Monday, January 7, 2013
Fried Pickles and Other Wonders of Nature
But then — Barnes and Noble wouldn't accept any of my books, since they were gifts and I didn't have a receipt. And my visit to the bank just confirmed how broke we are and how many big bills will be due soon. So when I got on the freeway and called Husband and he asked how I was, I said, "Morose."
Let me tell you: Morose is just the mood you want to be in when you see The Impossible, aka The Tsunami Movie! Yowza. I think it's a good movie, but I was too busy unpeeling my hands from where they'd become one with the armrests to fully process it. It's a highly emotional experience, I'll say that. And I love that cute little Naomi Watts. And everything you've heard about the performance of the boy playing her oldest son — all true.
And before the movie I dined on fried pickles and Chardonnay, and if that's not a mood lifter, I don't know what is.
I have had more fried pickles in the last three years of my life than in the other 47 put together. I'd never even heard of them until I read a John Grisham novel, and then they were everywhere. They are simultaneously so disgusting and so delicious and so addictive, I don't even know what.
So, yeah, not a good diet day perhaps. Whatever. I'm morose.
(Despite the pickles. Or maybe because of.)
The Oscar nominations will be announced this Thursday, and I've already seen most of the front-runners! How will I occupy myself for the next month??