Ninguna de Grasa

I have nothing to say for myself today. I spent the entire day writing two blog postings and then losing everything because of the horrendous Internet connection. I mean, really: all day, from 8:00 until 8:00, with only one break. I didn’t take a single picture or have a single Spanish conversation. What a waste of time on vacation in a foreign country where you can take pictures and speak Spanish.

My break was to go to the doctor, which, as you know, it’s taken me a month to do. One good thing is that at least he confirmed the suspected diagnosis. One bad thing is that I think it thoroughly undignified to have an impresión clinica of dermatitis herpética. And here I thought shingles was tacky. I have decided that I shall do away with both of them. I shall call it The Buttwad Blues, because Buttwad Blue is my given name (according to KT), and I’ve always wanted a disease named after me. Let it be so. I have spoken. Qué serí¡ serí¡. Doo wah ditty.

One good thing is that the visit to the doctor cost only Q250, or about $32, and he was very good. One bad thing is that he wrote me a couple of prescriptions that would have cost over Q1600, or about $200, so I didn’t get them. I’m not hugely comfortable, especially when thwomping down cobblestone streets in a motorized vehicle or padding along on my own small paws, but $200? I only wish I hadn’t gotten a cold yesterday.

Una oruga is a caterpillar.

I want you to know that one of the best things about Central America are the Sabrocitas (100% naturales): truly divine potato chips that rival South Africa’s chutney chips.

I just had a brilliant idea. I am going to become a world renowned potato chip expert. I will travel the globe in search of the perfect crisp, filing reports from the field. I will cultivate interest in the haute culinary potential of this sliced, fried delicacy. I will develop a lexicon enabling pomme de terre professionals to discuss the subtleties of flavor, texture and aroma. During my daily TV talk show, I will make pronouncements such as, This exquisite 2008—a banner year in the Armoire Valley—has a throaty brilliance, with just a touch of refined sowbug in the finish, and a simply gorgeous nose of winter swampberry. There will be universities dedicated to the study of the spud. There will be societies of potato scholars. The field will be called tuberosology, because I like to keep things simple but Latin-ish. There will be a magazine, a television show, international fora: in short, an empire.

As everyone knows, the potato is a member of the nightshade family and is native to South America, but of course what we eat is only its esculent farinaceous tuber. Duh.

The good thing about the Sabrocitas is that they are very thinning. I know this because on the bag it says it’s 32.8 calorias. I’m not sure their unit of measure, but who cares, when the number is so nice and low. Don’t ask what you don’t want to find out. Plus, there is absolutely zero grasa saturada.

I don’t know what I plan next. Tomorrow I may start to think about it. Or I may stay right here, locked away, and just read books. And scratch, with my collar jingling.