Because Who Doesn’t Want to Talk About Asparagus?
Happy Monday!
This weekend I braved it and went to Wal-Mart. The parking lot was full of class and entertainment.
And my personal favorite…
Has anyone seen Shutter Island? I think I might want to see it. I had no interest in it. Couldn't even watch the commercials. But then I found out the previews are misleading–it's not a horror movie. Not supernaturally twisted at all. It's a mystery. If you've seen it and can swear on your next Twinkie that I won't be watching this with my fingers over my face, please confirm this intel. Because I find it hard to believe watching this flick won't make me feel like I took all the forces of evil home with me in my purse. Where I keep the contraband drinks and snacks.
File this under “things I care absolutely nothing about,” but I had roasted asparagus for the first time this weekend. I hate asparagus, but Awesome Editor Jamie had been telling me how great it was. I rarely believe rants that begin, “You're going to love this vegetable…” But I finally gave it a try. And I'm happy to report eating it did not produce projectile vomit. And that's how you spell success. I liked it enough that I wrote a little haiku in it's honor. Goes a little something like this:
I thought you'd be gross
Because you usually are
Kind of like Aunt Marge.
This weekend was my brother's birthday. We had a big family dinner and ate like pigs. As I sit here I'm really regretting not taking home some cake. My mother raised me better than that. You know you're getting old when nobody takes your picture on your b-day. If no one brings out the camera for my next birthday, I'm totally gonna be ready and take tons of pictures myself. Birthdays for my brother and me are always a time to reminisce. Like how he's the favorite child. And how there's a stack of photo albums of him in the living room. And half of one with me. And he's in most of the pictures. My brother also has a well documented baby book. I have a baby book that started out well, but doesn't really have much in it. I think you open it and it says something like, “Brought the baby home. Proud of her big brother for not smothering her with the pillow.”
This week we are doing how-to speeches. This means any attempts on my part to resist sugar in the form of brownies, chocolate chip cookies, and random unidentifiable crap will be useless. A good friend of mine taught speech and never would eat what the kids brought because it grossed her out. I wish I had that elevated sense of sanitation and hygiene. But I don't. I've eaten some scary stuff. But lived to tell about it. And that's what keeps me coming back for more. If I die of bacterial poisoning from a kid's no-bake cookie, at least I died happy.
You see it all during speeches. I always harp on them to pick something they care about or else they'll do a sucky speech. Last year I had to sit through a videoed speech about skinning squirrels. I thought I was going to lose my mind. And my breakfast. And of course the speech went over the time limit by 12 minutes. Twelve extra minutes of squirrel skinning. Graded by me–the girl who has a moment of reflective silence for every lump of roadkill I pass on the highway.
I hope you have a fabulous week!
JEN
