That's who I sound like right now. Stefan had a really terrible hacking dry cough for the past two weeks and, lo and behold, now I have it too. It's one of the many perils of marriage or living in close quarters with someone. I have barely been able to speak without having to cough half my oesophagus out. I am sure, secretly, Stefan is relieved that there is some semblance of quiet in our home.
I don't think I should be around children around their formative years. I never say the appropriate things when I should. Last weekend, we were at Stef's footy game where I was talking to these twins, who are kids of one of the players. It's funny how they are so identical in looks and yet so different in personality.
Me: Boys! Look how tall you guys are! What happened?
Twin #1: We just turned 4! (puts out 4 fingers)
Twin #2: Yeah, and you know 4 is bigger than 3.
Me: Really! Well, how is 4 turning out for you guys?
Twin #1: (shrugs and then nods) You know, pretty good.
Twin #2: It could be better.
Later on -
Me: Where are you guys going?
Twin #1: Going to Grandma's! We're gonna church tomorrow!
Twin #2: Kawen, (they still haven't figured out the R in my name yet) are you gonna come to church with us?
Me: No, dear. I'm a heathen.
They both looked at me and exclaimed,"Cool!" and went scampering to their mother to ask whether they could be heathens too. Luckily, their mum has gotten used to me saying belligerent things and just made up a different definition for the word "heathen".
Later on this week, we watched Meet The Fockers where Ben Stiller accidentally teaches his nephew to say," Asshole." I can pretty much guarantee that my child's first words will not be "asshole" but I am not placing any bets that it won't be "motherfucker."
I don't know whether you know this about me, but I just love to eat. So much so that I plan almost every day by the meals I am about to eat and every vacation is planned over how good the native food in that country is. That's why even though everyone tells me that I should go to Cuba, while it is still in its time warp, I just can't bring myself to do it. I heard the food there is quite dismal.
My ultimate gastronomic trip would be to go to Japan. I once wrote a paper on Japanese design and how nothing, and I mean nothing in Japan is done without extreme creativity and thought. This obviously translates to their food.
As I was reading a Vanity Fair article written by Nick Tosches on the fish markets in Japan, I stumbled upon this:
First, a course of monkfish liver, vinegared baby eel, which seems to have been filleted, and a jelly cake of crab and vegetables....Then slices of raw bluefish tuna, raw bluefin toro, raw hamachi, raw hamachi toro, raw tilefish, steamed octopus, ama-ebi (sweet shrimp; the sweetness is in the meat of the brain), a raw Kumamoto oyster, and a fragrant spray of shiso flowers. Then a clear soup of seawood, whitefish cake, bamboo, and asari(a sort of Spring time Japanese littleneck). Then grilled black cod from Toyama and crisp-toasted mild green peppers. Then halfa lobster (served with a spoon to blend the soft, dark meat of the head into the white tail meat) and shiitake and oyster mushrooms. Then a miso soup with straw mushrooms and seaweed. Then minced grilled eel, tilefish, and bonito steamed in a mixture of botan rice and sticky rice, wrapped in a large, salted houba leaf.I don't know about you. But that sounds like a damn fine meal. Luckily for me, he got this meal at Sugiyama, a restaurant in NY. You can be sure I will be making a reservation the minute I know that I am going to be in town next.
Anyone who owns a cat truly understands the meaning of "curious as a cat." I thought I truly did until this (which I also know is not uncommon to other cat owners): But why the hell do they always want to be in the bathroom when you are doing a poop?
The reason why I am complete bewildered, is because I was always lead to believe that cats had hyper sensitivity when it came to smell. I swear to God, Mindy gets mad if we close the door when we are doing our business (NOT together! What kind of people do you think we are?!) and I just do not understand this. Not only does she meow piteously, but she will literally use her paw and knock on the door until you let her in (this has been observed not just from personal experience but also when others are at work).
Not only will she be in the same room, but she will be purring, completely content.
The ironic thing is, if you should happen to cross her path when she is in the midst of doing her business, she will literally give you the dirtiest look as if to say,"Can you give me some privacy please? Sheesh!"
Cats are messed.
And yet, I still love her.
Have I already mentioned that Stefan and I have been pseudo studying French for our impending Paris trip in the Fall? I just think it's important that when you go to a foreign country that you learn some phrases in their mother tongue. Seems like it's the polite thing to do, that's all.
Anyway, French lessons are not going as well as I thought it would and I am kicking myself everyday for not continuing French throughout high school. Did I really need to have take two music classes, gym, every math, almost every science course offered for all those years? Especially since I knew from the get go, that I would never ever want a job in any field using those subjects? Oh, sometimes, I just wish I could go back in time and smack my teenage self at the back of the head.
So much to say and so little time. Pictures will have to make up for the lack of words.
I know I say this ALL the time, but isn't she the MOST.BEAUTIFUL.GIRL. you have ever seen in your life?