Ruminations From a Cluttered Mind

A nice, long weekend away from home (without children, of course), is a terrific way to decompress, reflect, and find a new perspective. This happy event occurs for me approximately once every five years, so I made the very most of it and never touched a keyboard nor raised my voice at anyone, not even once in forty-eight hours.

On Friday night, husband and I went to eat at Little Tokyo. We had bento boxes and the opportunity to increase our proficiency with chopsticks. In this area, I excel, which is why I out-ate husband, who is eight inches taller and *undisclosed by request* pounds heavier than me.

Husband: You know, it would be nice if the waitstaff offered tutorials with diagrams when you come in here so people could learn how to use these things.

Me: (between bites) That sounds helpful.

Husband: They probably used chopsticks in Europe once, but everyone gave up on them and went back to fingers until they came up with the spoon.

Me: Mmmmm.

Husband: I wish someone here would show me how to snap 'em, like Mr. Miyagi in The Karate Kid.

Me: That would be cool.

Husband: Ouch!

Me: What's the matter?

Husband: (holding lip) I think I got a splinter.

Me: Ohhh, sweetie. Why don't you just use the fork?

Husband: (Disregarding the suggestion. He won't give up so easy) How do you pick up a whole salmon filet with these? Oh, look. You can perforate it in a line and it just splits. That works.

Me: I don't think you're supposed to poke the food like that.

Husband: If you weren't suppose to poke with them, then why would they taper to points? (Holds up the chopsticks, for effect)

The next night, we went out for Mexican. A waiter left a serving platter with an assortment of desserts on a shelf next to our table, and we spent a fair amount of time debating whether they were real or fake samples. In the end, husband put his finger in the cheesecake with chocolate sauce nearest him and made the final determination. "That is not real. I know polyethelene drizzle when I feel it."

My most exciting find on the trip happened in a used bookstore on the Main St. strip. Isaac Asimov's 1976 Murder at the ABA. I've had that on the mental to-buy list for years! It's connection with Probe, its recommendation by the author himself, combined to make me squeal like a schoolgirl when I saw it. And bonus, it only cost five bucks. First chapter contains a naughty limerick and a reference to "Crossover." I'll be doing a lot of reading between today and tomorrow.

Well, I'm back home now and slowly reacclimating to my ordinary life with its unavoidable limitations, obligations, and disappointments. But that healthy dose of rest and spontaneity may have given me the boost I need to carry on in a slightly altered direction. I have some new ideas that I think will be very helpful.