Conversations with Consuela

I spend most of my time here in Boone with one particular friend.

In this blog, I refer to her as Consuela.  Not because I want to protect her identity, but because I think that name is fun to say, especially with a southern accent.  Perhaps that's the influence of my preference for Designing Women reruns in the late '90s.

As it happens, Consuela and I spend a lot of time in her car.  She goes to Wal-Mart a lot, and I often accompany her because when I'm forced to go by myself (because Wal-Mart is the only game in town), I try to shank people.

When in her car, Consuela and I have many intellectual conversations.  Due to my general laziness and her ability to be distracted by a shiny thing, they often sound something (if not exactly) like this:

Sara: ...so, that's what I think we should do.  What do you think?
Consuela: What?  Say all that again.  I forgot to listen.
Sara: You're a child.
Consuela: You are.
Sara: Why is there a rotten banana in your backseat?
Consuela: It was gonna be my snack.
Sara: When? 
Consuela: I don't know, shut up.
Sara: You shut up.
Consuela: Stop judging me.  Where do you want to eat?
Sara: Not Mexican.  I had a really upsetting dream about tortilla chips.
Consuela: What is wrong with you?
Sara: I don't know.  Chinese?
Consuela: Ugh, that sounds terrible.  Chick-Fil-A?
Sara: Yup.  Wow, that was harder than it should've been. 
Consuela: What were you talking about?
Sara: I don't care.

I promise you, we're both a lot better at listening to clients than we are at listening to each other.

I might walk down the aisle to this...

Tuesday morning, I woke up and my dear friend, Sargibso, had sent me this little musical snack.

Please enjoy.

It's a Labor Day miracle!

Yesterday, I decided enough was enough.

I put on my big girl pants, plugged an address into Weezy and drove about an hour south of Boone to the mythical city of Hickory.

You know what they have in Hickory?



Breathtaking, isn't it?

While that is not a picture I personally took, this is how I like to picture it, right before I drift off to sleep and dream of Archer Farms and Isaac Mizrahi.

I walked in, my eyes filled with wonder and my heart saturated with love. Had I been wearing a hat, I like to think I would've pulled a Mary Tyler Moore and launched it into the atmosphere with unbridled joy.

I walked every inch of that store, for each aisle in every department was precious to me.

I smiled at camping gear. I laughed knowingly at the bathroom scales. I got a little choked up around the purses. So many memories...

I would've stayed all afternoon, but after only an hour, I got the feeling I needed to go, for my basket might've looked like this:




For dinner that evening, I consumed my free chicken sandwich from Chick-Fil-A, thanks to my Indiana University t-shirt and a couple friends who alerted me of this fantastic promotion (thank you, Lisa Diane and Sargibso!).

I rounded off my evening with a mug off jasmine green tea and a movie. It was a lovely day.

But wait! That's not all! The spirit of Labor Day continues!

This morning, I checked my e-mail and Alicia of It Aint Easy Being Cheesy, had sent me a little message.

I won something!



I can hardly stand it. Aren't they amazing? Isn't she amazing? That's a rhetorical question, by the way. She IS amazing.

While the gift of spoons took place the day after Labor Day, I prefer to treat it like Christmas, where the festivities continue long after the actual day has ended. That same energy warmed my heart this morning, and with that feeling, I will also carry a special knowledge:

I made Labor Day my bitch.

You talk funny

The English have some excellent slang.

Daft. Bollocks. Cheeky. Posh.

Another word I fancy (see what I did there?) quite a bit is "strop".

In America, we might say someone is crabby, down in the dumps or in a funk. The Brits would say someone is "in a strop".

The other great thing about this word is that it can be used as an adjective! As an example, here is a quote from "Bend It Like Beckham" to demonstrate:

"How was she?"
"A right stroppy cow, actually."

Confused? Allow me to give you a visual.

Kate Moss is your typical stroppy cow.

While I hate to lump myself in any category with that bony harlot, I would consider myself in a strop right now.

Sadly, yesterday was probably the low-point of my snit and as Chick-Fil-A was closed, I was unable to eat my feelings.

Today, however, it is open if I need it. Isn't that reassuring? Comfort and BBQ sauce are only a short drive away.

Speaking of which, isn't it about time that a knock-off chain called Nuggetz-4-Heathens opened up on Sundays, primarily to take advantage of those of us who go through withdrawal for the 24 hours we can't have the real thing?

I'm just saying, I'd patronize that establishment on the day of rest.

So, to sum up-

• Strop
• Kate Moss
• Waffle fries
  

I'd say we're done here.

Gee, you smell terrific!

Fact: I want to be a vegetarian.

I'm sorry. What now?

I am a self-proclaimed "meat and potatoes girl". I love leather, whether it comes in the form of brown ankle boots or a luscious Nine West purse. I prefer my steak medium rare. The smell of a grilled chicken sandwich slathered in barbecue sauce makes me salivate with joy. When my dad used to make goulash, he would cook ground beef in a pan and I would ask for my own little bowl of browned beef chunks, which I would snork down with a spoon. Does that paint a decent picture?

I believe it was this past July when I noticed my mom was reading a book called Skinny Bitch. Immediately intrigued by the title, I stole the book from her (I do that a lot) and learned that I am supposed to be a vegan. Now... that's just not gonna happen. I have a love affair with dairy that needs no fixing. Nevertheless, I was so bothered by all the horrific treatment of the animals that I started to look at my chicken sandwich a little differently. I wanted to change!

Now,this time last year, I could count the vegetables I would eat (willingly) on one hand... and yes, corn counts! Okay, fine. Corn is a starch but I still count it. Since then, my vegetable repertoire has grown. I mean, I eat salad now! That's HUGE!

So, when I get home (it's so close, I can smell the hamburgers... I mean, the soy), I'm going to make an active effort to remove a sizable amount of meat from my diet. I guarantee a rather large digression at Thanksgiving, another small one at Christmas... and perhaps a slight misstep during my birthday in January, maybe a faux pas on Presidents' Day and maybe a small slip-up on St. Paddy's. I'm not worried about Valentine's Day as the only food group on my mind at that point will be the dark chocolate and nougat areas of the Food Pyramid.

(To be said with a southern accent) "I believe all of God's creatures have a place on this earth... on my plate, next to the mashed potatoes."
-Ms. Lindsay Kerrigan

Chick-Fil-A doesn't count, right?