Squigglies is not a word according to MS spellcheck.
It is now…an uncommitted word.
My brother in law, Randy, is visiting from Iowa. Last night, while having dinner with him, my other brother in law, nephew, and Ole Boy, there was a table behind us with some 20-30 people. One guy was standing and talking. They were off to themselves a little…not in the hub-bub of general seating, but we were close enough that it was unavoidable to catch a little of what they were saying. At one point, they called Randy’s name. His full name…not as though they were talking to him, but rather talking about him.
Turns out, those folks were Randy’s High School classmates, planning their upcoming 45th year reunion, and they mentioned Randy because he was one they hadn’t located yet. That problem is now solved. What a wild moment that was, for everyone! Of all the restaurants in the area, the out-of-towner and the local planners landed at the same time at some obscure, little out-of-the-way restaurant called Po Boys. (If you are local and haven’t tried it yet…you should! We’ll be going back, for sure. Great Cajun food.)
I think if someone is trying to compromise with you, you should at least make an effort to make it not all about you.
We’re going to have a heart to heart about this self-control thing. Food doesn’t own me….does it? Only if I let it! It’s time to start growing a crop of fruit…. and I’m not talking about peaches and plums.