I Remember Chocolate

I remember chocolate.  I remember the first time I missed it.  I remember family dinners, the enticing desserts if we cleaned our plates, finished our  meals - the chocolate fudge, the Reeses Peanut Butter Cups, the chocolate syrup on ice cream.  I remember the meals.  "Clean your plate." 

I remember cold broccoli, cold cabbage - cold, cold, mushy cabbage.  Horrible, cold cabbage, bland, unflavored, mushy, boiled cabbage. 

I remember my sister.  My sweet, adorable, wouldn't hurt a fly, sister.  I remember her telling me later that she thought the dog would eat it. But I ATE it.  I cleaned my plate.  she didn't.  I got blamed for the cabbage on the floor, under my chair. 

I remember desserts.  Reeses Peanut Butter Cups.  Yum.  Used to be my favorite.  I remember sitting there for an hour.  "Clean your plate."

I remember the dog getting my peanut butter cup.  I remember growing up, being an adult and always having chocolate in the apartment, in the house, as dessert, as a snack.  I remember working in the office, afternoon snacks, chocolate bars - the quick energy.  I remember those days.

I remember the days when  the energy boost did not come.  I remember the numbness, the thirst.  I remember the doctor telling me:

"Diabetes..."

I remember chocolate.

Waiting in Line

Today I took my wife to the movies.  Two people in front of us in line for tickets were a mom and her (?) three daughters.  The daughters were maybe three and four years old and an older one about five or six.  My wife noted that the little girls each had a little bag of Pirates Booty and a canned soda.

One of the younger girls, the 4 year old (?) had just finished her soda and was giddily wandering over to a nearby trash can.  She was going to throw her can away. When she walked away, her little sister (or friend) also walked with her. Then an amazing thing happened.  The older daughter followed the two little girls.

The soda girl threw away her can and returned with her other sister back to mom.  The look on the older sister's face told the tale.  She had an expression that I call "responsifortitude" - that duty and responsibility, that chore.  And the look, the precious look, she had was one of frustration and annoyance that she had to look after the little ones. 

D.

Amazing Les Miserables movie extended trailer

Had the opportunity tonight to watch the extended trailer for the upcoming movie, Les Miserables.  My whole family is looking forward to it.  We are going to make a Christmas movie our new family tradition.  And what better way than to watch Anne Hathaway star in this great musical drama. 

Regular readers of this blog know my infatuation with Anne(http://ponderingdave.blogspot.com/2011/02/2011-oscar-broadcast.html).  I think she is a tremendous actress.  I even had a momentary, not so close encounter with her in a Chicago airport, gosh, it must have been 10 or 11 years ago (http://ponderingdave.blogspot.com/2009/02/anne-hathaway.html). 

I cannot wait to see that movie.  Fascinating story.  Anne, I think you are fantastic. 

Stop by for dinner sometime.  I am a great cook and I need you to corroborate my Chicago story. 

Thanks.
d. 

Neighborhood Crosswalks and cultural rules

Whilst out walking with my wife one fine Sunday morn, we came to an intersection of neighborhood streets. We were on the home stretch and this street intersected with our street at an angle. Just as we approached the intersection an SUV approached from our right. He pulled up to the stop sign. I had stopped and was waiting for him to drive on.

The driver signaled for us to go ahead and cross the street. Since he signaled us, we were obliged to walk in front of the SUV. We did, even though the best angle to cross the street would have been to walk behind the vehicle and to let the driver drive on.  But is that jaywalking?  Even if no one is around?

We are a nation of rules; a people of rules.  We have habits, cultural habits, that are often hard to break even when the simple way is the best.   

Sometimes I just wander around the house and just wonder. I wonder why. Why I am not the person I wanted to be. Why am I not the person I set out to be?  Maybe it is because of so many rules - cultural, societal, work, life.  So many unwritten rules.  I have to work.  Have to pay the bills.  I work because it is not permissable for an able bodied adult male to sit around and type words on a computer. 

I must learn to break the rules.