never say never
three times this week i have had an experience of the following shape:
do something that i always do out of a hope for the discovery of greatness,
expect disappointment because the past has taught me that the odds of greatness in the situation in question are incredibly slim and the hope is continued only for sport,
feel surprised as i am proven wrong.
the first experience involved frozen lemonade at bonnaroo.
whenever i enter a festival environment, and see frozen lemonade, my crave brain decides that it is the pinnacle of all that is right and good in the world and i should get some, price be damned. this is a strange thing to believe so passionately, because i have trusted it time and again, only to find myself holding a teeny-tiny cup of lemon syrup, or lemon water, or ice chunks with vague hints of lemon flavoring.
and yet the craving returns anew every time, undaunted.
i told myself all of this as discussion of frozen lemonade began on friday afternoon, as we were walking in the roasting heat after listening to ben folds. i warned myself silently, but i did not listen. i charged ahead with my $5 in hand, and… the lemonade was awesome. it became a staple of the weekend. we got it at least three more times.
then yesterday, sitting in our hotel room eating a dinner composed of the various snack items that everyone had contributed to our (sizable) stash of hotel room food here in st. louis, i decided to eat some spreadable cheese and crackers.
as i explained to kelly at the time, i always Try spreadable cheese, because i like cheese, and i like spreading things, but i usually give up on it very quickly because it is never as good as it should be.
this time, however, it was pretty much perfect, and i consumed it happily, despite the fact that the pink swirlies in it (from port?) made my crackers look like they were being covered in playdoh.
finally, i have no choice but to offer a plug for lather, which is the soap that is provided by our fancy schmancy hotel.
i have a love-hate relationship with the provision of toiletries by hotels, because it always seems really nice of them, but then when i use them i always feel like they don’t really work at all, and i feel like i’m walking around with a layer of film on my skin or hair, albeit perhaps a layer of film that smells like lavender or huckleberry.
the only exception to this, prior to this hotel experience, was the hand soap at the colonial inn in concord, MA.
it smells like cinnamon and made me happy.
the lather soap smells like several things, but it all works like beautiful music, so if you want some chic, expensive, all-natural yuppie soap, you should get yourself some of that there goodness.