There's Always Room for Jello

Today I ate orange Jello for lunch. It was from the school cafeteria. It had little sad bits of fruit cocktail hanging around in it. It was not a color that exists in nature, except perhaps in certain select volcanoes.

And this got me thinking: How hungry does a person have to be before he says to himself (and I say he because I don't think any woman has ever been this hungry), "I'm feeling a little peckish. You know, I think I'll take these bits of bovine cartilage and boil them down until they make a goo, then I'll eat that. Yes. Bovine goo. That is the answer to all my problems."

The thing is, it caught on. Then somebody said, "You know, we can take this bovine goo and add artificial flavors to make it fruity. Then we can add artificial colors to make it appear appetizing in a nuclear kind of way. People will love that. They will totally buy it."

And we did. Then we started coming up with all kinds of other crap to put in the goo. Sad little bits of fruit cocktail. Other goos, like mayonnaise. Nuts. Berries. Bits of tree bark. Booze, of course. Whatever. Anything goes with Jello.

I have similar thoughts about other stuff to eat. How hungry was the person who ate the first lobster? Who decided mold in cheese made it more desirable? What was the thought process driving fried butter?

Clearly I'm not going to get any sleep tonight.

And We're Back! Sort of....

Yesterday NayNay married Mr. NayNay. It was the best of times.

I ran video for the ceremony and parts of the reception, which may introduce a new sideline as I go through this process of rewriting my own narrative. After the ceremony, I hung around the happy couple, getting video of them hugging various friends and relatives before going to get the Official Wedding Photos taken.

This activity put me at the back of the line to get my place card and sign the register. In my defense, I didn't know it was a line line. I thought maybe it was people milling around for the doors to open.

At any rate, I'm stuck at the back of this line, by myself, and the people in front of me are all at least there with their other people. So I have the following conversation with the people immediately in front of me:

Manda: I'm sorry, is it okay if I just go up ahead and see if--
Woman in Line: Oh, are you looking for your other half?
Manda (with authority): Yes. Yes I am.

And so I commence to delicately push to the front of this line that I don't really know is a line. I hear the woman again explain to the other people I'm asking to excuse me, "She's looking for her other half."

My "other half", is five people. Actually, it's more than five total, but at this occasion, five. K Rock, Special K, Ms. H, The Greek, and The Director. The Suz and The Kiwi and The Great Mrs. M were not in attendance, and I knew where NayNay was.

There are others. Lots of others that I know I can probably call to bail me out of whatever nonsense I get myself into. But these are my other half on a daily basis. When I kvetch, they are there. When I laugh, they are laughing with me. When I am mad, they talk me down from the ledge. When I cry, they pick me up and remind me to breathe.

And when I walk into the wedding reception, they order me a Scotch at the open bar.