All I wanted to do was give Nanny the picture of my mother dressed as a cow. It was a simple plan, in and out, seemed flawless, but I was wrong. I was apprehended for a 'conversation' during which she revealed these interesting facts:
a) She heaped enough guilt on my grandfather for not buying her a Christmas present again this year, that he went out to find them 'the things you put in your ears so we can both hear the TV'. Romantic, eh?
b) Her vasectomy was the most painful surgery she'd ever had.
Note: I'm pretty sure she meant her hysterectomy, although I guess that if my grandmother ever had a vasectomy, it would be pretty painful indeed.
So at home, safe and sound, I turned on the Finger Eleven really loudly to cleanse myself of the insanity when something happened in the laundry room that almost broke me down completely.
You see, lately I've had a thing for medleys, as in chicken caesar medleys, and green bean medleys...I think maybe I'm just putting the word medley on some of my old recipes to make them seem new again, but it did the trick. I'm hooked! It also appears as though the word medley refers to just a couple or more ingredients, together. Pretty easy stuff! On such a medley occasion a couple of days ago, I was chopping away, all proud of my medley: broccoli, carrots, peppers...but it was a red pepper that did me in.
Apparently I chopped too close and too flamboyantly near my 2nd favourite placemat of all time, and now it has the juices of a red pepper splattered on it. It did not come out in the wash. I could have cried. Well, not really, I probably just got them at Sears or something, they're not exactly precious heirlooms, but still. It's the principle of the thing. Now my only recourse is to energetically chop enough peppers to equally splatter the other placemats in the set so they all have a similar pattern going, and that might just take all the fun out of medley time.
So then I was eating, oddly enough, leftover medley for lunch, when I realized that I love forks. I mean, how great are they, eh? They're just so perfect in their utility. If you have an eating job to get done, you whip out your fork, and you've got the basics covered: spearing, lifting, separating, prying, piercing, and just downright shoveling when you're in a hurry or you're supposed to be 'sharing' (note to Jason: get your own damned brownie!).
Anyway, then I pulled myself together and saw an old friend, and we talked for 4 hours straight, and not about forks either.
Tomorrow's adventure: dinner with my mother-in-law...she cooked me a meal once, in September of 2000, and I've only now been invited back. Should be really happy fun!
3 comments:
I bought a vintage tablecloth at a thriftshop of florida, lots of graphics and colors and LOTS of stains
you cant bleach these things!!!!
but that oxy clean stuff
soak the placemat in it for at least a day in a bucket or something and any stain comes out, so far Ive had TONS of luck wiht that stuff, and I get the cheap no name oxy wash stuff in the discount store and it works great!!!!
I concur with the above comment - that stuff is the indifferent man's secret weapon.
And, might I add, I used to be a carpet cleaner and that stuff would take stains out of British-India wool rugs that I wouldn't dare approach with other spotters. Give it a try, and never fear exuberantly-splattered pepper juice again!
As the legendary Australian outlaw Ned Kelly spoke, just before being hanged, "Such is life."
A toast to you, Jay (with a glass of life's lemonade, of course).
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