I didn't feel a thing. Not at 4:30am, not at 10:15am.
I got to work and was all, "was there really an earthquake?" to be met with shock from my coworkers, some of whom had been awake since 4:30 due to the quaking. I asked because my mom had called and asked me how I liked earthquakes in basement apartments, and, mostly due to lack of caffeine and sleep, I figured she was making some joke I didn't get, because certainly there had been no earthquake. No, apparently, she was asking out of real concern because there was a real earthquake.
All this makes me feel quite out of touch with my body. Hello, body, the earth was shaking -- what happened, yo?
I just don't know about me and meat. I just don't know. I don't know if I can do it anymore, the eating of other animals. I was trimming the brisket yesterday, using the wrong knife (why not use a chef's knife, eh?), slipped and whacked into my left index finger. Only to freak out not really at the blood, but at the threat of food-borne pathogens. I was all "RAW CHICKEN DISEASE" and then remembered it was beef. So Noah finished the trimming and browning, and it was tasty ... but my favorite part of the meal was the leftover sauce from the brisket on top of the vegan mashed potatoes. And the sauce was really all tomato, tangy, blackened-onion goodness.
I'm not making any declarations. Just let it be known that I'm constantly forgetting to cook the meat in our fridge and freezer. I do eat a ton of chicken and tuna salad, but couldn't that be replaced with any other convenient sandwich filling? Indeed.
And I'm knitting a little, and Dave of Cornell left today, and it is sunny and I am busy working overtime inside. BOO.