Question: What do tofu giblets look like? Waiter, why is there a stamen in my gravy?) I'm talking about little breaded pieces of tofu molded to look like drumsticks that you're supposed to pin to the side of the main ball of tofu to simulate the legs of a turkey! (I am just shaking my head right now because I partook of this and actually toothpicked the wings to the side of the tofu ball. It looked like a hat you would see at the Kentucky Derby, but not as tasty.)

What I don't get is, if you're going to live an animal-product-free life, why not embrace it? I read a comment on a vegan blog (I forget which site) wondering why people eat tofurkey. The commenter made black bean croquettes as the main dish at Thanksgiving and loved them. I have to say, those sound damn good, and they don't try to imitate meat.

So, why the rant? It could be the result of being on Day Seven of vegan (and gluten-free) eating and I have been getting bored with the meals, and perhaps just a bit cranky. Vegan readers, please do not take offense, but having seasoned my veggies and beans in myriad ways, when it all boils down to it, they are still just veggies, and I like the variety of foods that my digestive tract can handle. I like the various tastes that my tongue can savor. I don't want to rely on processed foods to simulate the variety that I can get from nature.

But I do appreciate those who stick to a vegan diet, because it is challenging. And boy is it tough to go out with non-vegans and have them constantly ask "well, are you allowed to eat X?" or "tell me about your dietary life." I don't really feel like talking about it constantly. It's also tough to go to someone's place or out to eat when you have an uber-restrictive diet. I don't want the people I'm with to feel bad, which is almost enough to make me not want to go out with friends when there's so much I can't eat.

So, I guess I am just not cut out for the vegan lifestyle, and I can't wait until this cleanse is over and I can give up the facon forever.