I went out for a drink with my sister the other night. It was the first cool evening in nine years, so we sat outside on a second-story patio and took our sweet time over a bottle of wine we could have just bought at the grocery store for $8. I love my sister. It was all that and a bag of chips. That is literally true, in fact, because I got home and finished off a bag of chips, and then half a can of Pringles, a piece of beef jerky and a spoonful of fudge sauce. Cisco joined me in the kitchen and made a valiant effort to tell me, without hurling, about the kung-fu movie he’d just watched
. At first he followed my trail of crumbs with the broom and dustpan (not kidding), but when I got to the fudge sauce he gave up and said, “Well, I’ll leave you two alone.”
If Cisco had written the Song of Songs, it would go like this:
Ah, you are crunchy, my beloved!
Your mouth a churning yap
Raining showers from above.
A thousand crumbs hang upon it.
Your chin a full moon,
Slick with non-hydrogenated fats.
I long for the silence
In the thunders of your chewing.
In other news, we braved Costco on a Saturday, strategically shopping so as to have a lunch of weird-sausage-piece, hummus dab, feta chunk, 3 grapes, mustard dribble, mozzarella half-stick, and ice cream cuplet. Ah, samples. Snert went crackerdog over the workbooks, the little nerd, and I practiced standing up straight, while Cisco lurched around without bending his knees. Dude has sore “hip-flexors” (term made up to impress me?) because he ran his first 5k yesterday after training for less than two weeks. Whatever. Have decided to forgive him for passive-aggressive exercising because he found two enormous laminated maps for me. The map of the United States will go in the basement “play [sh*tstorm] room”, and the world map in the living room so that I can finally learn some geography. Every time we do Snert’s U.S. puzzle I’m shocked that Oklahoma is right above Texas, and Alabama has, like, COASTLINE. Also, I know maps are “the thing” right now, but I can’t help that. I’ve always liked them. I probably started the trend retroactively.
Tomorrow we’re bringing dinner to the in-laws. Beer brats with caramelized onions (was trying to make that sound chichi, but you can’t make bratwurst sound anything but bratwursty), potato salad, green salad, and watermelon salad. A word about potato salad (puts on Preaching Pants): Potato salad is one of the most beautiful, versatile, delicious food inventions ever, but it is also the most abused. Bland, thick, warm-mayonnaisey goop flavored with sweet relish is an assault, and I won’t even dignify it with a sniff. Die, foul barbecue fiend. The only thing you need to know about potato salad is to add about triple the amount of salt and vinegar (or lemon juice) you normally would until, I don’t know, it has a taste, and add tons and tons of crunchy vegetables.
Tune in next time for “Creative Uses For Ten Pounds of Feta Cheese and 648 Pieces of Construction Paper, Not Together”.