Day two of Lent. Minor vices of those bent toward the Christian tradition are abandoned to make space for contemplative thought these forty days prior to Easter. That is, once the coffee and chocolate withdrawal symptoms of have worn off.

In general, I’m not a good giver upper. I am more of an adder. I mean, I could if I wanted to, I just don’t want to.

There are those stories of the gluten, alcohol, dairy, meat free folk who swear they have better mental acuity, are happier and full of renewed energy. Ok, but they are also depriving themselves of porcetta sandwiches washed down with a craft IPA. It’s a trade off for sure.

It seems like giving up anything requires some kind of explanation or philosophical stand. While adding demands none of that. Order a second round and no one will bat an eye, but say off the top “I think I’ll stick with water” – and there is an onslaught of whys and how comes. One better have a pretty damn good reason for refusing that bran muffin.

I met a guy for coffee the other day and he ordered decaf. I know, weird right?

The thing is, anytime someone refuses something, it calls into question the rest of us who don’t. Do they know something I don’t? Are they better than me? Am I weak for still wanting the cinnamon bun? Should I turn it down too – in solidarity? ‘Hey brother I’m with you, make mine with almond milk as well’.

These are odd times. We are consuming like never before, but at the same time seeking ways to pare down and simplify. We’re stuck between an attitude of scarcity and a desire for abundance. Well, maybe pondering that dilemma is worth going without salted caramel ice cream for a few weeks.