A Frolic of My Own

Jazz, Books, Food, and the Writing Life

Blogging from New Orleans, La

21 January 2009

I must get better at self-promotion. Last Friday, I had a story in the Times-Picayune testing the theories of Steven Shaw. In his book Asian Dining Rules, Shaw offers tips and strategies for getting a great meal at any Asian restaurant–including the humble buffet:

“Remember, ” Shaw writes, “a buffet is a system in which the participants exercise a tremendous amount of self-determination. The most facile person at the buffet is going to get the best meal. That person should be you.”

Yes, I would be that person. Today, the Panda King would bow to me.

This piece played poorly with the peanut gallery in the comments section. I was called a rambling writer, a wasteful diner, and a women. Are there women named “Todd”?

Posted by Todd at 6:17 pm | Comments (2)

I thought croup only afflicted characters in 19th century novels. Turns out it’s real. The boy taught me that. He’s had that distinctive barking cough (other parents will know it instantly) and raspy breath since Saturday. He’s also given up food, preferring to survive on milk and Graham crackers alone. This is not normal. My boy enjoys his food.

This morning, after Andrea and I worked out an elaborate plan that would allow me to teach at least one class today, he threw up twice. That meant I was staying home all day to watch him. I guess parents and undergrads are both destined to live in houses that always have a whiff of vomit.

Not being able to keep down milk seemed like a bad development, but our ever helpful pediatrician returned my call and assured me it was a good sign. He’s on the mend, the doctor said. And it’s true. His cough is gone.

At the moment, he’s happily tearing apart the pantry. By tomorrow he will probably be eating again.

Posted by Todd at 5:41 pm | No Comments