We had to move the cars this morning - street sweeping day. New York City is supposed to have 13" of snow by rush hour tonight, and here in Amish Country, we're supposed to have yet another blizzard this weekend, so it was perhaps time to get out of the house to preempt cabin fever.

Times are tough, but there was an ad on TV last night for Cici's Pizza, $3.99 - so we went out to eat.

Oh I'm on my way, I know I am,
Somewhere not so far from here
All I know is all I feel right now,
I feel a power growing in my hair
Sitting on my own not by myself,
everybody's here with me
I don't need to touch your face to know,
And I don't need to use my eyes to see

Been There Before, No T-Shirt

I'd been to Cici's once before - it's in the same shopping center as Target - and I hadn't been impressed. They have a pizza buffet, but pizza doesn't "keep" very well. They have pasta on the buffet, but that doesn't "keep" too well, either. They have a salad bar, but it's a pale imitation of what Ponderosa offered back in the 1970s when Ponderosa was worth eating at.

It struck me as being a pretty sorry concept, an idea that was destined to fail miserably, but then I kept hearing about tweetups at Il Infinito's, and we tried it, and it was actually fairly good, despite being based on virtually the same concept.

And when I thought about it, I had tried Cici's before in middle-late afternoon. Buffets aren't a good place to eat except at mealtimes, I have to concede that. Cici's deserved another chance. And Blondie had been wondering about Cici's. I don't remember the circumstances, but I was by myself when I tried it before. I'm rarely out by myself, and maybe my attitudes were colored by that.

Agoraphobia's Price

As an agoraphobe, it's not exactly impossible for me to leave the house alone, but I pay a price for it, not just at the time, but for several days afterwards. Even with Blondie and Marie accompanying me, my arthritis is really acting up, and I'm suffering from a migraine. With only Marie, I'd be suffering from painful spastic colon for several days afterwards.

Cici's was better than I remembered, but the pasta was still cold, sodden, bloated from being overcooked. The pizza was fresh, and if it wasn't hot, it was warm, but they had one or two dozen different pizzas, and they were all the same bad pizza. It tasted like grocery-store pizza, and not particularly good grocery-store pizza at that.

The highlight of the visit was watching preschoolers, especially all the ones there with their papas, mom not being along. I don't know if these were noncustodial dads or if this is the economy: the unemployment rate for men is significantly higher than for women. And paying attention to the preschoolers, I realized that one of the big reasons they wanted to eat there was the game room in the back. Aha! Now I understand. This was a place that competed with Chuck E. Cheese, without all the violence!

I keep on wondering if I sleep too long,
Will I always wake up the same (or so)?
And keep on wondering if I sleep too long,
Will I even wake up again or something
Oh I'm on my way, I know I am,
But times there were when I thought not
Bleeding half my soul in bad company,
I thank the moon I had the strength to stop

Unpeace On Earth

About a week ago, there was a bit of domestic lack-of-tranquility at our residence. I don't know what the argument was about. There was no preamble or anything, just an "Well, if that's the way you're going to be, I'll just fix supper for myself!" I never did find out later what it was about. I asked, and Blondie couldn't remember. Half the time, I feel like I've walked into a conversation that's half-over, and I have to apologize for things I've said, only I wasn't in the room when I would've had to say them.

And normally, it wouldn't have been a big deal, but I didn't have the oomph to fix anything to eat, and I didn't dare wait, because I was starting to go hypo. I got in the car, thinking that I'd try out Pat's Pizza, over on Harrisburg Pike by the Waffle House, but I realized long before I got there that I ought not be driving. I ducked into the parking lot for Dominion Pizza.

I ordered a four pieces of chicken, and some onion rings, and, oh, yeah, maybe some garlic bread, too. It turns out that the chicken comes with a huge pile of french fries, and a salad, and the garlic bread was huge, and it was way too much food. The quality didn't match the quantity, though.

Oh, No!

I'd eaten there several times before. The first time, I thought it was moderately good, and Blondie said let's not eat any more at places unless we know they're good. The second time, she had forgotten we had eaten there before, and she raved about how good the place was, and I agreed. This was the third time. The chicken was overcooked, and the breading was hard and dry. The salad looked like what you find on a buffet after a couple of tourist busses passes through, or that you get from the garden after a couple of clouds of grasshoppers has attacked. The french fries weren't real french fries, they were coated with that crap that's supposed to make them crunchy, and they were overcooked and crunchy instead of tender. The garlic toast was overdone, too, burned around the edges, and not the least bit greasy. Garlic bread is supposed to be buttery/greasy, isn't it?

If I had paranoid delusions, I'd have been sure that Blondie had called them and told them to overcook my food, but she didn't even know where I was going. If consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds, inconsistency is the bane of small restaurants. Instead of being consistently mediocre like a McDonald's, Dominion Pizza seems to swing from being incredibly bad to being incredibly good. Maybe you should stop next door at Turkey Hill and get a lottery ticket; you can't have bad luck both places on the same evening, can you?

