You don’t get to just take a nap.
You have to earn it.
Tag: Humor
KIDDIE CORNER TREATS
Having voiced my theory about adults-only food, let me now counter it with kids-only tastes. Things you loved to eat as a kid but would rather avoid now.
(Dirt doesn’t count. I’m serious.)
Velveeta would be on my list, now that I’ve discovered real cheese in all varieties.
Angel food cake would be another.
We were even given slices of raw potato sprinkled with salt as a treat while dinner was cooking.
You get the picture. Now it’s your turn to add to that list.
SO MUCH FOR VIGILANCE
So there they were, well after dark, telling of the gluten-free boxed brownie brand they’d selected to make the pot-laced squares they were munching as they sipped their third bottle of beer.
Wait. Isn’t beer full of gluten?
As she said later, “They’re so dumb.”
EX- MARKS THE SPOT
A comment from Martha Schaefer got this ball rolling.
She was confessing that she never liked Brussels sprouts until her ex-husband, “an excellent cook,” introduced her to what happens when the tiny cabbages are cooked well. And, of course, that changed everything.
My, that could even get us going on a crimes-against-foods rant, considering how many vegetables, fruits, meats, and so on are abused in kitchens around the globe.
For now, though, let’s consider an overlooked aspect of broken relationships. Think of something positive you’ve carried away from an ex-spouse or lover. What were you introduced to that you now treasure or delight in?
A special place, perhaps, or food or beverage, music or art, literature or activity, friends or family, even (maybe most of all) lovemaking.
What comes to mind? Or your heart? Pipe up!
WALNUT ASSAULT
Among the mature trees surrounding our house are several black walnuts, including one that hangs over the 1928 one-story addition where our kitchen sits. Its open ceiling allows us to hang pots, pans, and stemware from the joists – shall we just call it a rustic look? – and I’ve sometimes considered installing a skylight or two.
On the other side of that roof, squirrels strip the nuts from the trees early in the season of a typical year. Watching their frantic action can be quite amusing, first as the leaves on a branch shake furiously and then as a squirrel bounds away with a large ball in its mouth.
A few nuts might actually survive into autumn. More likely, we find them buried the next spring as we prepare the new garden and sift compost. Having lived here for a decade-and-a-half, we think we know what to anticipate as the seasons advance.
Not this year, to our surprise, at least as far as the walnuts go.
Our awareness that something was amiss began in the middle of the night. Was somebody trying to break into the house?
The next morning, though, as wind whipped around the house, the noise really picked up. Imagine someone hitting the kitchen roof with a baseball bat. Repeatedly, sometimes three or four a minute. The whack was enough to make us jump.
I moved one car further from the house – we’d seen what large hail did to a friend’s pickup truck and the damage wasn’t pretty. These nuts were larger and heavier, after all, and ones that fell on that side of the roof were bouncing into the driveway.
The tree still has a few nuts left on the branches, but the racket has slowed considerably. Instead, some of the pathways leading to the garden are now covered in walnuts. As my wife observed, it’s like trying to walk on marbles.
Between that and the noise, it’s enough to drive anyone nuts.
Or squirrelly.
ANOTHER OUTBREAK OF MY QUIRKY VISION
Pointing my cursor to the WordPress icon on my desktop, I once again read the rest of the slogan as “Get a free hug here.”
Hug? Not blog? Does anyone else ever misread it that way? Or am I the only one?
I have to admit, some days your comments and postings feel like hugs from afar.
PIGEONS PARKED
All in a row on the bridge rail overlooking the river.
ONE COOK, TOURING THE GARDEN
Bingo! Basil!
As they say …
OH, MY, THAT HONEY!
In the early ’80s, when I lived in the Rust Belt, we chanced upon a small Greek bakery in the middle of a residential area – just five or six blocks from our house, actually.
What an incredible discovery! Along with the realization it made no sense to try to keep anything over an additional day – that honey soaks through the flaky phyllo dough too quickly! But, oh my, before it does!
NOT REALLY JUST FOR THE TAKING
The concept of community gardens, where public land is made available to individuals and families to raise produce and flowers, is a noble one. When it works as envisioned, gardeners get to know and respect one another while swapping advice and their harvests, families eat healthier and tastier, and a piece of ground is simply put to good use.
Of course, there are spoilers, as we hear.
One year, for instance, all of the purple cabbage heads kept disappearing from the different families’ sections at one site, at least until a restaurant owner was caught in the act.(The audacity!)
Another year, I think, some of the garlic was raided.
This year, a large blooming tithonia plant was dug up and taken. It’s a big plant!
And more recently, as one man worked his plot, he observed a woman going through the neighboring sections and filling bags. Excuse me, he said, those aren’t yours.
But it’s a community garden, she retorted.
You’re stealing, he said, dialing his cell phone. I’m sure the police are perplexed by this one.
She was well-dressed. Her Audi was full of produce. She’d driven more than 30 miles from her home.
Does she really have no awareness of all the work that goes into ordering seeds, starting them indoors, transplanting, weeding, watering, weeding, watering, weeding, watering, staking some up … oh, well …
I’m waiting for the rest of the story. For now, I just can’t wrap my brain around this one.
