I’m tryin’ to make a dollar out of fifteen cents
The days growing up I dreaded the left-overs. It’s night and day with my inner feelings regarding left-overs and yet at some point in my life left-overs became cool. I love the left-overs.
The meal that was prepared from previous food particles. It sounds so barbaric like I’m dinning on scraps from two nights ago. It’s really nothing barbaric. And growing up I can look back and see how those meals stretched out the food for the family. It made it last longer because we could truly enjoy it multiple times before it went bad.
I look back and see how those food values sustained us growing up and maybe now in the present the economic situation for myself is reasonably good, but I recognize food used wastefully in the culture. Nothing goes to waste isn’t the case we are focused on. There is so much food that we can choose not to worry about it’s well-being or state. Does food care that we don’t care?
I feel like I’m only the left-overs and maybe you want something straight from the stove. Fresh goes bad oh well. My bad.