What's for dinner??
I'm craving something hot and delicious in my belly right now. I'm hoping that tonight holds that for me. Today for breakfast I had a plate of strawberries. And right now, for lunch, I searched for something hot and delicious for my belly and came up with the following menu as I did not have anything hot and delicious:
A handful of whole grain Wheat Thins
A teaspoon of bacon bits
and
Two pickles which I ate diligently with a fork and knife
When my food needs are not met I become irritable. I laid on the new couch and counted how many flowers were on the wallborder surrounding the room. I knew it was 100 on the dot because I've counted it many times before. But whenever I become irritable, I go back and recount them. When I count wrong, I wonder if I had somehow miscounted the other times, and then I count again yelling, "It's 100!!!! I know it's 100!!! 1-2-3-4-5-6-7....." and so on until I get 100 again. Then I count it yet a third to confirm. This is what happens when one becomes crazy with food cravings. I'm glad I'm not pregnant or overweight. This could turn deadly. They'll find me one day in a pool of chicken alfredo with melted chocolate bars smeared on my face.
Since getting our new furniture (which was in February, though I'm sure it will be the "new furniture" for the next six years), it really hasn't felt like home since the "old furniture" (which one of the sofa's is outside as a plush garden bench of sorts for the critters of our yard). We constantly keep blankets over the sitting area and I insisted pillows be bought for lounging so the decorative pillows would not get smooshed. Even Bentley, our couch loving dog, had a hard time leaping up on the couches unless a blanket was placed there first. It's almost as if he sensed "Dude....I can't F this up...." He used to love to use the old furniture as a napkin after he ate dinner. With gravy around his mouth, he'd slide the side of his face along the bottom of the furniture. Now, he usually just pisses and moans until one of us gets a face cloth for him. If one of us dares to sit on the couch without a blanket on top, usually a glare will be given by another that says, "Should we really be doing this? Isn't it still early in the game???" If this was 40 years ago I certainly feel we'd be that household with the plastic on the furniture. The "new furniture" has become something sacred. They moved in, kicked the "old furniture" out, and now they have taken over the whole household.... even us. Even the dog. The good news is that we have started to regain control. I have dared to lay down without a blanket between me and it. I eat there more comfortably. Bentley has gone back to not giving a shit again. And all is right.
However, now I'm laying there counting flowers on wallborders over and over again. I'm aching for some wonton soup and a pasta dinner. The good news is, I'm saving some money since the semester is over and everything I eat isn't from Stop and Stop, Subway or Jackie's Galaxie. I sort of miss my Stop and Shop runs. Right before rehearsals or a call I'd go there and get my usually cinnimon apple muffin and an orange. One day while I was checking out I happened to get a person in front of me whose sale prices didn't come up on the reciept. Now, I'm as poor a college student as they come and this woman looked more than well off. If a sale price doesn't come up for me, I shrug, think "Eh... that entra 48 cents can go back to the government" and then I get my ass to whereever I need to be. Since Little Miss Gucci obviously had no where to be between her chauffeur dropping the kids off at school and tea time at the Newport Mansions, she could put up a hastle for as long as she needed. It soon became clear that it wasn't about the absent sale prices, but it was about making a scene for the sake of making a scene. I politely stood by while cursing her in my mind. Luckily, a little old lady behind me, who had more balls then me and the entire National Football League combined, started becoming quite vocal and bitching this woman out. It....was.....awesome. After she made a scene of her own, she grabbed her stuff and moved to another cashier. I soon followed suit. I then get behind another old lady, however, this one was no where as cool as the first one. She insisted that not only every item be singly bagged so they wouldn't be too heavy for her to carry, but each item had to be wrapped in a plastic bag, then put in a paper bag, then once again put in a plastic bag so she'd have handles. A stood there like a double-pan balance with my orange in one hand and my muffin in the other. All I could think was "You've got to be frickin' kidding me....all I have is a frickin' orange and muffin!!!!" After about 15 minutes of trying to buy two items in the slowest grocery shopping hour in the day, I walk out with a chain-smoking old woman coughing and hacking up her lung behind me. When she laughed she wheezed and was always followed by a cough that you could practically visuallize, just from the sound, her discolored phlem making it's way up and down her throat. We get out in the fresh air and she remarks to her friend, "Holy shit!!! It's as cold as hell out here!!" When she realized what she said, she was suddenly overcome that she had this seemingly remarkable gift for wit and continued with a hack, "HAH! Did you hear what I just said!!! Cold as HELL! HA! *cough*cough*" Yah, yah, we get it. Hell isn't cold. Bravo, you witty beast.
