Someone asked me, as she frequently does, if I'd like to get coffee. Since, this morning on the couch naked in my bathrobe spooning Cranberry Crunch with soy milk, flax seed, and dried cranberries into my piehole, I was really jonesin' for today to be Bathrobe Day at Dot Org, I figured coffee would be a fine thing. Off we went, to find two other Dotorgistas in the elevator. They were going to Diedrich's, but we changed their course. Once in Starbucks, one nearly bought Clyde's twin brother (now 1/7 of what I paid) but resisted. When my turn came, I realized I had just come along for the walk. I didn't want anything. Coffee would upset my stomach. The Starbucker, my coworkers, and I all laughed at me. On the way back, I realized I could be one of those Visa commercials. "Cup of coffee, $3.00. Bottle opener, $0.29. Personal cup discount, minus $0.10. Total cost, $3.19. Pleasure of lisa's company, priceless."
My gut is indeed distressed this morning. Last night RDC went to a beer festival with SPM. Around 6:00 I had soup from our big cook-up Sunday evening, then worked on Illustrator (and browsed some new journals) until after 10. I put Buddy to bed and settled down to watch ER, which I'd taped (remember, Mountain time zone television is an hour early), and at 10:30, RDC came home bearing a gift. He isn't Greek, so I didn't beware him but asked "What's in the box?" I figured he'd brought me home dessert from their going out to dinner. Big box, though, big dessert. But no. "It's leftover prime rib and mashed potatoes."
If I were a pointer dog I'd've pointed. If I were a Lab my ears would've perked up and out. If I were a German Shepherd my ears would've swiveled forward. Human, I used what facilities I possess. "Can I have it?"
I have been craving protein-rich foods since I fell. Chicken, fish, cheese, yogurt, sure, but this was beef. I opened the box. There lay a segment of cow, delicious marbled beef, rosey red. About a third of a pound. The mashed potatoes, full of chives and garlic, might have been good if they were hot or if I liked mashed potatoes enough to like them cool, but I didn't. Just the meat, thank you.
RDC felt a little guilty about going out to a pricier-than-usual supper while I stayed at home trying to figure out Bézier curves. Naked in my bathrobe, cuddled on the couch with my feet under RDC's leg, eating succulent beef, watching ER in the dark and being able to fast-forward through commercials, resentment was the furthest thing from my mind.
Sitting on my ass learning Illustrator instead of going out with a friend. Being happier eating cold leftovers at home in my robe instead of at a restaurant. I'm not really a recluse. Honest.
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Today is the fourth anniversary of Blake's adoption. Talk about priceless. We gave him extra head-petting, but that's all. Observing this date is meant to alleviate the guilt of boarding him over his hatchday in August. Evidence that all bird owners are insane: I wish I had not only Blake's egg but his eggtooth as well. (I figure that's not nearly as freakish as preserving Jesus's foreskin, but still.)
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Last modified 23 October 1999
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