They have plates just for those? Oooooh

So Mamma and Pappa took Mr. Cutbait and me out to dinner last night.  We went to Jake's Famous Crawfish Seafood Restaurant, which is always lovely.

Now keep in mind, this is a SEAFOOD restaurant.

I didn't notice this the first time we ate there, but on the walls are mounted several collections of plates in glass cases.  The plates looked much like these:

...which look very much like this:

Mamma and I first noticed one such collection on a wall close to our table - "Look at all those neat old deviled egg plates," she said.  We discovered others on a trip to the ladies' room.

"Wow, they just really love those deviled egg plates here," I observed.

Enter the snooty Alec Baldwin-esque waiter.

"I love all your deviled egg plates!" I gushed.

"Those are oyster plates."

......

Oh.

Frightfully uneducated in the ways of seafood serving pieces,
Fisher Cutbait

Where is the Reverend Shaw Moore?

Only he can get the citizens of Beaumont to wake up and stop being silly.

"Satan isn't in these books! He's in HERE!"

*picture Shaw pointing to his heart*

According to a few sweet misguided Beaumont-ish souls, Satan's favorite holiday is Halloween, and if you celebrate it and participate in its traditions, you're associating with him and being all naughty and stuff.

(How they know this, I can't figure out. Did they interview him about it? It's about as bad as whether Mormons are Christian or not.)

So Satan is a Halloween fan?  My darling little seven-year-old dressing up in a costume, going door-to-door asking for candy, and being praised for her cuteness is something he delights in?  Is he really big into eyeliner and fake blood and hollowed-out gourds with candles in them?  The ward's annual trunk-or-treat, is that one of his favorite things?

The whole thing is goofy. If Wikipedia is correct (and when isn't it), Halloween stemmed from a Catholic church tradition. How did it become Satanic, exactly? And whatever it once was, is it still celebrated that way today?

More importantly, aren't these anti-Halloweeners lending more evil credence to an insignificant day of the year, with their crybabying and shunning?

I'm sure some of his worshippers engage in stupid, evil activities on Halloween, but it seems a little naive to assume that it only happens that day or that they need a special occasion to do their thing.  "IT'S OCTOBER 31ST.  TODAY IS THE DAY WE ALL MAIM RACCOONS AND DRINK SLUG SLIME."  Like they can't do that on any other day of the year?

But what do I know - I'm just a Mormon.

(WINK, WINK)

Dreaming of chocolate-caramel eyeballs and laughing in devilish delight,
Fisher Cutbait

I vant to be alone

I have lived alone exactly two months of my life, and it wasn't nearly enough time to get used to it (or sick of it). I don't remember much - those two months were jam-packed with working, emotional garbage (most of which I was responsible for), and my boyfriend, Mr. Cutbait.

I do remember that after a lifetime of living with my family or roommates, it wasn't too terrible to find myself solely responsible for a tiny piece of real estate. I liked it, actually.

Almost twenty years later, surrounded by Mr. Cutbait and our several children, I find myself pondering what a little more alone time would have been like. It seems so odd to me that there are people in the world who spend years living by themselves. How would that be?

From a housekeeping standpoint, it seems like it would be easier - I mean, obviously - but you'd still have all the stuff to clean, and only you to do the work. On the other hand, things would stay cleaner and picked up longer.

If you lived alone, what do you think your life would be like? I can tell you there would probably be no satellite TV or game systems in my household. (At the moment I'm listening to the Disney channel coming from one room and a neglected Wii game's music from somewhere else.)

Maybe I'd have a cat, except I'd be the one doing the litter box thing... so maybe not. I do better with things that don't require food or daily maintenance.

Some people think it would be lonely, and it might get that way sometimes, I suppose. How would you fill that void? Travel? Friends? Service? Self-medicating?

At no point do I want my family gone from me - again, obviously - but having lived one kind of life for such a long time, I think it's normal to stop and think about what might have been. I really have no idea - I can't remember a time in my life when I didn't want to get married and have children, and thus never be alone again (without going out to the car, only to be discovered within a few minutes: "Mommy? Why are you out here?").

I just wonder where I'd be, and what I'd be doing. Do you?

Alone again (naturally),
Fisher Cutbait

Oh! How I Love a Fresh Start

Facebook's new format creeps me out.  It's the ticker: "So-and-so left a comment on so-and-so's photo."  "So-and-so is attending the Great White Shark Festival on Amity Island."  "So-and-so just sneezed, now say 'gesundheit.'"

It's not that I'm ashamed of what I say or do or like, or that I have anything to hide - but with the older version of Facebook, I had the settings fixed so that no one could follow me around. I liked the privacy. Now it's gone.

I hate it when something is perfect, and then the powers that be mess with it till it's unrecognizable. The powers that be need their little hands slapped.

So here I am, blogging again... since blogging is so private.

Trying not to get fresh,
Fisher Cutbait

Hello.

As I sit here looking out my front window, breaking my own rule by eating a bowl of homemade French onion soup in my living room - what the hey, it's my living room -

I am prone to wonder a few things.

Like, how awesome is it that my awesome child knows how to cook such awesomeness?  Awesome, awesome, and awesome some more?

How many days will it be before the family stops smelling of roasted onion?  I just dropped off a reeking little Cub Scout at our church building for an activity, and you know how kind and understanding other children are.  Especially about someone who smells weird.  He'll be OK, right?

After attending my two elementary school children's parent-teacher conferences later this week, how bad will I feel - chocolate-bad, vodka-bad or Valium-bad?  (They're only tardy at least once a week.)

And lastly - I don't think this one needs explaining - are Oreos secretly made of laxatives?

I guess that's it for now.  If any more wonderings cross my little pea brain, you'll be the first to know. 

kisses,
Fisher Cutbait