I’m thinking my earlier N post was a bit of a cop-out. It was a loong weekend, folks. Preceded by an even looonger week of “spring vacation” with various children not belonging to me running through my house.
Easing back into work mode this morning, I got an email from one of the road crew which got me thinking. He (jokingly) mentioned living on Ramen Noodles. I’m not talking about the Japanese dish known generically as ramen – I’m talking about the instant kind with Ramen in the brand name. ‘Member those? A brick of noodles and a packet of sodium-laced spice, needing hot water to meld them into one?
I’m wondering if one can measure success by the last time they HAD to eat Ramen Noodles?
They were a staple in the dorm rooms, a hot pot favorite. 10 for $10 at the supermarket. Superior to Cup O’ Noodles on the basis of quantity alone, but lacking the one thing Cup O’ Noodles had the upper hand on: a cup.
This colleague of mine is young and hard-working, he’s lean and hungry…maybe due to being fueled by Ramen (which is such a great band name, btw. Wish I had thought of it first). His palate probably still able to tolerate such heat and salt those noodles bring in their stringy mess.
I don’t think I’ve eaten a brick o’ noodles or a cup o’ noodles since 1995. Could my palate, almost 20 years deprived, still handle either? How about my blood pressure and my ego? How about yours?
(Noodles, brought to you by the letter N. Suggested by Tim, and inspired by Nate. And fueled by…?)