But by this June, the bad boy tumor grew back from its reduced 6 cm to 8 cm. In other words, my continued digestive discomfort was not from a stuck camera capsule. Actually, the CT scan showed that the capsule had left my system.
Enough of this world and all of its crooks and liars crushing the light out from the morning headlines! A high octane call to take to the road fuels my inner nomad. Drape me in beads and hats. Pack my bags (minimally). Climb aboard Gilda, the 1997 VW EuroVan with 136,000 miles already journeyed
Alas, I’m not goddess of the world. I wander through my own idiocy, bloviate when the opportunity arises, and I would do well to observe a flower from bud to full blossom — all of which brings me to tea time. How is that?
Wee buildings in crayon colors lined the dirt lot next to the Veteran’s Hall.It’s a local Lion’s Club property called Pinedorado. There, eight chili-heads brewed up their best concoctions. Besides the beauteous aroma, the quest for trophy-winning chili trumped our nation’s political divide. There was joy, friendship, and the real America—volunteers, community and visitors waiting for the tasting and judging to begin.
The bargain juicer literally exploded while I juiced grapes! A centrifugal juicer, the juicer’s strainer basket/shredder disk dislocated itself, blasted through the plastic top cover like a terrorist’s bomb. Then the shredder disk rocketed into the air, spun like a UFO, landing 20 feet into the living room. Grape remnants stuck to the kitchen ceiling, the dining room chandelier and cabinets—about 10-feet west—and some plastered the TV screen in a protective cabinet.
Author’s note: This is a serendipitous story of wine, friends, daughter, and spices— a camerata (experimenting with art form) if you will. (The aria, “Song of India,” from Sadko plays in the background.) Tell me the last time that you tasted wines paired with exotic spices. You have done this? What happened when you paired a chalky Chenin Blanc with three freshly ground peppers? Did you make a slight scene when you shouted, “OMG! What was that mouth explosion?” I did. It […]
Now, I’m planning a family barbecue featuring fresh caught tuna. Yum! Healthy, low fat protein. Unfortunately that tuna may still have high levels of BPAs and PCBs (for starters) in its system. It all began with ten lantern fish that ingested plastic debris floating in their fave plankton cafe. A couple of hungry squid dined on the 10 lantern fish. The tuna that I’m covering in a tasty chili rub, ate those two squid.
Promise. This is the last of my question blogs. I intended posting three separate question-blogs to stir up some social heat. The third question eluded me–although the temptation to ask if my morals were lesser than yours kept stirring about in my head like a steaming bowl of beans. The bowl of beans analogy, along with an invitation to judge a community chili cook-off enlightened the third—and possibly—the most important of my three question-blogs: “ Is My Chili Good Enough to Win […]
1956: Blub, blub, blub. Wheeze, whistle, spit. KABOOM! A silver lid with an attached gauge becomes a projectile and looks like a flying saucer shooting forth from its aluminum pot base. Scalding hot water takes to the air. Someone screams, “Oh, my God,” in the background, followed by a 3-pound beef brisket that explodes like the A-bomb tests out in the Nevada desert. A mushroom cloud of brown meat rises above the white Westinghouse range. Shrapnel-like bits of beef plaster themselves to […]
I discovered yesterday that my sensitivity to spoken words is a weakness, a fault, and a chip on my shoulder. Admittedly, I’m a sensitive person. I can cry watching car commercials. Tears flood my eyes when I watch adorable pet videos on You Tube. A beautifully worded poem will cost my box of tissue about 10 tissues. When a soulful guitar solo wafts towards my ears, the whites of my eyes turn red and I sniffle through the song. Yes, I’m a […]
The Muse Pallet 