31 August, 2011
Pancetta
Okay, stay with me here.
Say, long ago, you knew this sentient saucepan.
And for a while you had the pleasure of cooking with it. In fact, you found that in doing so it handled really well - better than a lot of your previous, non-sentient saucepans ever had before. During that time you had some great conversations with this saucepan, all the while creating some really bad ass dishes including this jam which you never bothered attempting before because you just assumed you couldn't do it in the first place. Besides, how often do you use jam? Well it turns out pretty darn often once you've achieved the I Just Made Some Goddamn Jam merit badge of cooking with your new friend. And on top of that, jam is delicious. But I digress.
Even though you're both pretty proud of your jam and all those other concoctions, you and the saucepan soon lose track of one another. Nobody's fault, just that the pan had some pre-existing plans at a French cooking school and you forgot where your favorite apron had gone one day and never went any further than that because that thing had perfect sized pockets and you simply trailed off afterwards as you do when you can't complete Step One of any project you're working on. These things happen.
So a while later you and that cognizant saucepan cross paths again. You catch up, learning of its escapades riding on the chunnel, prospecting for gold, its brief stint in being a hat for some child, cooking with Emeril, etc. In turn you share your own experiences - about your new talents in voice-throwing, how you wound up with that pair of wooden toes or that one time you cooked with Emeril, etc. All the while you start remembering how great it is to be interacting with this oxymoronically unique talking saucepan.
However, you tell yourself it's entirely possible that the time for really good jam has come and gone, no matter how great you think it'd be to try again. You figure your best bet is to simply let your old Metallic Friend with Teeth know how much you admire it, but you're going to forgo cooking as it's probably not in the cards anymore or just simply not the right time. This, because you assume it'd let you know otherwise.
Now how dumb are you for not simply asking your old conscious saucepal if it'd be up for cooking again in the future? I'm guessing pretty damn dumb.
I mean come on - it's a talking pan.
Say, long ago, you knew this sentient saucepan.
And for a while you had the pleasure of cooking with it. In fact, you found that in doing so it handled really well - better than a lot of your previous, non-sentient saucepans ever had before. During that time you had some great conversations with this saucepan, all the while creating some really bad ass dishes including this jam which you never bothered attempting before because you just assumed you couldn't do it in the first place. Besides, how often do you use jam? Well it turns out pretty darn often once you've achieved the I Just Made Some Goddamn Jam merit badge of cooking with your new friend. And on top of that, jam is delicious. But I digress.
Even though you're both pretty proud of your jam and all those other concoctions, you and the saucepan soon lose track of one another. Nobody's fault, just that the pan had some pre-existing plans at a French cooking school and you forgot where your favorite apron had gone one day and never went any further than that because that thing had perfect sized pockets and you simply trailed off afterwards as you do when you can't complete Step One of any project you're working on. These things happen.
So a while later you and that cognizant saucepan cross paths again. You catch up, learning of its escapades riding on the chunnel, prospecting for gold, its brief stint in being a hat for some child, cooking with Emeril, etc. In turn you share your own experiences - about your new talents in voice-throwing, how you wound up with that pair of wooden toes or that one time you cooked with Emeril, etc. All the while you start remembering how great it is to be interacting with this oxymoronically unique talking saucepan.
However, you tell yourself it's entirely possible that the time for really good jam has come and gone, no matter how great you think it'd be to try again. You figure your best bet is to simply let your old Metallic Friend with Teeth know how much you admire it, but you're going to forgo cooking as it's probably not in the cards anymore or just simply not the right time. This, because you assume it'd let you know otherwise.
Now how dumb are you for not simply asking your old conscious saucepal if it'd be up for cooking again in the future? I'm guessing pretty damn dumb.
I mean come on - it's a talking pan.
10 July, 2011
09 July, 2011
05 July, 2011
Crawlies
Is it really crawling if that's your only mode of transportation? I suppose so but it doesn't make me sound respectable at all. Not that I mind much, I'd simply enjoy a better verb.
My favorite terrain has got to be moss, that stuff feels great and mostly I don't get stuck in it. Even when I do it only lasts a few brief moments. Sometimes it even sets me in a better direction than I was originally headed! Yeah, moss.
