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Thursday, September 15, 2011

Cravings and The Craven

 The summer's been tough for those of us in what's apparently become the lobby of Dante's Inferno.  You may know it as "Texas."  But there are coping mechanisms.  Iced tea.  Lemonade.  Tiger blood snow cones.  And... hot chocolate?

I made mention of this insanity last week but that's right, there's nothing that cools you down in 106 degree weather (in the middle of the worst drought on record) like a steaming cup of hot cocoa.  And not that fakity-fake Nesquik junk nuked in a microwave, either.  We're talking old school stovetop, babies.  Mini marshmallows.  Full throttle.

There I am, with a look on my face like I'm trying to figure out how to model String Theory in Play-Doh, just whisking away like a fool.  Because if there's one darn thing I hate, it's lumpy hot chocolate.  Okay, I'm whisking away furiously because, let's face it, this isn't my first rodeo, and to paraphrase Alfie Tennyson, "Ours is not to reason why; ours is but to ask 'how high?'"

But it's getting super weird.

Majestad is frequenting fast food joints that she hasn't been to in a decade.  Arby's is the current favorite.  By the way, how did I not remember their sauce being so clovey?  Seriously, it's gotta be like 60% cloves.  She went to Arby's twice in a single day.  Swears that she's limiting it to once per week, now.  Uh huh.  Suuuure.  Taco Bell was running strong there for a while, too.  Note:  Taco Bell has not changed one single bit since I was too poor to eat elsewhere.  It's like a (lethal) culinary time capsule.

The woman ventures out in one of the only rainstorms in recent memory to get... a whole watermelon.  With a sprained ankle.  Drags the kid with her.  Eats one slice and tells me it wasn't really what she wanted after all.

She wants iced tea.  She boiled up a huge pitcher of it and siphoned it off for a week.  I finally poured the remainder into my glass just to ensure she wouldn't drink sweetened botulism or something.  See how much I love you, babe?!  SEE?!  And no, I couldn't pour it out.  You don't pour out sweet tea, people.  Like, ever.

She wants sushi (currently unfulfilled).  Raisin bran.  Fried eggs with grape tomatoes (I'll giveya three guesses who was frying eggs at 10pm).  Pecan pie.  She insists we have French toast and pork sausage every Saturday.  I deliver crushed ice and apple juice to her nightstand at 7ish every morning.  (She spills it at least once per week.)  I put the glass of juice next to the Pop Tarts that get her going.  Eats her "real" breakfast out on the patio with Jack.  2nd breakfast... it's like they're hobbits.

She avoids the "smell" of the dishwasher like it's the Black Death.  Wasn't really aware there was much smell there but hey, I'm not currently incubating another human being.  H.M. can't stand being in the vicinity of raw meat, especially chicken.  And beef.  Sausage.  Lunchmeat.  Pork.  She shies away from the fridge altogether.  Thinks it's revolting.

The cravings and aversions are really just part of the odd behavior generally (mostly in trying to reduce the nausea).  She walks around with kid's (blue camo) Sea Bands on.  The adult ones don't fit her.  (I think the urban camo is quite flattering.)  The nausea still kills her anyway.  So enter Preggie Pops:  the world's most rare, expensive, and sour candy.  I don't even want to do the math, because they're probably like a few grand a pound.  But she's got to have candy or something to snack on at all times.  Empty Tic Tac boxes and Jolly Rancher wrappers litter the house.  And her car.  Peppermints are everywhere.

Speaking of nausea, the dry heaving is the absolute best.  These vulgar, disgusting sounds echo through the house at all hours.

I declare.  All of you people are CRAZY.

I have no idea if this is a craving or not, but she made me crank up 1944's Arsenic and Old Lace the other night.   I second what Cary Grant's character observed:

"Insanity runs in my family.  It practically gallops!"

1 comment:

Jennifer said...

Bless her heart. I have sent Greg on many a late night Taco Bell.