5:26 p.m. on a Wednesday Evening in Redwood City

Self still on the Nicholson Baker-ish focus on minutiae.  Soon she’s going to have to start thinking of what to cook for dinner.  She successfully saved fingernails from further splitting by digging only one hole today in the backyard (and leaving it unfinished).  She obligingly stayed home all day, thereby avoiding temptation to spend —  for books, magazines, plants, yumi yogurt, what-have-you.  Son says he isn’t sure yet if he’s coming up tomorrow or Friday.  Self inquires if he and his friend are planning to spend Memorial Day here, and he says probably not.  The washing machine’s still broken, but there’s been progress on this front:  Now self has managed to convince hubby that we cannot continue one more week with a broken washing machine.  She called a plumber, she called Best Buy, she read Consumer Reports.  She’s marshalling all her facts so that when hubby comes home tonight, she can present him with her case, her case for buying the $759 washing machine that self feels will best keep the clothes and bedding smelling nice and fresh.  In the meantime, back to the cooking.

Self decided that, because of all the side trips she’s been making lately to Dairy Queen and Yumi Yogurt, she needs to go on a diet.  Besides which, she read in Filipinas Magazine’s “Expat’s Kitchen” that “there’s no denying that Filipinos, especially those living in America, are high up in the susceptibility level of such modern ailments as diabetes, high blood pressure and heart diseases.”

She likes that rather unique phrase:  “susceptibility level.”  Self has a “high susceptibility level” for over-eating.  Especially when it comes to ice-cream.  As she simply can’t live through summer without it.  Anyhoo, she continues with the Filipinas Magazine article:  “It is commonly believed that Filipino food is unhealthy, because of the high sodium and fat content that popular dishes require.”  Oh.  Next!

Self lands on Chowhound, which is one of the sites she could lose herself in, for hours and hours.  Today she sees a post from the parents of a Cal Poly junior, who are soliciting restaurant suggestions for San Luis Obispo.  The mom writes that they tried a Japanese place downtown, that she and her husband were among the very few “over college-age kids” in the restaurant, and that she “blushed several times just overhearing some of the boisterous conversations from adjacent tables.”

Which led self to muse on son, who was here only a few days ago and who will be back this weekend with friend Rebecca.  Son is so decorous at all times (and so poker-faced, as witness his demeanor when self dragged him to 10:05 Digital Projection screening of “Star Trek” at RWC Century 20 last Saturday:  while self laughed uproariously with the rest of the audience at practically every wisecrack, son was so quiet that self actually took to poking him in the ribs.  Bad Mama!  Bad Mama!).  Self sometimes wonders whether son is just pulling her leg.  Go crazy, son! it’s always been on the tip of her tongue to say.  Just go hog-wild!  Your Mama doesn’t want to see you turn into a 40-year-old walking-talking mid-life crisis!

Self has absolutely no idea how we arrived here, dear blog readers.  She was supposed to be blogging about what to cook for dinner.

Stay tuned.

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