Today I ate husband soup. Mmm…husband soup. It was a butternut squash soup base with carrot puree. It was also delicious. I ate it at work to gloat a little bit about my husband's prowess in the kitchen.

Many people did not catch my geeky reference when I said it was husband soup.

Anyway, tonight I have a soccer game. Wednesday nights are a bad night for me to play soccer. 1. My home field is way the fuck out a bazillion miles away from my house. (or maybe it just feels like it because of the joys of Atlanta Traffic.) 2. The Game starts at 8:00pm. This does not really give me enough time to go home and get back to the field in time for the game. This means I must stay at work until I wager that I can get to the field in time.

Uhg.

It means I do not get husband soup for dinner. Nor will I get husband chicken or other sources of deliciousness. It means that I will have to stop on the way out to the field and get myself something. I don't want to do this. I don't really like eating out. I ate out yesterday and got a fast-food burger. I am not excited about doing it two days in a row. I intended to eat matzo and peanut butter for lunch and have husband soup for dinner. But, it was husband soup and it tempted me.

I was weak.

So, not I am stuck with the prospect of matzo and peanut butter for dinner and that just- well, it's just going to pale in comparison to my lunch.

So, last week I got in a car accident. I wasn't driving, so technically, I didn't get in the accident. I carpool to and from work and it was my carpool buddy who got into the accident. We were rear ended by some dipshit from Tennessee who didn't have insurance and then tried to talk his way out of us calling the cops. He tried real hard, but neither of us fell for his sugar-coated bullshit.

Utopia point of advice #1: Never trust a man who has two driver's licenses and is willing to leave one of them with you.

The cops were called and that smarmy ass, silver tongue wanna be used the time that it took the cop to arrive to sign up for safe auto insurance. Whatever.

Anyway, he got a ticket and a talking to.

Anyway, it has been a week and I think I may have pinched a nerve in my neck during said accident. My right hand has been all tingly- mostly in my thumb and at the tips of my fingers. The numb tingly feeling comes and goes. Also, my neck hurts from some wicked hard muscle knots in it. I know I should suck it up and go to the doctor for this. But what are they going to do? Give me some muscle relaxants and send me home, maybe send me in for a session or two of physical therapy or give me some exercises to do. Well, I can take some ibuprophen, take a warm bath, but some ice on the muscle knots and do exercises without their help. Also, I would pretty much have to take a half-day off of work to go.

However, the idea of a nice massage does sound pretty good. My husband tries, but he just has no skill.

Utopia point of advice #2: A good massage rocks, a bad massage does not rock.

So, I am in a quandary.

A while back, my granny (not my granny, my granny in law which I have claimed as my own since my grannies are how should I say… mean bitter bitches who hate me because I moved away) said that I seemed to be good at everything.

This is an out and out lie. There are several things I am just plain bad at. I thought I would enumerate them.

I can't style my own hair. If it's anything more complicated than a brush, blow-dry and putting it up in a pony tail- I can't do it. Braiding is out- French braiding is right out, teasing, curling clipping. I can't do it. It is beyond me. You think I'm joking, but I am not. I'm not in touch with my feminine stylish side.

To be honest, fashion in general fails me. I am bad at matching clothes for color and for style. It's just not a part of my programming or something. I don't care what it looks like so long as it is comfortable.

I can't knit. I can crochet with the grannies, but knitting baffles me. Two needles at once is somehow just too much for me. I don't know why it's so damn hard. I can't do precisely one stitch- knit. Pearls, chains, anything like that, nope, can't do it. I am inept.

I am bad calligraphy and my handwriting is terrible. Not as bad as some, but bad enough.

I am bad at keeping things clean. I think this stems from my natural laziness though. I can clean things initially pretty good, but keeping to motivation to keep them so, is tough.

I can't fry foods. I don't know what It is about frying that thwarts me, but I just can't do it. I was raised without any fried foods of any kind and perhaps that is why. I know the oil has to be at just the right temperature and the batter has to be done just so. I can follow the direction and still the frying itself fails me.

