So, since I know everyone loves to hear about other people's dreams*, I'm going to tell you all about how I had a dream last night that I adopted an autistic child, and then cured him of autism by following him to the desert, which was being overrun by maggots that swarmed over a herd of donkeys and ate them alive and then came after us, and we escaped by getting into a school bus and driving away and crashing into a dinner party being given in our honor, where I got yelled at for upsetting the child and was told to rub his ears to make him calm down.
I think it was an anxiety dream because I found out that one of our orientation activities at school will involve a big bulletin board with our names and places of birth on it, and we're supposed to interact with one another based on shared culture or something, but I was born in Macon, Georgia and I'm terrified of the people who will approach me based on that fact, since I only lived there for 9 months and apparently didn't even wear clothes for that whole time. I wish I had lied on my application.
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*The title is a paraphrase of Dennis from Always Sunny in Philadelphia. And I agree with him, but I'm telling you my dream anyway. Because I don't care what you want to hear.
http://irregulargiggling.blogspot.com
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
sometimes i fiction myself
So, I have this other blog I hardly ever use, and sometimes I write stuff. And there's this blogger named Peter de Wolf who is having a drabble contest.
That's how this happened.
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http://irregulargiggling.blogspot.com
That's how this happened.
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http://irregulargiggling.blogspot.com
Chilly Killies
It's been a long time since I've done a "Things My Houseboy Cooked for Me" blog, and it's not because he stopped cooking for me, but because I stopped taking pictures and started just eating it all up before he could get a fork in there.
Welcome to unemployment in Nashville, though, where I make him wait for five goddamn minutes, it won't get cold, it will be fine, I think if I turn the flash off it will work better, I guess 12 pictures ought to at least yield one worth posting, thank goodness for digital cameras, am I right?
So, here are the chilaquiles that he saw featured on some show and then googled and figured out how to make, and with which I helped by frying the eggs and heating up some beans and adding salt while he made homemade tortilla chips and then refried them in fancy green salsa and then assembled it all into this mountain of deliciousness which I hereby nominate to be the new "Way I will get fat" of 2009:
Welcome to unemployment in Nashville, though, where I make him wait for five goddamn minutes, it won't get cold, it will be fine, I think if I turn the flash off it will work better, I guess 12 pictures ought to at least yield one worth posting, thank goodness for digital cameras, am I right?
So, here are the chilaquiles that he saw featured on some show and then googled and figured out how to make, and with which I helped by frying the eggs and heating up some beans and adding salt while he made homemade tortilla chips and then refried them in fancy green salsa and then assembled it all into this mountain of deliciousness which I hereby nominate to be the new "Way I will get fat" of 2009:
I also had closeup pictures, but they sucked, so that's all you get. Aren't you jealous? It was delicious and then for dessert we shared a thing of blueberries about as big as your computer. If your computer is the same size as mine. Which is bigger than a breadbox.
Ok, back to the Today Show, which is teaching me about reclining high chairs, and I'm wondering if they come in adult sizes because they look really comfortable.
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P.S. - Houseboy knows how to pronounce chilaquiles, but enjoyed annoying me by calling them chilly killies. He's so charming.
http://irregulargiggling.blogspots.com
Ok, back to the Today Show, which is teaching me about reclining high chairs, and I'm wondering if they come in adult sizes because they look really comfortable.
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P.S. - Houseboy knows how to pronounce chilaquiles, but enjoyed annoying me by calling them chilly killies. He's so charming.
http://irregulargiggling.blogspots.com
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
I'm not a tattletale
For this edition of Way Back Tuesday, we'll travel across time and space to a little place called Farmington, Minnesota which used to be a pretty small town and is now a semi-suburb of the Twin Cities, and to which my family moved when I was a year old and from which we moved when I was six years old. This means that I started my academic career there, with half day Kindergarten (I had mornings), during which I spent most of my time playing with trucks alone in a corner because I already knew how to read, so I didn't need to sit in a circle and learn the alphabet but my parents had decided I wasn't ready for first grade because I only had one friend. By the end of Kindergarten I had two friends and then we moved 1,000 miles away, so that worked out well for everyone.
Anyway, my teacher was Mrs. Rhode-Goggin, who was about four and a half feet tall and wore her headgear and a wok stand around her neck on Halloween and called it an alien costume. She also got pregnant that year and my best (only) friend asked her if she was having a baby or just fat. She was awesome.
So, next to her desk she had a thing called The Tattle Ear or something like that, which was a construction paper ear which you were supposed to go tattle to, rather than bugging her about how little Jenny bit you. I found out much later from my mother that the idea behind the thing was that five and six year olds don't whisper so good, so they would come up and do that loud wet whisper into the ear that they all do, and Mrs. Rhode-Goggin could overhear what they were saying and decide whether she needed to do anything about it. I'm guessing Jenny the biter would have been in trouble.
Well, apparently in addition to being ahead of the curve in the whole reading thing, I was also an unusually good whisperer for my age, and my teacher could never hear what I was tattling about. I also 100% believed that this ear was somehow magical and made all your tattle-worthy problems go away, so it never even occurred to me to tell the teacher as well as the ear.
This is relevant because one time during recess or whatever they called our play time outside, I had to go to the bathroom, and the aide let me come in and use it alone. I was probably also a potty genius of some kind. Anyway, when I came in and burst through the bathroom door already working on the clasps on my overalls because damn those things were complicated, I found one of my classmates sitting on the floor surrounded by Oreos and with chocolate all over his mouth. It seems he had discovered the hiding place for the snack and went buckwild. With no one else in sight, I promptly went over and told the tattle ear and then went back outside to play, figuring my work was done.
