Earlier this week, Fred wrote in Unplugged:
I hate having those pink plugs in my ears. But it’s almost worth it, just to be able to take them out and hear again. And listen.
Sensory deprivation is something I practice occasionally. The other morning I missed a meal. I skipped breakfast. When I ate again at lunch, the textures of the food amazed me. Another dimension. Another sensation. Rainbow colors. Symphonies. Flavors! It was as if I’d never tasted a turkey sandwich or crunched an apple beneath my teeth. Almost as if I’d never eaten before.
Last night I wanted to make a nice dinner for Ted’s last night at home until he returns from PyCon. Thank God the power returned in time for me to cook the chicken. I didn’t want to have to re-heat week-old spaghetti. I wanted to serve something fresh. Something special. Something we all would enjoy eating together:
Chicken marinated in five spice powder and soy sauce for a few days baked in the oven with a sesame seed and crushed cornflake crust. Rice hot from the cooker. A Honey Orange Rosette I cut into pie-shaped wedges: the girls thought it was cake. Cabbage salad tossed with sweet-sour dressing. Strawberries.
I wanted to eat it slow. I wanted to savor it: the meal, our time at the table together. To remember the flavors.
Eight days is a long time when you’re in love.
Nothing will taste the same while he’s gone.
