Once again, I am faced with the fact that I haven't written in a while. This quilts my endeavor with a sense of obligation to myself; to write something meaningful that encompasses what I've been experiencing in my daily life.

But that's not what I'm going to do right now. The only thing that I feel like writing about is food. So I'd like to impart my new method of home-made fast-food.

I work in a place that is saturated with ways to spend money on food and drink. Water, coffee, salads, sandwiches, burritos, etc. What you want for breakfast, lunch, or dinner, you can buy here. The problem is, I don't really like any of their food options. Every time I have "treated" myself to a meal in one of these restaurants, the experience has been less a treat than a treatment in realizing that I cook better than they do, and I know what the ingredients are in my cooking, and it's cheaper, by far.

So this is what I do: I have a green San Pellegrino bottle that I fill every morning with water from my Britta filter and stop up with a cork from a wine bottle. Drinking from glass is so much nicer than drinking from plastic, it is cooler and more refreshing. I bring this bottle with me everywhere.

I make my coffee at home. There is only one good coffee shop in the area, and that is where I buy my freshly roasted beans. Kean Coffee is the baby of the former owner of Dietrich coffee (the latter recently bought up by Starbucks), and there is only one location, and it's not in my neighborhood. So I go there once a week and save tons of dough via this extreme act of self indulgence. Paying 2$ for a cup of coffee at Joe Shmoe that tastes like... nothing good, that's for sure- seems so ridiculous weighed against the option of enjoying a cup of a dream for a fraction of the price. We are paying with more than currency for these "coffee shops on every corner" - every time I settle for convenience over quality, I sacrifice a piece of the good taste that took so many years of experimentation to cultivate. It is simply not worth it.

I make a big batch of some grainy tofu veggie thing, with different spices, sauces, what have you, every few days. These concoctions are stored in reused glass jars- meal-sized portions that I can grab out of the fridge and throw into my lunch bag in the morning. Add an avocado or some carrot sticks & hummus, and I am living it up for peanuts.

Not only is the content and quickness of my meal important, the presentation has taken on new meaning as well. I have a flowery dish-towel that I use as a place mat. I have a set of wooden chopsticks. I lay out my place mat, pull out the sticks, open up my various jars and bottles, and I have presented myself with a personal luxury experience. An experience that has a very small monetary value has endless spiritual value to me. My lunches are now a time of self-expression and rejuvenation.

And once my tomatoes start turning all shades of red, pink, and orange... this will be a truly amazing ritual. One that does not eat up my money, or my time. Spending money does eat up your time anyway. I encourage everyone to try to incorporate a tiny piece of self-indulging personal luxury into your daily life. (And don't say that you can't cook. Try eatingwell.com or epicurious.com for some recipe ideas. If you can read, you can cook.) Oh, so this entry is about my daily life. duh.