Tonight the UConn women go against the upstart Oregon Ducks. And although I know everyone thinks UConn women win all the time, well, don't think that means it's *easy* on us, the fans. It's not. It's the opposite of easy. It's hard.
So. Go UConn! I feel confident that Huskies can, um, beat? eat? the Ducks. I hope so. I do always enjoy duck 'orange.
In the last few weeks, I have continued to share my
leftovers with hungry folks around town. It has become a regular part of my
morning routine to poke around the fridge for anything that might be a viable
and deliverable meal or snack. One day this week, I warmed up some delicious turkey
chili that had been forgotten in a far corner of my fridge. While it was in the
microwave, I mentioned in an email to my family that I had concerns about the
spiciness, which was the real reason that this delectable mini feast had languished
in the fridge so long. Clara can’t handle the truth, man. I didn’t eat it
either, but that’s because it had black beans and we all know* that I should
NOT eat black beans. Anyway. I thought
about finding a little container to put some sour cream or yogurt in for
cooling purposes, but then I got a hold of myself and remembered that I had to
pack a lunch for myself and get my weird ass to work.
I do put thought into how these meals go together, though. In
addition to being tasty and nutritious, I want them to be in the right kind of
container, with utensils, and a napkin. I stop short of putting in a little
note of encouragement like I used to do in my kids’ lunchboxes, but why?
Okay, so maybe I’m getting a little obsessive about this.
Maybe it’s partially about my kids getting older and needing me less and me
really liking to take care of people. I don’t know, but I do know that the day
I delivered my chili was profoundly moving to me. I did my usual lap around the
transit station parking lot, and saw a guy that I’m pretty sure I had given
something to before when he was sleeping, because I remember how blue his eyes
were when they flew open. On this day he was sitting up on a low wall, thumbing
through his wallet. When I walked over and asked if he was hungry, he stood up
with a huge smile and those bright blue eyes and seemed so genuinely happy, and
in my perception it seemed that he had been sitting there hungry and wondering
how he’d get food just at the precise moment that I walked up to save the day.**
This morning I had a nice batch of rice, beans, corn, and
chicken with some masala sauce. I was chagrined not to have a proper container
to put it in, and had to settle for a zip lock bag. Unsatisfactory. I found a
SeaWorld gift bag (thanks Beth!) and put the zip lock bag inside along with a
rejected half bag of whole grain cheez its (spoiled jerks) and one remaining
green pistachio muffin from St. Patrick’s Day. I also threw in a fork and a
bottle of water that would have been really helpful with the spicy chili.
As I drove toward work with the intention of a quick detour
to the transit center lot, I thought about the blue eyed man and wondered if he’d
be in his usual spot. I let my mind wander to a story about having an arrangement
where I brought him food on a regular basis, and thought I should leave the
house earlier so I could talk with him for a few minutes rather than swooping
by with my weird deliveries and then racing off to work without even knowing
his name. I started to wonder about this man and his life, and how he came to
be where he is today.
I arrived at the lot and did a lap, but the blue eyed man
wasn’t in his spot. I made another turn looking for a good place to drop off
the shamu bag, and saw two men talking on the sidewalk next to their
belongings. I pulled over and grabbed the bag, asking out the window if they
were hungry. One man turned to walk toward me and I was pleasantly surprised when
I saw his blue eyes! He stumbled a bit on his way to meet me. When he took and
thanked me for the bag, he flashed that big smile around the impossibly long line
of snot that ran from his nose to…. I don’t know where, I kept my blue eyes
locked on his. We maintained that eye
contact right up until the moment he fell over, clearly hammered, and stayed on
the ground, still smiling.
I should have thrown a few aspirin in the bag.
Isn’t life weird?
*Seriously, how does anyone eat black beans and live to tell
the tale? They are kryptonite to my GI tract
Once upon a glass or twelve of wine, Jacquie and Beth and Ellie got to talking. We decided that we were all enormously smart and clever and hilarious, and that it would be a crime not to share our unique talents with the world. We decided to start a blog together.
We needed a name, so Jacquie asked Beth: “What should we call a blog about meand you and Ellie?” And the rest, as they say, is history. We are having a blast writing this thing, and if there was any trepidation that we were only smart and clever and hilarious that night because of all the wine, our words here thus far have succinctly affirmed our mutual self-admiration.
What are you reading?
Ellie - The Tsar of Love and Techno, Anthony Marra
Jacquie - The Nightingale, Kristen Hannah
Beth - Perfection: A Memoir of Betrayal and Renewal by Julie Metz