I am also Utopia, Killer of Plants. I cannot keep plant alive. I can try and follow directions and test soil pH's and all that crap and still my plants will die.

Anyway, my point is, I am bad at a lot of things. Sometimes it is good to remind myself just how bad. It makes me feel better.

I am a tea geek.

I am so much of a tea geek, in fact, that I am going to Charleston to frolic about the only American tea plantation during their first cut festival. I am such a tea geek that my Sparky's wine and beverage teacher gave me another tea tasting kit because Sparky brought mine in to his class to show off. (Now I have two and that means I can have tea tastings for more than just me!)

Anyway, the First Cut Festival should provide me with some entertainment. I am quite looking forward to it. I will be able to prance about the field of tea bushes. I might even get to touch one. Wooooo.

I tried some of the First Cut tea from the American tea plantation and I have to admit it tasted different from the standard black Indian or Chinese teas. It was a touch milder, but slightly more acidic and also not quite as strong or bitter. I would almost call it a fruity, sweeter plain black tea. I'm not sure I approved of it, but I only had one bag to try. I can't really explain how it was different from normal Black tea.

For example, I would call my PG Tips a robust, full tea. It is black with a strong, bitter taste that almost makes it always taste over-brewed. I like it strong and dark. A splash of milk in there and it’s a good, cheap tea. PG Tips are not exactly high end tea, but it is always superior to Lipton. (Though, the Lipton Yellow Label loose leaf isn't bad.)

I wouldn't say the PG Tips are as good as the Tetley's Masala blend because the Masala blend is damn tasty- so is their Ginger blend. I found both of these at the Indian Food Grocers next to my house. I was surprised by the Tetley's Blends- they were just good. They had a nice full mouth flavor, very slight acid, but also strong. I recommend this one. Also, they are very reasonably priced. I got a sample pack of both the Masala and the Ginger flavor for like $1.50 each or something. The sample packs had 10 bags each- they were cheaper when you got the larger boxes.

Anyway, also when I go on my adventure to the Charleston Tea Plantation, I will be heading back to Georgia through Savannah. We had a big plan to stop at The Lady & Sons for lunch in Savannah and then walk around on the boardwalk. For those who don't know, The Lady & Sons is Paula Dean's restaurant. It should have some good ol' southern cookin'. Probably fried. On Sundays they only have the Lunch Buffet- which is fine by me. Fried Tomatoes? Yes please. Okra? Mmm. Basically, this is me appeasing my chef-in-training husband. He spoils me, so now I get to spoil him. (Also, I figured it had best be worth it to miss my soccer game that weekend.)

I have never been to Savannah, so I have decided to be a geeky tourist. I will also wear a big dorky hat- because I can. Tourists wear hats, so it's okay for me to wear a big one, because it's the south. I have just the right hat in mind too.

Today was a good day. Well, mostly a good day. I scored a goal in our game today so there isn't much that could bring me down.

Now, maybe it doesn't seem like a big deal for me to score a goal. But remember, I play sweeper. that means I am the very last defender before the goalie. For me to score a goal, it means I have done something awesome. Today I scored a goal from a little past half field on a penalty kick. It was pretty. The ball soared to the goal. I was aiming for the left hand corner. I was apparently aiming a bit too much for the left hand corner because it hit the inside corner of the post and bounce into the goal. it was pretty.

It was a good game. We played 2 men down or about half the game and 1 man down for the rest and we still won. That made me happy. (This is mostly because our ringers were there I think.)

On a side note, one of our games has been reschedules to next Saturday at 7pm. Blech. Then we have another game at 3pm on Sunday. & on a Saturday? For fuck's sake, I know I don't have much of a life, but there are people on my team who do. There are few times that are worse for a soccer game. 7pm on a Saturday is like beer drinking time.

I like beer too.

But, I like soccer more than beer. So I will be at my game at 7pm, playing as the sun goes down and the lights come on.