This was breakfast on Friday: one of my friend’s warm-from-the-oven croissants, sliced open, with a Hershey’s Special Dark bar slid in sideways, and nuked for 15 seconds.
No pictures of the leftovers from Friday night’s dinner, or from yesterday’s breakfast at Chef Pointe Cafe, where I had a three-egg omelette with onions, red peppers, and pepperjack cheese, their signature hash browns (the exquisitely seasoned love child of french fries and potatoes O’Brien), and toast; toast being a relative word, because what they brought me was a slice of Texas Toast that had been browned slightly on each side and was adequately buttered but inadequately dark and crunchy.
There was a comment on my friend Kristen’s blog in response to her excerpt from this article. I am appropriating the comment, because it made me chortle: “Always read stuff that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it...” Which leads me to an interesting exchange at the doll meet yesterday.
I got to meet another LDS doll collector and his wife. Fourthborn is an assistant manager in a department of the business office for a large comic-book shop. If she doesn’t read or collect a particular series, she is at least somewhat-to-very familiar with it. The good brother and I were discussing costumes, and he made a reference to the costume of some character in a book [not sure if it’s a comic book or a manga series], which Fourthborn caught, and I gave him a smile and a shrug and apologized: “I’m sorry. I read Jane Austin. I’m boring like that.”
Fourthborn was only too happy to notarize my statement, and we all had a good laugh. Manga is not without its charms, and I am a highly visual person, and I’ve read a few graphic novels that did not put me to sleep as quickly as a CPCU textbook. It is nevertheless a fact that I am in love with words (you may have noticed), and I like my books to have lots of shiny clean words in them, strung together in orderly and witty fashion. Ergo, I love Jane Austen.
And when I die, I will probably be found on the couch, glasses askew atop my head or perched precariously on the back of the couch, a well-thumbed copy of The Book of Mormon or Pride and Prejudice having fallen jelly-side-down onto The Girls, or the couch. And one of the angels will shake his/her head sadly and say, “Oh man, she was just getting to the point where Mr. Darcy woke up and smelled the Postum!”
I have new socks. [I know, more exciting news.] Five pairs of new socks to be exact, because I think part of the problem with this recurring athlete’s foot is that some of my socks do not get entirely disinfected in the wash. I have been throwing away a sock here, and a sock there, when my foot seems worse at the end of the day. I think the culprits are the handful of nylon socks I bought when my favorite colorful all-cotton socks were no longer carried at Wally World. These new ones are 73% cotton; I wish they were 100% cotton, but I do not know a source for cotton socks that come in crazy colors and cost $1.00 a pair.
Needless to say, my obscenely expensive hand-knit socks are coming nowhere near my bad foot until my feet are healthy again. Because that would just make me cry. (I try them on as I go, on the good foot, which is a little bigger than the sick one, which is nowhere near as sick as it has been, woohoo!)
In other shopping news, I picked up 10 cans of tomato soup and another 10 cans of more imaginative soup and ten cans of tuna, using my reward card at one of the large chains; $39.70 worth of food, for $20.00. I put the difference into my gas tank. Lorelai is happy with me.
I also brought home some carrot sticks and nice fat apples and two new varieties of steamer veggies to try, and raspberry sorbet and dulce de leche ice cream. Because all whole grains and no cream makes Ms. Ravelled one cranky chica!
- Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!