I'm not making love to anyone's wishes,
Only for that god I see
'Cause when I'm dead and lowered low in my grave,
That's gonna be the only thing that's left of me
And if I make it to the waterside,
Will I even find me a boat (or so)?
And if I make it to the waterside,
I'll be sure to write you a note or something

It's Not Really All That Bad

I suppose that I should note that not everything is going to crap in my life. I've posted so little, recently, that posting bad reviews for two restaurants in a row makes it seem like I'm in a nasty mood. They aren't really bad reviews. Cici's offers a nice deal for the money. Two meals, two drinks, is $11.83 counting tax. That's an incredible bargain. And when you read those words, please note that I don't consider bad food to be a bargain even if it's free. It's not bad food; it's simply nothing to get excited about - unless, of course, you want to play Guitar Hero in the back room.

And if Cici's is a little too out-of-the-way for us to return soon - even if you live 2 blocks away, do you really want to venture on 30 East if you can avoid it? - Dominion Pizza is fairly close, and we will return sooner, rather than later. We're not eating out nearly as often as we used to, for reasons Ben Franklin would be happy to explain, if only I had a better acquaintance with Ben Franklins. Mostly, these days, I'm seeing Abe Lincolns, and the round Abes that are coppery in color, not the rectangular green ones.

They never have safflower oil in the "used grocery stores" like Sharp Shopper, Amelia, etc., so we were in Giant earlier this month, and of course, looking at the meat case, they didn't have any beef shanks. No point in asking; they wouldn't have any, except I asked, the damnable fool that I am, and the meat clerk said he was pretty sure they had some in the back, and he was so bright and cheery and eager-beaver that I allowed him to waste his time. Would you believe it, he had some, and he wrapped them and offered me my choice of three parcels - and so I snatched up all three packages.

No Kluski? Oh, No!

And when we got home, we realized that we didn't have any egg noodles at all, so the next trip to the store, she got some Kluski noodles, and made some beef and noodles for me. I will confess, I had beef and noodles over mashed potatoes three times a day for the next two days, and thought I was in hog heaven.

Oh I'm on my way, I know I am,
Somewhere not so far from here
All I know is all I feel right now,
I feel a power growing in my hair
Oh life is like a maze of doors
And they all open
From the side you're on
Just keep on pushing hard, boy,
Try as you may
You're going to wind up where you started from
You're going to wind up where you started from

And as much as I talk about the "blizzards" we've had this winter, they haven't really been blizzards, they've only been snowstorms; having grown up in the Black Swamp, I know what a real blizzard is like.

During the blizzards of years past, I used to sit, wrapped in a comforter, studying a seed catalog. Seed catalogs always used to arrive the week between Christmas and New Year's, and they'd get a position of honor near the porcelain throne, where they wouldn't get lost, and during the frozen days from late January to early March, they'd get brought out to the living room, we'd sit around a kerosene heater and plan the garden. With my hip and knees, I can't easily arise once I get down, and if you can't run your fingers through the warm soil in the spring, reading a seed catalog is breeding frustration.

Frustrating, Ain't It?

It must be like viewing pornography if you suffer from erectile dysfunction and little blue pills don't help. Or if you have the personality of a lawyer, and even though you have lead in your pencil, you have nobody to write to.

But I sit here in front of the computer screen, for as long as my hips allow me, feeling the furnace vent hot dry air on my aching frozen feet, and I wander through the pages of the internet. I want a noodle machine. We shouldn't be buying storebought Kluski noodles, when we can make homemade eggs noodles that taste even better. But then, if I buy one, will Blondie crown me for introducing one more gadget to a kitchen with inadequate storage already?

It's like viewing porn, I imagine, if you are limp and can't do a thing about it. Cat Stevens keeps singing to me, "Just keep on pushing hard, boy: Try as you may, you're going to wind up where you started from." Shaddup, Cat. I need that kind of defeatist attitude like I need more snow. Maybe I could take up golf - and then keep the kitchen gadgets in those girlfriends' kitchens! Hey, a man can dream, can't he?

Lyrics are from "Sitting", found on Cat Steven's 1972 album, "Catch Bull At Four". He changed his name to Yusuf Islam in 1978, but he's still Cat Stevens to many of us. Highly recommended.

Other Bloggers On Related Topics:
- Abe Lincoln - agoraphobia - beef shank - Ben Franklin - Cat Stevens - Chuck E. Cheese - Cici's pizza - comforter - Dominion Pizza - egg noodles - erectile dysfunction - Il Infinito - kerosene heater - Kluski - little blue pills - noodle machine - Pat's Pizza - Ponderosa - seed catalog - snow - spastic colon - Target - Turkey Hill - tweetup - Waffle House