• Relapse

    Wouldn’t you know it; Adam woke up in the middle of the night last night. Just who does he think he is? Can you believe the nerve of some babies, filling their parents with false hope like that? He sleeps through the night for a few nights in a row, so I let my guard down, then WHAAA, WHAA, WHAAAAAAAAAA, it’s heads up at 2:30 a.m.

    Cheryl got up first. I heard her rustling in the kitchen, and I continued to lie in bed with this vague, hazy notion that something was wrong. Baby, crying, 2:30 a.m. , Cheryl in kitchen, something wrong, can’t, quite, decide, blanket warm, bed good, no, something wrong, must get up,.

    I stumbled into the kitchen, doing my best impersonation Dudley Moore (sans alcohol). I mumbled something to Cheryl that I can’t quite recall and went back to bed. I just hope I didn’t say anything to make her mad. She didn’t get mad or laugh at me, so I guess it wasn’t anything too bad. Still, I always find it troubling when I can neither recall my actions or nor why I did them; especially since I don’t drink or do drugs (other than caffeine of course).

    Of course the moment I recover the mental acuity to visualize that child of mine, his pudgy little face grinning up at me, all is forgiven. I’m anticipating that moment anytime now.

  • The perils of trying new things

    I’ve read recently that tea is good stuff. Yes, I’ve been reading that book on nutrition again. No, I’m not going to try and explain what the value of tea is, you’re just going to have to take it on faith. So anyway, I tried mixing up a batch for work today, but I noticed something a mite disturbing. If you shake up a batch of tea in a bottle of water, it looks suspiciously like you took a bathroom break under your desk (using said bottle). I’d like to see you explain that one to your boss.

    I also learned that you shouldn’t screw around with the directions. There are any number of things that taste worse than an overly strong batch of tea, I just can’t think of them right now. Kinda makes me yearn for a nice glass of premium unleaded.

  • Genesis of the cranky consumer; or, “Quiznos, why hast thou forsaken me?”

    Our weekend dinner routine goes something like this:
    J – “What would you like for dinner?”
    C – “I don’t know. What would you like?”
    J – “I don’t know, I asked you first.”
    C – “So, what’s your point?”
    J – “Custom dictates that whoever is asked first must yield to the questioner prior to posing any further questions.”
    C – “That’s crap.”
    J – “Hey, I don’t make up custom; I only follow it when it’s convenient.”
    C – “Speaking of convenient, what do you think about that new Starbucks that opened up? I can hit that baby on the way to work without breaking lanes. Sweet!”
    J – “You’re telling me. My bladder’s filling up just thinking about it.”
    C – “You know, you said you were going to fix the toilet seat in our bathroom on Saturday. What’s the deal with that?”
    J – “No no, I said I’d fix it on ‘a Saturday.’ There’s a BIG difference. I didn’t say it would be THIS Saturday.”
    C – “I just looked up ‘smite’ in the dictionary. How would you like to see a practical application?”
    J – “I like a good smiting as much as the next guy, but could we eat first?”

    Off we went in search of toasted bliss. The first sign of trouble was the “space for rent” sign in the window of the former local home of Quiznos.

    Have you ever had a hankering for something specific, and then have to settle for something else? Waiters hate it when that happens, it has “small tip” written all over it. When you’re standing out in the cold, looking through a dark window searching for any flicker of hope, well, there’s always Publix. Ah, but it’s just not the same.

    You can still taste it. The bread. The ingredients. The unique blend of flavors you haven’t found anywhere else, before or since. Now it’s gone. That Publix sub may be really good, and it definitely has its moments, but it’s not what you want right now.

    Ah well, there’s always that smiting I’ve got coming,