Sometimes I think that universal Spellcheck is the work of the devil, because I'm convinced that it's slowly but ever-so-surely stealing my obviously god-given gift for arranging letters into words. (That last sentence was so tongue-in-cheek that I think I may have bitten said tongue, a little bit.)

I've spent the last 5 minutes staring intently at the word "business," convinced that this is not, in fact, the proper spelling, the letters jumbling themselves into gibberish - not unlike my preschoolers, who say a word over and over until it has completely lost all meaning. My main confusion lay in the fact that "business" is so obviously "busy-ness" - being engaged in activity, full of clutter. "Busyness" should not be a real word - its mere appearance betrays its innate clumsiness. And yet that is the accepted spelling, and "business" is assigned to describe staring down the barrel of a gun or that errand you have to take care of during lunch. Maybe it's no coincidence that "business" should really be pronounced "busyness"? How do words mirror their creator's outlook on the world? When do they start taking on a life of their own?

The Third Tier of Eating Alone

THE FIRST TIER: "I always eat at home because I live alone, but every night is different, depending on the day's events. The best, most desirable dinners start with an early arrival home and groceries in the fridge already. I grill a chop, make a salad, cook a favorite vegetable, or bake a potato. I'm in front of the TV in time for The Closer."

THE SECOND TIER: "When I'm tired and sad, I make a fried egg sandwich with Pepperidge Farm's very thin white bread and watch reruns of Law and Order."

THE THIRD TIER: "I eat a pint of chocolate ice cream and watch whatever's on."

-from What We Eat When We Eat Alone

Last night, I'm ashamed to say that I found myself staring down the remains of a smallish flourless chocolate cake that a coworker insisted on giving me (yesterday), even though I vainly protested that I could not be trusted to be left alone with such a creation. I saw that it had been processed in a facility that also deals with wheat, but since that type of contamination rarely bothers me, and I had worked 11 hours on 600 calories...I lost my mind over that cake, a little bit. Today I am ache-y and full of remorse.

I'm reading a book called What We Eat When We Eat Alone. It's making me think a lot about eating rituals and the self-respect it takes to put as much effort into cooking for yourself as you do when you cook for others. A level of self-love that I, quite simply, have not yet attained. Though I did make some delicious chili last week, the rest of the time it's cereal, yogurt, frozen vegetables and peanut butter from the jar. Every once in awhile a rotisserie chicken from the grocery store. Or Greek yogurt and peanut butter for an apple dip.

What do you eat when you eat alone? Is it your time to eat combinations you feel others would balk at? Do you go the single girl route of the jar and the spoon? Or do you take the time to create a dining experience for yourself, whether that experience be a box of mac & cheese (served with no remorse) or a salad and steak combo? Do you eat at your table or curl up in bed? I think eating alone might be one of the most intensely private rituals we have - what does your ritual say about your relationship with yourself, and with food?