Month: January 2004

I have a new project I’m working on for this site. I’ll reveal all shortly. (This is actually a test post for something else, diguised as a real entry. Ha! Fooled you!)

The Spring L.L. Bean catalogs are arriving. This would be fantastic if it weren’t for the fact that the wind-chill tonight and tomorrow is supposed to put us at…wait for it…thirty below.

So while I enjoy seeing short sleeved tops and kicky sandals as much as the next gal, it’s kind of a slap in the face. Plus, it ticks me off that I cannot order clothing in the darker fall/winter colors any more. Mom let me pick a few items out of the catalog for my upcoming birthday, and in my size in a certain pant, the only colors available are the new spring colors. Well, I’m not a spring. And someone explain to me why one wouldn’t want to wear navy blue all year long? I’m not going to work wearing pastel green, thank you very much. These aren’t corduroys, they are pants. Pants I want to wear to work. So thanks, L.L. Bean, for mocking me. Maybe I’ll use your lovely spring catalog for kindling tonight when I’m trying to keep my house warm.

Garlic, anyone? This is a blurry photo of today’s lunch from the cafeteria. It’s blurry because it was taken with a phone camera with only indoor lighting available. It’s pretty good, considering.

Anyway, the bottom portion of the container is mediterranian pasta – eggplant, feta, sundried tomatos and ziti. The top of the container is all the cloves of garlic I fished out of the dish so that I won’t be kicked out of my noon meeting. Cripes, that’s a lot of garlic. It’s a bit much, considering we’re all at work and will be talking to each other for the rest of the day.

Let me give you a little hint. If you are going to drive during commuting hours (which I declare are between 6:30am and 9:00am) you had best get your ass in gear and learn what it means when you are waiting to take a turn into traffic and someone stops and flashes their headlights at you. Yes, you stupid monkey, they are trying to send you a message. That message is “you have 10 seconds to start moving your car out in front of mine before I change my mind and leave you there so that you can sit and rot in your own filth.”

How can you drive on the road today, and not know that if a car stops and flashes their headlights at you that it means “go ahead, I’m going to be nice and let you in.” HOW CAN YOU NOT? Don’t stare at me as if you left your brain soaking in a glass next to your bed. Pay freaking attention, and the MOMENT you see the lights flash, check the other direction and then GO. Don’t stare. Don’t make me flash my lights at you again. And again. Because you know what? You may as well just put your teeny little head under my tires and let me put you out of your misery.

I’ll be nice, but not to stupid people. If you can’t handle it, stay home.

To continue the feta discussion, I just now learned that “Feta Cheese originated on the Balkan Peninsula in a region called Trakia, which is current day Southern Bulgaria.”

So it wasn’t so far off that I was asking where Bulgaria is, and that it started off the whole feta conversation.