What's a nice Republican like me doing in a place like this?

Despite my LONG workday, which I won't blog about, other than to say it can be incredibly fun sometimes and give a shoutout to my bees, J all but insisted I accompany him and his folk-music friends to see Christine Lavin last night in some godless church in Garden City.

While the pinko liberal spelt-eating set might see this as the ultimate evening, it was not quite that for me. Months back, we saw Christine perform in another space, and by the end of the evening, I wanted to chew off my own hand and howl. Oh, her Taco Bell Canon is rather adorable. And in a weird way, I admire her comfort with who she is.

But otherwise, God, no. J, on the other hand, loves her. He swore she was off that night, and begged me to try her again. And after a shouting match while I was driving in an ice storm on the LIE and weeping giant crocodile tears at the wheel, I just fell over and sold my soul and made myself go.

Never mind that I was exhausted, antisocial, and brimming with cramps. Never mind that I still had to go home and work after the concert. Or that I was ravenous and fighting off a scratchy throat. Oh, no. There I was in the land of Birkenstocks and hemp. Hell, I even made an effort: I wore my newest tie-dye.

And how did the non-God reward me? By having Christine put on virtually the same inane show she did last year. She even giggled the same way at her own jokes. Hey, I'm all for having fun on the stage. But gosh, it was self-indulgent.

Not that the audience agreed with me. They cheered and clapped and loved her every note. Me? I'm just not that into it. Maybe it was the Card-Carrying BleedingHeart Liberal song that set me over the edge. You think?

The good news is, I made J promise that if I didn't like it, I never have to see her again. And so that's how I dragged myself through the second half...fervently praying that I would live long enough to turn to him and collect on that promise. That, and hoping she'd clunk someone on the head with her batons.

Going green

Much to to the skeptic tastebuds of my husband, King Champion Supreme Lord of the Carnivores, I truly love eating vegetables. I am not quite ready to go veggie, having worshipped at the trough of prime dry-aged beasts enough to appreciate the mineral tang and nuttiness of a good steak.

But I like what I like. It still freaks me out to see cashiers hold up a mystery produce item with a dull look and mumble "What IS this?"

Especially when it's something ordinary like a leek or once (I swear) a green banana.

So I guess I shouldn't be surprised that today's grocery delivery included two whopping bags of green beans. Green beans, along with zucchini and summer squash, are on the list of veggies I will only eat because they're good for me. And I admit that I snarl when I eat them. Blech. Bland, watery, yucky stuff.

I'd ordered asparagus. Two bunches. And the shopper checked off asparagus, two bunches. It's sort of like when I order jalapeno peppers and get banana peppers. Thank you, oh mighty shopping fools, for changing my dinner plans.

Of course, I am already doomed. The eight pound pork roast that was to be the centerpiece of this evening's dinner party? Out of stock. The potatoes? Out of stock. Beans won't quite roast like asperge, damn it. (And how does a grocery run out of potatoes?)

And to crown my veggie loving head, they even goofed on my backup item. I figured if there was a crisis, I'd make lasagna. Did I get the 2 # bag of shredded mozzarella? Why, no... but that 8 ouncer will sure do the trick.

Looks like the honey is going to the store.

drilling down

I can't let this turn into a bitchfest.

Well, I can, but it's not what I want to give you. I'd love to fill your brain with thoughts that are brilliant, inspiring, and even esoteric...but the truth is, sometimes I just feel the overwhelming urge to bubble over.

I am still fuming at the dentist's office, which called to remind us of our appointments Saturday at noon. Our appointments were at one, and at noon, we were both skipping merrily around the world, oblivious.

True, we could track our own calendars. But when we have to make appointments 4 months in advance because they are so busy, wouldn't it be prudent (or just semi-intelligent) to ring oh, a DAY in advance?

Apparently that would be too difficult. The pisser is, I like the dentist. But the staff, they need to do something with the sweet air they're hiding in the back.

But enough of that. I'm itchy tonight.