some observations and randomness

here is something you probably don't know about me. i don't think even turniphead (my boyfriend - i am taking liberties, as he just gave me permission to refer to him as such. though "benzoid" - another option offered to me - really makes more sense, especially since it's an actual childhood nickname, and part of his blog title. so maybe i'll go with that from here on out.) knows this. i pretty much just found out myself. here's the fact: when presented with a whole mess of different kinds of bagels (as i sometimes am, when my fabulous employer is struck by the desire to grab a dozen from bruegger's), i will almost always choose sesame. granted, if i am in the mood for something sweet, i may tackle a sticky cinnamon-sugar and attempt to see it properly toasted. but such occasions are fairly few and far between. i used to be a plain girl; however, i am finding that sesame has become more appealing than plain.

my nose often misinterprets what the heck it is smelling. or i guess it's really my brain that does that. or somewhere in between. i blame this on the fact that my sinuses are (to varying degrees) in a constant state of what i will call "specialness," pretty much always. for example. dinner is almost ready (though i won't finish this post till sometime after consuming it. possibly days later.) and although i know that good smells are emanating from the foods that are currently being prepared, what i actually smell is closer to old vomit. much closer.

i noticed today that it is not nearly as dark when i leave work as it was a month ago. i found this tremendously encouraging. it made me feel hopeful.

and now, a story.

i was eating dinner just now, or, rather, i hadn't started eating because we were still passing things and dishing them onto our plates. a diagram might help, but creating and posting one would be complicated, and i'm slightly lazy. so, whereas i may eventually replace these two sentences with one, i will do my best (or close enough) to explain, possibly with unnecessary amounts of explaining. benzoid and i are sitting on one side of the table; my parents sit opposite us. in front of me is a bowl of mixed vegetables. i have just helped myself to the very hot and amazingly good potatoes & cream (or whatever the heck they're called - i can't seem to feel like i'm remembering correctly). benzoid is putting ham on his plate. between him and my mom lies the shining nirvana of homemade applesauce. i want it. so. bad. but the potatoes are in the way, so i push them diagonally towards mom to make room. big mistake. the dish they are in is incredibly hot, so my hand jerks away reflexively, knocking my water glass into my plate and spilling water all over my lovely potatoes. i'm probably not doing the best job of making this sound as dramatic as it felt. i'm not doing the story justice. but i felt very sad. i felt like my potatoes were ruined and dinner just wasn't going to be a happy time anymore. it was pretty much the most tragic thing ever.

but, y'know. pretty much as soon as i ran cold water over the poor finger that had done the potato-dish-pushing, cleaned up the excess water on my plate with a paper napkin, and dished up the rest of my food, life was more or less back to hunky dory. whatever that means. and dinner was delicious.