The Best of Intentions Always Result in Chocolate

I met a friend at The Melting Pot last night, where I proceeded to eat my weight in cheese. Then we ordered chocolate fondue for dessert and had to order extra marshmallows for dipping because the two of us are huge marshmallows fans. (We survived Girl Scouts together. There is a lot of psychological comfort derived from marshmallows in our world. Marshmallows and, more recently, martinis. I often think girls camp might have been more bareable had their been cocktails available.)

I waddled out to my car with my pants unbuttoned to make room for all the cheese and sugar expanding in my stomach. And decided that, no matter how cold (it has been cold the past couple of days!) I would run this morning. I went a couple days last week and it felt good.

This morning I scrounged up a hat in my grandmother’s closet, put on long pants, a long sleeved t-shirt, and my running shoes. To walk out into the rain. GAH.

I promptly turned back around and debated what to do. Naturally, running was out. But I could, perhaps, spend a little quality time with my grandmother. So I wandered back into her house just as she was settling happily into the Fox news channel. (It plays about 12 hours a day there.) I resisted blowing my brains out and sat down to try and have a conversation. Mrs. Palin then came on to do a press conference, and all conversations were hushed.

I sat, transfixed, as she forgot the second sentence of her speech and had to look at her notes. To be fair, she was quite a ways in. The woman doesn’t really believe in periods. She just starts talking and keeps going and then says some more and then throws in an “Alaska!” and a “GOP” here and there and it’s just one long painful never-ending steam, OMFG.

Then, after a couple minutes of all but giving the verbal equivalent of a lap dance to the Republican egos in the room (it was a convention of GOP governors, or something like that) she opened it up for questions. The first question was about her campaign. She gave a little snort, and said, “The campaign’s over,” and was applauded for stating the obvious. The reporter persisted, and she said something to the effect of, “It’s in the past, so I’m not going to talk about it. What I am going to do going forward is take questions from the media.”

Forward from right now? Because to me, it kind of sounded like she answered a question from the media by saying, “I’m not going to answer your question, because I’m now going to answer questions from the media.”

I gave up, walked out, made myself some hot chocolate, and went back to work. It seemed like the only reasonable thing to do.