Even as I typed the thing in the last post about French fries I had the thought to stop and delete. It
is kind of an odd thing to do, after all. In the end I consoled myself with the conviction that if that's the oddest thing about me then I suppose I'm just fine. A nice, normal, sliding-into-middle-age woman with no terrible neuroses or eccentricities.
That was Tuesday. Flash forward, if you will, to last weekend.
We celebrated the Boy's eighth birthday on Saturday. As part of party preparations, Brainiac was charged with procuring beer (the grade schoolers are much more...pliable with a few beers in 'em*) and salty snacks like chips and pretzels, sold along side the beer at distributors.** Among the other treats he brought home were a package of
Necco wafers, one of my favorite sweets. Yay, Brainiac!
So on Sunday after company left and (most of) the cleaning up had been done I sat down to blogsurf and enjoy my Neccos. As I drifted from
Smart Bitches, Trashy Books to
Angry Chicken to goodness knows what else, probably
LOLCats or something similarly invigorating, I happily opened the pack and began to...separate the Neccos into piles by color and eat them two-by-two, green first followed by yellow, then orange, then pink, purple, brown then white. At one point, I think during the oranges, Brainiac came up behind me and I gushed my thanks that he selected such an awesome roll - heavy on the purples, browns and whites. He watched me eat a couple pairs, remarked at what I was doing, shook his head and fled for the relative sanity of the family room.
"If you think this is strange,"I called after him,"You should see what I do with French fries."
* Kidding!
Kidding! The beer Brainiac bought was much too expensive to give to kids, what with their uneducated palates.
** Where I live, beer can only be sold at what are essentially beer stores. These stores cannot sell wine or spirits, which can only be sold in "state stores" run by the
Liquor Control Board. Strange, but there you are.
