Barnes and NoideawhatI'mdoing

It's supposed to snow
like the second coming and instead of being at home snuggled with my herd of cats, I visit one of my favorite places on earth: Barnes and Noble. Since I am relatively clueless on vegetarian cooking (geez, even my salads have meat!), I figure I'd buy a vegetarian cookbook to start me on my way. I head to the clearance section, and find one or two...nice. I'm a sucker for pretty photos. And yet, I think that they've got to have a million more, right? The sad thing about my life is that I'm NEVER satisfied with just one or two choices. I'm a totally out of the box kinda girl. Give me a million choices so I can manipulate it however I want when I want how I want. (kinda like pumpkin carving don't you think?).

And yet, sometimes we have to be careful about what we ask for in life. I go to the cooking section and see a chair, set about two feet back, facing an eight foot wall of cookbooks. What happened to the poor soul who needed to sit down because she was so overwhelmed by the flood of information before her? Oh, I know! She's me! Do you KNOW how many veggie vegan wear a mumu while gettin' your earthy crunchy groove on books there are? I sit in the chair. Okay, maybe not sit exactly. More like, fall back glassy eyed while trying to catch my breath and look for a means to escape. Too much. Too soon. I need bite sized portions...not the whole save the world go green history of evolution. I make a run for the magazine section.

And find....pretty much nothing. So, eight million books on veggieism....but no magazines? No Chickenette Soy Like Vegetation Soup for the Soul Snippets? I vaguely remember a magazine someone once mentioned...Vegetarian Times. Surely that? Nope. Nothing. Nada. I shuffle left and right. Peel back issues until I find VegNews with a smiling picture of Alicia Silverstone...which, despite her whole crooked speech thing, is vaguely reassuring since she has to die for glowing skin and is eating a cookie...now THAT's my kind of food! But that's the cover. I glance through it. Why are all the ads showing all these older ladies wearing bright colored mumus, flowers everywhere, all looking like they're about to give you a pat on the head and call you a good girl if you just eat your soy patty? Sigh. Beggars can't be choosers. I grab the magazine, head back to the clearance section, and buy the book with the prettiest pictures. If I eat all this stuff, will I look like the plump flower hat lady? Or Alicia Silverstone?

Alicia may your Kind Diet truly be kind to me!