Cooler

    My friend Evelyn posted this morning that there's now a place in town serving Ethiopian food. I evinced enthusiasm, so we planned to go there for lunch. However, I had to call to see if their food was actually gluten-free. If authentic, it would be, but for goodness' sake, this is Columbia, SC. And anyway, I remember that the Africa News cookbook recipe for injera (Ethiopian flatbread) featured Bisquick and soda water. So, uh, I wouldn't judge them harshly if they weren't gluten-free; I just wouldn't eat there.
    The guy I talked to didn't know and would call me back, so we went out for Indian instead. (He later did call and they aren't gluten-free, dang it! Then again, there's still an authentic Ethiopian place in Charlotte and I never mind having an excuse to drive up there.) The Indian food was good, and hopefully gluten-free. A lady at a nearby table just would not. stop. talking. including a detailed retelling of a food poisoning episode from a movie. But we were amused rather than annoyed.
    Afterwards, being adults and all we went up the mall to DollarTree to buy silly things for $1 each. She got actual utilitarian stuff, but also hair extensions and a Santa beard. I got a cross between a hat and a mask; the top of a dinosaur head to be strapped on the top of my own. I saw it before Hallowe'en, but at the time they only had one and I felt bad about depriving some child. Now they had a bunch, and Hallowe'en's gone anyway, so I felt no compunction.
    Evelyn had told me about a little cemetery, quite old, a few blocks from her house, and the creepy cooler in what might be an exhumed grave. We went to check it out. The hole could have been an exhumed grave or it could be a sinkhole. Regardless, there was an Omaha Steaks cooler in it. I made one pass, but didn't open it and looked at the rest of the cemetery. Then I said what the hey and went to look. I didn't look closely, but as near as I could tell, it contained a blanket or other cloth item, and a dead black cat. One assumes that somebody hit it with their vehicle, saw no tags nor any way to find an owner and didn't want to leave it just by the side of the road. Putting it in an Omaha Steaks cooler was pretty creepy and ditching it in a hole in a cemetery is maybe only marginally more respectful than leaving it by the side of the road. But I guess there is that margin.
    It didn't suck the fun out of the afternoon; it was sad in and of itself, but the day was just as groovy as it had been before. And maybe I love my little kitty even a little better.