Ada, My Lactose-Intolereant Semi-vegan Roommate

(Posted by Kirsten Olson)

This time last year, Ada lived with me in Bloomington. That semester was magic. All of us living together in Rose House (Peter, Marisa, Ada, and me) fit with one another so well that it just seemed right we should be living together. Our fondness for each other was most expressed through our insults. No slander taboo, no pejorative too strong, and swear words were terms of endearment. I remember getting home from class to find Ada sitting on the couch watching Family Guy or Robot Chicken and greeting me with, “Uh, it’s you again?” I knew she was happy to see me.
These next few memories may seem somewhat non-sequiter, but they are some of my favorites from those few months. Ada, Marisa, and I were walking down the isle in Target, Ada and Marisa side-by-side with me trailing behind. Three times Ada and Marisa’s hands accidentally bumped, at which point Ada grabbed Marisa’s hand then they started skipping and shouting, “We’re in loooooove.”
Some of you may know that for a short time Ada tried to become a vegan. Apparently by vegan she meant not eating any animal products . . . except bacon. Marisa was frying bacon one Saturday morning when Ada (who had been awoken by the scent) came stumbling into the kitchen. She kept repeating, “You aren’t seeing this. This isn’t happening.” as she shoved slice after slice of bacon into her mouth. Marisa cooked bacon often. Needless to say Ada’s vegan phase was a short one. (Perhaps we should try frying bacon in her hospital room...)
Ada is lactose intolerant. Ada loves to eat. Ada loves to eat cheese. Ada is lactose intolerant. Unfortunately, her love and her body do not agree. Ada, being the hopeless romantic that she is, often would choose cheese with little regard to the consequences. Her roommates however also suffered from these consequences. Cheese makes Ada fart. A lot. Fortunately, they are not the smelly kind, or the loud kind, but the little-funny kind. Even if I wanted to, I could not count the times we were watching TV and Ada would fart, not once, not twice, but many times and with regularity. You could use them to keep time. With each fart, or more appropriately toot, we would snicker and tease her. Maybe that’s why Ada brought her own chair and usually sat in it. It was her tooting chair. Ada, your chair is still here and waiting for the next time you eat macaroni and cheese.