Breakfast Spaghetti

March 5, 2013

Amados,

It would be difficult to pick from the women with whom I have eked out a successful relationship. Usually during casual conversations, I have been asked to do just that. I've not responded with any kind of intelligible answer because it's just not possible

Don't you agree?

But if it were, there has to be that one trait that would push one lady over the top. So, having thought it over on that basis, I have my answer. The next time I'm asked, my answer will be, “The one that can pull off making Breakfast Spaghetti.”

Proven Spaghetti Cooker

Cybil is that person.

She made it for me once and left me wanting more. I waited several years, but darn, never got it again.

Naturally, being an accomplished cook myself, I tried to make it on more than one occasion. I was never able to do it myself, I always ended up making a burrito instead. And while I like burritos, they got old after a while. Especially since I was taught from childhood to make them with beans, not pasta. I was simply unable to wrap a tortilla around spaghetti and call it breakfast.

And, too, spaghetti is simply not compatible with pickled Jalapeno peppers with onions and carrots “En Escabeche”.

Lordamighty!

But so much for that, back to the spaghetti:

What with the eggs, onions, peppers, halved tiny tomatoes, everything smothered in romano and mozzarella cheeses, you knew this was not your mother's spaghetti. Bacon led the way, no beef allowed. Cybil treated a strip of bacon as if it was the guest of honor.

It was, you know.



Proven Spaghetti Eater

In fact, she started with it, added the eggs, veggies and then the pasta and flipped like a pro to coat everything together into an odoriferous mass. I was there once. I got to watch the whole cooking operation. I shivered in delight and then actually ate it.

And then that was it, I never got to do it again.

Never.

Not once.

I was broken-hearted and spent the next four years waiting, just waiting on the off chance a burst of breakfast spaghetti might show itself again. It never happened and my love of the stuff was never again satisfied.

Never.

I sit here today with my teddies and my memories of yesteryear when women were women and men gulped down huge amounts of spaghetti. Sure, I have my dogs, my homes, my booze, my sports cars and an adoring cadre of young beauties but none compare to a fully mature, lovely spaghetti cooker.

Time is growing short and is not now on my side. I doubt there is enough of it left to find that one woman that will allow me to say that I have known and appreciated several women, two of whom dared to cook breakfast spaghetti at least once.

Pray for me, I'm turning into a string bean,

Mart

Fifi Pea and the Uber Bean

Warning: The following contains the raw depiction of an "Attitude" and some near offensive "language". Easily offended readers are advised to just rush over it and pretend it doesn't exist.

February 26, 2013

Amados,

They say if you want true friendship, get a dog. I’ve already got two of those so I’m luckier than usual when another comes to visit. She’s a wee pup (small, grown dog) and she’s come here again because her Mama needs a break. It's Fifi, one of the smallest creatures to whom God ever said, “Zap, be a dog - grow and prosper!”

Then He added, “But don’t get over ten inches tall!”

She's here again and nothing has changed, she’s nobody’s fool. She knows Mama left without her and is now enjoying herself doing only God knows what. And doing it without her. So she looks to me for help.

She spends much of her time with us racing from door to door squeaking, “Please Mart, take me home . . . or at least let me out the door, you big . . ."

“Easy”, I said.

“You big . . ."

“No, no, don’t say it”

“You big Lima Bean!”

“What? Oh, no!”

Well, at first I felt insulted.

Then I realized, metaphorically speaking, I am a lima bean much the same as Heidi the Tiny Dog and Jenny the Sweetheart Hound are Pintos. That makes Fifi, even smaller than Heidi, a pea doesn’t it?

So here we are, snug as only legumes can be, a Lima, two Pintos and a Fifi pea.

The thing is, Limas are the boss beans of the world – she just doesn't know that. But I know exactly how she feels having been left suddenly alone several times in my life. It makes me want to snatch her up and give her some hugs and squeezes.

So she won’t feel so alone.

