Today has been rainy and gloomy. I started out the day with a food craving that has yet to be satisfied. Not too long after lunch I thought I might treat myself to take-out lunch from the local gas station as they had a Stewart’s hot dog counter, complete with free soda if your purchased two dogs. So, I thought after my daily hike out into the woods I might do this. Instead while out hiking my thoughts progressed and the core cell of this craving divided into two cells, and those two cells divided into two more. I couldn’t settle any longer. I had to carry this baby to full term.
I at first wanted a hotdog with sauce, mustard and finely chopped onions. After pondering on it for a while the craving grew into the desire for a nostalgic episode complete with all the trappings of past experiences of what good hot dog experiences were. Maybe the hotdogs weren’t all that good, but the memories of the all the subtle nuances around the circumstances of consuming them made them seem one of the great culinary pleasures of life. Okay, now I’m picking out a bassinet and wallpaper.
The more thought I put into it not only did my olfactory senses have to be satisfied; but all five senses played some part. I’m with my husband sitting at a table with a vinyl red checked tablecloth. All accompaniments, that you would ever need, like mustard, sugar, hot sauces, crowd one-fourth edge of the table. I’m picturing a round table with the old-fashioned metal ice cream chairs. My imagination darts back and forth on this one though. It could be one of those comfy booths with the over padded red vinyl seats or even a sturdy rectangular wooden table with matching stout wooden chairs that make that squeaking wood sound when you move them forward or backwards. The red-checkered vinyl tablecloth is still a must in any scenario.
The hot dogs are brought to us in thin white scalloped paper oblong holders. This already gives added flavor to the hot dog. We drink root beers through paper straws with bags of chips on the side.
Perhaps I’m growing sentimental thinking about our upcoming first date anniversary this weekend. He arrived about eight o’clock on a Friday night, after driving for two and one half hours after work. He hadn’t taken time for dinner. I wasn’t hungry at all. His eating habits in those days were definitely in bachelor mode. He asked for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I looked far back in the cupboard and luckily the dates hadn’t expired. Well, perhaps the date on the grape jelly, which was in the nether lands of the refrigerator, had expired. I watched him eat. He kept looking at me between bites watching my first impressions of him. After six years he’s still here. During the time we’ve been together we’ve eaten at some really elegant places; and we’ve eaten at a few holes in the wall. Just being together could even flavor the later with a peaceful Buddhist contentment. As I keep thinking of some significant way to celebrate our first date. Maybe all this resulted from him asking me if I would fix him another peanut butter jelly sandwich. Time traveling to a cozy hot dog/hamburger diner for some reason has great appeal. Or maybe just writing this took me there.
After this weekend I'll let you know what actually played out.