Last night, inspired by Iffy's and Travis's descriptions of the enviable meals they cook for themselves (separately,
as in they aren't gay
... I swear... really), I decided to make a gourmet lactose- and gluten-free pizza. (Sounds like a contradiction in terms, doesn't it? But I'm convinced it's possible.) Unfortunately the health food store, where I get goat-milk cheddar cheese that actually melts and Muir Glen pizza sauce, was closed. So I went to Schnucks and improvised – a habit my cooking is rather infamous for. (I thought when I had a kid that there would be at least one other person on earth who liked my cooking, at least for a few years. Wrong.) As usual, I went through the store reading labels to avoid unsafe ingredients.
At the last minute, I went back to the international section of the store and picked up a prayer candle that had caught my eye earlier. I thought it would make an appropriate addition – along with the olive tapenade, rice crunch crackers, sun dried tomatoes, fresh spinach, and red zinfandel – to the meal I was preparing.
I had to read the label to make sure it was for the saint I thought it was. I suppose it looked like I was checking ingredients again:
Prayer to St. Jude
Most holy apostle, St. Jude, faithful servant and friend of Jesus, patron of hopeless cases, of things almost despaired of, pray for me. I am so helpless and alone. Make use, I implore you, of that particular privilege given to you to bring visible and speedy help where help is almost despaired of. I promise to be ever mindful of this great favor, to always honor you as my special and powerful patron. Amen. (Make your petition.)
I especially appreciated the form-like instructions on the label, "Make your petition," as in, "Insert text here", as well as the negotiation-like aspect: "Dude, if you do this for me, I'll do this for you." And I guess he did help me out because, although I hadn't realized how hopeless my efforts were until the bottom of the dough became as one with the pizza stone, I was
able to salvage the upper crust and the toppings. Otherwise, I most certainly would have plunged further into despair last night.
[Next: Hormone cylces and the evolutionary role of despair and paranoia, and why blogging is an antidote to evil.]