Last night Eyebrows set about making dinner for us. Great tomato sauce that we put up in August (frozen), plus some fresh sausage, and spaghetti.

He starts to fry the sausage in a cast iron skillet. I have been instructed to stay out of the kitchen, he wants to make dinner for us, which was very nice. I begin to smell a lot of smoke. I shout from living room "do you need help?" "No, no, everything's fine." Next thing I know the smoke alarm goes off, and the phone rings. I say "that's going to be ADT, you better answer." So he answers. But before he can tell the ADT guy that everything is okay, for some unknown reason the phone call goes dead. Next thing ya know, the fire department is coming down the street - 2 big trucks and small truck.

Needless to say, the firemen were not pleased.

So did you invite them to join your spaghetti dinner?

They didn't stay long enough to even ask the question.

The good thing is that we know you didn't tell E. "I told you so!"

I mostly just laughed my head off, as did Eyebrows. That is, after the firemen left.

I asked him what happened? He said "I dunno, I was doing too many things at once, my heaad wasn't screwed on right."

I am truly sorry to hear that. Condolences.

yeah, this morning in the shower I reached for the comb and realized just before I ran it through my hair that I was holding the razor.

And just this morning I stood in front of the espresso machine and spooned ground coffee into my coffee cup. At least I stopped before I got to tamping...

Making a large vat o' soup today...got a phone call, thought I turned the burner down...turned it off. Thought I turned it back on...oops...turned on the adjacent burner...found out by reaching my hand through the flame .

Litchfield CT

Thursday Nov 30, 2006 65 degrees
Friday December 8, 2006 11 degrees
Sunday December 10, 2006 47 degrees

I can remember some 30 years ago a doctor's telling a super-educated friend of mine who had experienced similar situations that she was just suffering 'bored housewife's syndrome'.

A phone call asking if Rancho Gordo Rio Fuego Very Hot Sauce was certified kosher.

Why would anyone go to the trouble of getting something certified kosher and then not putting it on the label?

You mean they called you after having seen the bottle?

(Oh I do love that hot sauce)

yes! (So glad)

Really? Not in living memory.

Edit: Okay, now I remember. I thought it was suggested I had posted about arepas.

Edit again: Well, that was stimulating. It reminded me how many really disappointing "artisanal" ingredients I've eaten recently - especially, in this city, meat and cheese.

Hot damn! The Oscar Mayer Weiner Mobile is here! Wish I could try out. . .

today is edvard munch's birthday and google has decorated it's front page with The Scream. everytime I open my browser, I feel as though I am being watched by MFer Scream.

World domination is now complete.

New York weather forecast for Friday, December 15: 59F.

Sheesh.

Must have been - oh - 1989 or 1990... before I lived in the city, I visited New York one Christmas. Sunshine, no-one wearing jackets.

Golf anyone?

What on earth is wrong with the younger generation? My godson, who is seventeen, has just been made a prefect by his school. At his age, his father and I were chronic truants, drinking and dabbling in drugs, and regularly threatened with expulsion.

No backbone?

Global warming?

How else does one rebel against rebels?

At a concert a few years back, Steve Earle reported that his teenage son had taken up golf. "When you grow up with a drug addict rock musician for a father, you have to find other ways to rebel."

Absolutely. If you're lucky they don't turn out to be right wing god fearing christians.

On an entirely surreal note, I just met Mr. P-Funk himself, George Clinton, sitting in a Jeep Wrangler eating a bucket of fried chicken on the corner of Fourth and Main in downtown LA. Very fabulous, but very greasy fingers.

He shoulda been eating at Banquette!

Well, when are YOU coming by?
I'm mixing pomegranate with prosecco these days. There's a glass with your name on it waiting... then we could introduce you as Mr. T to Mr. P next time I see him

Did he say “Hey, man...smell my finger!”?

Apparently, we're having a holiday sing-along at the office party tomorrow. I found this out because was solicited by the HR person for some Jewish selections.

I would have replied:

"Ants in my pants and I need to dance
I got ants in my pants and I need to dance
Chicken ain't lickin', the moose wasn't cookin'
Oh, but your music grooved me, it moved me
That music and the beat HA!
Started tryin' liberating my feet
Can this be me, immersed in funk so deep?"

Say Oops upside your head, girl.

Do fries go with that shake?

"White Christmas" seems appropriate.

For a wonderfully surreal moment there I thought this was your advice to Stephanie, to respond to the request for Jewish holiday song selections...

I've been asked to create 5 summertime farmers' market recipes. Due January 15.

Yeah. Sure. Uh huh.

Hi, darlin'. I'm stuck in Paris, broke and without a place to sleep. Come back. (What I got, I spend on the internet.)

assuming I know who wants them, hows about:

Market green salad in zesty vinaigrette
zucchini pancakes with <strike>fresh salsa </strike>Heirloom tomato topping
Tangy "Gazpacho" salad
Stone fruit compote
Cucumber cooler

If it's more high end, I apologize!

Edited to make it not too ethnic and "yucky".

proof yet again that one of the things some mediocre students learn in college is the perfecting of the aesthetic of intellect: a thoughtful expression on the face when others, especially the professor, are talking; nodding slowly from time-to-time and writing notes in a distracted fashion; crinkling the brows when someone says something that the professor doesn't agree completely with, and then nodding with a half-smile at the professor's follow-up comment etc.. unfortunately, this is followed by crap papers, and sad evidence of muddy thinking and shoddy interpretive skills when engaged in discussion about them.

But those interpersonal skills will serve them well in corporate life.

FG channels Cook's Illustrated
Here

But that event took place years ago. Although the thread name made me want to Pynchon somebody.

Just made a trip to the bank. In front of me on line: the Reverend Al.

watching supermarket milk and foodstuffs from far and wide being delivered to Savoy.

Mucho less, not mucho mas.

In the mail this morning, there was a holiday-card-shaped envelope with a pre-printed address label on the front – with my maiden name and my previous address. On the back, there was a pre-printed return address label, of the sort often distributed by charities looking for donations. The name on the label drew a total blank; the address was somewhere in California. Inside was a card with a hand-written greeting – Hey, Georgie! (no one who knows me well would EVER call me that) – and it was signed “Fondly, R***** W***.” (Asterisks mine). Included in the card was a business card for W*** Management, R***** W***, President.

I had absolutely no clue who this woman was. I spent half an hour in a state of extreme agitation, thinking I must be losing my mind.

I Googled W*** Management and read the About Us link. Whoever this person is, she comes from New Jersey and graduated from college around the same time as I, which suggests we might have gone to high school together. But I don't recall anyone with that first name from high school; I checked my directory & came up blank. I kept running the name through my head, and it started to feel vaguely familiar. Then it struck me that a woman I'd gone to high school with, who had a perfectly hideous name, had changed both her first and last name. And I think R***** W*** is the name she changed to.

But...the last time I saw her was at my 20th reunion, 10 years ago. I don't believe I spoke with her, except maybe in passing. We were sort of friends when I was in fifth grade and new in town, but after that traveled in completely different circles.

So why the fuck is she sending me a holiday card?

Admins at your service! Are you reporting that post? Sorry, nothing we can do.

Oh, Georgie , she's desperate for business. May we never be that stupid.

You know how you run into disturbed or addled people on the streets talking to themselves or to everyone. I just came across a guy talking to no one in particular. He was a deaf mute. He was using sign language.