The other day it was raining out and I was sheltered like I always am; this time by part of a candy wrapper. Well, at the end of it - where it's all wavy and neat looking - all the rain built up to these super huge drops. No big deal in a rainstorm, right? Well sometimes if the rain hits the wrapper at just the right time in the perfect spot those collected drops swing underneath my shelter and make a really great pool! You may think that's nothing but let me tell you: when your only options for such things are the streams these downpours make and bodies of water like lakes, this type of luck is amazing!
Anyway I played in it for the better part of the storm after that, switching between my several tiny pools like I was rich and indecisive until the inevitable Destroyer Drop came by and soaked the sanctuary up.
Which reminds me of my least favorite part of rainfall: moving. It isn't so bad when the rain starts and you're scrambling to find dry space...often there's still plenty of open paths (I pretend they're timed mazes) to run through. But once you're planted, that's that. Everything in your island's little radius is presumed soaked as soaked can be.
What did I do then? I hope you don't think of this as unthoughtful or selfish (I know there's plenty of folks like me that could use such advice), but I'm pretty proud of my escape plans. And while I haven't had to use them all that often, I'd like to keep some secret advice for my kids one day - you know, stuff that not everyone else could tell them. See, I don't have a lot of those so I want to save up what I can. Sometimes I don't even remember stuff I figure out in time to write them down when I get back home! And you know I can't keep a pencil and paper with me when I'm out and about. But wouldn't that be great if I could??
I'll tell you what. If I ever figure out how to do that last part I promise that I'll tell everyone about it. Think of all the neat stuff we could share about crawling around and all the cool places we get to see!
My favorite terrain has got to be moss, that stuff feels great and mostly I don't get stuck in it. Even when I do it only lasts a few brief moments. Sometimes it even sets me in a better direction than I was originally headed! Yeah, moss.
The other day it was raining out and I was sheltered like I always am; this time by part of a candy wrapper. Well, at the end of it - where it's all wavy and neat looking - all the rain built up to these super huge drops. No big deal in a rainstorm, right? Well sometimes if the rain hits the wrapper at just the right time in the perfect spot those collected drops swing underneath my shelter and make a really great pool! You may think that's nothing but let me tell you: when your only options for such things are the streams these downpours make and bodies of water like lakes, this type of luck is amazing!
Anyway I played in it for the better part of the storm after that, switching between my several tiny pools like I was rich and indecisive until the inevitable Destroyer Drop came by and soaked the sanctuary up.
Which reminds me of my least favorite part of rainfall: moving. It isn't so bad when the rain starts and you're scrambling to find dry space...often there's still plenty of open paths (I pretend they're timed mazes) to run through. But once you're planted, that's that. Everything in your island's little radius is presumed soaked as soaked can be.
What did I do then? I hope you don't think of this as unthoughtful or selfish (I know there's plenty of folks like me that could use such advice), but I'm pretty proud of my escape plans. And while I haven't had to use them all that often, I'd like to keep some secret advice for my kids one day - you know, stuff that not everyone else could tell them. See, I don't have a lot of those so I want to save up what I can. Sometimes I don't even remember stuff I figure out in time to write them down when I get back home! And you know I can't keep a pencil and paper with me when I'm out and about. But wouldn't that be great if I could??
I'll tell you what. If I ever figure out how to do that last part I promise that I'll tell everyone about it. Think of all the neat stuff we could share about crawling around and all the cool places we get to see!
04 July, 2011
BANG
Currently watching The Thin Red Line while most of the city is igniting bags of stuff right outside my window. Choreographed War is Hell amidst cheers for state-sanctioned explosives.
It's kind of weird.
It's kind of weird.
25 June, 2011
Continuing education
Last night I learned that there is such a thing as "Teen Wolfing a beer." Of course, Charlie introduced me to this.
24 June, 2011
Brilliant
I'm getting the GREATEST breakdown of drunk girl profiling I have or may ever hear. And it is borderline BRILLIANT.
Casual conversation
Dan G: "Hey, gas is 3.59 here."
Dan D: "My god, they're practically giving it away."
Well, I smiled.
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