11/26/10 It was delicious (they tell me)

Though I have claimed vegetarianism for upwards of 15 years now (I can count on one hand the number of times I've eaten meat since 1994), today my hands still smell of roasted bird from the turkey I helped prepare yesterday.

It's a very strange situation, being married to a confirmed, enthusiastic, and unrepentant carnivore. The constant confrontation with your own values that occurs when you are around those that don't share them requires both a flexibility (in order to not judge or feel superior), and a sense of humor, because you will be made fun of and intentionally, humorously provoked.

Plus, I like to cook, so I have learned the finer points of meat preparation for a woman whose favorite meals include, quote, "the tears of the innocent," while never tasting the things I help make.

11/25/10 everyone

He stands in front of the bank, shifting from foot to foot, his face a mask of pitiful hope, while his eyes calculate every passerby. I'm trying not to ignore things, but I know if I make eye contact, I'll raise his expectations, so I walk toward the curb and let him accost another pedestrian with his "Happy Thanksgiving" that sounds like a curse.

As I cross the street, a little boy on the other side of the street scoots up to the crosswalk. "Candy for everyone!" he shouts, his arm sweeping to include me, the beggar in front of the bank, the gray November afternoon, Brooklyn, the world.