The Rutabaga Speculation

It’s a drowsy day. Overcast. Cool. Quiet. During the night, around 2 AM, as I lay semi-asleep in my bed, I hear screaming outside. It sounds like a woman is screaming “Owwww” repeatedly. After several screams my drowsy brain clicks into gear and hands me a thought: “Is that a woman screaming?” I arise and look through a window. A dark figure wearing a hoodie, apparently a man, is strolling past my house and under a nearby street light. Even under the street light the figure remains completely dark. Then he turns and strolls back down the street in the direction from whence he had come, back into the darkness. I see no one else, nor do I hear more screams. “Probably teenagers up to no good,” I decide, and I return to bed.

(As I type this, locomotive air horns bellow in the distance. Trains come through my city every day.)

Today my thoughts are of the lazy variety. I ponder what I can eat. I can’t keep anything tasty in the house. No sweets. No crackers stuffed with cheese or peanut butter. No flavored nuts. (I could live on wasabi and soy sauce almonds.) No big jar of trail mix. If it tastes good I can’t keep it in the house because I’ll eat it—all of it. Resistance is futile.

During the recent hurricane event, I bought a few tasty items to have on hand. I wanted non-perishable foods in case there there was a power failure. But the hurricane didn’t hit my city and as a result I snacked on those tasty foods to the tune of three additional pounds of body fat. And I won’t work it off because, as we all know, exercise sucks.

Instead of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough bars and Captain’s Wafers Variety Packs, I should keep rutabagas on hand. I would never have to worry about snacking on rutabagas. Even the name is a turn-off. Rutabaga. It’s a cross between a cabbage and a turnip. I’ve never cooked one and I know I never will. The name comes from the Swedish word rotabagge, which roughly translates as yuck. I’m kidding; I have no idea what rotabagge means. I could google it but I already know more than I want to know about rutabagas. I suggest that my readers eat some rutabagas and let me know how that goes. And bon appétit.