Bedtime

Tonight, I stayed up past my bed time. No! Don't leave! It's not a trite turn of phrase that hearkens back to Days Gone By more cheaply than the snow-globe effect they use on those dating shows where you wonder if the camera-guy just had the lens on auto-focus the whole time or what he was doing when there were probably way more qualified people just chomping at the bit for their artistic break-through onto the Hollywood scene. I really have a bedtime.

It's 10:30.

LAME. My capital 'S' Someone and I realized that I go to bed no less than four hours later than she does on an average night. Assuming we both get a full night of sleep, that's a whole shit-ton of time to make up for when we hang out on the weekends. Eight hours difference in consciousness lost per day is a lot, so we're working on this sleep diet (not kidding) where you go to bed at the same time every night (10:30) and wake up at the same time every morning (6:30) and not have time to make food for the pal who's allergic to his fillings!

Actually, that's why I'm cheating: the Fillings Guy. I'm still awake at 11:56 because at 9:47 this guy needed dinner (two days from now on Thursday) and I was the only one (5) who was going to make it! I garnished garbanzo beans with frijoles negros and 3 different colors of peppers; I doctored corn, tomatoes and the like; I roasted the potatoes and steamed the broccoli and made the hearty mix of black rice, sticky-rice and quinoa. There was no wheat, no dairy, no Bourbon in a flask (though I thought about it), and nothing tummy-twisting.

Then,

upon finishing, I read the email again:

"[Supa Guy's] dietary restrictions are : no wheat, almonds, or peanuts; minimal sugar and dairy, including cheese; and minimal hard-to-digest things like lentils and wild rice."

I'm sorry, but whathefuckareyoutalkingabout? Hard-to-digest-things like beans and rice? Sugar's all I can think of that's simpler, but that's off the list too. [Supa Guy], maybe you should try fletcherizing. That's right:

Fletcherizing.

Horace Fletcher (1849-1919) was known in his day as "The Great Masticator" (not kidding) and would, as expected from the moniker, chew the shit outta food before doing the dirty deed of swallowing. Whatever this did for his jowls it did wonders for his constitution, as I'm told his leavings had no odor. His daughter, Ivy, wrote all about it in her memoirs, Remember Me, which is hands down the most accurately titled autobiography in history.

Fletcherizing was thought to break down food stuffs to their most basic components while eschewing any nasty proteins that found their way into the oat-bran.

The next time you're whining about food being too rich, too spicy, too dairy or too wheaty (I was being sarcastic in that last one. Gluten intolerance is real.), just work those jaws and chew the nasty right out of 'em.

That's right, [Supa Guy], you're getting the beans, the oh-so-wild rice and the over-seasoned everything (because I burnt my tongue like 3-minutes into starting your meal). Suck it up. What're you gonna do? Sick on me?

And, bedtime.

I stayed up because of [Supa Guy], yes. But I also stayed up because Someone said I had to write tonight. Well, I wrote. It's 12:49, but I wrote.

Bedtime starts tomorrow.

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Christians are funny. My silly little house-church is so progressive in so many ways, but when it comes to illness, we're just the same as 1st Presbyterian on Main Street: from a light cold to heavy metal poisoning, the best way to help a sick friend is with large quantities of home cooked food.

Tonight, I like being a Christian.*

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*I go back and forth on the whole "Christian" thing. My politics, personal hygiene and stance on oral antibiotics are all wrong. For all the Christians I offended in that lat aside, I'm sorry. I may never again be truly one of you, but I like your Jesus. And, I like your belief in the power of food.