Hello, and welcome to this evening's edition of Grandpa Gotta Eat. I'm afraid it's going to be all over the place for most of it. That's because I'm combining three different posts into one. I will reveal what they are at the bottom, but in the meantime, I'm just going to go with the flow.
So, read on, dear reader, read on.
What you see above was the fortune inside one of the two fortune cookies I was given with my lunch from Panda Express today. Not much of a fortune, but more of a declaration. And while I believe I know what the fortune was trying to tell me, I decided I better look up sensitivity. Boy, oh, boy. I should have left well enough alone, ignorance being bliss and all.
This is what the online Merriam Webster dictionary gave me:
Now, I was thinking the fortune meant that my—
e: awareness of the needs and emotions of others
—is an asset, but the fact that (e) was the last entry got me wondering: Just what are you trying to tell me fortune cookie fortune?
It better not mean (a). I'm sure it's referring to some scientific or medical term, but—
the capacity of... a sense organ to respond to stimulation
—sounds like the opposite of the kind of sensitivity that would be an asset, but rather the source of a lot of the problems going on in the world these days.
I think I'll just stop there and drop that definition like a hot tamale.
Unfortunately, entries (b) and (d) aren't much better.
the quality or state of being hypersensitive
or
the capacity of being hurt easily
seem to be, again, the opposite of an asset.
Now, hypersensitive could be another medical or scientific term, such as being hypersensitive to a certain virus or bacteria, to certain foods (i.e, people who are allergic to nuts can't have even one little bit of a peanut, pecan, almond, etc., without an adverse reaction), drugs—even those meant to help—and certain forms of chemical compounds, even though their individual elements may be harmless.
Well, fortunately, as far as I know, anyway, I'm not that kind of hypersensitive. Nor do I think I take offense easily, or become triggered over every little thing. It takes a while for me to get upset, and then when I do, I generally get over it rather quickly.
I'm pretty sure the thing about the radio isn't it, either, even if I do find myself singing a song out of the blue. Or changing the lyrics to fit my fancy, or in this case, to open my blog post (sorry Simon and Garfunkel).
So, I'm going with (e). But am I really that aware of the needs and emotions of others? Maybe. I can sense them, I think, but I don't always know what to do with them. Sometimes, I'm not even sure if I should do anything. Is that sensitivity?
I suppose I should get around to showing you what I ate. You'd think I really wanted noodles, but no, I'm not that big a fan. That's just the outsized portion Panda Express likes to give me. Lots of the side, barely any entree. There happens to be two of those in the back—broccoli beef and kung pao chicken. I don't often get spicy Chinese food, but I was in the mood to try something different.
I probably should have doubled the broccoli beef or got some other kind of chicken instead. It was okay, but I like my spicy more flavorful than hot, and this was more of the latter and hardly any of the former.
You also see they gave me two sweet and sour sauces, even though I hardly ever use them. No doubt there are many who like it—they find themselves drawn to it like the sweet nectar of a hummingbird flower—I'm just not one of them. I prefer the hot mustard to go on my noodles. Helps to clear the sinuses.
As for the green Sharpie—that was in the bag with my meal, too. I've hit a stone wall trying to figure it out, other than it was an accident. I intend to return it when I'm in town again.
I've imagined a rather humorous exchange, but it will probably go more like this:
"Welcome to Panda Express. Would you like to try a sample of our Sichuan Chicken?"
"No, thank you."
"Okay. Order whenever you're ready."
"I'm here to return a green Sharpie I got in my meal when I was here yesterday."
"Please pull forward."
You know. No big deal. My guess is, it will be a little more awkward when I get to the window, especially if it's the same girl.
She'll be all, "I wondered where that went!"
And I'll be like, "Yeah, I figured you all weren't handing out free Sharpie's with every meal."
And then she'll laugh, and I'll laugh. And then there will be this momentary silence, where I look up in the rearview mirror and see the long line of people behind me wondering why I'm wasting all their precious time as I yuck it up with the drive thru girl, and then I'll get that "Time to go!" kind of anxiousness—you know.
Like...
...a wannabe "social climber " on a swanky "everybody who's anybody" harbor cruise who shows up inappropriately dressed in the middle of August because even though the forecast was for 100-degree weather, they just had this gut feeling about some sort of damp conditions.
[Shudder].
Maybe I'll just keep the Sharpie.
I know I kind of joked about it in the very beginning, but I actually did want pasta for lunch instead. I've been getting the $5.99 pasta specials at Domino's, but the last time I ate some, I realized I was getting tired of it. It's not bad, it's just not high quality flavor. Or at least, not after the sixth time in eight weeks.
When I came in for dinner a couple of hours ago, imagine my surprise when I saw what we were having. Spaghetti! And not just any spaghetti, but the spaghetti I grew up with. My wife had made the sauce and meatballs from scratch using a recipe my mother used to make. Mama mia got it from a cookbook her women's group at church created at least 45 years ago.
Believe me, even though I was still rather full from lunch, it was well worth missing out on the Domino's pasta earlier for this. The meatballs are made with ground beef (I prefer the flavor over sausage) and just the right mixture of tangy acidic and sugary sweetness in the sauce. Better than the sweet and sour I avoided earlier, and without the artificially colored red tongue after effect.
Delizioso!
Since I'm bundling three posts into one, I probably should get to the last of it.
I've mentioned two kinds of food, Chinese and Italian. If you had to choose between the two, which would you choose?
Feel free to read through all the attribution and acknowledgement stuff to follow, or skip on down to the poll while I finish up here.
Thanks for reading this edition of Grandpa's Gotta Eat. Until next time...
...Enjoy!
Food images courtesy of Glen Anthony Albrethsen. Screenshot from Merriam Webster's online dictionary.
This post is published in conjunction with three different STEEM communities: 
Food Fight Friday is a weekly contest that all are invited to enter. Simply write about food (even loosely), post it on a Friday, your time, and use the #fff tag, so other participants can see it. Then get on over to the other posts that appear under the tag because participants can choose who they think is that week's winner. Prize is a healthy helping of SBI.
This post used twelve previously unused prompts from the daily five minute freewrite. The words or phrases can be found sprinkled throughout the post in italics.
Answer the question at dpoll.xyz.
