From Unconscious Mutterings

Week 116

I say… And you think… ?

1. Detachment:: apathy
2. Regard:: esteem
3. Community:: service
4. Strike three:: you’re out
5. Congregation:: church
6. Generous:: to a fault
7. Pretention:: “An ounce of pretention is worth a pound of manure”
8. Pregnant:: pause
9. Drinking:: game
10. Brilliance:: unparalleled

* * * * *
And other stuff…
We were up at seven for choir practice and church today, which would have been lovely, except that I didn’t fall asleep til four. And I hadn’t had caffeine late at night, either.

After church, we went to Panera, where I picked all of the chicken out of my grilled chicken caesar salad (I didn’t like the dressing. It was NOT caesar, more like a spicy ranch), and then to a music store. I’m now the proud owner of an actual stand for my cello, a new music stand, and a spiffy electronic tuner, as well as a new rock-stop and some stuff that is the stringed-instrument equivalent of Mr. Sticky – basically, it helps keep the pegs from slipping. Useful, useful stuff.

Since Half Price Books is right next door to the music store, we went there as well. I looked at a bunch of things, but I just don’t LIKE used books – the smell funny – kind of musty and mildewed and old, and sometimes the previous owners were smokers, so that odor permeates the pages. UGH! (This is also part of the reason I don’t really like libraries, the other being my inability to return books on time, thus racking up enormous fines.) I did buy one book though, a dictionary of “phrases and fables” – it was under $6 and looked interesting.

We came home and took a nap, and then I got up and made chilli and we had chilli and chips and queso while we watched the rain fall on the deck outside, and laughed at the way the smokeless, dripless candles dripped and made smoke. (“I know!” I told Fuzzy. “They’re smokeless and dripless when they aren’t LIT!”)

Laundry’s on hold til tomorrow – I’m just not in the mood for further domestic goddess behavior.

I’m thinking of taking the online writing class at Zoetrope. Has anyone gone through it? Is it any good?

I’m not feeling very creative tonight, so I think it’s time to make another mug of mint tea and settle down with the Laurell K. Hamilton’s latest offering, A Stroke of Midnight.

Sometimes you’ve just gotta have a waffle. I’ve been craving them for weeks, actually, but kept putting off the inevitable. “They give me carb crash,” I told Fuzzy. “They’re too sweet, they’re not healthy, there’s no protein in them.”

Tonight, the cravings won out, however, and at eight-thirty at night, we left the house and went to the local IHOP. Now, IHOP is convenient and cheap, but let’s be honest – the amount of actual recognizable food they serve is pretty minimal. I mean, the fruit is all canned or frozen, the orange juice is from concentrate, I’m pretty sure the cheese comes in individually wrapped slices, and no one – NO ONE – can get perfect grill lines on sausage patties without an airbrush.

Also, I associate the place with one of Dennis Miller’s old (old, old) bits. “Does anyone ever expect to see anyone International in once of these places?” he riffed, going on to make snarky comments about imaginary syrup stewards, “I chose a very dry maple. It was busy, but never precocious.”

On the other hand, I don’t like keeping ant-inducing substances like maple syrup in my house, and while I make a fabulous beer-basted beef roast, I only learned to made decent hamburgers this year. So, when I refused to cook on the grounds of it being that time of the month as well as the fact that I’m tired and crabby and having a crisis of self-esteem, and then said, “I want waffles,” Fuzzy’s response was, “Get in the car.”

As dinner invitations go, I’ve had better. Nevertheless, ten minutes later we were holding hands across a formica table that featured a syrup caddy bolted to its edge (which, really, is pretty funny – can you imagine some old lady slipping syrup containers into her purse? Honestly – they never take anything larger than half-and-half containers!)

Now, I’m prone to arriving at a restaurant craving one thing, and then being perverse and ordering something completely different, which is great for ending hunger, but not so productive when it comes to killing a craving. Tonight, however, I reminded myself, “You always get distracted by things like cheese blintzes, and then you bitch because they make them with whipped cream and frozen fruit. Stick to the thing you want. It’s hard to ruin a waffle.” And so, I did.

I had my waffle, and I had some sausage with it. I don’t really like breakfast sausage all that much, but there’s something really comforting in the combination of salty spicy sausage coated in the remnants of the maple syrup that was poured over the waffle.

About forty-five minutes later, we were back home, with happy dogs, and sated cravings, and I hadn’t even commented that if I don’t go back to IHOP for another year, that wouldn’t be a tragedy or anything.

Well, I hadn’t commented out loud.