I spent the better part of the week listening to Radio Station KFKD* because I was being considered for one of those "Power of Food" segments on the Food Network. I was passed up, which feels a bit like being one of the twelve Homecoming Court nominees and being escorted by a soccer player in front of the entire student body while, Mrs. Gilson, the health teacher and tennis coach, announces your name, who you are the daughter of, and what activities you're involved in. Then you sit onstage in a rickety folding chair while Mrs. G. belts out "Cow Patti" or some other obnoxious novelty song and you try to figure out how much to smile. Sure, it's uncomfortable, but you might end up being one of the half dozen Court members and get to wear a fugly sateen dress. Why you want this honor isn't exactly clear, you just do. Then you don't get chosen and, although you have a much better time at the dance then the Court members do, you still feel a little sad.
Yeah, it feels like that.
How about a drink?
1 cup sugar
2 cups water
1 tablespoon lemon juice
14 mint sprigs, crushed
Bring the sugar and water to a boil and cook for several minutes until thickened. Remove from the heat. Add the lemon juice and mint and steep for five minutes. Strain out the mint leaves. Refrigerate and use a teaspoon or two in iced tea. Or in a mint julep. Or maybe a mojito? Let me know.
*"If you are not careful, station KFKD will play in your head twenty-four hours a day, nonstop, in stereo. Out of the right speaker in your inner ear will come the endless stream of self-aggrandizement, the recitation of one's specialness, of how much more open and gifted and brilliant and knowing and misunderstood and humble one is. Out of the left speaker will be the rap songs of self-loathing, the lists of all the things one doesn't do well, of all the mistakes one has made today and over an entire lifetime, the doubt, the assertion that everything one touches turns to shit, that one doesn't do relationships well, that one is in every way a fraud, incapable of selfless love, that one has no talent or insight, and on and on and on." --Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird