This post won’t have much to do with cooking, since CPK online ordering has become my new, very best friend. One might argue that there are better ways to waste disposable income, but…none could possibly be so awesome. Oh my gosh, you can even make notes (”No sour cream, please!”), and someone will take heed and hold the sour cream!
My sister came to visit for nine days, though, so there may be talk of drinks.
About five years ago, my parents turned my sister’s bedroom into an office; as such, several times a year I get a roommate. A rosy-cheeked and charming roommate, to be sure, but one whose tidying-up skills remain unrealized. (She left on Sunday. From my room I removed: one empty cereal bowl; one empty Fresca can; one half-empty Fresca can; one empty Coffee Bean cup; one large stash of junk mail, cleverly hidden on the bottom shelf of a bookcase.) But we did have a grand time, knitting, puttering around in cat sweaters, watching The Golden Girls, badgering my brother to make cocktails, and falling asleep at 9:30.
The Perfect Martini, as made by my brother:
Fill a mug with ice, add gin, and serve!
If he’s in a generous mood I might get a lemon twist, which keeps it looking classy.
Speaking of garnishes, does anyone have an opinion about Tomolives? Apparently, they’ve been around since 1947 – and I had no idea! A Tomolive, in case you don’t want to be the laughingstock of your garnish-literate family (not fun), is a tiny green brined tomato that looks exactly – exactly – like a green olive. They are adorable, and I’m finding it difficult to stop saying so.
In other news, my parents have become birders. It might be getting serious. They don’t wear funny clothes (yet!), but they spend a good part of every weekend trekking around wetlands and cliffsides in oppressive heat, carrying 40 pounds of camera equipment in backpacks designed for war photographers. They return home, spiritedly arguing about the likelihood of finding a Blackburnian warbler in this area. Then they carefully review their counts and record their species in several reputable online orinthological databases. Anxiety over a potentially misidentified bird ensues. What fun!
My sister and I were tricked into participating last weekend.
Mom: The blue-footed booby is still sitting out on the jetty in Dana Point!
Sister: Huh?
Mom: No, really, M_______ just posted on the forum that it’s still there!
[Confused silence in kitchen.]
Me: So…do you guys want to go see it or something?
And see it we did! It kind of looked like a seagull. Indeed, I may have been looking at a seagull. It was sitting; I could not see its allegedly blue feet. My sister and I carried the spotting scope and were mistaken for people who know about birds: a man, also with spotting scope, approached us on the jetty and asked, “So, any luck?” Yes, news of the booby had spread far and wide. We looked at him as if we’d been cold-called until my sister thought to wave him towards our parents, who, she assured him, “might know.”
so, my parents have God, Matthew’s parents have rocks, and yours have birds.
what are we going to have when we grow up?
You certainly don’t look like a bureaucrat handing me forms to fill out! : )
Erica: Solving mysteries! If only…
Jared: You’ve obviously never seen me hand out forms! Just you wait.