It is still Saturday

I had a doctor's appointment today in Arlington. I wasn't sure what traffic would be like, so I left extra-early (and ended up getting there extra-early too). That went okay, except it turns out she doesn't accept the new insurance I'm going to have in two months, even though she's on their list. She said she used to, and even though she's tried to break off her relationship with them, she can't seem to get rid of them. So she said that if I couldn't line up yet a new doctor soon, she'd see me again and put the paperwork through and see what happens.

Woo. Life on the edge.

After that, I decided to go to the Cape to see my parents, because they had some papers for me to sign. I thought it would be clever to take rt. 95 to 495, but that's because I didn't consult a map first. Oops. It probably only cost me a few minutes vs. my planned route down 24 (and it's possible that rt. 3 would have been quicker), but oh well.

For lunch I stopped at one of my favorite places in the world, the China Garden in Raynham. I wish I had taken my camera, because that place has barely changed in 30 years, inside or out; for years I've worried that they would remodel without warning, and then all that I remember would be gone.

They still serve Fall River-style chow mein alone or in a sandwich; they still have the lounge and the fruity drinks. And I don't think their collection of elevator music has changed in a long time, either. Here are the last four songs I heard there:

• Theme from "A Summer Place"
• Somethin' Stupid
• Whatchamacallit, the theme song from Arthur
• A Taste of Honey

...the most recent of which was a hit in 1981.

In addition to a somewhat coagulated chow mein sandwich, I had a Navy Grog, which supposedly consists of three kinds of rum, some kind of orange liqueur like triple sec, and a combination of grapefruit, orange, and pineapple juice. Of the juices, I tasted only grapefruit, but it was really good. The sandwich was less inspiring, but when you've been eating coagulated chow mein since early childhood it seems like it's supposed to be that way. (It's not always coagulated, but their plates are usually ice cold, so if you don't eat fast, that's what you end up with.) There were also french fries - not a lot of them, but they were good and they stood up to the sweet-and-sour sauce. (Don't knock it till you try it.)

I looked down at my placemat, which had the Chinese zodiac animals on it. I half-expected the date on there to be 1981, but to my surprise (and almost disappointment) it was 2007.

To people who didn't grow up near this restaurant, it probably sounds like the lunch from hell. For me it was like soaking in nostalgia. The tea was good, too, and the pot poured nice, which is something you can't take for granted.

Here's what my fortune cookie said:

An empty stomach is not a good political adviser.

I've gotten this one before, worded slightly differently. To that, I would add "...and a full stomach isn't either. I'M TALKIN' ABOUT YOU, [Hollywood studio executive and/or Republican name here]!"

Next I went to my parents', where I signed the paperwork and they also gave me their old scanner. No idea what I'll do with it. Their dog stuck her tongue up my nose more than once before I could get her away from my face. We and my grandparents went to Seafood Sam's in Sandwich for an early dinner. Tomorrow's their last day, so they really stuffed our lobster rolls.

I hit the store on the way home and got, among the usual provisions, a syrup called Agave Nectar. I had seen it before and was curious about it. I was a little nervous about tasting it, but it's very inoffensive - much milder than honey, and a little runnier. I'm hoping that it will dissolve well in iced tea (the label claims it mixes easily even in cold drinks). It's 60 calories per tablespoon, same as honey; but since it's not as sweet, the ability to mix well with cold drinks (if true) would be its only significant virtue. (A tablespoon of sugar is 45 calories, but I wouldn't put that much sugar in an iced tea. I didn't live in the South that long.)

In other news, the so-called powers that be are still being dicks about the writers' strike. This does not surprise me. What does surprise is me is the way they're bullying everyone else in the business, as if that's going to pressure the writers into ending the strike. All it's going to do is show that the people who run Hollywood are even greedier and pettier than imagined. We can all find ways to keep busy while the strike goes on, and creative people are used to dealing with an unreliable revenue stream; but these guys aren't going to be able to make their yacht payments if they keep treating their underlings like shit.

ALSO, it appears that there's a movie based on the videogame Hitman. I never played the game, but I thought it might be fun. As for the movie... let's see... you don't get to kill anybody, but you get to watch someone kill people... hmm... like there's never been a movie like that?

While flippin' channels I came upon COPS... there's a cop named Smallwood. <beavis>He said "Smallwood." Small wood. Heh heh heh. Small wood. Get it? Get it? Small wood. Heh heh heh.</butthead>

That is my blog post for the day. Thank you for reading. Please join me tomorrow for something that might be even duller. Such is the peril of blogging once per day.

Useful Spanish of the day
Sábado Gigante
Giant Saturday; or, three hours in hell.