“We were together. I forget the rest.”
Admiring: Jenny and Andy, always. The Dinner: A Love Story 100 Rules of Dinner post is my new favorite thing this week (month?). Some to memorize…
10. There are very few problems in my life that I can’t momentarily forget about when I’m cooking dinner with Andy.
38. If you have to ask “lime or lemon?” when making me a gin and tonic…I’ll make my own gin and tonic.
54. You very rarely feel worse about yourself after cooking dinner.
51. When making pasta, be sure to salt the water.
100. Salt the water again.
Replace “Andy” with “John”, and everything they write is Gospel to me.
Excited about: Mad Men! And isn’t little Miss Sally Draper the cutest thing ever. She always looks totally chic but age appropriate, and I love the messy pony tail. Plus, I have decided Kiernan is an awesome name for a girl.
Reading: This excerpt, via Jenny again. This book just jumped to the top of my reading list. Divinity, not machines. YES.
Consider the chicken. Today we have industrialized animals. A chicken needs to be cheap to be competitive in the marketplace. So the industrial chicken has a life that lasts forty-two days between its hatching and its sacrifice. They flood the chicken with twenty-three hours of light a day so that the chicken constantly feeds, and then they give it one hour of rest. They do this for six weeks, then the chickens are put on a conveyor belt and either gassed or have their heads chopped off and are immediately dumped in scalding water, after which the dead body is sent to market.
On the other hand, the traditional chicken used to take one and a half years from hatching to sacrifice. You would see the chicken every day and speak to her, and you would share with her certain aspects of your own life. The chicken was your friend; she understood you. You loved each other. She knew she was going to have a happy life and tried to give you her best while you gave her yours. She knew her destiny, that eventually she would make a gift of her life to feed your family. But you honored each other. The chicken lived at home with you, and you ate her at home. It was divinity, not machines.