Saturday, June 28, 2014


You know what I hate? I hate it when food bloggers try to tell you every little detail about their life. I hate that feeling of "No, I just came here for the banana bread recipe. I don't care that your kid started the first grade."

And I really hate it when food bloggers, or any kind of bloggers, try to explain to their readers why they haven't posted in awhile. I really don't care. Your blog isn't Mad Men. I haven't spent the week dying to know what happens next. Honestly, I didn't even notice that it had been so long.

Of course, some people can pull it off. Some people can write something you don't expect them to write and have it be delightful. They can go off on a tangent about their personal life and you can eat it right up. There are some people who just know how to craft a sentence so bloody well that you would read the transcript of their conversation with a telemarketer and beg for more.

It's a gamble, though. It's a gamble even if you're that good. And I'm not sure that I am.

So with all that out there, let me tell you that it's been a rough couple of weeks.

Among other things, the building I live in might be getting sold this summer. The landlord has put it on the market, which we found out by reading the sign advertising Hammond Residential: Max Dublin, Realtor. Max Dublin seems like a nice enough guy. He has been in contact via e-mail with my upstairs neighbor, Helyne, who has been nice enough to forward their correspondence on to the other ten inhabitants of out little three decker. There was an offer. It feel through. He'll be showing it again this coming week.

Neither our landlord, Terry, nor his wife, Lynn, who likes to remind us whenever we have a complaint and her husband is too drunk or otherwise irresponsible to come to the phone that the building is not in her name and none of this is, strictly speaking, her problem, have said a word to anyone about the impending sale. Which leaves us with the following options:

  1. Do nothing and hope that the house either doesn't sell, or that the new owner will choose to renew our leases without a substantial rent increase
  2. Find a new place to live
What with option 1 being so pathetic and depressing, and option 2 sucking up so much time, the annual 4th of July party just isn't coming together this year, which makes me sad for its own set of reasons. This cookout has always been an important one for me. It kicks off Corn Free July, gets people excited about it, gets me excited about it. (See? I made it relevant!) The grass fed burgers on the grill, the red, white, and blue cheesecake, the conspicuous absence of corn on the cob, it's all become a tradition. But this year it just isn't happening, and so Corn Free July will come in not with a bang but a whimper, though it will be no less important.

There are a lot of things that can be sacrificed when time and resources and focus run low. The fact that I still plan on sticking Corn Free July out reminds me that there is always room for our top priorities in life. Rather than a fad diet that can be forgotten if things get too chaotic to maintain it, my month away from processed foods is something on which I won't compromise. It's too important. We shouldn't eat the way we do. Our farm system shouldn't work the way it does, and neither should the system by which we obtain goods on the other end of the chain. It's not good for our physical health, and it isn't good for our mental health either. Our brains deserve a diet. A cleanse. Some time away from fast food, from stolen lunch breaks and hasty dinners before rushing off to whatever's next. July is going to be a time of change, and no matter what else happens, I'm going to make sure that I'm well nourished.

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