Peeling Onions

Every Sunday I am blessed with the priveledge of peeling 50lbs of onions. Cut off each end, tear off skin, discard. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. It's all very mind-numbing. But today, in my zen-like state of peel, a strange thought arose. It started with the notion of the vegetarian not wanting to eat cute and fuzzy little animals. Unfolding from that (not too unlike stripping the first layers from my onions) was a memory of having once heard of people who don't eat anything that 'lives'. From what I could gather from my foggy, urban legend, back up files was that this included vegetables; And yes my dear onions. So as I sliced and sliced and peeled some more, I imagined that there had to be one psycho out there who actually thought my onions could feel pain. And for a moment I actually felt badly for the pungent little guys. Then I wondered if once the macheted layers had been peeled clean, was the pain gone? Such a rampant train of thought reminded me how much I hate peeling onions!!!