I’ve always been a “seize the day” kinda girl. (Granted, sometimes it feels a little more like “don’t look before you leap” girl, but let’s not split hairs.) Point being, you do only live once and you should seize the day because, God knows, you never know how many more you have.
So take this personality and add to it one prematurely-deceased, healthy, spunky parent and you get some interesting side effects.
No, I didn’t book a skydiving excursion. (Yet. That will happen, eventually.) I ate pork. (Gasp! The hell you say!) Okay, follow me. About 32 years ago, my mom decided the family was only going to eat poultry and fish. Her father had died young of colon cancer, but she also just didn’t like hurting the little animals. So, in more recent years, my siblings went back to eating all meat and my mom went full vegetarian and had been for the last 12 years of her life. And me – aside from a couple short-lived periods of actual vegetarianism – I stuck to the poultry and fish thing. For the last 32 years.
There is this awesome Jon Favreau movie called “Chef.” (This segues back – trust me.) I think it’s on Netflix. Seriously. Watch it. It’s kickass.
Jon Favreau is a chef who has a meltdown that goes viral on social media and he ends up with a food truck where he makes the most epic Cuban sandwiches. Obviously, there’s more to it. But for our purposes here, I’m talking about the sandwich.
So the movie was about family, and following your passion, and simplicity, and, of course, food. So, last weekend Steve and I were celebrating one of my best friend’s birthdays and we went to this great restaurant in Sonoma County called Bear Republic Brewing Co. And on the menu they had a Cuban sandwich (there’s that segue I promised you) and Steve ordered it.
And I had to try it. So I took a bite (ok, four) and it was delicious. So good. So, for no other reason than “what the hell,” I ate pork for the first time in 32 years. Is it because mom isn’t here to be disappointed in me? Maybe. Is it because, if I take after my mother and grandmother, I may only have another 20 years and that I need to carpe diem (or in this case, carpe porca)? Possibly. So I tried it. And you know what? No one died. (Well, except for the pig.)
On a side note, I found these socks (courtesy of the Bloggess) and I think I need them.
So go out there and seize the hell of the day, my friends.