I think I have forgotten the flavour of cheese.
Alliance + Progressive Conservatives = New political party to mock!! Pat Carney thinks it’s an important first step. She still has not had surgery to correct her sinus/adenoid issues.
Anyway, the flavour of cheese. I still want pizza. I still want lasagna. I don’t so much crave nachos, though it’s only 7:15 am and I never crave nachos at this time of day unless I’m still up from the night before or have been to sleep but am still drunk. Any way you crack it, nachos before noon is a bad idea.
But what does it taste like? I fear that in a week I will open up the cheese and feel vomitorious because it is bacterial yuck and my brain will know that again. That would be sad! I have travelled long distances learning to love cheese. Then, to hate it, would be heartbreaking.
Yesterday, at the grocery store, it was 5:30. I was shopping with all the other people who work because I worked yesterday. So the express line was clogged with slightly damp, cranky women with straggles coming out of their ponytails, buying whatever foods they had been craving all day while sitting at their desks or in their cars on their way home. I got in line with olives, salami, chips and salsa and quickly realized I was in the chatty cashier line. This woman is so friendly -really, it’s great, as she is also efficient and gets your groceries scanned quickly and your change to you bam! like that – that she will keep talking to you until you’re out of the store and back in the parking lot. She will turn and keep yelling the story she’s telling until you’re out of earshot. She was doing this with the man ahead of the woman ahead of me. Talking about the weather. The woman in front of me was very in a hurry. Her ponytail was in its end stages and she really needed that apple cider in her fridge at home. Maybe she had a date, or she wanted to get her dinner ready before The West Wing started. I don’t know, but she was huffing and puffing like a steamtrain. So cashier is yelling “have a great evening! watch out for the bad drivers! enjoy your sandwich!” at the man, and the woman is pushing her groceries up, up, closer, THERE. “OH!” says the cashier, “I know what you’re making! Lasagna!” Sure enough, the woman in front of me has, like, 17 kinds of cheese. Ricotta, parmesan, brie, mozza; plus ground beef, fresh noodles, etc. It’s a good guess. “Something like that,” says Miss Crankypants. I mean, what else could you be making with those ingredients that’s Something Like Lasagna? A lasagna casserole? That’s lasagna, right there. Lasagna soup? Well that’s just fucked up.
Little anecdote about cheese, that’s the only significance there.
I have a headache. My father’s wine is suddenly headache inducing. This is Not Good.