I unwrapped my muffin and took in the goodness of it's warm freshness and deliriously good smell. It's the moments like this that I live for.
So what's for dinner?
A handful of whole grain Wheat Thins
A teaspoon of bacon bits
and
Two pickles which I ate diligently with a fork and knife
When my food needs are not met I become irritable. I laid on the new couch and counted how many flowers were on the wallborder surrounding the room. I knew it was 100 on the dot because I've counted it many times before. But whenever I become irritable, I go back and recount them. When I count wrong, I wonder if I had somehow miscounted the other times, and then I count again yelling, "It's 100!!!! I know it's 100!!! 1-2-3-4-5-6-7....." and so on until I get 100 again. Then I count it yet a third to confirm. This is what happens when one becomes crazy with food cravings. I'm glad I'm not pregnant or overweight. This could turn deadly. They'll find me one day in a pool of chicken alfredo with melted chocolate bars smeared on my face.
Since getting our new furniture (which was in February, though I'm sure it will be the "new furniture" for the next six years), it really hasn't felt like home since the "old furniture" (which one of the sofa's is outside as a plush garden bench of sorts for the critters of our yard). We constantly keep blankets over the sitting area and I insisted pillows be bought for lounging so the decorative pillows would not get smooshed. Even Bentley, our couch loving dog, had a hard time leaping up on the couches unless a blanket was placed there first. It's almost as if he sensed "Dude....I can't F this up...." He used to love to use the old furniture as a napkin after he ate dinner. With gravy around his mouth, he'd slide the side of his face along the bottom of the furniture. Now, he usually just pisses and moans until one of us gets a face cloth for him. If one of us dares to sit on the couch without a blanket on top, usually a glare will be given by another that says, "Should we really be doing this? Isn't it still early in the game???" If this was 40 years ago I certainly feel we'd be that household with the plastic on the furniture. The "new furniture" has become something sacred. They moved in, kicked the "old furniture" out, and now they have taken over the whole household.... even us. Even the dog. The good news is that we have started to regain control. I have dared to lay down without a blanket between me and it. I eat there more comfortably. Bentley has gone back to not giving a shit again. And all is right.
However, now I'm laying there counting flowers on wallborders over and over again. I'm aching for some wonton soup and a pasta dinner. The good news is, I'm saving some money since the semester is over and everything I eat isn't from Stop and Stop, Subway or Jackie's Galaxie. I sort of miss my Stop and Shop runs. Right before rehearsals or a call I'd go there and get my usually cinnimon apple muffin and an orange. One day while I was checking out I happened to get a person in front of me whose sale prices didn't come up on the reciept. Now, I'm as poor a college student as they come and this woman looked more than well off. If a sale price doesn't come up for me, I shrug, think "Eh... that entra 48 cents can go back to the government" and then I get my ass to whereever I need to be. Since Little Miss Gucci obviously had no where to be between her chauffeur dropping the kids off at school and tea time at the Newport Mansions, she could put up a hastle for as long as she needed. It soon became clear that it wasn't about the absent sale prices, but it was about making a scene for the sake of making a scene. I politely stood by while cursing her in my mind. Luckily, a little old lady behind me, who had more balls then me and the entire National Football League combined, started becoming quite vocal and bitching this woman out. It....was.....awesome. After she made a scene of her own, she grabbed her stuff and moved to another cashier. I soon followed suit. I then get behind another old lady, however, this one was no where as cool as the first one. She insisted that not only every item be singly bagged so they wouldn't be too heavy for her to carry, but each item had to be wrapped in a plastic bag, then put in a paper bag, then once again put in a plastic bag so she'd have handles. A stood there like a double-pan balance with my orange in one hand and my muffin in the other. All I could think was "You've got to be frickin' kidding me....all I have is a frickin' orange and muffin!!!!" After about 15 minutes of trying to buy two items in the slowest grocery shopping hour in the day, I walk out with a chain-smoking old woman coughing and hacking up her lung behind me. When she laughed she wheezed and was always followed by a cough that you could practically visuallize, just from the sound, her discolored phlem making it's way up and down her throat. We get out in the fresh air and she remarks to her friend, "Holy shit!!! It's as cold as hell out here!!" When she realized what she said, she was suddenly overcome that she had this seemingly remarkable gift for wit and continued with a hack, "HAH! Did you hear what I just said!!! Cold as HELL! HA! *cough*cough*" Yah, yah, we get it. Hell isn't cold. Bravo, you witty beast.
I unwrapped my muffin and took in the goodness of it's warm freshness and deliriously good smell. It's the moments like this that I live for.
So what's for dinner?