When I started writing Green Peccadilloes nearly a year ago, my image of the project was that it was a way to chronicle the stops and starts of a regular person – busy, distracted, overwhelmed – trying to make better choices about food, and by extension, better choices generally. I wanted to be more committed to understanding food sources and the broader implications of choosing to direct my buying power in a way that made me feel better. Knowing myself, the title reflected what were sure to be little slip ups along the way. I liked that “green peccadilloes” sounded vaguely culinary but really referenced minor indiscretions. Am I a bad person because I don’t eat exclusively grass-fed beef? Depends on who you ask, I suppose, but I’d argue no. Would I like to change my habits so that I am not, even occasionally, supporting commercial enterprises that do not reflect my beliefs? You betcha.
But I lost my way a bit. I’m so appreciative of those of you out there that enjoyed reading about my adventures, but I started to feel that I was telling the world what I had for dinner instead of telling a story. And, lo and behold, life has a way of changing the story on you. As I move forward and reconnect with what is really important to me, I look forward to revisiting my earlier goals, albeit through a slightly different lens. I starting writing from a place where I wasn’t sure I was happy with some of the choices I’d made and I was determined to explore the what ifs from the safety of my good job. Now I’m writing from a place where I’m not sure I’m happy about things that were not my choice, but are in fact my reality. Instead of exploring the what ifs, I now think it’s best to look forward and accept new challenges. Maybe there’ll be a better story to tell than just what’s for dinner.