I'm pretty sure that's what he was saying.
Last night we went out to eat for New Year's Eve. I was in the bathroom at the restaurant, humming along to the piped-in music and enjoying the acoustics, and never mind what else I was doing, until he got to the line, I need a deep fried Mexi-cc-aann. I was taken aback. True, it had his signature bluesey guitar sound, and so his need was unavoidably heartfelt and touching, but still it seemed wrong to require anyone to be deep-fried, Mexican or not.
I missed the rest of the next verse, but I made sure to listen really close when he got to the chorus again, and this time the words sounded more like I need a big, strong Mexi-cc-aaan. Hmmmm. Better, but still not appropriate. Why not a big strong American? Or, a big strong Austrian? Austrians are strong and they also wear leather shorts and handlebar mustaches, so they do all your heavy-lifting with style.
I listened to the whole rest of the song, which means I was gone so long that my husband gave me a sympathetic look when I finally made it back to the table. I asked him if he knew the "deep-fried Mexican" song that Eric Clapton sings, and he paused a minute and then asked me if I was sure it was Eric Clapton and not a chicken.
Which was uncalled for and cruel.
For the record, I haven't heard the chicken playing since Christmas Eve, so probably he's picked up his piano and moved on, and besides, chickens are too high-strung to play the blues. Everyone knows that.
2009 was a challenging year.
For instance, this time last year we had one pet. A dog. Sometimes he was lumpy. Sometimes not.
Then there were three betta fish, who started out okay, until one of them developed a gigantic eyeball, so now he's like a different fish on each side of his head. Totally changes his profile.
Then we got two cats, which most of you know, because one of them died, like in a horrible Lifetime for Cats movie, complete with crying, and then we got another one, so now there are two cats again. They probably ride the dog around the house during the day while we are at work, and sometimes when I leave my bedroom in the morning, one of them will narrow his eyes at my outfit and shake his head. It's a lot of pressure.
Still, we didn't learn. For Christmas, my husband and I gave in to the hugely unsubtle hints dropped by our offspring and bought them tiny frogs from Brookstone. ("Frogosphere" is what they call the little plastic aquarium they come in.) We hid them in my closet until Christmas, away from the cats, and I had to keep going in there to check on them, and once when I went in, one of them was missing.
I called the frog, but he didn't come. Then I tried luring it out of my clothes hamper with a pellet of food from the package in the box, but I guess he wasn't hungry. I was pretty close to bringing in the cats to flush it out, but then, just to be sure, I looked in the frogosphere again, and there he was, nestled in the gravel at the bottom, belly-up and stiff.
Did you know Brookstone has a strict policy against returning dead frogs?
Luckily we found an elderly clerk who didn't know this, and so we got a replacement. Here is a picture I took of him, after he was liberated from my closet on Christmas morning:
Also in 2009, I met my nemesis, and spent some time doing A Christmas Carol. I had a really great cane in a couple of "not really blind"-beggar- woman scenes:
It turns out my nemesis wasn't so bad in the end, and I never rolled into the orchestra pit, so I count that experience as a success. 2009 was also the year I finished my degree, almost met the mayor of London, fought off aliens, spied on the neighbors, learned about paprika, and attended four middle school band concerts.
I had my one-year blog anniversary in December, but I forgot about it, and also I have a couple of very ancient entries from before the dawn of time (2005), so it's possible it doesn't count anyway. Maybe I should do a belated celebration with a drawing. I could give away a frog! Or a hoof bottle. I'll give it some thought.
Anyway, I've decided 2010 is going to be great. I have wonderful friends, (both in-person and blogworld varieties) my health, and a job. I have not killed any frogs in the last week. If I ever manage to meet my phantom doctor, I am scheduling myself for a hearing test, just in case.
And I still have that blowtorch my husband gave me for my birthday to break in.
Life is good.