Omnomnomnomniscience, noun. The quality of always knowing what you feel like eating.
Omnomnomnomnipotence, noun. The quality of being able to eat as much of it as you want.
Fartriloquism. The art of blaming it on someone else.
So every once in a while I get up off the couch of parenthood, leave the house, and take a walk around the block. I figure if both my lawyer and my cardiologist are giving me the same advice, I should probably pay attention.
Have you ever noticed the unholy amount of noise birds make when you’re outside in the springtime? Mind you, birdsong may be the most beautiful way in the world to shout, “Hey baby, I’ve got a really big tonker!” The incessant cacophony of come-hither come ons, however, does sometimes make me want to come out for a second walk, this time with a shotgun, and see about dinner. No wonder cats eat birds – I bet they’re not hunting for dinner, they just want a moments’ peace for their naps.
And don’t start with me about walking at night. The frogs are yelling the same thing, but without the cute warbles and trills.
I should probably just go back to reviewing porn, where they’ve at least learned that no one cares if there’s a sound track, or even sound. In fact, you could probably run a porn movie and overlay a soundtrack of bird and frog mating calls, and it would make just as much sense. Hmmmm….
So there we were, expounding on SOBUMD’s 40th birthday, and Number One Son walks up to a family friend and mentions that old age is catching up with his parents. “Why’s that?” asks our friend, taking an unwise sip of his drink.
“Because they can’t seem to remember if they’ve showered or not. We all go to bed, and then an hour later I can hear them each take a shower because they can’t remember if they took one or not. How do you forget that, 5 nights in a row?”
Our friend, to his credit, choked a bit but managed not to spit his drink across the room.
I’m really tempted to tell him how we forget that: you begin with a belt and suspenders approach to birth control, which starts with me getting my pipes clipped and then SOBUMD having a hysterectomy so radical it included removing the uterus, the appendix, and the gall bladder just to make sure. (Her body was so traumatized, she grew a third kidney just to compensate.) Next, you put the kids to bed…
When she was 20, she was introduced to the best of the Great American Restaurants, Mike’s American Grill. To bookend the latter half of her lifetime, we’re going to the most recent addition, Jackson’s Mighty Fine Food and Lucky Lounge. Mind you, if we run into Leisure Suit Larry, we’re outta there.
Happy Birthday SOBUMD!
That the Reigning Queen of Pink, Grand Duchess of Fluff, and High Protector of Barbies would have genetic issues should come as no surprise; she intends to stand toe-to-toe and pink hairband to pink headband with any inbred European princess the old families care to name. Those who rule by divine right take no prisoners.
So, being the delicate thing that she is, we tend to cook around more food allergies than Julia Child could dream of. I have learned to make waffles from water, grape seed oil, and chilled CO2. Many of the recipes that we use come from very handy vegan cookbooks.
The other day I made pancakes: no wheat, no eggs, no dairy, no soy, no corn (and hence no corn starch), no chocolate, and no cinnamon. What was in them? Sorghum flour, rice flour, xanthan gum, vegetable oil, water, nutmeg, salt, baking soda. A nearly perfect vegan pancake.
Which I then cooked in bacon fat – I don’t need them to be vegan, I need them to be yummy. Om nom nom nom nom! Those who rule by divine right take no prisoners with their pancakes, either.