This is hard. It’s only day five and this is hard.  After a tallboy can of Coors Light and nearly half a large pizza, this is hard. Yes, half. But it was New York style. But not actually the kind from New York, just the kind that’s stingy on the flour.  With a crust that isn’t just thin—it’s airy and crunches like a crouton.  That's not cool.  (Crust is usually my favorite part.  Mom gives me her crusts, or Megan and I divide evenly while my dad looks over, slightly disgusted but kindly not voicing it.) This crust was not very filling, didn't sit in your belly and make you swoon with carbifcation.  And the cheese was like a piece of a granola-bar cardboard box:  Rigid, thin, still tasty, just could've done with double the amount (okay, cardboard thing only works for half those--you choose which--the other half works with the granola bars.  Am I making sense, or what!). 

The toppings were good. And we got it more than half off; waited just up to close to cinch the deal.  That's what we've tried to do with animal products lately, since we aren't actively diving (can be explained. Maybe I'll do that later), and can't afford the sustainable stuff right now, with Yoav's Green Card application processing, and my focus on doing what I actually love for work.  And generally, those prices aren't worth it to us, anyway--we're happy to avoid animal products if the only other option is paying $10 for a single serving.  Just not in our means.

So our general MO is no animal products. When we do buy them, we try to buy only dumpster-destined items:  Those reduced for quick-sale.  This is the stuff we'd find a bunch of in the dumpster. It's usually nearly or already expired, and rarely bought up before deemed refuse and sent on its merry way.  It's kinda like our little loophole, as frayed and suspect as they generally are.  But our rationale is, if we aren't (currently and temporarily) gleaning from dumpsters/trashcans, the next best ethical and practical option for us, when we do decide to indulge, is to snag those unwantedables perched right at the tipping point.

I don't know. It's working for now.  It's a balance between being aware and being realistic, trying to do one's part, and still living in the world.

As expected, the pizza wasn’t at it’s finest.  Under those heat lamps for hours.  Then reheated.  Can’t be good for the textures or flavor profile. But we don't regret the culinary experience.

A lot of my life's about food, you see.

So, thinking about animals: I’m reading a book about a blind cat right now.  Just finished The Virgin Suicides and decided I’d like something a bit less heavy, a bit less morose, a bit less honest to the point of making a point with a plot that’s macabre throughout.  Though I did love it.  It was brilliant.  And funny sometimes, too.  Macabre books always are; it’s how the writer's able to truly devastate you. 

Anyway, yes—the blind cat.  Which is why I’m gonna say goodnight.  That doesn't make sense as a leeway.  But like I said, this is hard.  I’m tired.  I woke up early to climb.  S and I hiked out to climb.  We climbed.  We hiked back out.  The whole time we hiked, the sun baked.  The whole time we climbed, the shade saved.  It was a nice few hours of solitude up at the Marsupials.  Worth the commitment up there to have such a panoramic view of Smith and the surrounding green fields of alfalfa, the sisters and other cascades outlined by a smokey sun in the distance. 

Yoav sat in the library and worked on this article he's writing for a Hebrew youth magazine about animated shows for adults.  Wow.  Random.  I joined him for a couple hours, transcribed some uninteresting interviews, because that's what I'm doing right now for work to make actual money in real time.  I actually like it most of the time; they're often interesting audio files.  Once I did a full interview with this famous badass runner (never named, but you can just tell these things sometimes) who's responding to questions about her training regimen, eating practices, favorite injury prevention exercises--stuff Yoav and I research on our own time.  I just got to type it all out and commit it to memory.  This other time ... well,  maybe tomorrow I'll write about the hypnotism one.  Anyway, got my average to 80 WPM.  Became a Revver+.  Only those who know will know, and if you have no idea what I’m talking about, don’t bother Googling; it’s really not worth it.

We spent nearly an hour in Grocery Outlet after.  That’s how we shop nowadays.  Saving money and simultaneously eating well takes a hell of a lot of time.  Most of it’s the cooking, but hey, you gotta be ready to explore those items others can’t seem to handle.  Unique flavors and odd textures and unfamiliar (but actual, as in, real) ingredients.  We love it.  And we have a dollar rule that helps.  Anything that’s a dollar, if appealing in the least and not mega unhealthy (like potato chips or popsickles or oreo mint candy bars, which were actually ten for a dollar and really hard to resist, but we did. This time.), we toss it in the damn basket. 

We got some POP chips (so, popcorn, I guess) and a thing of nearly-made hummus (just add chickpeas! That is the main ingredient, for you hummus connoisseur wannabees, which we eventually all become ), 100-calorie pack almonds and cashews (7 of each! Killer price. Come on. we’re talking NUTS), two PURE PROTEIN bars (all-caps necessary on that one), four coconut milk yogurts (unsweeted. Thank god. Impossible to find in American grocery stores generally.  We love to add sugar to our sugar, then top with sugar, alias granola), some pumpkin-flavored tortilla chips, some hippie dippy all-natural kimchi flavored tortilla chips (there’s nothing natural about that combo, yo), and probably some other shit, too, but really, how long have I been listing our grocery list?  About as long as we shopped there.  Cool.  Love ya, Grocery Outlet.  Clearly you own my soul.

We walked there from the library, then walked back, then killed time looking for places we could park overnight nearby the Redmond park before going to pick up our eight mega-slices of reduced-price, kinda-cold, undeniably-old pizza.  We found a nice spot outside the overhead lights adjacent to the playground, backed up to expansive grass, and no busy streets running parallel.  We’re parked here now.  So far so good.  It’s 10:00 and we haven’t gotten a knock on the ol’ driver’s side door from the po po ... yet. 

I’ll let you know in the morning how it turns out for us. Sometimes these residential stints don’t fare so well.  It sucks getting woken up, told to move, and then feeling like a piss ant (I don't know.  Guess I just haven't used that one in a while) even though you didn’t really do anything wrong, by any stretch of the imagination.  You took up space in a parking space, for crying out LOUD.  An un-utilized and undesired parking space.  During the slowest of the slow season.  You just parked there for a little too long.  You slept a little too well without paying the man for it.  It’s BULLSHIT.  BULLSHIT.  BULLSHIT.  When someone can convince me a van with two perfectly polite, well-meaning, quiet, contained, and harmless humans parked overnight in a dark, empty lot surrounded by nothing but empty grass and tarmac, which is only spotted by a passing copper who’s got nothing better to do but harass harmless "non-traditional" people because he’s got nothing better to do with the tax money in such a low-crime, low-action town, is somehow detrimental or even as much as a nuisance to anyone at all, that’s the day I become a lawyer.

That doesn’t make any sense.

I’m tired.

I meant to write for five minutes and it’s been like thirty.

Guess this thing’s working.