working for slugworth?

since beth and i started this blog, i have become increasing irritating to my husband and friends as i now photograph every meal. because they love me, they have accepted this as a quirk, like wearing socks with sandals or listening to michael bolton (um, neither of which i do), and patiently humor me. i don't know if the exasperation stems from them waiting, forks poised, for me to be satisfied i have appropriately represented a piece of flourless chocolate torte, or the fact i don't photograph them anymore. somehow i feel it is the former.

i also have my own self-induced anxiety about taking pictures of my food. i'm not so much worried about other people at the restaurant wondering what in the hell is wrong with me. my greater concern is interrogation at the hands of a stuffy manager who catches me snapping shots of the restaurant's artistry. as my friend amy says, i am afraid someone will shout, "she works for slugworth!" and tackle me, wrenching the camera from my fingers and dashing it to the ground. not only would this be embarassing, i would also be out a digital camera.

i really just need to get over it.