After three months, the experiment has ended.

Batta was in town for business this past weekend, so we hung out on Saturday in San Francisco playing tourists.  After visiting Alcatraz, we met up with Voda and some other Rose alumns for dinner at Destino.  Destino is a tapas restaurant, and the menu was what finally forced the experiment to end.

You see, for the past three months I have been… a vegetarian.  I’ve rarely been eating meat for the past few years, so when an incredibly long line for beef hamburgers at a “welcome grad students” picnic conspired with hunger to drive me to eat a Boca burger, I decided to take the plunge.

My motivation wasn’t health or ethical concerns as much as it was the challenge.  I wanted to see what it was like, to see how others treated me.  I decided that I would continue the experiment until forced by social pressure to deviate.  One other thing — I wouldn’t tell anybody what I was doing, but I would answer truthfully if asked directly.

I figured that somebody would notice what I was doing, but nobody — not one person — ever brought it up.  If they noticed that I shied away from burger joints and avoided pepperoni pizza, they didn’t mention it.  I perceived no difference in treatment.

The tapas finally did me in.  Virtually all of them featured some sort of dead critter, and the group was sharing everything that was ordered, so seeking only the veggie options would have been unworkable.  And so, for the first time since mid-September, I enjoyed the taste of beef, chicken, and fish.

What’s next?  For efficiency reasons, I’m going to continue to emphasize plants in my diet, but I’ll make exceptions for certain holidays and traditions.   Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to slip off my leather shoes and go to bed.

Yesterday, I checked another item off of my life to-do list: rush the field after a football game.

I sat one row back from the field  in the end zone at yesterday’s Big Game between Cal and Stanford.  Remarkably, Stanford earned and kept the lead, and when the final second ticked away, I was one of the first to the grass.  The sheriffs in riot gear had no prayer of stopping the thousands of jubilant Stanford students, so they stood off to the side.

The experience was exactly as I had imagined it: wonderful.

What has been consuming my life? Tagg, you’re it.

When you think about the months in a year, what image pops into your head? Whenever I am trying to manipulate dates that span more than a month, I always picture something like this:

I suspect that layout of months got stuck in my mind because my elementary school calendar had a similar structure.

How do other people visualize the months of a year?

Update: Other people have posted examples in the comments. No overlap yet.

Another milestone has been passed in Keacherland: I have become one of “those guys” when I find myself in a Starbucks. Short dry cap, “for here.”

It really is decent. Still overpriced, but decent.