I ordered yarn. A mess of it. I’m too ashamed to talk about it. More when I’m strong again.
So this is what I remember of what Kira made for me and her wife Rachel the other night. Bhindi masala, which is lovely stir-fried crunchy okra with onions and maybe garlic, mustard seeds, and other spices which I shall not try to remember, for I shall fail. She also (I do have a point here) made us potatoes with peas and lots of Indian spices, and this incredible rice with almonds, cranberries and raisins. Everything worked together. Every flavor supported the next.
I tried to duplicate that two nights ago. Yes, I did. And all shall be impressed when I say that I made a three course meal, just for me. I made: Tater tots, followed by some lovely chicken nuggets. I had ketchup, too. And salt, I believe. And a V8 for health. And then, to top it off? I made peach jello. It is, you know, the very pinnacle of class (say: closs) to realize that you own a tin of fruit that has made perhaps three moves with you, and that it will go perfectly in that peach jello.
Someone told me that it was the kind of meal with which I should have bought my pint of milk and gone to my hiding place on the playground where the bullies wouldn’t find me. I, however, prefer to think of it as truck-stop food, diesels rumbling outside, the waitress calling me "kiddo" and offering me apple pie while she scratches her left ear with her pen.
Before you worry, I do have a salad at least once a week to stave off the scurvy. And I take vitamins. Yep. Health. It’s hard work.
Happy weekend, all. Knit! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do (which means you can holler at the sliver of the moon, but for god’s sake don’t think about the [silk] yarn you just ordered).
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