Eeeew - Taste This!

Most of the time, I'm a relatively contented single person. Not that I've completely abandoned the idea of finding a soulmate, but I was never the kind of person who felt incomplete. I have to admit, however, that there are times when a Significant Other (SO) is mighty handy. The aforementioned life-threatening illness, for one. Another, the million times a day when you want to elbow someone and share a seemingly insignificant detail of your life.

In my case, those moments usually fall into one of two categories: food and literature. There are times when I've concocted something really delicious, and I just want to hand someone a spoon and say, "Here, taste this!" and wait for the rapture to roll from their tastebuds to their brain and back to the vocal chords, for at least an appreciative, "mmmMMMMmmmm!" Even the rare but notable culinary failure deserves to have at least one more person acknowledge its spectacular awfulness.

The other moments are when I'm reading something, and I want to share a passage with someone, usually because the writing is strong and moving, but occasionally because I'm outraged at the author's complete and total wrongness about a subject. Right now I'm reading Eric Idle's Greedy Bastard Diary; it's about his tour of North America, usually by luxury bus, as he traveled with his revue-style comedy show. (I have to admit, the Greedy Bastard tour never made it anywhere near my midwest locale so I'd never heard of it.)

It's very evident that the Monty Python boys met at Cambridge and Oxford. This book sent me scrambling for a dictionary (yobbish? apothegmatize?) several times. And there were a few passages so lyrical, I've been frustrated by the lack of presence at the other end of my wagging elbow. One was a defense of his affection for most things French; not an easy thing for an Englishman to admit:

"I like their Frenchness. I like their language; I like their style; I like the way they have of living their lives through their senses, paying attention to the important things like food, clothing, sexuality, wine, and even movies. Everything is about enjoying life and that applies to all classes of French society, not just the bourgeoisie. By comparison, the Anglo-Saxon obsession with duty and the endless American pursuit of money are simply second-rate ways of being."

That's just a brief excerpt, but isn't it lovely, and succinct, and very true? And I would like so much to point that out to... someone... who is falling down on the job by his complete absence.

I can, and often do, save a bite for my good friend, Hoodie Chris, and she reciprocates. I'm sure if I ever called her with a "listen to this!" she'd be a good, appreciative audience. It's not quite the same, but it helps. It helps a lot. Still, I'd just like my SO to know that aside from this pesky incurable disease, I'm still the same sweet, surly girl, waiting here with a spoonful of sumpin' sumpin', ready to apothegmatize your yobbish manliness.