I've had some kind of stomach bug since Tuesday, which means that I haven't eaten "real" food since Monday . . . at least not food that stayed down. My diet currently consists only of the following:
Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup
Campbell's Chicken with Stars Soup
I know the above foods are "real," but they're boring and bland and altogether uninspiring. I'm pretty sure I've only been eating about 600 calories a day. Thursday when I went to the doctor, I'd lost 5 pounds (in 2 days)--I was dehydrated, though, so I guess I've likely gained a couple of pounds back since I started drinking Gatorade.
All of this has caused me to think about the emotional value food has in my life. I really love trying new foods; I think I was adventurous about food long before I was adventurous about life. In fact, food might be the one place that I'm truly adventurous. Yeah, I travel a lot and often times alone, but I play it safe when I travel (which is probably something I should blog about sometime). But food . . . there are a lot of things I'll try: pig butt, whole crispy sardines (including the head and eyes), prawns (that was a big deal for me since I hate shrimp), blood sausage, ox tail soup, bone marrow, bones cooked until they were soft enough to eat for that matter, reindeer tongue, moose heart. To read that list, you'd never believe that I'm picky about meat.
And I've tried a lot of different national cuisines--in fact, I'm always excited to try a new-to-me national/ethnic food. By trying new food, I find new things that I love . . . and I believe that loving new things adds depth to my consciousness and richness to the ways that I relate to the world.
I don't know, maybe I'm making too much of this food thing. And I have to confess that the food I most crave right now is a cheeseburger and fries, hardly daring food for an American.
Addendum: After I posted this, my friend Jonathan sent me a link to a blog that expresses far more evocatively how I feel about food. Check it out.