But she’s not having any of that. She says, “Oh no you don’t, you’re not getting any of me till you show some respect and let me out the freakin' door!”

"Whoops! Okay, no hugs for you."

Hard not to respect a pea so pretty and yet so um, er, hard. She came within two lisps and a dipthong from saying the “F” word. She’s a tough little pea as you can see. She could pretty much take care of herself, I can tell. Now, if she could just get out the door

“Sorry Fifi, Honey, I’m not doing that no matter how you think of me nor in what language you express yourself.”

The Uber Bean

PS: She eventually came to understand about lima beans . . nay, about big beans in general. She's here now, on my lap hoping I'll give her a belly rub. Just like a pea don't you see?

Screw the Serendipity

February 18, 2013

Amados,

About the time I took a drink and missed my mouth, I decided it was time to do an assessment.

This is it:

I've been spending a lot of time recently with people that were unemployed or underemployed and I have come to enjoy it.  I am, you see, also unemployed and have nothing really productive to do.

But now I've been left alone, left alone by my Prez, the one to whom we all hate to give credit.  Yep, that's him, the Prez. He promised us prosperity if only we would believe and be patient.

I didn’t believe and have not been patient. 

But voila, it's serendipity!  Prosperity is returning.  First I was called by my Granddaughter.  She was in tears because her friend of many years had left with his buddy, a pal with whom he shared many interests. Good luck to them, she will be better off.  Her drive, her push to succeed will get her on with getting her on - a plus.  A tweak upward.

Then, gathering steam, Second Granddaughter stopped by on her way through to Nebraska. Her son with whom I am close and she seemed hearty and healthy and, best of all, talked of a stable life there. Nebraska, I’ve always heard it was a good place to live and prosper. Hallelujah, a second plus!  And a further tweak.

Oh boy, more steam! My third son, long the worry of the family because he has, over the years, been an unusual person often into difficulty - having nothing to do with his worth but everything to do with his actions - found calm, puppies, love of home and a job hauling meat from here to there. I like meat and I’m grateful to those that bring it to me. Right, the third plus!

My sweet daughter-in-law, a broad and boisterous person, always made light of her lack of a job. Two years had passed since she was last employed, yet she suffered in near silence (I had to pull information out of her) while looking, just looking, always looking. Then all of a sudden there it was. Not much, but a start, a start. Oh Lordy, our fourth plus!

Here’s a miracle! Second son (Aka Second Sun on this site - click on his nose) was rehired and has triumphantly resumed his design work. He survived a long layoff, nearly a year, his second one in an otherwise successful career. He did it in part because, as he said to me, " I remembered what you always said, ‘Save your money, Son’” And of course, I’m complete, having done my job - Dad, Father, Protector, Etc! Another triumph, another plus!

Just when I thought we had seen more than we deserved (I know everyone involved) The one, the only daughter announced she had become a bigger wig than she was. She had for some time been acting a higher part and now she would be actually doing it, doing what was necessary to protect us from the vicissitudes of the banking industry. Geez, another plus.

So I got used to buzzing along, basking in the relative prosperity of mine loved ones. In fact, I was actually relaxed when - zap! - my good friend, a person that has come to my aid more than once, said she couldn’t see me quite as often as she used to do (seeing her was precious)  because she had gotten a new job smoothing the way for real estate sales closings. Which means this is yet another plus. She wanted the job, it's right up her alley.  And if you think about it, if they needed her, they, the real estate industry, is looking up too! Good Grief, will it never end?

Do you realize that’s seven, perhaps eight, pluses?

Wow!

Wow!

My happiness went on for about a week before I finally realized just after taking the aforementioned sip and missing the mark, the amount of time I had been spending with all these folks was gone because they were so busy. They’ve gone on without me, contributing to the prosperity of the nation.

But without me.

Without me!

Oh God, I’m so lonely!  What could the Prez have been thinking of? Screw the serendpity, couldn’t he have just looked ahead on my behalf a bit, what with all his advisors and such?

Damn!

Mart