This weekend has been relatively uneventful, fast-wise. A little wooziness here and there, but no strong hunger pangs. I suppose they've passed. Tonight I went into the Sinclair gas station to prepay for my fuel and the cashier had a whole pizza, box top open lying on the counter. I must have been staring at it because she asked me if I wanted a slice. I haven't been telling strangers or people I don't know well that I'm fasting, but I thought it would be rude if I didn't give a reason for refusing.
"No thanks, I'm fasting," I said.
She nodded knowingly. "For the Lord?" she inquired, her voice raised on the last word. I smiled, nodded, waved, and walked out to fill up my tank. It felt good to refuse the food when the temptation was strong. Although, I don't think I would normally even seriously consider accepting food from a stranger in a situation like that.
Brian and I were commiserating with each other Saturday at the movies about not being able to eat in social situations. His wife, Angela, and another girl that was at the movies with us, Alex, had run over to Chipotle for dinner between films in our discount theater mini movie marathon. We stayed behind at the theater while they ate. Food is not just sustenance when in a social situation, it's something people gather around. It's also something to do. When I'm by myself, I can read, or blog, or take the dog for a walk. Around others, though, it feels like I'm missing out on something if I'm not partaking.
I also realized that the Super Bowl lies within the fast period. Last year I hosted a Super Bowl party that had a 18"x24" New York style pizza from the best pizzeria in town, 100 chicken wings in 4 flavors, a giant bowl of candy, and 6 different microbrews. I even featured a different chip and dip or salsa every quarter. And a veggie tray. Maybe this year I should have a custom juice and smoothie bar and 6 different flavors of Vitamin Water.
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