Puckett - the Other White Meat
Ethel's been feeding me a LOT of beef lately.
I don't THINK that this has anything to do with my family history of clogged arteries,
high blood pressure, strokes and cardiac arrest. And I'm sure she's not encouraged
in this carnivorism by the excellent life insurance package that my employer provides.
( Although I think she's got the local Porsche dealership on speed dial - everytime I
complain of heartburn, she calls to check on the current price of Boxter convertibles.)
But it's my own fault. Once upon a time, back when my only recreation was running
and we lived in Southern states (Alabama and Arizona) I lived on runner food - pastas,
breads, potatoes, rice, and white meat (turkey and chicken).
But then, in October of 1997, we moved from Tucson, AZ to Waterbury, VT. We took
two weeks to drive across the country by automobile, visiting family along the way.
As we crossed the 40th Parallel, heading north, it seemed that suddenly - after years
of low-fat high-fiber grains - I suddenly wanted Red Meat and Cheese. As though the
chromosomes of my Native American ancestors, who came across the Bering Strait,
suddenly shouted in my hypothalamus, "You want fats. Cold weather. If it's cold, you
want fats. Lots of fats."
Now I live at 7000 feet in Park City, UT. According to the pundits, every 1000 feet of
elevation translates to 300 miles of latitude. That would mean that the climate at my
house is equivalent to sea level in Nome, Alaska - right about where the land bridge
came over from Asia. I think that my genetic memory of sea level at that latitude has
taken over; if I could kill a sea lion and drink its blubber, I probably would.
Meanwhile, Ethel is feeding me lots and lots of beef. It's what's for dinner :)
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