I had to pay a fine this week. It was for a book that I didn’t return to the library on time. I find it rather funny that it was The I Hate To Cook Book. I don’t hate to cook. And the recipe I wanted from the book was Overnight Macaroons. I don’t eat macaroons. They are loaded with sugar.
I saw the book when I was looking for a book that might have jerky recipes and impulsively checked it out. (By the way, I also checked out the Dehydrator’s Bible and found a recipe I could adapt to make a copy of Epic brand Chicken Jerky.) I reminisced through the Elevator Lady Spice Cookies recipe and decided to try out the overnight macaroons since I wasn’t trying to make cookies in a huge hurry. (The spice cookies are super fast–35 minutes from start to clean up for 3 dozen cookies.)
The reason I had to pay a fine for this book that I remember from my childhood is because it’s a new edition and it’s in the new section of books. Therefore, it is a 14 day loan instead of 28 days. I’m chalking my mistake up to the new receipt system that has replaced a date stamp in each borrowed item. It’s new technology. And it’s fine.
A word like fine is a conundrum of sorts. When someone asks me how I am, I often say, “Fine.” But I’m not talking about a penalty. I mean, well, good. But when someone breaks a rule, they often have to pay a fine. Does that make something bad good? Maybe that’s the right end of it.
If I don’t manage my sugar addiction, I pay a fine. I don’t feel fine, I feel lousy. Although sometimes, at first, I feel fine as in good. Or maybe it’s high. How are you? Fine. And then there’s a crash. Or there’s an urge to look for more food instead of being content with Maureen in control.
And then there’s looking fine. Feeling fine. Feeling groovy. I’d like to break my record of slipping into grazing from time to time. I’d just like to feel fine. (Reading back over this paragraph, I feel like it could be the lyrics to a pop song. I don’t usually understand them, either.)
Perhaps I’m not making sense. But that’s fine. I’m writing. I’m not eating. I’m thinking it’s sense that determines what fine applies to a situation.
I have two painting projects this week. Some of the time I’ll be rolling with a roller. And other times I’ll be making a fine line between white and wrong. Well, not wrong, but the paint color I’ve chosen for the walls. But first, I’m going to take the time to prime. Right now, it’s prime time. I’ve got to beat it.
What’s a conundrum to you? (PS. The picture is the chicken jerky I made. It looks a little like drumsticks to me.)