lemony goodness

So NaBloPoMo, that insidious entity which has reached out from November to infect other months, is calling to me once again. Just post every day for a month, they say. It's that simple. And July's theme? Irresistible - it's food. When do I not have something to say about food? I don't mind admitting that I equate food with love, that I plan dinner while eating breakfast, that I am the most hypocritical vegetarian of all time. Food, what do I not have to say about it? And so, I suppose, I will try. Or, in the words of Yoda, "There is no try, only do." So I will do. I will post every day in July and I will post about food.


After all, clearly I have not been very motivated to post on my own. My seal stories have not brought me to the keyboard - even though last week I had a most fabulous adventure involving the nuclear power plant and a very cute man with a very big machine gun. Even in the midst of much family drama, I have held back. As I see it, some stories are not mine to tell - at least not until they are fully adjudicated. Besides, I might as well save some of the good stuff for the Christmas letter... But just because I don't want to leave you totally hanging, here's a hint - a snapshot of the rear end of my sister-in-law's very smushed, very expensive van, taken via a recent iChat I enjoyed with the only brother I have who has never been arrested on felony charges.

And yet as much as I know I need to post and as much as I love food, I find myself tonight thinking only of cat food - the 200 cans of it I bought this week that I still have to put away. The 200 cans that make me feel ever more like the crazy cat lady. The 200 cans that will not even make it through the end of July when I return from my vacation. The 200 cans that I charged to the credit card because expenses are expected to eclipse income this month.

On a more pleasant note, I considered posting about something that isn't actually edible but which smells a bit like food. At long last, the sweet smell of something other than cat urine permeates my house. Though the carpet cleaner finished nearly twelve hours ago, the tangy citrus fragrance of $159 well spent still dominates my humble abode. The humility of said abode is particularly pronounced this evening. As the carpets slowly dry, all the crap from the two giant cat boxes bedrooms is dominating the only remaining living space. The treasures that I found so cute when arranged just so are now menacing, suffocating, discouraging. Even so, I struggle to imagine parting with even a portion of it. A friend of mine is having a garage sale this month and after today it seems she may get to sell my robot cat and my skull bank, but other than that it mostly gets to stay. But is posting about clutter in a room that smells sort of like food truly in keeping with the NaBloPoMo theme? I think not.

And so, I suppose I am left to post about the grand day of take out I enjoyed today. It started with a trip to my favorite breakfast joint, Kitty's, where Erik and I first fled to avoid the fumes. Kitty's is the land of the hangover helper: one potato pancake and a half order of french toast. Good thing I wasn't actually hungover, though, cuz today's waitress was the one who doesn't bring a full half order of french toast - she brings a third of an order, which is really just weird. Still, she is possibly preferable to the other waitress, the one who brings a half order but charges for a full order. But ideally it is best to be hungover when the owner is working, as the half order of french toast is not actually on the menu and only she is able to hook me up with the right amount at the right price. Of course, when I am truly hungover, Erik is generally fetching me my starchy savior so who knows or cares what I pay, right? Anyway, today I was hangover free so I branched out and had a half stack of blueberry pancakes instead. Yum.

Then, returning to the lemony fresh house, I was amazingly spared the traditional post-Kitty's food coma. Instead it seems it was Freaky Friday, for Erik is the one who spent the rest of the day in a carbohydrate-fueled slumber. I sat here, hating my stuff, resisting the urge to walk on the carpet. Finally, after four hours I couldn't take it anymore. I had to walk on the carpet for no reason at all. My poor socks told me I had made a mistake. There are very few sensations I like less than a wet sock. And so, lesson learned, I returned to my incredibly shrunken world and continued not blogging.

Though surely Kitty's was enough calories to keep me going all day, I still sent Erik out to Thai Boat at sunset. After all, the kitchen is crowded so who wants to cook? And besides, it is Tuesday, and Thai Boat is "Open 7 days, closed Wednesdays" so if I remotely think I want Thai Boat on a Tuesday, I find I better order up or pay the price jonesing for it all day Wednesday. But again, just to mix things up, I substituted my usual pineapple curry for a peanut butter based param curry. Of course, I still ordered my staple - the Pad Prik King with Tofu "very, very spicy" - though tonight, I must say, it was really only "spicy." My nose hardly ran at all and I could actually taste the flavors. As I think I've mentioned before, I believe I actually prefer it that way, but I am reluctant to lose face after training the Thai guys to give me all the fire I can get.

Anyway, I guess that's it for food today - cat food, lemony goodness, breakfast date, Thai take out. Not a bad day, I must say.