I was more than a little upset when the teacher only discovered the missing Oreos at snack time and the thief just sat there all happy and full of cookies and frosting while the rest of starved until our mom made us tomato soup and shells for lunch during Sesame Street.
---
http://irregulargiggling.blogspot.com
Anyway, my teacher was Mrs. Rhode-Goggin, who was about four and a half feet tall and wore her headgear and a wok stand around her neck on Halloween and called it an alien costume. She also got pregnant that year and my best (only) friend asked her if she was having a baby or just fat. She was awesome.
So, next to her desk she had a thing called The Tattle Ear or something like that, which was a construction paper ear which you were supposed to go tattle to, rather than bugging her about how little Jenny bit you. I found out much later from my mother that the idea behind the thing was that five and six year olds don't whisper so good, so they would come up and do that loud wet whisper into the ear that they all do, and Mrs. Rhode-Goggin could overhear what they were saying and decide whether she needed to do anything about it. I'm guessing Jenny the biter would have been in trouble.
Well, apparently in addition to being ahead of the curve in the whole reading thing, I was also an unusually good whisperer for my age, and my teacher could never hear what I was tattling about. I also 100% believed that this ear was somehow magical and made all your tattle-worthy problems go away, so it never even occurred to me to tell the teacher as well as the ear.
This is relevant because one time during recess or whatever they called our play time outside, I had to go to the bathroom, and the aide let me come in and use it alone. I was probably also a potty genius of some kind. Anyway, when I came in and burst through the bathroom door already working on the clasps on my overalls because damn those things were complicated, I found one of my classmates sitting on the floor surrounded by Oreos and with chocolate all over his mouth. It seems he had discovered the hiding place for the snack and went buckwild. With no one else in sight, I promptly went over and told the tattle ear and then went back outside to play, figuring my work was done.
I was more than a little upset when the teacher only discovered the missing Oreos at snack time and the thief just sat there all happy and full of cookies and frosting while the rest of starved until our mom made us tomato soup and shells for lunch during Sesame Street.
---
http://irregulargiggling.blogspot.com
Monday, August 3, 2009
Barbecue and pizza, but no barbecue pizza
So, an important task for these few weeks I have off, besides finding out that the Today Show is actually on past nine o'clock is also finding out if there is anything worth eating down here, besides Krispy Kreme, which I can tell you is a big fat winner. So, because I'm a Midwesterner and Houseboy is an East Coaster neither one of us knows very much about barbecue, but we figured that our Midwestern and East Coasten friends and family, if and when they visit us, will want to eat of the pig, basted in the sauce and expect that it will be the best barbecue in Nashville, if not in Tennessee, since I hear that Memphis has better barbecue anyway. Since I'm a vegetarian this will result in a citywide search for the best cornbread and mac and cheese and the least disgusting boiled and salted vegetables, because down here it's warm enough to grow vegetables year-round, so they have no love or respect for them and would rather eat something brownish and soggy that they ironically call "green beans."
The other important search is for edible pizza, which is more of a stretch. Having just emigrated from Chicago, I realize that we have the bar set pretty high, what with the Chicago style stuffed pizza and Medici's pesto and sundried tomato and goat cheese deliciousness and the cheesy crust on the Lou Malnati's and the cornbread crust on the Leona's.... you get the picture. We do have the back up of Papa John's delivery, which I haven't had in about seven years, but remember fondly from simpler times in Minneapolis, back when I was young and excited just to have multiple delivery options. We ordered Chinese! It was quite metropolitan.
Anyway, all of this is to say that so far we've found Mellow Mushroom*, which has awesome delicious sandwiches and white pizza and pesto pizza and is decorated like an LSD trip, but does not deliver, so we're still on the search because when it's 90 degrees out, I'm not walking half a mile to pick up a pizza, and I think we've had the discussion about me driving already.
However, we will be taking people there because eating pizza under a giant psychedelic mushroom is just cool.
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* I love the picture on that website of the three greasy hippy dudes making pizza. That's exactly what it's like there too. No hairs in my food yet, luckily.
http://irregulargiggling.blogspot.com
The other important search is for edible pizza, which is more of a stretch. Having just emigrated from Chicago, I realize that we have the bar set pretty high, what with the Chicago style stuffed pizza and Medici's pesto and sundried tomato and goat cheese deliciousness and the cheesy crust on the Lou Malnati's and the cornbread crust on the Leona's.... you get the picture. We do have the back up of Papa John's delivery, which I haven't had in about seven years, but remember fondly from simpler times in Minneapolis, back when I was young and excited just to have multiple delivery options. We ordered Chinese! It was quite metropolitan.
Anyway, all of this is to say that so far we've found Mellow Mushroom*, which has awesome delicious sandwiches and white pizza and pesto pizza and is decorated like an LSD trip, but does not deliver, so we're still on the search because when it's 90 degrees out, I'm not walking half a mile to pick up a pizza, and I think we've had the discussion about me driving already.
However, we will be taking people there because eating pizza under a giant psychedelic mushroom is just cool.
---
* I love the picture on that website of the three greasy hippy dudes making pizza. That's exactly what it's like there too. No hairs in my food yet, luckily.
http://irregulargiggling.blogspot.com
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