metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Eating bugs It was a warm end-of-summer afternoon, M was taking a nap and I had finished most of my household chores. It was quiet (as quiet as LA ever gets) and the breeze was soft and kind. Someone was mowing their grass, I would get a whiff every once in awhile. I poured myself a glass of Chardonnay, and took a blanket out to the back yard. I spread it out under the orange tree and just lay down for awhile to take it all in. The wine was crisp and cool with more than a hint of oak, just the way I like it. What a perfect, perfect time in my life. I drifted off and slept for about a half hour or so. I opened my eyes, and lazily reached for my wine glass. I took a drink and savored its perfect bouquet. I began rolling a bit of something around in my mouth, pushing it against my teeth - back and forth across the teeth, making smaller and smaller movements with my tongue until I began to wake more fully and realize, THERE SHOULD BE NOTHING IN A GLASS OF WINE THAT I COULD ROLL AROUND IN MY TEETH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAHHHGHHHHGHHHH PTUI PUEH SMUPTHP I spit as far and as hard as I ever have in my entire life (not far). There, resting on the blanket was a fly. An ALMOST masticated, dead fly. That was in my mouth. In. My. Mouth. And so, that is probably why this perfect day in my past is so memorable. I may never have remembered it, but for the fly. I don't think I really needed to remember it, though, and given the choice I would forget it's wonderfulness and lose the fly incident. But, it remains. The good, the bad and the fly. This morning, as I was drinking my coffee, there was a piece of something that I began rolling around in my mouth (again) but it was too small to be a fly. Still, as I was "messing" with it in my mouth, the memory of the fly incident came flashing by and I thought, I better take this out and look at it before I bite it. So I spit it out on my finger and it was only a little piece of my whole wheat bagel that I dunked in the coffee. Hahahaha. Yay. So I put it back in my mouth and bit it and we all lived happily ever after. Which took my mind a little further back to the time when I was smoking some hash with friends and they said "Make some cookies!". I am a great cookie baker and cookie lover and will really bake cookies at the drop of a hat, or at the slightest suggestion or encouragement, so I said OK. I made oatmeal cookies with raisins, one of my favorites. Of course, cooking while high on hash has its own unique challenges. I kind of almost burned the cookies, but not quite. They were still good and I brought them out on a plate to the living room and placed them on the coffee table where we proceeded to devour. In retrospect, I think I was more fucked up than the others because they started to mess with my head. Ah good friends, good times.... The raisins in the cookies, by virtue of being slightly overcooked, took on a unique texture. A bit crunchy on the outside and squooshy on the inside. I happened to mention that they were kind of what I would imagine a bug tasted like, the crunchy-squooshy thing. At this point, someone said, "Oh my God. They ARE bugs!" At which point I spit out the raisin on the coffee table. Then I laughed and said, "uh uh!" and put it back in my mouth. And then they said, "Uh huh!", and I spit it out again. They did this to me, on an on, for a very long time. I finally ate the cookie, but not the raisins and told them all to go fuck themselves, or something like that. So, take care when cooking while smoking hash is all I'm saying. 8:54 a.m. - 2003-09-16 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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