Mr. Owens is asleep, which is good, because I *must* go to school today and work at getting the kids doing what they are supposed to be doing, getting everything squared up for the time spent away. Yesterday was a complete wash-out, I couldn't even look at a screen until afternoon, and then all I did was lay on the couch and watch Criminal Minds. The beloved manz waited on me the whole time, bringing endless glasses of cold lemon tea, remaking the pitcher full because I drank at least two whole ones. Kept my trash can of holding close by, took my temp, tucked me in even turned the ac on when I couldn't cool down no matter what. Made me take the nausea medicine even though I tried to argue (we compromised on a half-dose. I tried to just do a quarter dose, but he caught me and made me take the rest). Made me toasted english muffins, plain, which worked.... scrambled eggs (that I *thought* was a good idea, but turned out not-so-much)...and then finally gave into my pleas for Pringles. This was late afternoon and I was overcome with an absolute total craving for pringles- not just a 'some would be nice' but a 'if I don't get some I will die' craving. Like Rapunzel's mother in the fairy tale craved rapunzel, like I craved tuna and chocolate malted milkshakes when I was expecting Grendel. I haven't craved anything like this for a long, long time.
Why? The combination of very salty and light. The salt settled my stomach and helps me to retain fluids, the crunch entertained me, and I ate the whole can over a few hours. Not healthy, not on the diet at all, but it worked....enough so that I could manage the last of his chocolate ice cream later (oh the sacrifices he makes for me!) and take my medicine without gagging. (It still feels like a thousand ants are crawling over me when I take that antibiotic, but it's manageable. barely). I slept well last night, got up on time this morning, and so far my oatmeal has stayed where it is supposed to. (But, if I wasn't going to be away for so long, I would stay home today- still dizzy, queasy, ear is ringing away...but what needs done needs done).
Pringles- a brief story about pringles and the first time I ever ate them. Which is a very odd thing to remember, but I remember clearly when they came out in the 1970's and everyone was curious about them- Dad was dubious, but always adventurous in trying new things. The first time I ate pringles was when we were moving from Headacher to the house on Luzerne Ext. We hadn't moved in yet, but were at the house painting and cleaning. Sue and Tom where there to help, it was Springtime I think- the house still had (I think we switched it out later? Not sure) dark green carpet and this huge homemade breakfast bar thing was still in the kitchen. (Later the bar was moved down to the basement, and became my 'laboratory'- I was a strange kid)... anyway, I remember us all being in the kitchen. There were soft drinks (coke/pepsi- Tom's favorite) and Pringles-in-the-red-can. The smell of paint. For me, it was love at first sight as far as Pringles went. I liked their taste, lack of greasiness and weird green spots, that they all stacked up, fit right on the tongue like a little saddle, and best of all- the can. I immediately drempt up a kabillion uses for the can- even then I was in love with making things out of other things.
Grendel always loved Pringles as well- they were one of his constant boy foods growing up. We experimented with the different flavors, not the host of new ones, but those that were new back then- salt and vinegar, onion and sour cream. I haven't eaten them much since then- they are not something that I would by for myself and Mr. Owens likes regular chips better. I enjoyed them yesterday though, and they did the trick-
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