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My Profile
She blinded him with whiteness - 2008-07-25
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8:28 a.m. - 2008-02-29
Mending My keyboard seems to have recovered from its dousing. Aside from a little residual stickiness the individual keys work okay and hitting the shift key no longer shuts down the page I was on while making the cursor do this weird spastic hula across the screen. That, my friends, was really annoying. It was just the right shift key that caused it, but since I'm right-handed I use that one way more than the left side one. Katharine Gibbs would fall down dead if she saw the way I type, I'm sure even those famous Shakespeare typing monkeys have better form, but I manage to go at a pretty good clip when my shift key isn't messing up. Mick is impressed with my speed anyhow. Then again just about anything I do impresses Mick, pretty damn wonderful after a lifelong stint as Never Gets It Right Girl. Last night I was at a total loss as to what to make for dinner, as you can imagine after a week of the stomach flu food was about the last thing I wanted to think about. Halfheartedly offered to make pasta and Mick countered with a suggestion about whipping up a vat of tune-noodle with him as my willing soux chef. This is NOT tuna casserole, that hideous gelatinous concoction which is the most pestilent use of bread crumbs, tuna, and cream of chicken soup ever devised by the fiendish mind of Betty Crocker. Nope, our tuna noodle is a lovely pasta salad with all sorts of flavorful yummy crunchy things tossed in. A warm weather mainstay, it never occurs to me to make it when there's snow on the ground. Stupid, really, our indoor environment is the same year-round. So I tottered into the kitchen and got things going, including putting Mick in charge of not only the elbow noodles but the hard boiled eggs too. He is learning to cook but so far the only thing he's really firm about is boiling stuff, though he's been an attentive observer when I'm in the kitchen and is at least understanding the rudiments of putting together a whole meal. With Mick anxiously overseeing the boiled stuff I hauled out all the other ingredients and commenced to chop, mince, and dice. Turns out Mick's suggestion was inspired, by the time the salad was all put together I was actually hungry! YAY! And lo, she ate of the tuna noodle and it stayed down. There was much rejoicing. Church bells tolled the great good news, shepherds kissed their flocks and peasant girls wove garlands of flowers and wore them on their heads while dancing the innocently seductive dances that only flower bedecked peasant girls can do. Now that I'm semi-upright and able to think again I must, must, must catch up with my posse. John, Katherine, Steph, Deb, GBW, Melissa, Pam, Jenn, Jen, Jenn, and Hil, please say you love me anyway. I promise to be a more attentive friend now that I'm human again and no longer worshipping the porcelain god.
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