Let's just say that Teena has never been nor will ever be accused of being Julia Child. She has on a number of occasions launched off on some weird culinary tangent and has punished us with her poor attempts at what she calls "the latest food craze that's sweeping the nation." Only it's not and she's 30 years late. When I was in junior high it was pemmican. For those of you who don't know what pemmican is, Wikipedia defines pemmican as "is a concentrated food consisting of dried pulverized meat, dried berries, and rendered fat. It was invented by the native peoples of North America, and widely used during the fur trade and later by Arctic and Antarctic explorers such as Robert Falcon Scott and Roald Amundsen as a high-calorie food." I define pemmican as s$@! that birds regurgitate to feed their young. I had to take pemmican to school with me in my lunch (as my lunch). I would get her homemade pemmican "bars" (it looked more like a diseased peanut brittle) an orange and lemonade flavored Kool-Aid (Teena was afraid that the dyes in the good tasting Kool-Aids like cherry and grape would delay puberty...I wish I was kidding). In Africa, she went on a bean pie kick. I reminded her that we were not, in fact, members of the Nation of Islam. When I was in college, she subjected Lamoni to macrobiotic cooking from the 70's even though it was the late 90's. Let's just say her organic potato pancakes made with local goat's milk left a wee bit to be desired. I'm surprised Lamoni hasn't died from food poisoning. I bet if you took his blood it has the cure for cancer in it.
The fall colors are coming out in Boise, which is French for "wooded" for those of you who care about such things, and so ends an important chapter of my life. I look back and smile. There were many positives in Boise: T-Nugget and his family; my dog Jake; my time working at Boise State University; playing "just the tip" for the first time with Larry Martinez, my neighbor Mrs. Young's gardener (I think she played with Larry as well); my introduction to the chronic; Ms. Mangus my American History teacher from junior high, who made me memorize and recite the preamble to the Constitution in front of the whole class. I was so nervous, a little pee came out...good times, good times. So I will always have a special spot in my heart for "the Bois."I made it down to Weber State over the weekend to bid farewell to some of my friends and former professors, but I especially wanted to say goodbye to Mr. Gomberg,
who taught my Sex Roles in the Law class at Weber State. He was a charming, disarming, and unexpectedly handsome fellow, whose deep baritone voice rolled over you like silky milk chocolate. He never got his Ph.D., so he was not as self-important or snooty as some of my other professors. I used to fantasize about his rough hands massaging my stump after a hard day of Mitch chafing at me and rubbing me raw, and I would smile is the secret places. Alas, I never had the courage to make myself available to him, and I kept this passion a secret from him. I tracked him down on Saturday and we had coffee at Starbucks. We talked for about two hours. He was excited for me and my decision to launch in a new direction at App State. He said he always pegged me as somewhat of a handyperson (when you are a male teacher in women's studies, you have to remain as gender neutral or feminine empowering as possible), and said he thought I would take very well to the old jigsaw. I broke down and told him of my schoolgirl crush. He said he was flattered, but that his devotion to his wife, family and the laws of human decency and God's decrees prevent him from pursing any such behavior with any of his students. At least now I know he is a tower of moral unimpeachability as opposed to being a Mitchophobe.I took a final stroll around the Weber State campus. It is truly a gem in the crown of Utah's seats
of higher education. Sure, the "big boys" like BYU, Utah and Utah State get all of the accolades, money, national merit scholars, gifted athletes, fantastic faculty, research money and whatnot, but the Wildcats make up for lack of all of those things with and abundance of spirit, determination, hard work and transcendental medidation. Big ups to the Dalai Lama! I had dinner with one of my best college buds, Shiela Samms (formerly Sheila Fortinbras), from Yuma. We met when we were both in our second semester at Weber State. We both had some unfortunate roommate assignments at the beginning of the year. My roommate, we'll call her Twyla, objected to my recreational use of ganja in the room, called me Satan's handmaiden and called the cops. I was able to do a flush and dive out the window, leaving no evidence and no conviction. Shiela's roommate, we'll call her Peppermint Patty, took her own life when Sheila rebuffed her lesbianic advances, taking a very firm, pro-dong position. So the next semester we became roommates and have been best buds ever since. She made a fabulous spaghetti dinner and we had a bottle of red wine that went straight to me head (it still hurts a wee bit). She gave me a $100 Wal-Mart gift card for the road and made me some peanut butter sandwiches. We promised to keep in touch, and I hope she can come visit next year. Well, time to set off down the road some more. North Platte, NE, here I come, and I'm bringing my life-mate Mitch with me!
