hunger pains

Yesterday afternoon I wanted to be in Sheridan,  Wyoming.  I really, really wanted to be in  Sheridan, Wyoming.

At Perkins.  A restaurant.

A restaurant that serves a turkey dinner.  With potatoes and gravy and stuffing.

But I was here, in Rhode Island, deep in the woods and six miles away from town.  And Sheridan was a couple of thousand miles west.

There are no Perkins in New England.

I’ll back up…

I have been dieting since January 15.  It has been a slow process and has had some results, but nothing earthshaking.  But still, progress.

There have been some bumps in the weight-loss road, such as the never-ending bronchitis.  And being too tired to shop for, plan and cook high protein/low carb meals.  Lately I have just not had the energy.  Or the appetite.

Yesterday I had a very hungry day.  These are rare.  But when they happen?  I could kill a ground hog and roast him in a pit in the driveway.  I was tired of last weekend’s beef stew, tired of reheating the defrosted container of shrimp gumbo, tired of Banjo Man’s western chili.  We’ve been eating out of the freezer for several weeks and the picking was getting slimmer every day.

I whined to Banjo Man.  “I want a turkey dinner!”

His solution was to dig two chicken breasts out of the freezer.  He also found half a box of instant mashed potatoes (sometimes I use the flakes to thicken soups) in the upstairs pantry.  He went to the basement and proudly produced a third of a bag of probably rancid stuffing mix leftover from Thanksgiving.

I did not feel like cooking any of that and I told him so.

“Go to Subway and get a sandwich,” he said, a bit miffed.  “When you get home we’ll watch more of SHETLAND.”

That made sense, so off I went.  Starving.  Cranky.  Warm.  The only problem was once I got out of my country road and hit Route 1, there was construction.  The turnarounds were blocked off and there was no way of knowing how many miles I would travel in the wrong direction before getting a chance to turn around.  It was a single lane road and smelled of tar.  Everyone was going 10 miles an hour.

Route 1 is being repaved.  It didn’t need to be repaved, but what the hell.  

I took the next exit back to my house and decided to take Back Road #1 to town.  After a few miles I took a right on Back Road #2.  About halfway along that road, there were police cars and electric trucks blocking the road.  I was told to turn around, so I went back along #2 to #1.   More miles to Back  Road #3 and then to Back Road #4 and town.

Ah, town!  I bought a sandwich.

Now, how to get home?  It was after 5, so surely the construction on Route 1 was done for the day.  And the only slow traffic I’d seen was at my own exit, six miles from town, so I could endure a few minutes of that before arriving home, right?

Wrong.  Traffic was two lanes and at a dead stop just one mile out of town.  I was stuck.  And I remained stuck.

Getting home took a while.  My sandwich and I almost lost hope.  I put my head on the steering wheel and thought that I really need to go to the grocery store and Get A Plan.  And some easy-to-cook protein.

When I finally arrived back at the house, Banjo Man told me that because I’d been gone so long he figured I had been so hungry I’d stayed in Subway and eaten right then and there.

No, i huffed.  I’ve been stuck in traffic.

No one ever says “stuck in traffic” in our country town, unless you are on a road to a beach on a sunny Sunday morning.

So this morning I am heading north again, to return some pants at Kohl’s.  (Have I told you that that is my new hobby?  I buy pants for my 92-year old mother and she rejects 90% of them, so I trudge back to stores to return them and then she says she needs pants and I buy pants or I take her shopping to buy pants and then the whole thing starts over again because, well, because she is 92 and a size 4P , changes her mind a lot and is very, very fussy).

I am also meeting a friend for lunch at a place called T’s.  I’ll be taking Back Roads #1, # 5, #6 and #7.

And I am praying T’s has turkey.

 

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