duck-shaped pain


Where I Befriend Some Giant Cheese

Some good things:

  • I ate something called Pocket Curry for lunch, and it was actually good in addition to having an outstanding name. I found it at the natural food market, where I went this morning to buy my lunch. I stop there nearly every work day, usually buying juice (carrot or green), a Luna bar and either a tofu salad sandwich [1] or a vegan breakfast burrito. Today, though, they were out of sandwiches and I decided I had reached a saturation point with the burritos, so I needed something new. Since I am a big sucker for anything called Pocket (Something-or-Other), it was the obvious choice. Should you ever find yourself debating the merits of a Pocket Curry yourself, I'll let you know that it's basically a little calzone filled with mildly curried potatoes, broccoli and other vegetables. There's also something called Pocket Spinach and the disturbingly named (when you think about it) Pocket Vegan.

  • During an moment of intense radio dissatisfaction this afternoon in the car, I turned on the college station and they started playing one of my favorite songs, one which I had never heard played on any radio anywhere – "Bad Seeds" by Beat Happening. [2]

  • It was nippy enough today to feel like fall, and I celebrated by breaking out the polarfleece leggings. Today was a nice combination of weather – cool, yet blindingly sunny, with not a cloud in the immediate four-state region. It was nice enough to sit outside and drink coffee at the bagel shop, which I did this afternoon after I got off work earlier than usual, but cool enough that I got some odd looks from more bundled-up passerby.

  • Giant Asiago Cheese Wedge. I went to Sam's Club [3] last night to get dog food and coffee and anything else that looked like it was necessary to own in large quantities. I usually breeze by their cheese section, as I generally am not in the market for cheese, but last night I paused to look, and was glad I did. Giant wedges of Asiago cheese – my favorite kind – as far as the eye could see (if you had only one really tiny eye). "Giant" isn't some exaggeration on my part – I bought the smallest wedge, and it's over three and a half pounds of cheesy goodness. Now I just have to figure out what to DO with it.

  • Library book sale tomorrow. I love the library book sales here, and this is the first year they've decided to hold one in the fall. Usually there's only the one, in April, and I didn't get to go this year. I could have gone, but I was on crutches. I figured that being in a crowded room with hundreds of other people, all ready to be as rude as necessary to get the books they want, would not be the best thing to do. So, hopefully, I'll find some things tomorrow that will make it worth my while.

[1] Better than it sounds, I swear. I'm not a big fan of name-of-ingredient salad sandwiches in the first place, so tofu salad (or, as the store calls them, Tofuna Salad) is perfectly acceptable to me. I know the above list of food sounds mightly healthy, but believe me, I need a healthy lunch to cancel out all sorts of dinner sins.

[2] A source of potential future happiness is the fact that there's a BH box set coming out next January – which will include, as far as I can tell, everything they ever did. Laying aside for a moment the issue as to whether owning the entire output of one particular band is too much of a good thing or not, and steering clear of any thoughts that it seems a little premature for bands I like to be getting box sets already, I think this will be my birthday gift to myself next year. (January 16, in case you wanted to know….)

[3] Where I run into the best freaks of all. Now, you may have noticed that I often encounter very interesting people, usually in line at the grocery store, but I haven't written much about the people in Sam's Club. While I was waiting to purchase last night's giant wedge, I was behind an older couple. The man I noticed first – he was wearing a hat and a brown, food-spotted t-shirt, both festooned with buttons. All the buttons were alike – they all said, in big black block letters, "NO GUN CONTROL." I guess we all know where he stands. Thank you for allowing me to pigeonhole you right away, sir. Now, alone, he would have not really been worth writing about. But, then I saw his woman. She had been behind their enormous cart (piled high with sandwich meat and printer paper), so I only saw the top of her, which seemed normally clad in a black short-sleeve shirt. Then, the checker moved the cart and I saw what she was wearing on the bottom – sparkly hot pants with Donald Duck on them. I am allergic to sequins anyway – seeing them in this particular combination nearly caused hives. They were quite the couple, and I kept hoping that some other line would open to save me and my giant wedge from these folk.

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