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Archive for November, 2008

One, two, three, four, five crocodiles, each in their own stalls. Two on either side of me, and one just ahead.

The crocodile wrangler assured me that there were no worries. The crocs wouldn’t do anything unless their mood changed. After several tense moments, my discomfort turned to curiosity.

Somehow, something changed. The wrangler decided I better leave the pen, but it was too late to do it smoothly. The oldest croc was starting to give me the kind of attention I gave to chocolate when it’s been a long day, and no chocolate was available. I felt myself in danger.

The wrangler acted quickly. He grabbed the protective cage, which he had assured me would be perfectly safe. Safe? It was a large plastic dishpan and had a home-made chicken wire cage to place on top of it.

Having no other choice, I stepped into the dishpan, squatted, and pulled the cage over me. I fit perfectly, except the cage was made for a shorter person than my 5 foot, 5 inch frame. Perfect fit? That means that my body shape is normally slender, slender enough to fit into a large dishpan.

The wrangler pulls my dishpan out of the pen to safety. And thus ends my first thin dream.

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Sorry to be away so long, but I was traveling, and my expected internet connection fell through. It was a lovely trip, though, and I learned that life is indeed possible without overindulging in podcasts every day. Yes, a podcast binge. Sigh. At least they’re low calorie.

My trip went well food-wise. It was a trip to the USA, so I made sure to enjoy all of my favorite foods like cottage cheese and country sausage. Even ate at Bob Evans once. Haven’t had that in a while, and I found out that my own home-made sausage recipe was only missing one thing from Bob Evans’ recipe: pepper. When I tasted that delicious BE sausage, I immediately noticed the black pepper flavor. That’s great news, because that means I can better approximate the taste of the sausage myself.

Today I’m back at work, and surrounded by cake on┬áthree sides. I kid you not, it’s within arm’s reach to my left (I don’t even have to stand up), it’s 3 feet away on my right, and I have an invitation for cake in an hour right in front of me in email. The cake to the left smells good, but I can’t imagine eating it. It’s like those babies who are SOOO cute when you’re looking at them, but you don’t really want to take them home with you, because you know what the diapers will smell like.

Not that the cake is poopy, mind you, but rather it’s just not going to feel good in my stomach. The cake on my right is just plain icky, clearly the cake of a non-baker, flat and dry looking. No interest in it at all.

The cake that will come in an hour might be better, and if I want some then, I’ll eat some. It’s an apple cake to celebrate the 50th birthday of a friend.

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