Never Too Late For New Experiences

When I was a young boy, I was a very finicky eater, which is hard to believe given my adult love of most food, and my non-anorexic appearance. I still carry a few of the finicky habits from childhood -- for instance, I only eat eggs scrambled, hard boiled, or in omelettes. Today, I was up early, and in need of fetching my newly altered jeans from the dry cleaner next to LOL, and so I fired up the mini-Caddy and headed over. Alas, Lori, my long time waitress and friend, was off duty, and I was placed in the care of one of the many other ladies who are familiar to me, but whose names I never learned (one, a recovering addict, is Charlene). My server today is an always pleasant West Indian lady. I really ought to learn her name, even though Lori will then accuse me of waitress infidelity. I read my Herald, and ordered my usual: 2 scrambled eggs with turkey sausage, everything bagel with chive cream cheese, and a fruit cup. I made it to the obituary section of the paper, and read a sad-romantic entry about an old WASP couple, long time members of Riviera Country Club who retired to Gainesville, and the wife was in awful pain, and the husband couldn't bear to live without her, and so they committed double suicide, and were now both in the "hands of Jesus." Wow, I thought, what a guy... Anyway, the plate was put in front of me, and it contained the turkey sausage and SUNNY SIDE UP EGGS! I kept quiet, but this caused quite an internal stir. I could have aped my mother in law, and shouted out immediately "DIS NOT VAT I VANT!" Much more likely, I could have said, classily and politely, "Excuse me, but I ordered scrambled." Instead, I said nothing, and thought -- hell, I'm turning 55 in just over 2 months -- maybe it's time to experiment a little -- broaden my horizon -- really go for it. And so I did -- I ate the eggs. The yolks ran onto the whites. I mixed them, and took a bite. Eh. It was ok. I'm still going to remain an omelette and scrambled guy. But damn it -- I took the stab. I stepped out. I tried something new. On the way home, it occurred to me -- I'd better find more real excitement, if trying fried eggs is worthy of even mentioning, let alone writing about. What else might I attempt? Wifey's Lexus SUV lease is up in September. Maybe I'll surprise her and come home in a Porsche SUV -- or Mercedes -- or BMW. Nah... Our anniversary, thirty years, is coming in January. Maybe I'll give Wifey her golden parachute, and move to Key West, or Costa Rica. Nah... Most likely, I'll give my typically un-liked Indian food another try. Or maybe not. The possibilities are endless...