Am I a true grouch or are the restaurants out to get me?  Yesterday I ate a quick light supper because I wanted to go to a Dana Stabenow book signing at Mysterious Galaxy.   It’s almost an hour’s drive from my home, but I thought it was worth the effort.  Dana is one of my favorite authors.

Dana didn’t disappoint, but later, on the way home, I began to get the yukky feeling of low blood sugar.  I still had a long way to drive when I pulled into Coco’s.  I was anticipating cheating a little with a slice of their yummy pie and a cup of coffee.  I needed the carb boost, I might as well enjoy it.

When the waitress brought my chocolate cream pie and decaf I was really looking forward to it.  I picked off a bit of curled chocolate decorations and put it in my mouth – and took it right out again.  It tasted like slightly rancid shortening and very little chocolate.  I took the rest of it off the pie.  The same was true for the filling.  It wasn’t the dark, rich chocolate I was anticipating.  It was a pale chocolate with a very odd flavor.  Somebody’s been shorting the recipe of the expensive ingredients – that’s what I thought.  The “whip cream” topping had congealed and tasted like it had been in the refrigerator too long.  The crust – well, I took a tiny bite of the cardboard and decided I didn’t need to eat the crust.

I did need the carbs though, and instead of ordering something else, which I should have, I picked up my book and read while I ate.  When I read I don’t taste things as much.

The pie was so awful that I laid into the waitress about how awful the pie was.  She didn’t say anything.  I wonder if she went into the bathroom and cried.  For a while, I felt justified in speaking up.  The pie had tasted stale and “off” and I felt she shouldn’t have served it.  Then I had a change of heart.  She hadn’t made the pie.  I left her a tip.

I’d hardly gone to bed when the dreaded Montezuma’s Revenge began.  I didn’t sleep until my entire system was empty.  This morning I woke feeling terrible and have felt that way all day.  I think that pie was more than bad tasting.  I think I have food poisoning.

So, this evening, I’m thinking again about my part in it.  As a diabetic I know I need to be ready to handle low blood sugar, especially when I’m traveling.  I know how to take care of it.  A sandwich, a plate of eggs and toast, or a hamburger would have taken care of it, but I wanted that little cheat, the pie.

Then I feel angry again.  That pie was probably days old.  It shouldn’t have been put out to be served.  It should have gone where all pies go when they’re too old – in the garbage.

So, today as I begin to recover, I think maybe they did me a favor.  I’ll remember that pie and not eat it at Coco’s again.  I’ll also remember to eat a sandwich, not a sweet when I have low blood sugar problems.

I’m still angry with Coco’s.

Marilynne

NOTE:  I’ve added a new category here:  The Story Teller.  It’s for stories like this one:  Sun on Snow.

This is just to get you in a snowy mood

There are times during a long cold snowy winter when the sun shines and everyone who can goes outside to enjoy it.  There are times when Spring is a breath of promise on one of those cold sunny days.

During my grade school years my family  lived in a row house on Emerald Street in Philadelphia.  It was a nice enough place to live.  My mother had lived in the city until she married my father.  My father had spent his summers on his grandfather’s farm.  She was from Ohio, my father was from Washington and Oregon.  She grew up in one sort of life.  He grew up in another.  He missed the West deep down in his heart.  As we were growing up, he told us wonderful stories of life in the West.

Then when I was ten we moved West.  We moved to a tiny town nestled among huge wheat ranches.  Now, instead of sidewalks and traffic lights, I lived a block from the edge of town.  The endless open land became my new playground.  We were like puppies released from our cage.  Suddenly there was so much to explore and I loved to explore more than almost anything.

So, jump ahead to my early teens.  I have lived in this little town long enough to have absorbed my new life.  I am old enough to have a lot of freedom.   It has been a very cold and snowy winter.  The sun is shining and must have been shining for a few days.  My friend Bunny is staying overnight and we are walking around town and talking.  Not doing much of anything, just enjoying being together in the sunshine.

Bunny lived on a farm.  I had grown up on my father’s stories of life on his grandfather’s farm.  My idea of living on a farm was my father’s memories of living on a farm, but I didn’t know that.  I would have been so happy to live on a farm like she did.  She, of course, admired living in town.  We were about even on that.

So, at loose ends on a cold sunny day, we found ourselves at the edge of town looking at an unbroken expanse of glistening white snow.  A crust had formed on the snow that was strong enough you could just walk on top of the snow, not slog through it.  I was delighted.  This was something new.  I convinced Bunny that we could walk on the crust a little ways along the fence line  (barbed wire) – when we could see it, the snow was deep -  and have a little hike.

It was glorious walking.  We just walked along chattering about who knows what and soon we’d gone farther than I intended.  Bunny was nervous about this.  At home on the farm they didn’t go on hikes in the fields.  They stayed home.   This was news to me, but I didn’t want to go back yet.  So I coaxed her along.

