I'm a Meatatarian



No veggies? No problem.

I'm a red-blooded, God-fearing, feisty American and I like meat. I know how it's produced, I'm comfortable with the sacrifice made to yield it and I can prepare it 154 ways to amaze even the most skeptical foodie. I eat it at almost every meal and even snack-time if some beef jerky is handy. That's right, I'm a meatatarian.

 

You might be wondering what a meatatarian is, so pay attention while I drop a profound answer in your lap:

meatatarian: a person who, for a variety of reasons, eats mostly meat and very few vegetables. This dietary 'lifestyle' may be due to allergies or could be attributed to a sincere distaste for most vegetables.

I fall into the latter of those two descriptions - I have eaten a lot of vegetables in my twenty-somethings years, in fact it was a rule in the Buzzard household that you had to clean your plate before getting up for dinner. I actually tested this rule to the max when I was seven and fell asleep at dinner because I didn't want to eat spinach.

 

In spite of my avoidance plan, leftover spinach graced my plate at lunch-time the next day. The only thing worse than spinach is leftover, re-warmed spinach. Gag.

 

However, upon leaving the parental castle for college I vowed that I would not continue to eat another food that I despised, thereby depriving those who enjoy vegetables from what they view as an exemplary eating experience. Hence, my diet consists of meat, dairy, grains -- sometimes whole, others not -- and fruit. Often times, my plate contains meat, cottage cheese and a potato/green beans/corn/squash; however, if said potato dish includes peppers or other contemptible vegetable intruders, I quickly jump off the veggie train.

 

It's worth noting that I have tried almost every vegetable in the grocery store so I'm not condemning them without actually having tried them. You name it and I've *probably* tried it and subsequently, disliked it.

 

Bear in mind, I do have vegetarian friends. They are insanely awesome and although we poke fun at one another about dietary choices, I have never seriously tried to convert them back to meat-eaters and they have never tried to persuade me to stop gorging on bacon and steak. They have their reasons for choosing their lifestyle and I have mine. We can all coexist and co-eat in peace.

 

I often wish that I did like vegetables. I see commercials for fresh salads chock full of crispy fresh peppers, cucumbers and carrots. I would love to partake, really I would, but my most recent attempt at ingesting crunchy, fresh salad-type foods led to a near vomit experience in the local Olive Garden. I doubt they would have viewed me as family if I had spewed in the garden.

 

My ordering process at restaurants drives my husband insane but I fail to understand why my palate restricts his meal experience. I challenge you to find a restaurant in existence in which I couldn't suss out at least one thing to eat - plain is always an option - therefore, my food preferences should in no way affect his options.  I profess that I am not a picky eater; I know what I want and I eat a lot of it. Steak, bacon, burgers, chops, wings - bring all the smokey, spiced and sauced goodness to me on a silver platter and I shall demolish it in one fell swoop.

So, to my fellow meatatarians, here are some survival tips for navigating through an increasingly veggo-filled world:

• Do not be ashamed of your choices - God made you this way and no one can argue with that.
• Keep a close eye out for veggies that are added but not disclosed - i.e. the bacon and cheese hot dog in a pretzel bun at Sonic does not make buyers aware of onions in the mix but they are sure 'nuff on the dog.
• When the day arrives that you're tired of defending your choices (and it will come, no fail), claim to be allergic to specific vegetables. This strategy will immediately stop whatever heckling you're receiving. I have used this at Taco Bell in order to stop the staff from ignoring my requests about a lettuce-less burrito.
• Pose the question, "If I were a vegetarian would you be giving me this much guff?"
• Refer to one of any number of Ron Swanson classics - here, here and here.
• Bonus info: if you order fajitas and ask for no onions or peppers, they will often double the amount of meat you're getting so the portion sizes are equal. Huzzah!

I imagine, in the distant future, there will be a support group for folks like myself who, despite society's need to interrogate and force change upon our dietary choices needs, have chosen to eat mostly animal products mixed in with a few whole grains and some fruit.

Stand strong, fellow meatatarians, and let protein drive the force.

Until next time,
~ Buzzard ~

Wordless Wednesday: Fall in the Flint Hills

Rooster and I enjoyed a breathtaking sunset after our nightly run. God is a fantastic painter!

The leaves are changing colors!

Blame the Flint Hills wind for a blurry photo

Hard to see the different colors of the prairie but they are beautiful in person

Winter wheat is peppered across the land

This windmill now serves as a photo prop instead of its original purpose

Wordless Wednesday: [Corn] Blowin in the Wind

A wet cornfield on a windy day in Ohio - harvest is upon us!

Wordless Wednesday: A Glimpse of Heaven

Gorgeous Kansas sunset astride Rooster

Cancer and Ode to a Cowboy

Some of you may have noticed a Facebook status I posted in late July about cancer and Alzheimer's needing to leave my family the hell alone. Alzheimer's has and continues to take a toll on the Frobose, Buzzard and Baker branches of my family and I don't know many people out there that cancer hasn't touched in some way.

Without delving into too much detail, because I am honestly not fond of sharing intimate minutia of my personal life with the interwebs [or anyone for that matter], my cousin Marty Buzzard quietly lost his long battle with cancer on July 31. I felt, and still feel, like someone jacked me in the aorta with a ton of bricks.

Marty, rest his blessed soul, was a quiet cowboy, however the few words he did offer were heavy with meaning, ultimately consistent with the rest of the Buzzard men. He loved his family and roping, playing basketball and causing a little bit of mischief along the way- an unexpected quality thanks in large part to his calm and reserved demeanor.

A kind and adept horseman, Marty always rode well-broke horses and valued behavior and skill over flash or style. Marty broke colts and rode outside horses for years with unmatched finesse, skill and patience, training his own horses and selling them after he made them into equines of worth. Rare in a multitude of fashions, he was a left-handed heeler and I never tired of watching him deliver a loop. As with all roping, heeling is an art and left-handed heeling is art in motion.

Marty had a horse named Rooster, a champagne amber gelding, who is by our stud Take Care O' Neall [you'll drool]. I liken Rooster and Marty to Doc and I and when Marty was in the later stages of his disease, my father took care of Rooster for long stretches of time so that the horse would remain in capable hands and not be sold during the mires of terminal illness.

You can imagine the shock I felt when I received a phone call from Podge a few weeks ago informing me that I had been given the ultimate gift; Rooster's torch had been handed off to me. The gamut of emotions I've experienced during the past few weeks has been jarring - I'm reeling from the shock of receiving such a special gift, humbled by the trust my cousin, father and grandfather have put in me to take care of Rooster and excitement at owning a son of our stud. Of course, he's not really mine, I'm just watching over him until he meets up with Marty again. However, until that fateful day arrives, I'm going to cherish the runs I'll make and the calves I'll capture on the gorgeous, well-bred, inestimable gelding.


Rooster the rodeo horse with Rooster the rodeo dog making a cameo

 

I'm certain I've never felt more of a higher calling to give an animal supreme care than this very instance and I know that Marty will never be far away.

Until next time,
~ Buzzard ~