weekend blues

We love the weekends around here. Our three year old triumphantly exclaims, “it’s the weekend!” every Friday night when dad gets home from work. We eat the food we are craving, we drink a couple drinks, we make big breakfasts when we’re both home. But on the cleanse, oh, on the cleanse. 

I thought I was over the hump and it would all be smooth sailing from here, but today I felt a bit blue that I had no indulgence food to eat. I know that sounds lame, but really, we have made food into so much more than food. Food is celebration: cake, grilling out, passing around homemade Christmas cookies, deviled eggs. We associate food with holidays and festivities. And no one is celebrating much with brown rice, beans, and veggies.

It would all be so much easier if food was only fuel for our bodies. If we could all just eat the foods our bodies need to perform well the way we putting gas in our cars, it would be different. But food is not so black and white. That’s the problem: it’s colorful and flavorful and full of so many different tastes that perfectly pair with different situations. Weekends, for example, are perfect for a little booze. I don’t even drink often usually, but I find myself wanting a glass of wine tonight. I want to toast to Steve and I making it six days, but then we wouldn’t make it to seven.

It’s February 1st somewhere, isn’t it?

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