Gosh! I have had three blog-worthy events this week, and as a consequence, have not had time to tell you about any of them! The most signal of the three was the birthday of the world’s best daughter! I won’t say how old she is, because that would cast light on what an antique I am. She selected our activities for the day, and they were all the very things I would have selected myself. The thought occurs – was she just being a loving daughter, or is this what she really wanted to do??????? We walked to the University District for lunch at a vegan raw food restaurant. This did not sound terribly appealing to me, but one can't complain on the birthday of one's little darling. When Rachael, my other little darling was a very young thing, she read a James Bond novel, in which James was ordered to go to penal health spa so that the ravages of his bon vivant lifestyle with its copious martinis - “shaken, not stirred,” could be somewhat mitigated. The first order was a raw food vegetable diet, to purge his body of the poisons he normally so happily imbibed. Rachael was all enthusiasm, prattling on about our bodily poisons, and how we all needed to switch to raw foods. I recall that the poisons in John Wayne’s body also came into the argument somehow. Rebecca was game, so our family started out on a purgatorial (in several senses of the word) raw food diet. It was grotesque. Now, there are days when I probably actually do eat only raw foods, and I am happy and replete. But Rebecca had gotten a cook book which offered recipes for ground up raw things which tried to mimic cooked things. Like Bread! And failed horribly. Blech!!! I dreaded dinner. Our regimen lasted less than a week, and everyone was happy to abandon the experiment - bodily poisons not withstanding.
So, when Becca proposed a raw food restaurant, I had qualms. But needlessly, as our lunch was fine. Since my lunch had been so healthy and filling, I had some probably poisonous biscotti (doubly cooked) and a dish of ice cream (raw, actually) for dinner.