(June 3. 2022)
"Much better than That,"
a wake-up mantra for me
just about writes itself
*(For a good two decades ever before I heard this radio icon say, my oft' response to queries "How Ya Doin'?," Was: "Much Better Than I deserve." Then I heard Dave Ramsey utter almost the same thing on his syndicated AM radio show featuring gurru-ship in just about anything worth considering: money, life (and style), investment, education, children, the state of our state, nation, world and his unabashed Christian attitude about what to do about what's going on. I even listen sometimes...when I'm not engaged in listening to my favorite talker: me. I decided to change my usual "much better than I deserve," at times opting for the above title, especially when faced with the not uncommon reply: "but, surely, you deserve so much more... etc., etc., etc. Hey! I live with me; have for some few years, too! Know all his tricks and dodges; he's an artiste at con, not to mention been to Cannes (but that was in a different century); and, truly, I can say He's much better (than he so richly deserves) and is thankful to his Lord and Savior he didn't last night get his just desserts. Had Banana Nut Loaf cake instead. The lemon bars in which I gleefully overindulged at lunch almost made me wince in feigned disavowal for the blueberry pie I'd rather have had: but we all make adjustments, neh? Right now I am torn 'tween trying to find my lost, misplaced or just plain missing very last lens to my skewed 'spensive glasses frames and readying as best I can think to manage a tropical storm either will or not come calling later tonight. We need the rain. I do not need to see my carefully curated - nonchalance word meaning I guess "taking care of" the kind of word like cornmeal mush for 35 cents on any honest breakfast menu or perhaps a buck-thirty five when served with small bits of highly garlicked slightly spiced pork sausage called by Cajuns andouille, with some oddments like just-as-small-pieces-of-shrimps floated in. But let new-food wonders get ahold of the bill of fare and its $15 or more for polenta with sausages, shrimps, and either grated parmesan or black truffle - or both (that ups the tally to $35 in even modest bistros)! When did "Curated" gain its upper-crust? Who stole the term from churches and museums? Do they pay royalties? Do you know how hard it is to find honest germ-still-in white cornmeal sized for grits? The tyrant types flock to new meanings for old words like the current regurgitation of summer cartoon movies "updated and improved" by the addition of culturally approved - and this properly curated! - iconography called let the black tran-sexual or gender-confused chipmunk sing Alvin's part! And all this really was about wanting some honest cheese grits made of breakfast leftover grits to be lightly dusted with Wondra and pan-seared to foil as toast points with some leftover mushrooms and onions gently sauteed in unsalted butter with a hint of cabernet to finish for a quick-n-easy cheap-assed lunch to justify the rest of the bottle of wine I'm going to curate in my gullet anyway.
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