Esan Thai, Maya Angelou, & Thoughts on Regret

With temperatures dropping to well below nine degrees, my stomach has become an unstoppable, unfillable, pit. Lucky for me, my friend Colleen invited me out to dinner (score) at Esan Thai (double score). If I had to pick one favorite restaurant in Bloomington, it would have to be Esan Thai. The curries are phenomenal, the portions are far too large (this is a good thing), and the service is lightening fast. Although I always attempt to order something different, I usually go with my standard: the Kang Dang - a red curry chock-full of thai eggplant, green beans, chicken, onions, lime leaves, and who-knows-what-else-deliciousness. I can seriously eat my own weight in the stuff. I love Esan Thai because, at any time and anywhere, I can close my eyes and imagine the distinctive taste of their curry. It's been (thus far) impossible for me to recreate at home and I have yet to find another Thai restaurant that even comes close to as good. Seriously...if it were socially acceptable, I would swim in the stuff.

Moving on - - I started reading Maya Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. I bought it on a whim recently and was in the mood to read something under the guise of "literature" (not that the Sweet Potato Queens aren't literary...haha) and realized I had never read this classic in my academic career. So far, so good. David can't understand why I'm reading it (he strongly dislikes Angelou's writing style), but I love her artistic descriptions and thoughtful pastiches of the Black American experience. I also picked up her memoir/cookbook hybrid (of course) called Hallelujah! The Welcome Table. I am rather excited to try out some of her simple, although sophisticated, southern cuisine.

And lastly this evening - - do you ever wrestle with regret? For whatever reason, I sometimes end up replaying pivotal moments in my past and wondering about my choices. Although I am quite happy in my current life, I get incredibly sad reliving my younger years. I can't decide if this is a byproduct of aging, or if perhaps I have some deep-seeded regret in my life. Either way, it can be such a drag. And with the weather so crappy, I feel an unstoppable, gravitational heaviness to my life. Can't summer come back already? Or at least the sun? Or maybe we could just have a little less snow? Anyway, things are fine. I have David, my friends, my students, and - duh - my cats to keep me afloat. Even in my own silly unhappiness, I know that I'm lucky.