This essay is the first one inspired by a reader’s suggestion. Each month’s final column will be the result of an idea generated by you, Gentle Reader. /cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/53395039/suggestions.0.png)
In the summer I have a loathing of venturing out in the middle of the day. I am also an unrepentant night owl.
Luckily we live where there are a variety of merchants which are open all night.
Shopping after hours, there is an abundance of weird, with a large measure contributed by me, as illustrated by the following tales.
The Kid went to an arts high school. The theater department happily accepted donations of clothes and props. One day they received a trunk full of vintage clothing and hats. The drama students spent the rest of that Friday afternoon playing a teenage version of dress up.
Later that night I was downstairs watching TV and my child called downstairs to me.
“…um…could you come upstairs for a minute please…?”
I met The Kid at the bathroom sink, peering closely into the mirror in a manner which Queen Maleficent might find familiar. “I think I might have…lice.” Then I was shown a couple tiny creatures, and upon close scalp inspection, I noticed a couple similar things.
Whenever I am faced with upsetting facts, my mind tries to subvert reality. My brain looks at a fact and supplies ten reasons why it’s not true. I fold, spindle, and mutilate the truth so aggressively I resemble Bagdad Bob feverishly tap dancing at the podium, working to convince the world that Saddam is a brilliant strategist who makes infidels tremble at the thought of the punishment he will deliver.
So the lice discovery denigrated into The Kid trying to convince me that yes, they were indeed lice, but they were treatable and everything would be okay. But during the entire 2 AM drive to Kroger I decided we would shave our heads, shave the dog, burn down the house, and start all over again.
The Kid may have been the acting adult in this scenario, lice are still lice, and my baby skulked around Kroger in a baseball cap with a tightly cinched hoody on top. I was looking to add some accelerant and tinder to our purchase. We bought the lice remedy, and rushed out with our heads ducked low like a couple of disgraced televangelists.
Once home, I treated the patient, changed bedding and tucked in The Kid. I went downstairs for some furtive googling and discovered that lice are short lived (as in about 90 minutes) when not on a head. And they’re species specific, which meant I wouldn’t be stalking our poor dog with a pair of clippers.
One summer, The Kid had a friend from out of town staying over. They planned a road trip for the next day. Our child came downstairs at about 1:30 AM and asked us if we would make up a couple boxed lunches for them.
I had already filled the fridge with lunch fixings because I anticipated the request. As I was congratulating myself for my awesome, intuitive parenting, The Kid had an addendum.
“Oh yeah, my buddy won’t eat fried food or cheese, and is afraid of meat.”
Afraid.Of.Meat. 
So Petey and I made a late night trip to our old friend Kroger. And there, like a couple movie zombies, wandered around the store looking for inspiration and wondering aloud if soy cheese counted, and what kind of non-frightening condiments were allowed.
We put together what I thought was a pretty tempting repast and sent them off on their trip. The Kid informed me later that not a bite was eaten from the specially created meal—it looked like it might have some undefined verboten vittles, so was discarded.
I never saw said friend again; which was probably a good thing. The Kid didn’t either; and later told me that the food thing wasn’t her only “quirk”.
One Friday night when Petey was doing an overnight shift at the hospital and The Kid was home from college, we decided to eat out for dinner.
Unfortunately, we were finding it impossible to decide where to go.
As we went through the list of eateries in our area, the clock kept ticking away. Our deliberations began when Petey had left for work, about 6:30. Soon, the places that closed early were out of contention. Then, the joints that close around 10PM fell off the list. 
Finally, our decision was made for us. There was only one non-Waffle House restaurant near us that was still open. Luckily they had a widely varied menu, because we still didn’t know what we were in the mood for.
Finally, around 3:15 in the AM, I was wrapping my lips around the best patty melt I’d ever eaten.
Another time when The Kid was home from school, my child strenuously campaigned to get me to watch the BBC series, Sherlock, but for three months I kept putting it off.
Finally the night before my baby left for school we sat down together to watch season one, which The Kid owned. 
At the end of three hours, I was a goner. It was one of the best things I’d ever watched on TV, and I was mildly in love with Sherlock Holmes portrayer, Benedict Cumberbatch. I asked The Kid to pop in season two, and was horrified to learn that my child did not own it.
Holmes and Watson were facing both Moriarty and a bomb! I had to know what happened. It was after 1 AM, but there were stores near us open 24 hours that might have the desired DVD.
Noooo! Somebody, somewhere has to have it!
We began calling every merchant we could think of and begging for season two. We came up with nothing. But…there was one guy, at a Walmart about 30 minutes away that may have misunderstood which DVD we were searching for. I made the decision to go there and see for myself.
We jumped into the jeep and headed off. I drove to Raleigh, the whole way working to convince myself that we were not on a fool’s errand, and they had a copy in stock.
At 2 in the morning, there is only one person working in the DVD department. We had spoken to him on the phone, and he told us they didn’t have it. 
