MARLA KEAYS VIA FLICKR // CC BY 2.0
I realized tonight for the first time that if I closed my eyes I couldn’t see or reproduce the pattern on an Oreo. So I spent some time staring at one, pondering. And then I googled around. I found two articles I like that describe the history and meaning (if there is one).This one is my favorite.
If you close your eyes can you see the pattern on an Oreo or your favorite cookie??? Now I can. :)
PS – I’m still trying to wrap my mind around accepting how the designs on the two cookies don’t line up. ;)
© Michelle Routhieaux 2020
I’m sitting here tonight eating leftover Fridays mashed potatoes and half-watching the “Are You Happy Now” video on YouTube. Don’t bother reheating potato skins. It’s not worth the effort.
(deep breath) Talked to a friend from high school tonight. It was nice.
How do some people just magically know how long to reheat something for? And how does my microwave’s reheat button know what I’m reheating or how long to cook it? And why is my VCR now suddenly able to display the current tv program name when it lacks the ability to keep correct time or recognize a channel above 35? WHY?!
Like nutrition facts. The math almost never adds up or makes sense. If one cinnamon roll has 180 calories, why do 2 have 300? Or soda. A 12oz can is one serving, but a 20oz bottle is 2.5 servings. What? Something’s not right there. I called Nabisco one day to ask about Oreos. I see they’ve recently changed their label to list serving size in grams instead of number of cookies (which makes even less sense). But I called to ask if the serving size is 2 cookies and there are 30 cookies in the package why there are “about” 15 servings. There’s no “about” needed. 15×2=30. That’s it. I went through several people before she said something about the FDA allowing manufacturers to “estimate” some figures. Hmmm… I just want to scream sometimes but it’s not worth my breath.
I just need to understand why. Nothing makes sense. There are two people I can’t not think about who lack the ability, for whatever reason, to communicate with me. I sent them both emails last night. I need to understand why. I can handle living in a fantasy or rarely seeing people, but I need to have something to tell myself. “It’s okay, Michelle. They just ______.” But I have nothing to put in the blank. I have no idea. And it makes me angry. My empathy does not cover the blank.
I hate commercials. And cold mashed potatoes and earwigs on my toilet seat. And I saw a car that looked like a Storm Trooper today.
© Michelle Routhieaux 2010