I was fully prepared to present you will with pictures of glorious raw food, in all its vibrant greens and crispy leaves, peppered with stories of how D.C.’s oppressive heat makes me lazier than Louis Pug and completely unwilling to put in effort for a good meal when I noticed it: a yellow tomato in the midst of his orange friends, the rest round and plump and this one shaped like a bell, just hanging out wondering how they hell he ended up the odd man out.
I could relate.
Yeah, I can relate to a tomato.
You can probably already see why I’m usually the odd woman out. Continue reading »









