Who cares what Obama eats? I care what *I* eat.

My mom Cathy was frowning over her computer. “Maureen Dowd of the New York Times is desperate for some satiric wit,” she said. Mom is rarely sarcastic so I looked up from my nap to see what was going on.

“Maureen Dowd says President Obama preaches healthy eating but makes a big show of eating burgers and fries to show he’s a normal guy. Big deal. Why should we care what the President eats? Why do we have to eat greasy stuff to prove we’re normal?”

Mom was on a rant. She read parts of the story to me. Seems the president stopped at a burger joint, ordered a burger and fries and took back a bag of cheesburgers to the White House.

I might as well go back to my nap. I know what’s coming. Mom has very strong views on food. “Why do we forbid people to smoke marijuana,” she asks, “when we let them commit suicide by frosted cereal?” She thinks Cocoa Puffs should be outlawed.

Every time she reads a health column, I slink off to the bedroom and jump on my cushion on her bed. Out of sight, out of hearing range. I know what’s coming. “If everybody would meditate at least once a day for 15 minutes, exercise, and stop eating processed food, the health care crisis would go away. In fact, most doctors would go away. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Don’t get the wrong idea. Mom’s drink of choice is bottled water (she’s partial to Crystal Springs but she likes the Safeway brands too). Her drug of choice is caffeine, preferably French roast, preferably iced. The cats are allowed to get high on catnip. Me? I get to eat healthy food. Mom swears by Avoderm. She even makes me eat Avoderm treats.

Well, when she’s not looking, I’ve been known to…uh oh. If I want to keep this blog going, I’d better retur to my retreat in the bedroom.

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