Wednesday, August 24, 2005

a treatise on reading x-rays and gourmet bread

Not to disappoint you the readers, Tuesday turned out to be a very funny day, though I'm just now getting around to writing about it. (disclaimer: The stories are not as funny however if your name happens to be Lana or Laura)

We had a LONG overdue SOGWEAW lunch (not luncheon, because I hate that word) yesterday afternoon at the new Moe's in Brentwood (Welcome to Mooooooeeeee's!). While eating and enjoying our lunch we covered such important topics as when to say "I love you" in a relationship, Che Guevara and communism, and Lana's wisdom teeth; a breadth of important issues, you will note- the latter being the initiator of an eruption of laughter heard 'round the restaurant, according to Ari who was unfortunately in the Ladies room when Lana described where she thought her wisdom teeth were currently residing in her mouth, and the direction the teeth were pointed... "at least I think that's where they are," Lana said. "I don't read x-rays." I found this particularly hilarious and so more of the table was laughing at me laughing than they were at Lana's totally serious, totally innocent comment.

Across town in a Brentwood home, far away from the excitement at Moe's, a young girl brought her gourmet meat, cheese, and bread home to enjoy. Her name is Laura, and this is her story.

My sister Laura is an amateur chef, and so she loves those hoity-toity gourmet food markets. Yesterday she bought some fresh deli meat, some kind of cheese that she has discovered she has a taste for (manchego? ever heard of it?), some wine, and a french baguette. She takes her food purchases home to the house for a while before she packs it all up in a cooler to go home to her apartment in Murfreesboro. Upon pulling out of the driveway, Laura realizes she has forgotten the french baguette, wrapped in its paper bag, on the kitchen table. She does the obvious thing and goes back inside to retrieve her bread, but comes quickly to the stark realization that it was not there! (cue the mysterious music)

Laura rethinks her steps, trying to figure out if perhaps she was mistaken and the french baguette was indeed already in the car, but she was certain it was not. There could only be one explanation to conclude the disappearance of her dinner bread, and as she peered cautiously into the den, her worst fears were realized. As it turns out, a four legged monster with black fur named Stockwell had devoured her fancy-schmancy french baguette, paper and all, as was evident by the bown paper shreds all over the floor. Are we surprised? This is the same dog who ate Mom's fresh cake she bought from the Mennonite ladies, or my box of Godiva truffles a few years ago and lived to tell the tale (or tale, since we are talking about Stockwell here).

This turn of events was enough to ruin Laura's day, as she gets her heart set on a particular meal once she has it in mind. She did buy some publix bread to stand in as a poor substitute, but the baguette was simple irreplaceable. The most amusing part is that Stockwell knows good food when he smells it, and if you threw a regular piece of break at him, he would turn his nose up at it. Sorry Laura, but I hope you don't mind us laughing at your expense!

6 comments:

daddy b said...

Yeah, I had to contend with bread burps beside the bed all night..Once he awoke and I could almost swear he was barking in French!

Jenni said...

Ahh, a Stockwell through and through. Good taste, consumed in excess. :-)

Heather said...

I thought a bagyette was a small diamond on the side of a large one... or am I just a dreamer?? Laura,so sad. That Stockwell is a piece of work, quick to the punch too...

Amanda, you will be happy to know...I have finially posted again. :)

Heather said...

ooops... spelled that wrong. baguette. excuse me.

Sarah said...

Manchego = cheese from the gods (even though I dont believe in them)

Laura said...

I ended up enjoying my delicious dinner anyways even though I didn't have my bread of choice.