Sunday, January 29, 2012
I dislike resolutions, so I simply promised myself that for this year I would try a new food--something that I've never tasted before--each month.
Granted, there are foods that I've tasted but haven't eaten. Liver, for example. I know my mother prepared it when I was a child. And I remember sitting at the glass-topped kitchen table, forcing this wiggly sliver of meat into my mouth. I nearly cried. I couldn't stomach it. I probably tried to feed it to the dogs who sat beneath the table and stared up at us in starry-eyed wonder. So since I've attempted liver, I cannot add it to the list.
So I've been pondering what 12 food items to add. And for the first one, I took the easy way out: cookie dough ice cream. I've never tried, never wanted to try it. The idea of eating cookie dough takes me back to the 70s, the era of liver and onions, when my mother told me it was dangerous to eat the cookie dough.
Thus, why would we eat it in ice cream?
The thought churned my stomach. It gives me gag reflex.
But earlier this month, I caved it.
Oh, I could've tried other flavors that I never tasted: coconut, bing cherry vanilla, Snickers, party cake, cotton candy. But I decided to live on the edge.
I decided to eat two bowls in order to draw a firm and fair conclusion: Cookie dough in ice cream is wholly unnecessary. In fact, it's more than that. It's truly inappropriate.
The chunks of dough do, indeed, taste like dough. And dough--like my mother said--is meant to be baked, not eaten. I liked the ice cream around it, buttery smooth with little chocolate chips. But eating cookie dough -- even if it's not real cookie dough -- is akin to putting a used wet Band-Aid in your mouth. You just don't do it. Ever.
I have a feeling that next month's specimen will be even less satisfying: brussel sprouts. I'm already getting the chills.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Today marks the birthday of my nephew, who is a wonderful young man. And I think of happy I am for him, hoping he thrives successfully throughout a long life.
But the date also marks the anniversary of Tyler's death. It reminds me of how fragile we are, how some people can live a near eternity and abuse this privilege called life. They are bitter, selfish, egocentric. Or they take advantage of their families, their friends, their opportunities.
And then there's Tyler, who truly made his mark in such a short time as truly giving, spontaneous, selfless, gregarious.
Buddy, your sudden passing still haunts me. So many times I hear boys in the hallways, and I swear you are laughing. So many times I see a mop of curly locks, and I am reminded of we were robbed of you too quickly. You left many hearts broken, my 10th grade son.
Too sudden, my friend. Too sudden.