Unfortunately, the banana wasn’t there. That’s right, I stood there grasping at air like some stupid Midwestern air-grasper for several minutes before I realized I was no closer to achieving the coveted rank of “Smug Banana Enjoyer.” 

“Smug Banana Enjoyer” Award 

Patty had earlier handed the banana to Isla, who adorably started chewing on it, resulting in the following incriminating photo. 

Mine. 

As I mentioned previously, Isla is starting to eat real food now.  As a result, I have to accept that I’ve officially entered the stage in my life where food mysteriously disappears more quickly than it used to. First it’s bananas, but eventually it will be cereal, pizza, cereal pizza, and leftovers from Shakeys. 

If she starts eating my strained peas, I’m just gonna cry.

Patty is in her 2nd trimester and right on schedule, she is craving all sorts of food I wouldn’t touch with a 10-foot clown pole.  A few weeks ago, we were at the mall looking for deals on slightly damaged towel racks.  I also planned to stop by the Apple Store to look at all the shiny things and heckle the Genius Bar.  We were literally 15 feet from the Apple Store entrance, when Patty made me put down my tape measure so that we could get a pretzel; you know, one of those big-ass mall pretzels with salt crystals the size Rubik’s Cubes and a thimble-full of melted cheese-flavored food-type product?  Yeah, she needed one NOW.  Since I’m a team player, as well as an integral member of this pasty family unit, we immediately made our way to Madam Fong’s Magical Garden Of Pretzelly Delights (located next to H&R Block.)  Patty got her hubcap-sized pretzel and was kind enough to share a giant salt cube with me, so it was totally worth it.

More recently, Patty has been craving cookie dough ice cream and donuts.  Nothing too unusual there, however, I was mildly surprised last weekend when she helped herself to a large bowl of ice cream with a chocolate-glaze sprinkle donut on top.  I must have looked at her rather strangely, because she immediately glared at me with eyes ablaze and advised me to stop judging her!!  No problem, Crazy-Pregnant-Lady-Who-Lies-Next-To-Me-While-I-Sleep.

All kidding aside, Patty has kept her cool very well.  For example, she didn’t actually make me get her a cheeseburger at 3AM the other night, but let’s just say, I had the car keys on my nightstand.  I’m just glad I can be there for Patty when she needs me.  She actually seems surprised about her sudden cravings as well.  I assured her that food cravings are completely normal for pregnant woman and that she has absolutely nothing to be concerned about. 

Of course, none of that explains why I blasted through an entire French Silk pie about an hour ago.

Patty & I then went over to her folks’ place for lunch. We were running late because I needed to comb my hair and pick up my accordion. What, you don’t think I have an accordion? Have you read this blog? Trust me, THIS geek has an accordion. I love spending Easter with my family. Plus, I continued the time-honored tradition of biting the head off of Patty’s chocolate bunny when she’s not looking. (Why yes, I am 8 years old, why do you ask?) OK, I was just joking around and I did give her my untouched bunny in exchange, but I’m still gonna need a place to crash until this whole thing blows over.

Other than that, it was a good day to just relax and read the paper. Unfortunately, I read a rather disturbing story about a local cab driver who was stabbed by his 15 year-old passenger when she couldn’t pay the $22 cab fare. You can read the story here. Luckily the driver is going to be OK. According to the article, “The driver was stabbed with a kitchen knife in the neck, leg and buttocks.” At first I wondered how he got the buttock wound; then I realized that if someone is attacking me with a knife, at the very least, I’m farting on them.

• I’m working on a little side project that requires me to come up with 27 seconds of “baseball music.” That’s it, “baseball music.” That’s kinda vague, isn’t it? That’s a little like telling a drummer to “lay down a groove.” I’m keeping my fingers crossed that “baseball music” loosely translates into “something I wrote eight years ago,” but probably not. How much do you wanna bet I’ll be cycling through the “organ” patches on my keyboard? Take that one to the bank, people.
• I’ve mentioned that I’m a part-time musician (Oh, I’m pretty sure I have.) Since I left the band last summer, I’m finding that I need contextual clarification whenever someone suggests I “keep on rocking.” I believe it’s still considered a compliment, but it may simply be a helpful suggestion in case I look like I’m tipping slightly. Just to be safe, I’ll “keep on rocking,” but I’ll stop if it starts to upset passersby. I might be over-thinking this.
• Indie & Bear are not amused by the new snow we got this morning. Not even a little. Bear gave me his typical Will Smith-like, “Oh Hell no! You did NOT send me out into that snow!” I told him, “hey, if you don’t like it, you’re welcome to stay with a nice Arizona family. Oh, you don’t KNOW anyone in Arizona? Well, maybe you should calm down then. And I’m not a yutz!” Most of our conversations go that way.
• I’m hankerin’ for a big ‘ol bag of mini-donuts. Seriously, I’ll give a “shout-out” (as the kids like to say) to anyone who can hook that up.
• The local news rag had a big article featuring Ashlee Simpson yesterday. Apparently she has red hair now, or she bought a pantsuit, or something. Um, I can remember a time when getting caught lip-syncing on TV would have made someone, you know, go away.
• Surprisingly, I’m finding that I need a haircut; take THAT, everyone who ever called me “Baldo McGillicuddy!” You know who you are, ya bastards! (Sorry. Coffee.)
• Finally, I can no longer hide my disappointment that I’m rarely introduced as “The Step-Brother of Funk.”

There, I said it.

I bring this up for two reasons. First, people love reading blogs where idiots talk about the weather, and second, Monday is the day I should have gone grocery shopping. We’re dangerously close to running out of food. Unfortunately, Monday was too nice of a day to go grocery shopping (what with all the golfing, water-skiing and log-rolling,) and today is the kind of day where you don’t immediately realize you’ve lost fingers as you, oh I don’t know, walk to the mailbox. As a result, Patty and I are trying to use up the food we have before requesting an airlift from Anchorage. It’s amazing what you will consider eating for dinner when you just don’t want to venture outside: crackers, soup, popcorn, emergency pizza, and hey, that can of pulverized bacon shards is looking pretty good. We’re actually hoping to go shopping on Friday…unless the weather is either too nice or too lousy, of course.

And by the way, I freely admit how ridiculous all of this sounds. My grandpa worked a farm and raised 8 kids in Central Minnesota during the Depression and World War II, while I get tired if I have to go to the gas station and the bank in the same day.

“Hearty Minnesotan,” my butt. Maybe I could take a class, or something.

While I was lost in the stupor one commonly associates with eating apple pie, I asked, “Why is there no orange pie?” Patty, of course, is too nice to reply, “That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard.” (It isn’t…we’ve known each other awhile.) Instead, she simply asked, “What??”

I think it’s a fair question, I mean there’s rhubarb pie, shoofly pie (it’s filled with molasses,) mock apple pie (the secret ingredient is “ridicule,”) even scotch pie for God’s sake, so why no orange pie? The only answer she had was, “because it would be disgusting.” Fair enough, but if someone was drunk enough to come up with Beer Cheese Soup, I hardly see how Orange Pie is much of a stretch. Truth is, I’m sure a search of the internet would reveal that there actually IS such a thing as Orange Pie (although I didn’t see squat on Wikipedia, other than a lovely article on Alison Krauss. She’s a singer!) I could probably find it along with recipes for Beef Chex and Open Source Beet Juice. (If you find it, don’t tell me!)

Don’t worry, I’m not going to go on searching for an Orange Pie recipe. I wouldn’t want to eat it anyway; I left my kitchen-experimentation phase in the same box as my 14 baud modem and my Colecovision.

Besides, it sounds disgusting.