You are viewing stuff tagged with firsts.
Essie’s first time out with snowpants.
I just received my first text message ever from Essie. It read:
Aripop
Cfunbi cb blllpv. Y bhg j
I’m optimistic that future messages from her will make more sense. You know, after she learns to talk.
Apparently some sort of spice was pulverized when the chicken was breaded a couple of nights ago, resulting in green chicken at the Binz Refectory. It was not a particularly bright green, but a rather sickly green - almost the color that people turn when they are very sick. We were assured by Mary (she is the sandwich lady, who is a very nice person — her son actually goes to school here) that the chicken was normal. This wasn’t anything remarkable, though it does merit note, especially given Food at the Binz’s remarkably long silence.
I know, I know. All of you out there are saying “I don’t live in a dorm anymore … I want something that is not caf food. In fact, I want something tasty that is not caf food. Scratch that, even: I want something tasty, easy to prepare, snackable, and moderately healthy that is not caf food.”
Yes, I had crab from the crab for the first time. We’re not talking just the legs here. No, we’re talking mallet-pounding, whole crab decimation. Crab shrapnel flying everywhere. This stuff was fresh, less than 24 hours from the coast of Maine to the doorstep in Minnesota. I devoured three.
A bit ago, in a post called “Firsts,” I spoke of the first bottle of cologne I ever bought. I was cleaning out in preparation for moving, and look - here it is: a no-longer-sold Gap scent for men.
Oh, indeed firsts are what make our lives. Nobody really remembers the second man who walked on the moon or the second place in elections. Who wants to be Vice President, or get the silver medal? Lance Armstrong isn’t saying “I’m going to get second in my last Tour de France.”