Practically in my back yard is a large culinary college that
is listed in the top five in the USA. Every year our senior hall has a popular
event where they’ll bus 100 of us (25 at a time on four consecutive days) down to
their 5-star style restaurant. This week was my third year going and I’ll keep
going as long as I can still spoon food into the biggest orifice in my head. The
ambience and food are to die-for and out of the norm for my dining experiences.
We sat at tables of six and the conversation focused on the food,
the dessert cart and the chefs that came out to answer questions about unidentifiable
flavor profiles in the dishes and how they were prepared. I had the “Caribbean
Adobo Braised Pork” with sofrito and pineapple sauce and for dessert I practically
had an orgasm devouring the tiramisu cake in an eatable chocolate dish served
with a scoop of coffee ice cream on the side. Each time we go, we tour a different part of
the college and the bakery was on slate this week. After lunch we went on a mystery
side trip that turned out to be a tour of the fire department and its regional-wide training
center. They had a “house” with moveable walls that can be filled up
with smoke so the firefighters can’t see where they’re going. I swear they must
have picked the cutest guy in the department to do the talk and tour. Dimples
and tiramisu in the same day? It doesn’t get much better than that.
I got a new hair style this week---breezier and easier for a spring that includes more
showers now that I’m going to the gym three to four times a week. It seems like
the longer you go to the same stylist the more they get into auto-pilot-cutting
your hair and then you end up with a helmet head. At least that happens to me.
So I searched for a photo to bring with me and when I showed it to the stylist she
said, “That’s not going to work.” I didn’t expect resistance. “Why not?” I asked.
“Because It’s longer than the cut you have.” Say what? I couldn’t believe it
but I wasn’t about to argue with a lady holding a pair of sharp scissors. “I’m
not married to that photo,” I said. “What
do you suggest?” Instead of answering she asked me what I was trying to achieve
and I told her I wanted to get rid of the bulk on top and be able to towel dry
my hair after a shower and be good to go. Boy short. “Well, that’s not going to
happen,” she replied. “As thick as your hair is if you go that short it will all
stick straight up and there’s not enough jell in the world to make it lay down.”
“So what should I do,” I begged, “walk around with a helmet in my arms so it
looks like I have a good reason for having helmet hair?” She talked and I lost
interesting in listening. Finally I ended her monologue with, “Why don’t you
just surprise me.” She did. She gave me a cut that to my untrained eye looks like the one in the photo I
brought in! “Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?” Well, I
didn’t get the answer I wanted but my new cut is definitely ready for the
sultry summer days.
A week or so ago a blogger friend, Bella Run, recommended
signing up for The Word of the Day at Dictionary.com which I did and until
yesterday I hadn’t received a word that I’d seen before or thought that I’d use
in the future. Then an email came with this word: mumpsimus. “1) adherence to
or persistence in an erroneous use of language, memorization, practice, belief,
etc., out of habit or obstinacy, or 2) a person who persists in a mistaken
expression or practice.” Who does that remind you of? Hint: He lives in a big
white house. Oops, zip my mouth and slap me silly. My blog is in a controversy free
zone. At least I’ve been trying to keep that way lately, but this past week has
been a good week for those of us in The Resistance so I’m sticking my neck up
like a periscope on a submarine. Feel free to take a potshot at me if you think
the world is being unfair to Mr. Mumpsimus, if you don’t think Voltaire, the
French philosopher of ye olden days, knew what he was talking about when he warned,
“Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities.”
Speaking of The Resistance, I had lunch with my oldest niece
over the weekend, an early birthday treat on her part. I love that woman! We talked
about the Russian entanglements in the White House, the failed Trumpcare bill, the
second Muslim ban that's been blocked by several district courts and I got caught up on
all things family related. We each had to drive a half hour to meet in the
middle and as I drove home after lunch I couldn’t help feeling wistful that we
can’t do it more often. I miss having people around who’ve known me longer than
a minute and a half---who knew me when my brain and my tongue worked at the
same speed and who can fill in when my memory fails me. Magic mirror on the
wall, why can’t I age like smooth-as-silk Jamaica Rum instead of Hire’s Root Beer that’s gone
flat? ©
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| The haircut |
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| My dessert |
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| A hard choice that came in second |
