And here is herself’s solipsistic version, dated 20 June 2001:
“Comments” concerning food and drink
Of the fish of the sea and the fowl of the air and the beasts of the field, of those clean and unclean, I may not eat.
Of the milk of the cattle and the sheep and the goat, whilst in the form fore-ordained by the Creator for the young of each species, I may not drink.
Of the milk hardened into cakes for only a moment's time, and of the especially smelly young milk-cakes I may not eat.
Of the lumpy cheesy concoctions, high in fat and masquerading as food for penitents and mendicants, I may not eat.
Yet, of the skim and one percent milk, or the regular milk BAKED into dishes, I may eat. And of the low-fat or non-fat cottage cheese or yogurt, I may eat, but not too much. I may eat of the low-fat or non-fat ice cream, although these are vile and loathsome in Michael's sight.
And of the hard and aged cheeses, yea even those sharp, pungent and gratable cheeses, I may eat, especially when cooked onto a pizza.
Of the radishes and bell peppers and cucumbers, and other offerings of Cain which cause the belching in one's innermost being, I may not eat.
Of the lettuce, Bibbed or iceberg, and of similar textureless and tasteless fillers, I may eat only a small portion, lest I return the abomination that is iceberg lettuce to the depths of the earth.
Yet of the spinach, cooked or raw, or nicely seasoned with lemon and olive oil, I may eat and give hearty thanks.
And although I may not partake of the raw cucumber or the barely pickled deli-cukes, I may enjoy the produce of the cucumber vine when fully briny or fully sweet (I may even “relish” the dish.)
Of the cooked vegetables I may eat, although it is of a truth that it is said that squash is an offense in my sight. I will endure it as Job endured boils, though, when it is the only non-meat item on a menu and is served as part of a “vegetable melody.”
What more shall I say? Shall I sing the praises of grilled eggplant or of the asparagus quesadilla? Shall I tell of chutneys and of spinach enchiladas and “Not Dogs” and of broccoli fried rice? Of tomatoes, cooked into garlicky sauces and served over pasta, or sliced and served with basil and mozzarella, or cooked into creamy soups, or even sliced fresh and red-ripe and served with salt and pepper? There is not time to tell the worth of lemon meringue pies or crescent roll pandowdy or ice milk or Diet Dr. Pepper or iced tea, yet I glory in these even as they remain constantly with my hips, withersoever I shall go.
Should I prepare meals, I may, like Peter with Cornelius, set aside these laws to prepare sustenance; although, like Moses on Mt. Nebo, I may not partake of that which is reserved for others.
(Apologies to Ian Frazier)
Michelle L. Myer, AKA: Nursing Goddess
House of Chez Casa