where grilled cheese came from

there's now a suggestion box in the cafeteria. i'd tell you the name of the cafeteria, but you'd think it's much too silly and i must be making it up.

ok, it's capital yum.

told ya. maybe i should make a suggestion.

anyway ... it's time for a story!

when was processed meat invented? i don't know ... probably in the 40s during "the war." that's when everything else was invented. so that'll be when our story takes place.

where was it invented? i'm going with oscartown on this one because the company info portion of the oscar mayer website says it a lot.

picture this: it's march, 1942 in oscartown. you're a cute blonde girl, about 27-ish years old. you're a desk jockey, and a damn good one. against your own best judgment (and your new year's resolution), you have to eat lunch in the company cafeteria every now and then. maybe it's because your best friend is on a cruise, or because neil wasn't at his desk at 12.30, or because everyone else shot down your offer. (you really need to start bringing lunch with you.)

from pork and pasta to salad and stir fry, you've methodically tried and ruled out the gamut of sodhexo offerings. lately, you've been getting sandwiches. they seem safe. salami, roast beef, chicken salad. then one fateful day it's turkey. slimy, shiny, processed turkey. how bad can it be?

your fourth bite finds something crunchy. and it's not lettuce - you already took that off because it tasted like dirt. so, out from between the slices of bread comes the gelatinous substance, leaving you with only cheese. with the enthusiasm of a clam, you work on choking down what's left of the sandwich. it's then that a random fellow employee wanders by and notices your pathetic lunch.

"cheese sandwich, huh?" reminding you how boring it is. "maybe you should cook it or something."
i know it doesn't fit the setting, but by some miracle there happens to be a george foreman grill in the galley. it fades into thin air after you finish making your sandwich.

there you have it! the grilled cheese sandwich is invented. like most artists, you go on to live a life of absolutely no fame or fortune, but your contribution to future generations of desk jockeys who have to eat in crummy cafeterias is immense ... and we thank you.

an interesting challenge

gonna build a doghouse this summer. hopefully. mom's working on the plans. i have the spot all picked out. it's gonna be great.

construction hasn't even begun and i'm already learning things about building dog houses. for example:

in order to determine the size of the house, you must first determine the size of the dog.

mom pointed this out to me last week. "you need to find out her height, width, and length." what followed was a fit of laughter that wasn't just mine. finetta joined in and asked if mom was serious.
so, what were my options?

1. measuring tape. not likely. i might get one measurement out of it, but as soon as it retracted, zoey would flee to the upstairs never to come down again.
2. yard stick. even less likely. she's afraid of the broom. 'nuff said.

i weighed the options carefully and decided to go with option #2 primarily because it didn't require digging through cabinets and toolboxes, which are things that don't appeal to us lazy folk. who knows why i thought the yard would be the best setting for this, but i did. i'm cracked.

fortunately, for every time zoey ran away, she ran back to the porch, close enough for me to grab her collar. after about a dozen attempts, i had three of the four measurements that we needed. the last one, "how about when she's curled in a ball" just isn't going to happen. mom's good at math. it's like star trek 4 ... she'll have to make a guess. and i'll trust it.

heartless

i don't know if i've ever told you this, but my neighborhood is infested with kids. to those of you who actually read this and are also parents: rock on ... your kids are awesome. (hi mom!)

now there's a new one. the self-proclaimed "SE" kid. not that there's anything wrong with that! i know plenty of current adults who should have been identified SE a long time ago. oh, stop acting like i'm not talking about you. anyway! something else you should know about him: as his stepmother drove by, she told me that he's a cross between dennis the menace and charles manson but that she loved him and she'd see us later. as far as i can tell, his only real flaws are that he's seen "the mask" too, too many times and that he comes over uninvited ... just like all the other kids ... all the non-SE kids.

so it has nothing to do with SE and everything to do with assuming i'm a likable part of the community, which i'm not. if you want to come over and rake my lawn, then i guess i'll learn to be. but if you want to come over and rake my lawn and fight with other kids about who gets control of a broom, well, then you have to go.

see how that works? here's another. if you want to come over and pull weeds out of my driveway, excellent. if you want to come over to ride your bike through the decorative grass, play with the wind chimes, pick wild cherries off my tree and throw them at my house, get the dog all riled up, watch a movie, tell me that you're thirsty, sell me something, or offer up random facts about a cheetah's eating habits ... well, maybe you should think about not hanging around.

christ ... i really am heartless, aren't i? and this wasn't even what i wanted to talk about! all i really wanted to tell you was that (a.) there's a new kid next door and (b.) the moment the lawnmower made an appearance in the front yard this weekend, all the kids within a half mile radius showed up on my porch. some of them wanted to help, some of them didn't. the ones who did stayed and took orders just as kids should. the ones who didn't went home to sell lemonade at the end of a dead end street.

what a wonderful metaphor for life.

wavelengths

on my way to work, i called dad because i suddenly thought it might be fun if he brought a machete.

"already packed!"

don't you wish you had that kind of connection with your family?

sign of spring

for the last 30-ish minutes, i've been seeing flashes of light out of the corners of my eyes. when it happens, i stop what i'm doing and stare in one direction for a few seconds to see if it happens again. it doesn't. it waits until i'm not paying attention because it enjoys taking me by surprise.
figments of my imagination? maybe. actual flashing light? maybe. i have it narrowed down to two movie scenarios:

1. signs. the aliens are looking for a place to land, my yard is vast, and my little house is no match to alien destruction rays. no fuss, no muss. i probably shouldn't be sitting upstairs, but i'm thinking that maybe it doesn't matter how high off the ground you are when you're disintegrated. does gravity affect that at all? maybe i should just make sure i'm near some water. i'll go sit in the bathroom.
2. phenomenon. i'm getting smarter so i can die young and brilliant. how ironic. why isn't jeopardy on when you need it? maybe with my newfound intelligence i'll be able to teach zoey how to dial 9-1-1 when the big moment comes. i'll be so smart, in fact, i'll be able to teach her how to dial 9-1-1 in english, arabic, latin, and ebonics. looks like aaron doesn't need to buy that thing we saw at the sharper image that translates dog barks into words. i'll already know.

wait ... i think it's raining. i'd forgotten what a thunderstorm sounds like. sorry for the false alarm.

habitual

that's what happens to me, too. i'll drive twenty miles and suddenly realize that i left it on the roof when i was in the grocery store parking lot. it brings me to a screaming halt on a dusty road where no one is around to care anyway, and i'm left feeling allergic and irresponsible.

denise and i had a smoke break this afternoon and she said [note: this is completely out of context], "i need therapy."

that's my story. i wait for things to change. when they do, i don't pay any attention until they're habit and i find myself waiting for things to change. guess what i'm doing right now. bingo. am i content? believe it, baby.