I could take the lack of treats no longer, J could take being cooped up in the house no longer, so we fled to the big city to restock our supplies, obtaining vegan yogurt, vegan butter and cream, lemongrass, limes, exotic peppers, lovely brown Crimini mushrooms, fresh peaches and plums, bargain cherries, wine and sake.
J got his usual bagel for the road. It is one of the most delicious things I have ever had the pleasure to smell. God, I miss bagels. I once again gave my speech about how unfair it is that I can’t eat ninety percent of what others do and I still don’t drop weight more than a pound or so here and there. I would weigh one thousand pounds if I could eat without restrictions.
I wanted to cry. My vegan Rice Dream bars are still not in stock. They’re never coming back, are they? I asked J sadly. He confirms they probably aren’t. The damned company is one which refuses to acknowledge that customers exist. I decided that I want an ice cream maker for our holiday gift season. Then, no transportation issues, no quality control problems, no crappy flavor selections. But I’ll probably find out why vegan ice cream is so ridiculously expensive.
While we were in the market, I had half of a panic attack. There wasn’t any reason for it, no unusual trigger. I suddenly got phobic and fearful. My stomach felt panicked, then achy, then I felt sick. I started to sweat and feel odd. I have only ever had a couple of attacks, years to decades apart. When I have a reaction that makes no logical sense, I’m forced to consider other reasons for it, but I can’t imagine invisible beings want to stand close and startle me while I shop for groceries.
I have requested several specials from chef J- my vegan burgermeat, Vietnamese foods using the delicious ingredients above and fresh cilantro, and now I want vegan falafel. Chickpeas are the gods of all beans.