When we arrived at Walmart, we made a beeline to see for ourselves.
As we were hunting, an associate approached us to see if he could help us find what we were looking for. It didn’t take long to do the math and figure out that the crazy lady he had recently spoken to on the phone was now standing in front of him, looking for the selfsame show that he had just told us they didn’t carry. We got to see with our own mortified eyes that it was not there.
We did get a small bag of Mickey D’s fries for the long, embarrassed ride home.
You can go many places on the interwebs and see the bizarre that comes out shopping in the middle of the night. But for me it’s not necessary.
Like those reusable shopping bags we take to the grocery store; in the middle of the night, we bring our own crazy with us from home.
Thanks for your time.
Lionel Vatinet is the devil.
I asked Chef Jim about the bags of orange butter cookies at the register. When applying to cook at an establishment, a common practice is for the applicant to actually cook. Jim baked his delicious little orange confections and got the job.
1 & 1/3 cups butter, softened
Pour dough onto surface and knead just until it comes together. Divide dough in half, and roll each half into a log about 2 inches in diameter. Wrap in plastic and refrigerate for at least one hour. 
La Farm can make a bread loving girl lose her head. I could spend a full paycheck on and eat my body weight in those gorgeous, aromatic, delicious wares.
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This column originally had a different title. More on that later.
In addition to genre specific shopping and perhaps meeting actors from TV and movies, I expected to be surrounded by pasty and pathetic geeks, nerds, and dorks. I would spend my weekend pointing and laughing.
We met Tony Todd, the actor who had a recurring role playing Worf’s brother Kurn on Star Trek, The Next Generation. He was so kind and interesting. We went back to see him today to say thanks and goodbye. We were rewarded with hugs and a peculiar but brilliant piece of wisdom. We told him how nice we thought he was and he said, “I don’t understand being ugly to people. It takes too much time.”
We met Michael Rooker, the blue guy from the Guardians of the Galaxy movies and also Grant from the Citizen Kane of horror comedies; Slither. He’s the fun uncle that lets you drive his truck at age 12, and gives you your first beer at 14. You’ll come away with epic stories, and maybe a tattoo or two.
‘Cause it ain’t right, and we ain’t having it.
There is a curse falsely attributed to an ancient Chinese sage: ‘May you live in interesting times.
And, it was dinner time.
But then I really looked at Petey. And I could tell that he’d been looking forward to Mama Cat’s dish. It was his four-wheeled baby which broke, and he deserved some pampering.
2-6 ounce boxes original Uncle Ben’s Long Grain and Wild Rice (prepared according to directions, minus 1/2 cup water)
That time I spent getting the dish in the oven was therapeutic. After days of stuff I couldn’t control, there was finally something I could. It was deeply restorative.
Every base where my Dad was stationed was on the water. I’ve lived on both coasts, the Gulf of Mexico, the Caribbean, the beautiful Pasquotank river, and Lake Michigan.
My watery tale has a heartbreaking ending.
Thanks for your time.
Not only do I loathe these 1000 degree days with humidity of 94%, I’m not too crazy about the people who claim to love them. Plus, I’m not totally convinced they’re telling the truth.
Here’s a perfect summer day for me: fall.
3 Bosc pears, peeled, halved, and cored
2/3 cup mayonnaise
3 duck breasts
Remove from pan and let rest.
5 cups salad greens
Fresh whole wheat roll and real butter/cdn.vox-cdn.com/uploads/chorus_image/image/52723141/_7B5015C9F0-FFE9-4176-9AB8-AA032D0BD9EF_7DImg400.0.jpg)
Thanks for your time.
Farro’s extremely versatile. This chewy little grain which can be used in a myriad of delicious ways also tastes awesome as-is, right out of the cooking pot.
And many fans of old school hot cereal have unknowingly eaten bowls of farro in the form of ‘Cream of Farina’. But regular farro makes a pretty nifty hot cereal as well. You can make a big pot when you have time, then just nuke and dress it for breakfast.
3/4 cup farro
To serve, stir in spinach, and spoon onto plate, adding Parmesan to taste. Serves 3.
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“Crowley! Knock it off! If you want to go out, you’d better stand still! Hold it! Stop it!”
“Sorry! Thanks for not hitting us with your car.”
Wait, what is that? What the heck? Is that a…yeah, that’s a drone hanging off that mailbox. It’s new, and it looks like a nice one, too. What the what?
“C’mon, let’s keep going, we’ll have the whole walk knocked out in no time.”
What do those people do in there? Every time we go past, the garage door is half open and they’re sitting at a table working on something. Is it meth? I read you need lots of ventilation for meth. Are they decorating cupcakes? I hope they’re decorating cupcakes.
“Alright Buddy, we’re home! After dinner, we’ll do another full walk…’cause I’m having root beer and cookies for breakfast. Now move over! Mama needs some of that cool, cool tile.”
Thanks for your time.
bull city mom 