Last Thursday while at Trader Joe's, I bought some turkey jerky. I'd always wanted to try it. It wasn't actually as good as beef jerky, but it wasn't entirely bad either. I didn't eat the whole bag--the rest is still sitting in the cupboard.
Last Friday I decided I was going to be a vegetarian for the rest of the month of May. By the time I get back to my turkey jerky in June it will be tough and nasty. Maybe someone else will eat it before then.
Last Saturday Mother Edit made me a sandwich and I ate it without even thinking. Later I realized it had had meat on it. I resolved to make no more such mistakes.
On Sunday we had bacon with breakfast in honor of the nephews and niece who were staying over. Bacon! And me a vegetarian! I was so torn. So incredibly torn. But nevertheless, I persevered, and did not partake of the pig. And afterwards I didn't even feel that bad.
On Monday I went to a barbecue. Luckily I had already eaten so I wasn't hungry at all.
It's actually not been too bad being a vegetarian. I think I could do it if I really wanted to, but I'd have to wait until after the writing conference to convert: I really like the burgers at the CONE, and I have to try Olive's favorite gyro.
Then we shall see. Most likely I'll just stay what I am: an opportunistic vegetarian. I'm a vegetarian when it suits my needs. And I'm okay with that.