Laura Rydberg

Grillin’ It Up with Laura

  • Grilled Shenanigans

    Grilled Cheese Shenanigans

    After discovering his coworker’s questionable species of pet, Theodore had many questions. Unfortunately, the stack of papers on his desk was calling, and he could not remain at the window to talk. Dragging himself back to his cubicle, Theodore discovered a sick feeling dwelling in the depths of his stomach- and it was not from the Taco Bell he had devoured for lunch. Eying the walls of his cubicle, he spun around in his desk chair to peer out his doorway at the other bleak walls of his fellow coworkers’ cubicles. He wondered what lives they were leading with hobbies and tales he never would have the honor of hearing. Theodore sighed, turning back to type numbly on his keyboard. How many years would he spend in this exact chair, analyzing financial statistics and filling out meaningless reports? Perhaps, he would have the opportunity to be promoted… but isn’t that just another chair with different worn leather and another keyboard to angrily slam down whenever he found inconsistencies in his analysis’ results? 

    Theodore begrudgingly returned to the massive workload he had in front of him. Each day, his to-do list grew larger, yet the rates at which he was finishing tasks was decreasing rapidly. He couldn’t decide if it was from a lack of motivation, a sudden realization of the pure hate he has for his job, or an absence of skills particular to his job. Yet, Theodore couldn’t force himself to care. One subject he did care about was the grilled cheese and lemur conversation he had had earlier. 

    How did his coworkers have such thrilling lives when he could barely force himself to roll out of bed each morning, dreading the day of boredom and tedious work that lay ahead of him? Theodore dreamed of leading a life where he looked forward to leaving the safety of his warm bed and taking on the day. He craved excitement and passion. 

    Tapping out the final digits of a percentage on his computer, Theodore could not ignore his dislike for every aspect of his job. What was stopping him from cooking grilled cheese (and more exciting things, of course) and having a lemur as his pet (and friend)? Theodore hesitated, fingers pausing in their fiery tapping of the keyboard. It was a good question because, truly, what was stopping him?

    Nothing, it appeared to be as that very next moment he abruptly stood up, pushed his chair in without the least bit of care, slung his trench coat over his shoulder, and strolled out of his cubicle, clutching his favorite coffee mug by the handle in one hand. He strutted past Nancy’s cubicle, and she glanced over her shoulder, a surprised look in her blue eyes. 

    “Where are you off to?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

    “Somewhere better than this,” Theodore responded, a smile playing his lips. The expected fear and regret had instead been replaced with a sense of freedom and joy. “We will see where it takes me.”

    Before Nancy could interrogate him more, he continued his journey out of the office space, down the elevator, and out the front door of his now-former work building.

    First step: Leave.

    Second step: Find a lemur and make it a grilled cheese.

    Are grilled cheese and lemurs the answer to Theodore’s questions?

  • Pancake syrup builds memories.

    A tale of grilled cheese and lemurs.

    There is hardship in everything, except eating pancakes.

    -Charles Spurgeon

    Theodore was a man of few words and many recipes. He spent endless nights pouring over pages of well-used and well-loved recipe books, yellowed with age and the occasional spill of vanilla.

    Theodore found little joy in his mornings and afternoons where he wasted hours in a small office cubicle; the ceiling-high glass windows somehow made him feel even more disconnected from the outside world, despite their intended purpose to provide employees with access to nature and natural sunlight. Theodore had always had a strange distaste for those windows, viewing them as only an illusion set up by his employers. Standing before them with a mug of freshly-poured coffee in one hand, he placed his other hand upon his hip, frowning slightly at the highways that lay below him and the vehicles, their roofs shining in the midday sun, speeding past.

    His coworker, Nancy, had paused next to him on her daily trek back to her cubicle after her exaggerated lunch break. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had homemade meals here?”

    Complaints like these always indicated that Nancy’s lunch bag had lacked the normal container of elaborate leftover meal from her previous dinner and, instead, had carried a sloppily-made peanut butter sandwich and a random assortment of vegetables and dry granola bars.

    “I’ve been getting into cooking,” Theodore confessed, glancing at her face for a reaction. Per usual, Nancy gave away nothing, her blue eyes not even blinking. Theodore took this as a sign to add more detail. “I’ve been making some wonderful chocolate-stuffed pancakes with caramelized bananas.”

    Another glance only resulted in a disinterested side-eye from Nancy.

    “And, one time, I made this exquisite apple pie tiramisu,” Theodore added, taking a cautious first sip of his coffee. Not enough creamer, as he expected. The color had been off.

    “That’s nice,” Nancy responded, absent-mindedly. “Do you think the sun’s going to be out tomorrow? It’s awfully bright today.”

    Theodore struggled not to roll his eyes. Her indifference to his current passion- his one and only passion as of now- was moderately irritating, especially when her best change of subject was the weather. He decided to try one last time with a “And a lovely grilled cheese with bacon.”

    At this, Nancy perked up. “Grilled cheese? I know someone who likes grilled cheese.”

    Theodore was pleasantly surprised at this reaction. “That’s… great. I can’t quite express my love for grilled cheese in words. It’s the best type of sandwich, really.”

    Nancy even gave a smile at that. “Well, if you’re so good at making grilled cheese, you should pack one for Jasper tomorrow, and I’ll share it with him.”

    “But it’ll be cold,” Theodore quickly blurted out, astounded at the idea.

    Nancy didn’t seem bothered, giving a small shrug of her left shoulder in response. “He won’t mind. If you wouldn’t mind, please no bacon. It’s too close to species of his intellect and height.”

    Theodore, who had been taking a swig of too-bitter coffee at that moment, choked and sputtered out a “Species?”

    Nancy eyed him, cautiously, seeming to weigh in her brain whether it was worth telling him her next sentence. Ultimately, she decided it was, and she declared, “Jasper’s a lemur. I wouldn’t tell anyone if I were you. It isn’t very good office-cubicle-lunch-break talk, if you know what I mean.”

    It registered in Theodore’s brain that she had made a stab at his small number of friends and acquaintances that were limited to only his coworkers, but he chose to ignore it, focusing instead on the confession she had laid at his feet.

    It was on this day that Theodore became involved in a mass lemur trade scheme.