Husband thinks I’m ridiculous for deciding to do the discretionary eating challenge for August.  We had this conversation in the bathroom, where I was soaking in the tub and he was eating dinner.  I don’t think anyone who eats in the bathroom is in any position to judge what I do, but that’s another issue.  I was telling him about it and the discussions that had gone on around it - sustainability, ecology, nutrition, mindfulness, and so on.  And he pretty much poo-pooed it.  In part because we already live pretty close to the goals (pop excepted), so in that sense it won’t be much of a challenge, and in part because something very important is about to happen:

Football season is starting.

Holy cats!  I sat up in the tub with alarm!

We don’t have TV any more.  This means we have to go out to watch a game, and the only place “out” where games exist is pubs.  Pubs don’t like it when you show up and don’t order food and drink.  But I can’t miss games!  What’s the point of having time off school if I can’t waste it watching football?  My two football instructors are potentials here, since both have enormous TV’s and cable - though Esan has a proper job and a new bride, which probably makes Monday night football at his house a no-go.  Z is the other choice, but he doesn’t like to let me come over lest I be shocked at his bachelorly housekeeping standards.  I keep telling him about my colony of pink mold in the bathroom but it doesn’t change his mind.

Still, it’s only one month.  This is not a forever change - surely at some point I will go back to restaurants.  (Though as I have said, it is a disturbing trend that whenever we’ve eaten at a vegetarian restaurant the food is inferior to that which I make at home.  This was never a problem when I ate meat.  Just sayin’.)