I woke up this morning with a strange feeling; somewhere between panic and guilt. I can’t remember what I was dreaming but I awoke with a strong urge to go and cook something for Carmen. Then I began to doubt whether I had cooked enough of her favourite foods, especially near the end when I was starting to wear down. I suddenly couldn’t remember her last meal. Then I remembered Angela was there and we had heated up some Trinidadian calaloo and tofu fah. My doubt started to dwindle when I remembered that Angela came over almost every night and would cook or bring cooked food. We always had a large selection of food in the fridge. My main decision was what to heat up. I wouldn’t always ask Carmen because I found some things she said she wanted she wouldn’t eat much of it or I’d heat something for myself and she’d eat all of that instead of what she said she wanted. I think she started to like the grilled chicken I would do on our Cuisinart grill. When I was out once she called and said she felt like having beef. When I got home and started to take beef out of the freezer, she said just go to Wendy’s. There’s one just 5 minutes away, so I went to the drive through a got a baked potato and chili for her. In some ways, that was comfort food. We would often stop at Wendy’s driving to line dance events and she would generally have the baked potato and put chili on top.
(warning: spoiler)
We saw Miss Saigon last night. I really consider Kim’s suicide at the end not credible. This is a woman who saw her villiage burned, her parents killed and forced to go into prostitution. Then raises her son on her own for three years and kills her cousin to protect him. Now she would kill herself so her son could grow up in America? The human spirit is way more durable than that, even for love. OK they needed a way to end the play dramatically. To feign a Shakespearean tragedy in this way is not to commend it.
