Shouldn’t there be, I mean really, an emoticon for a horselaugh or maybe even one for utter despair? The sad face doesn’t meet the need for utter hopelessness. How about a sobbing face? Eddie, can do?

Ed and I got a gift certificate from a friend for a dinner at Outback. I prefer restaurants that have more of a seafood menu since I make great steaks and roasts at home, but my fishy repertoire is needy. Anyway, we went there last night. Ed said I looked too dressed and I said I was wearing the only pair of nonjeans pants that I have that doesn’t have car tar on the right leg. He promised he’d take me to the Bell Tower (great shops) so I could replenish my wardrobe and also that he would get out the denatured alcohol that I am afraid to use (have you read the cautions? Sheesh.) and help de-tar my pants wardrobe. (I have finally identified the source from the car and this is no longer happening.)

At the Outhouse, sorry, Outback, I ordered the ribeye steak, 10 ounces for $10 something, plus the house salad and a baked potato. The steak was thinner than what I get at the market. It was highly spiced, not necessarily a bad thing, but it was also very fatty indeed, much more than I thought was possible for a non chuck steak cut. I ordered it medium rare, but it came medium because it was so thin that to get it rare, the cook would have had to scare it with a mean look and threats. Ed ordered the rack of lamb. Good, he said, but not enough of it.

Ed ordered a shrimp appetizer that was fried in coconut batter but they forgot to serve it and at the end the waitress gave us a free chit for an appetizer we might use on a future visit. This will no doubt “time out” since it may take us several years to get back there. I was pleased not to eat coconut shrimp that I was better off not having and it was probably a good thing. More on this.

Ed also had a pina colada because he likes to start with dessert. I had a sip and realized this too was coconut flavor. I don’t get it. Coconut: blah. After the main course, Ed wanted dessert. He had cheesecake with raspberry syrup and I had a chocolate brownie with syrup and ice cream. I put most of the brownie in a take-out box along with half of the steak. I was stuffed.

The waitress, a 30-something, was very cheery, and Ed asked her how long she’d been doing this and she said nine years. If it was me, I might have beaned some customer by now. How can you be that happy on your feet all night, dealing with, for the most part, demanding customers? Not us. We’re always peachy and understanding.

At home, I took a 15-minute nap, timing myself with the kitchen timer and got up to watch the Mentalist. (If they drag this Red John serial killer theme out through the entire series, they will hear from me.)

I went to bed at 11:30 or so and awoke at 2 a.m. I had referred pain (too much fat?) and was mildly nauseous. I got up and gave myself a back massage on the corner of a chair (I have to sit on the floor to do this). I got a cold pack out of the fridge and put it on my neck. I was worried that I would get rid of dinner, and that would have been okay with me, except I hate the process. Nausea is my least favorite way to be sick. However, my homespun remedies worked and I got back to sleep without heaving.

I haven’t been out today, feeling really spent and tired and I skipped answering the phone while I listened to a meditation tape instead of walking. Most of the calls these days are automated solicitations for your vote. I am not afraid to say “no”, also to requests for funds. If I responded to each one, for even the suggested minimum ($25), I would have by now spent over a thousand
Ed is at the Chamber of Commerce where he volunteers. The woman who does Friday mornings is sick, and he said, ok, he’d do the whole day.

The weather is good so I can probably still walk or bike. Here I come world.

Seeya,

xx, Teal