Pots and Others

She was quite distracted right then, had a lot on her mind. She had gotten the feeling that something strange was about to happen. Strange and perhaps with bad results. Perhaps the world would finally come to an end. It was hard to be certain, when all she had to go on was the odd feeling. She shivered.

Thus it was that it went completely over her head when the nearby group was in an animated exchange on the topic of DC and Congress. When she finally realized somebody nearby was commenting on some political maneuvers in the federal government, how things were getting rather complicated, with quite a few people involved, a lot of words had been sent back and forth.

At last, there was a lull of about five seconds, during which the people in the group - some four or five - looked at one another and grimaced. Things were clearly heating up in Washington.

Then somebody, in response to the heavy silence, said: “Ah! The plot thickens!” and sounded amused. It was an attempt to lighten the mood, to turn legislation in the nation’s capitol to a simple series of negotiations between the parties on each side of the aisle. The comment had risen above the other speakers, perhaps due to the low tone of the voice. Only that deep, resonant voice could have finally broken through her thought barrier.

So deep in thought was she that the three words set heavily, despite the jocular tone of their speaker. They went toward her ears, waiting to be acknowledged. Unfortunately, she only had a few snippets of sound with which to reconstruct what had been said, and so she started in. What she came up with is nothing short of unusual, or it might be a sign of hearing loss.

…… Ah! The plot thickens!

The pot chickens? What on earth does that mean? I’ve heard of pots, chickens, and even potted chicken - although I’ve never eaten it - but pot chickens are nonsense. Unless somebody were stupid enough to raise chickens that could only be eaten by cooking in a pot. Not buying it. What did I actually hear?

…… Ah! The plot thickens!

The lot thickets? What the h#$^? A lot of thickets, although rare, could be a topic of discussion, I guess. But only if it has an of in it: lot of thickets. Funny how I really only came across that word in the books I read as a little girl. I think Bambi went into thickets or something. Now I’m wondering if a thicket is almost like a briar patch or if it’s something totally different? There were briar patches in a few of my books, so that’s why I started wondering.

Maybe I heard the phrase “posh things,” which could fit if one is in a discussion about the evils of money in national politics. I’m referring to kickbacks and gifts, which - among other things - make it easy to get richer on Capitol Hill.

“The top sticks.” 

That can’t possibly be what that remarkable voice was saying. I mean, it just flowed and sounded like a work being read by its own author. What am I thinking? Even a very attractive voice wouldn’t be uttering things like “the top sticks.” More nonsense. The top stuck or was stuck or might get stuck, yes. Most tops on pans don’t stick. Tops on glass jars aren’t stuck; they’re hard to open because of the seal on the jar. I don’t even know what this sentence means, so I need to hear the voice again:

…… Ah! The plot thickens!

“Lots of it.” 

Lots of what? Money, since that’s what politics are all about? Conspiracy or conspiracy theory? This is useless, and serves me right for paying attention to a conversation on a topic I detest. Trouble is, I pay attention to too many conversations and to too many things. It might become a problem for me in the future. Right now, I just wish my hearing weren’t so good and that I could wear dark glasses 24/7. Keep the excess stimuli out.

“The lot thinks.”

Not this either. First of all it’s unclear what lot is being referenced; then, if the lot is thinking, there has to be an object or complement to the verb: thinking about supper, thinking over a problem, thinking good thoughts, thinking hard or quickly, etc. etc. At this point I’m not even sure what I was trying to say, which is probably a good indication that these three words were not the ones I overheard and on which I am obviously quite fixated at the moment.

“Pot is sick.”

No, I am sick of trying to make sense of my naturally inadvertent eavesdropping and refuse to play the game any longer. My name is not Alice and this place is far from Wonderland.

…… Ah! The plot thickens! 

“Who asked you?” she wailed.

“The (garbled) sinks, but we think it not…”

“Stop it!” She is practically screeching now, as the words flew at her like birds, like birds in that famous film or that famous novel by a well-know horror writer from Maine. Beside the fact that her mind wouldn’t shut up, the reconstructions of the original phrase were getting longer and longer.

…… Ah! The plot thickens! 

It was her last chance to survive the war of the words that was beginning to heat up. And she showed them that she was ready. She put on her apron, her favorite from the feira in Barcelos. It had an image of huge carrots, onions, and tomatoes on a garish green background. It fit her perfectly.

She got out two cutting boards, one on either side of the sink. She placed the proper knives on top. She never used large ones; they frightened her.

Next she sliced chunks off a smoked ham and added them to a huge pot of water. After that had boiled a while, in went grelos (rapini, if you will), white beans (dry, absolutely not canned), and chunks of potato. The process is always the same. At first the liquid is pretty thin, but as it boils, the pot thickens. Mostly it’s because of the lovely starch given off by the potatoes.

But what about the plot? Did it or did it not thicken?

Wasn’t it obvious? Of course it did.

It went from the useless words that fill most days of Congress to a delicious thick soup, caldo galego. From empty to full. 

(Recipe available on request.)