My Wife Is Not A Vegetarian

March 26, 2007

My wife’s not a vegetarian. One sure-fire way you can tell is that she’s my wife. I don’t know how I could marry a woman who can’t appreciate the joys of a $2 bistec taco at 1am.

I remember it took my father a little while to commit that to memory. A few Thanksgivings in a row he asked me what we could do to make sure Sara had enough to eat, without turkey. Maybe it’s because she was an American woman who attended college after 1990. Maybe it’s because she’s from California. Whatever. My wife loves a good steak.

Still, sometimes I feel bad when I make fun of vegetarians (for the same reason I make fun of the Amish — the jokes are easy). Scratch that, I mean felt bad. I don’t feel bad anymore:


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