She was nervous.  Walking like this you could get lost.   I pointed out that we were following the fence line and it wasn’t going anywhere.  So we continued.

Then, we began breaking through the crust and falling into knee-deep snow.  At that point, I knew we were in trouble.  The sun was melting the crust and it would no longer hold our weight.  Time to turn around and go home, I told her.  I didn’t want my friend to know I’d goofed, so I just told her it was time to go back.

Now the going was difficult.  We had to step up onto the crust, wait for it to break, fall into the snow, then step up once more.  There seemed to be no way to just wade through it.  The crust was not strong enough to take our weight, but it was strong enough to keep us from just walking through it.

Bunny was already tired and she began to whine.  I was beginning to be scared.  We had come a long ways.  I couldn’t see the town from where we were.  I had broken one of my father’s rules:  never hike without letting someone know where you’re going.  No one knew we were here.  We were in trouble and it was up to me to get us out of it.

I’d like to think that Bunny didn’t realize how much trouble we were in.  I tried to comfort her by pointing out that we were headed back.  The fence was still there.  We could follow it.  And we could, one tedious step after another.  We began holding hands to support each other.  Then I was pulling Bunny along and she was complaining she was tired.

I knew we had to continue.  We couldn’t stop.  It didn’t take long for me to feel tired too.  This was hard work.  Bunny began to beg for us to sit and rest just a minute.  I knew we couldn’t do it.  The sun was beginning it’s slow descent into night.  The crust would soon harden, but we wouldn’t be able to see the fence.  We had to keep going.

So it became a long drawn-out time of wearily stepping up on the crust, falling through, stepping up again, and coaxing Bunny along.  It got darker and darker, colder and colder.  I saw the street lights of the town come on.  I was encouraged because I knew now how much further we had to go.  Bunny was getting difficult.  She wanted so badly to rest.  So did I, but didn’t they teach a farm girl anything?  You don’t rest until you’re in a safe place.

Eventually we staggered out onto the city streets and walked home – up hill.  My father had been out in the car searching the town for us.   Looking back, I guess that probably took him about 15 minutes a cycle.  My mother had called all my friends.  No one had seen us.  We had disappeared.  There was not even a foot print to show that we had followed the fence.  It had been up to me to get us back.  And it was me who had led us out into the cold.

I felt rather proud that I had led us out of a bad spot.  My mother was in tears.  My father threatened huge punishments, but mostly he lectured me on the dangers of doing what I had just done.  Yes, I got the full burden of their anger.  They knew who had been the leader and who had been the follower.

I was just glad to be warm and home.

Marilynne

Thanks to Woosi Wildwood for her snow photos.  That’s her llama in the background.

On Super Bowl Sunday we went to the mountains for a long ride.  We drove from our home near the beach to the Laguna Mountains.  I know a lot of you have snow, but to me it’s a true novelty.  That’s all I’m going to say about it.

Marilynne

On Palomar Mountain everything was frozen.

There was ice on the trees at midday.

Dirty snow edged the road.

I live that way - where the sun is setting - near the beach

We hated to leave.

Dot shows me the way

During the hot summery days of August our daughters gave us a party for our 50th wedding anniversary.  It was a glorious time.  Our daughters were all home at the same time along with an assortment of grandchildren.  I didn’t want to miss a minute of it.  At the big party I danced and danced (square dancing is our choice) and tried to talk just a little with everyone.  It was a wonderful evening.  I didn’t want to miss a minute of it – or did I say that already.

So many of our family came a long way for the party.  Anne and Bob even came from Pennsylvania just for the party.  I had a house full of company and I loved it.  I didn’t want to miss even a minute of it.

So, the day after the big party, we had a family party, and our families were all here at the house.  I knew I wouldn’t be able to cook with so much going on so we chose our favorite foods and brought them in from our favorite restaurants.  The kitchen counters were full of good things to eat.

So I did have time to visit with everyone.  The smallest and cutest member of our families is a tiny girl nicknamed Dot.  She’s a tiny little dot of a thing, but full of fun too.

By the time I sat down to talk with our guests I was so very tired, but, you know,  I didn’t want to miss a minute of it.  So I sat and tried hard to make intelligent conversation.  I wasn’t fooling anyone about how tired I was.

Then little Dot held her hand up to me and led me up the stairs, across the veranda and into the kitchen.  I wonder now if she had plans to put me to bed.   She’s a smart little girl.  Once in the kitchen, she just looked around a bit, then led me outside again.

Someone took a photo of Dot leading me up the stairs.  I look so big and so bent over and she looks so tiny and in command.  I didn’t know about the photo until Dot’s mama put it up on Facebook.  I was struck by Dot’s tiny/tall person leading my big lumpy person.  She seems so in control for someone so small.

So I painted it in watercolor.  It is what it is – a good memory from our big party.

Marilynne