Hey Drama Goblins,
Last week I had a wonderful visit with my son and his partner in the house they bought last year. I’m still processing all of the feelings that come from being a guest in my adult child’s home. It’s not dissimilar to how feel-y it felt the first time they came for dinner and then left to go home. Like guests.
There should be baby books for adults to capture these milestones.
There was also a lot last week that made me bummed out, frustrated and angry. That Football Player’s graduation speech. The Bumble Fumble. And I made the mistake of looking at dating apps while I was in Illinois. The parade of misogynist, obnoxious, low-effort and grody men was truly jaw-dropping even for this jaded dater.
A few choice examples:
This is not a good time to be a woman in America. It’s exhausting.
All that plus I’m still kind of spent from a lot of travel and very little sleep, so I’m taking it easy on myself. The long story this week is three fun and funny short stories from the Starr Family Archives, all filed under F, for Food and Flying.
I’m so glad you’re here,
Lara
Short Story:
John Starr was super excited to eat his Trader Joe’s burrito. Unfortunately, the burrito had other plans.
Long Story:
Trader Joe’s wasn’t always as ubiquitous as it is now. They were prolific in LA where I grew up, but were late coming to the Bay Area. One of the early ones was in Santa Cruz, where friends of ours lived.
One weekend on the way up from visiting them, we stopped at TJ’s and loaded up on cheese, snacks, cereal, coffee and frozen burritos.
John Starr loved him a ‘to, and was super excited to get home and have one for dinner.
He heated it up and took it into the living room to eat it. He was sitting there happy as a clam when I walked back into the kitchen to get something, then suddenly I hear…
“Oh FUCK!”
I slowly opened the door and see him sitting there with a very angry look on his hot sauce-splashed face, holding the handle of a broken fork, and the burrito was on his shoulder.
On. his. shoulder!
As best as we could later figure out, the fork - which had a plastic handle and metal tines - gave way when he tried to cut into the burrito, broke in such a way as to send the burrito into the air and flipping onto his shoulder.
He didn’t think it was funny at the time, but later reveled in telling the Burrito on the Shoulder Story.
Short Story:
I got fancy and ambitious and attempted to make a chocolate tea party cake for a friend. Eventually I did, but there were casualties.
Long Story:
I’ve been into baking and cake decorating for a long time, and there was a period in the 90s when I was doing it often for office parties and other gatherings. I’d seen a technique on a TV show for making chocolate tea cups and was dying to try it.
My friend Ellen’s birthday was the perfect excuse! She’s a Brit and loves a proper English tea, so I’d make her a cake that looked like a classic tea tray: cups, teapot, sugar bowl, the whole schitck!
To make the cups, you dip a small balloon in melted chocolate, let the chocolate harden, and then pop the balloon. You’re left with a delicate shell with a sturdy foot, and when you add a piped chocolate handle, it’s a perfect teacup!
When John left me in the kitchen, I was dipping my balloons happy as a clam and then he hears…
“Oh FUCK!”
He slowly opened the door and sees me standing there with a very angry look on my chocolate-splashed face, holding a popped balloon, and the kitchen looks like a chocolate crime scene.
Either the chocolate was too hot or the balloon had a weak spot, and as soon as I lifted it from the melted chocolate the balloon popped and sent chocolate flying everywhere.
Everywhere.
I did my best to clean it up, but we were finding chocolate in little nooks and crannies around the kitchen for months.
The cake tho? It came out great!
Short Story:
We stole the Germans’ breakfast.
Long Story:
In 1998, we went to Ireland for our friends’ wedding. It was a magical trip! We started in Dublin, the bride, groom and about 30 of their family and friends took a bus tour down and around to the West Coast, stopping in several towns, cities and sites and ending in Lisdoonvarna in County Clare.
Our plane home from Shannon left very early in the morning, so we opted to stay at a hotel that was a short walk from the terminal.
The morning we departed, there was a knock on our door and a waiter burst into the room with a cart of food, turned around and left before we knew what had happened.
We hadn’t ordered room service, and figured that because the hotel knew our flight time was before the dining room opened and breakfast was technically included in our room rate, they send breakfast up to us.
I mean, I know hotels work like that, but it seemed to make sense at the time. It was early. We were too tired to do much critical thinking.
We ate the Rice Krispies and fruit and drank the coffee and orange juice and went downstairs to check out.
Ahead of us at the reception desk was a very angry German tourist complaining that he and his wife never got their breakfast. The clerk asked for his room number and yep, it was right next door to ours.
John and I looked at each other and silently agreed to stay silent, but as soon as we got outside we burst out laughing, “We stole the Germans’ breakfast!”
Below are some photos from that trip - the last one is John at Shannon airport full of ill-gotten cereal.
Lara Sez…
Listen!
80s Deep Cut of the Week! Soft Cell was one of the bands I saw at Cruel World last week. They put on a fantastic show! I’ve always loved this song from the EP Nonstop Ecstatic Dancing
Read!
I love listening to mysteries and thrillers on my morning walks. Daisy Darker is a classic whodunit in the tradition of Agatha Christie. Creepy house cut off from the mainland and a family full of secrets!
Watch!
I’ve been watching Dinosaur on Hulu and finding the Scottish dramedy delightful!
Follow!
My Therapist Says is a snarky anecdote to toxic positivity and unmotivating motivational messages. But, their weekly newsletter offers very good mental health tips and resources.
Play!
I’ve finally started playing the New York Times’ game Strands. At first I didn’t understand it, but now I’m hooked!
Before I let you go…
A little update on my mental health.
Yesterday I had a triple whammy in my Facebook Memories. On May 21st for three years in a row, I went on really good dates with Cris.
I saw these come up and felt… nothing. Not sad. Not angry. Not wistful. Nothing.
I also had a close friend tell me she doesn't read my Substack. I was surprised that it didn’t upset me. A few months ago, that would have hurt deeply. She’s one of my oldest friends and has been there for me for a long time. Substack is not how she chooses to interact with me. So be it.
I consider all of this progress.
GRACIAS ITS KIND
GRACIAS ITS KIND