I've been tagged by Tammy to reveal things about myself in five-year increments, in years ending with -2 or -7...
At first I hesitated, because my list of increments would be so long (wouldn't wanna bore you), but then I decided some of you whippersnappers might like seeing what life was like for a future food blogger back in the pre-Pop-Tart days.
(Yes, there were "pre-Pop-Tart" days! Pop-Tarts didn't just suddenly bloom on the earth 6,000 years ago and walk with the dinosaurs. They evolved!)
1952: Adlai Stevenson is mad, and I eat. Chocolate. That's Crisco in the can, by the way, because this was in the days before frosting evolved into its canned form. Mm. Crisco frosting.
1957: I'm living in Hawaii now, picking papayas off the tree in our backyard. Still not mad, although my brother pisses me off now and then by acting unevolved.
1962: First year of junior high school, and praying my boobs would evolve. Diet: largely tostadas and anything with avocados.
1967: Growth spurt! Craig Claiborne is messing with my mother's kitchen, in which I am a contented galley slave, learning evolved Continental cuisine. So swank.
1972: I ought to be graduating from college now, but I have sneaked off to Japan to taste salmon roe (urk!!), cuttlefish (yark!!) and other pre-evolutionary foods.
1977: One marriage down, one to come. The new prospect has bold kitchen skills and likes Devo.
1982: We are newlyweds in Florida, where cockroaches and mosquitos have failed to evolve from Volkswagen-sized creepiness down to more acceptable (and familiar) urban proportions. I have just tried raw oysters for the first time.
1987: Some cervical cells have interpreted "evolution" all wrong and have grown out of control; surgery puts a stop to that. I am letting Thom Fox feed me as often as possible.
1992: We've moved to Marin County, where the food revolution is lagging. Cooking begins in earnest.
1997: Uh-oh. Office job. Lousy lunches, and Jack Daniels with colleagues for dinner. I spend way too many weekend hours cooking special-diet meals for my ailing dog, which means my own diet has devolved.
2002: Bush has stolen the White House, my madness has evolved to epic proportions, and I eat very well. Coincidence?
2007: Food blogging! You say you want an evolution? I'm happy and I eat.