We observe meatless Fridays around here. This isn't often very hard -- we do our shopping on the weekends, so by Friday the fridge is getting rather bare. (Darwin opened the door the other day and remarked, "It's a bit minimalist, isn't it?") And, although we both like meat, we don't eat it every evening or even all that frequently. I sometimes wonder how much of a sacrifice our meatless Fridays really are.
Every now and then it does impinge on me, such as when we've had a rowdy morning and the girls are clamoring for lunch and I open the fridge and see leftover chicken enchiladas or spaghetti with meat sauce. It's more of a sacrifice for me to make sure the girls don't eat meat on Fridays than not to eat it myself.
Of course, Friday is usually when I get a craving for a thick, juicy hamburger...
Model of Apostolic Courage
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