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Phrembah (a potato-like mystery)

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Speaking of which . . . [May. 15th, 2009|06:58 pm]
Phrembah (a potato-like mystery)
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You know, I'm pretty sure that a traditional Reuben sandwich is just corned beef on rye with sauerkraut. I don't think that in its purest form there is even any cheese involved. So when you get something like the Grilled Reuben at The Quarters, a triple-decker deal with pastrami instead of corned beef and the addition of smoked turkey and at least one kind of cheese, you're probably no longer talking about a Reuben in the New York deli sense of the word. I'll bet. But . . . Damn, those are good! Of course, at The Quarters you're going to pay thirteen bucks for it. It'll be a five pound sandwich that you really shouldn't eat by yourself at one sitting, but you'll pay for it. A little more reasonable is Joanne's Reuben at Mannie's. It's triple-decker also with corned beef and smoked turkey and cheese in addition to the sauerkraut, but with green chile, too. It's not as big, doesn't cost as much, but the green chile can make up in wallop what it may lack in volume. The Monster Sandwich at Millie's is between Joanne's Reuben and the Grilled Reuben in size and very good, if you ask me. It's very similar to Joanne's Reuben but with a little more stuff on it and no green chile. Its only problem is that they only have it once in a while as a special. The girls at the Millie's on Princeton would make me one any time I asked, but the ones at the Millie's on Jefferson (which is the only practical one these days) generally won't. I think Jody did once, but I think she's related to the owners--the cooks probably have to do what she says. I don't push it at that Millie's 'cause it tends to torque their paradigm and I want that we should just all get along.

What made me think of that was that I have been having weird dreams pretty regularly. I think it's because I reoriented my bed 90 degrees when I cleaned up my bedroom, but in the process of wondering that, I wondered if it might have been what I had eaten--which was a Joanne's Reuben at Mannie's most recently. No, the dreams have been real regular and the Reuben's have not.

I do that, though, when I sleep in a different bed, at least at first. My first couple of nights in a hotel bed are always fraught with anxious dreams of needing to get somewhere quicker than I'm getting there. Sometimes I think I pick up vibes from the people who have slept there before, which in an Essex House by Marriot are going to be business travelers who are all stressed out about bein' here or there or someplace else. Of course, as an Orthodox Scientific Materialist, Southwestern Conference, I know that this cannot be the case because all the people who slept in those beds before I did took whatever "vibes" they had with them when they left.

The weirdest and most intense instance of this "picking up vibes" phenomena (imaginary though it necessarily has to be) was when I stayed in a room at this lodge that my brother is a part time caretaker for. It is a huge mansion-like place that probably sleeps forty or fifty people in all of the little bedrooms they have squirreled away upstairs and downstairs and under the eaves. Then there are a couple of great rooms and a magnificent kitchen and such. The sort of place you would have a conference or a reunion or something. It belongs to Willamette University and my brother keeps an eye on it because he lives a half mile down the road. It's up in the mountains a bit and in the winter it is not used as much because people are wimps (in the spring, summer, and fall you can't book a weekend to save your life). Anyway, my mom and I and some other friend/relative types were at my brother's for Christmas and the lodge was completely deserted that week so we stayed there (my bother's actual house is really tiny and full of animals who think they live there or something). It was a wonderfully roomy place to stay and all we were expected to do was clean up after ourselves. I chose a bedroom downstairs because it had its own bathroom for all practical purposes and it did turn out to be very comfortable, but . . . The first night I slept in that bed I was so busy I couldn't believe it. In my dream--if that's what it was--I was a blonde woman in my mid thirties who was there with my husband and several other couples. I had these extremely detailed perfectly sequential "visions" of what "we" (the woman and her friends) were doing during our whole stay. The first evening we took all of the dishes out of the cupboards, washed them, wiped the cupboards and replaced the dishes, stashed groceries that we brought, mopped the kitchen. etc., etc., the whole time laughing and carrying on like you would with people you'd known for a long time and liked. This "activity" seemed to absolutely fill the first night I slept in that bed. The next night there were just wisps of the woman and her friends and the third night I was back to being my tired old boring self.

It struck me because I had never before dreamed that I was anyone else, much less a woman, and because everything else about the "dream" was so blasted ordinary, pleasant and what you would probably call fun, but totally ordinary, fixing meals cleaning up, drying dishes while the coffee dripped, that kind of stuff.

It has to have been purely my imagination, but my imagination usually isn't that cool.

. . .

Now it's off to see if Angels and Demons is as bad as they say.  It's my duty, you see.
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