Hug a ginger today, folks.
THIS is just crazy! I'd mug someone in a parking lot for a ginger kid. I giggle every time I see one on the street.
Poor unwanted gingers... Like they don't have enough knocks against 'em already...
This one goes out to Toque, who so loves a good post.
I was in a recent email exchange with some folksies out West (Hurr_ah and Sleeves--librarians extrodinaire.) We don't have many opportunities to chat, but share email quips from time to time, like funny childrens books and "hey, I saw you in that library journal" type thing.
In this particular episode, Hurr_ah needed a venue to vent the fact she was sharing an office with someone who had eaten Itchiban soup at her desk, the smell of which was, well, gross. She feels strongly that Itchiban is an inappropriate eating-at-my-desk-in-an-office-I-share meal.
Now, at this point I had to pause and actually think about what Itchiban (ramen noodles) smelled like...? I can't say I've ever been offended by a Mr. Noodles but then I've never been trapped in a confined space with someone eating it. So, there's that. In condolensce, I relayed my own personal "food trauma": the day I rode an LRT car (subway) across the city with someone eating Kielbasa--as in, chewing it right off the sausage link--in the seat next to me. I just triggered my gag reflex thinking about it. To this, Sleeves announced she was once an offender, having eaten an egg salad sandwhich at her desk (in her defense, upon recognizing the stinky factor of her meal she stuffed the sandwich in her mouth and masticated it... Hee hee... masticate.)
This long story leads me to my question: what would you consider to be an inappropriate eating-at-my-desk-in-an-office-I-share meal?
We are just getting back into the swing of things after 7 glorious days at the cottage.
I am ridiculously grateful for the time I'm granted there. Lucky doesn't begin to describe having some place like this to go; someplace like this to even dream about, or think about when the day is particularly awful.
There are so many things I love about Orange's grandmother's cottage: the gift of early morning sun on the dock; the stillness of the water at dusk (perfect paddle boating weather); the smell of cedar in every blanket, towel, and bed sheet; the quirky old stove; the overstuffed bookshelf full of classic novels and trashy paperbacks, boardgames, Lincoln Logs, and puzzles. I love the sound of acorns falling from the trees and hitting the bedroom roof--the first sound you hear in the morning and the last sound you hear at night. But if I had to pick a "favourite thing" I think I'd have to choose this:
This is the spice rack in the kitchen, which I'm pretty sure still contains the original spice set that came with it... But its not the ancient bottle of "steak spice" that I love. It's the recipes tacked up next to it.
Note to the bottom left a recipe for Kellogg Rice Crispie Squares cut from the box. Orange's grandma has been making Rice Crispie Squares for, ooo, 30-40 years? Is the recipe card still necessary? The cherry on the sundae however is the recipe at the top for mini pizzas. The ingredients list, for those who don't read grandma, is as follows:
- English muffin
- Tomato paste
- Shredded mozzarella
- (side note: partially melt)
- Meat--pepperoni?
- Sprinkle on Italian seasoning
- Green pepper pieces
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