French Fries

The other day, feeling an unusual spirit of adventure come upon me, and also being near death from lack of food, I decided to undertake the thrilling and terrifying quest of cooking myself a lunch. Tis not a quest for the faint hearted, let me assure you.

We had just purchased a deep fry cooker, and we had a large quantity of potatoes on hand. I seized one with the intention of turning it into those delicious morsels, French fries. I washed it.  Then I contemplated how dangerous knives are, and how time consuming it is to cut up a potato, so I grabbed our apple slicer and used that to create potato wedges. It struck me as cute how similar potatoes and apples look when you core and slice them. I then dumped them into our deep fryer.

On this particular day we had been watching a Shakespeare play on our television, as my little brother needed to watch it for a class that he was in. We had all had a good laugh at the language they used in those days, and had immediately started conversing in such dialogue ourselves. And may I say, cooking while using Shakespearean language helps to dissolve the stress typically involved.

After I had started the French fries cooking I wandered out of the kitchen and picked up a book and began to read. After a while I was aroused. “Behold, it seemeth to me that this deep fryer is emanating smoke.” Observed my younger brother. I leaped up from my seat and rushed over. “By my troth lad, it seemeth that thy observation is correct!” I exclaimed. I reached over and lifted the lid, and in my haste I allowed the burning hot edge to sear my wrist. The pain was exquisite.

I clutched my wrist and leaped in the air with the grace of a ballet dancer, shrieking all the while. The leap was not a large enough reaction to adequately reflect the amount of pain I was experiencing, so I swiftly ran up the wall, across the ceiling, and down the opposite wall, all the while holding my wrist and exclaiming such things as “Forsooth, cooking seemeth to me a treacherous activity, thusly I shall engage in it NEVERMORE!!!” I then rushed over to the sink and turned the water on, anticipating the relief that would come when cool water washed over my wounded appendage. But when I stuck my wrist under the stream of water, I found that it was boiling hot, which multiplied the pain sevenfold. “Ahhhhh! The treachery!!” I cried, collapsing on the floor and launching into a monologue. “Am I to find no peace, no respite, in all this cruel world?!  I, who am void of offense against all my fellow men?! As loathe as I am to part from ye all, I feel that my hour has come. I have been overcome by the pain of the world. Farewell, my fellow citizens, my countrymen, my true lo….” Here I was interrupted by my brother, who rather abruptly informed me that he had turned the water on cold for me. I humbly arose and stuck my wrist under the lifesaving stream and the pain was eased.

I am sad to say that the French fries burned themselves to death during the episode, and my wrist developed a rather nice blister. But my dear family cooked me up some more French fries to compensate for my loss, and the blister soon healed, so I was happy. As a result of this experience I recognized that Shakespeare was a genius. His language style is obviously tailored to fit the needs of those who prepare food, and I have taken it upon myself to speak like him whenever I am cooking. So thus this story ends.

Recommendation

I recently came across this letter of recommendation that I wrote for my brother when he hoped to become a gymnastics assistant, a position that he did ultimately receive, but sadly without my help, as my mother strongly dissuaded me from sending in the letter. Oh well, here it is.

Letter Of Recommendation For Ace

Thursday, May 19, 2011

To Tracy

     In starting, I feel that I should make the purpose of this letter clear, namely, to recommend Ace.  In all my dealings with Ace, which are many, I have found him to be an upstanding, lovely, tan, and altogether recommendable young man (as many admiring young woman would testify).  

     He has made known unto me his desire to serve you in the position of Gymnastics assistant, a position that I feel he would be incredibly suited to qualify for, owing to his superior athletic ability, his ability to create lasting friendships with the children he would work with, and the fact that he has better biceps than most of the competition.  

     He has lived in a situation his whole life (called a family) in which he has been in contact with both older and younger children, and he has adapted remarkably to survive and make the best of it, even resorting to becoming friends with a high percentage of the children, and governing those younger than him with a just and true hand, inspiring sound respect and devotion.

     Ace can also cook, although I do not see how this desirable skill will help him with gaining position as gymnastics assistant, so I will mention it no more in this document. (Although he would be more than willing to make you some cookies or popcorn if that would help to sway you.)

     Ace posses a superior intellect, enabling him to summon devastating comebacks to insults, comfort saddened children, grasp the ethics of complex situations, and talk without stuttering.  

     I might caution that if you employ him as assistant you may notice a alarming influx in the number of young females ages 11 to 14 joining your gymnastics classes.  It is your choice whether or not you want to take this risk.

     All in all, he is a neat package containing just the right amount of ability, humility, confidence, and zeal to make him the perfect dream assistant.

     With highest recommendation,

               Me

If any of my close relatives or friends have found themselves in need of a letter of recommendation lately, I would be happy to, out of the goodness of my heart (and for the small fee of $250) to write them a letter of recommendation.  Thank you.

Hair Cutting

My long, and some might say painful, history of haircutting began when I was very young.  My mother (she means well) inspired me to cut my own hair by giving me the most ghastly cutting jobs she could imagine. I shall provide you with one out of several examples of what I can only imagine is a somewhat cruel sense of humor.  I shall tell you in story form.


"Daughter!" Cried the mother "I have a most wonderful idea!!!" Eight year old daughter, filled as she was at that age with unabounding energy and happiness, bounded over to her mother, little knowing what awaited her.  She quickly arrived at her mother's side and looked up at her face with innocence and expectancy.


"I saw the most adorable haircut on someone today." explained the mother. "It was lovely, and layered, and would look wonderful on you!  I even asked how they did it to her..." She paused to build suspense "And she told me!" She concluded with a dashing smile.


"How?!" cried daughter, filled with admiration.


"I shall tell you," Said the mother benevolently "They tipped her head upside down and cut the hair in a straight line, then tipped it back right side up, and, ta da! There was her hair, filled with luxuriant layers! and we are going to try it on you!"


"I am obedient and willing to do whatever you want me to do mother!" Cried daughter, who was, and ever has been, a model child.  "And besides that, I love to spend time with you!"


"Good girl!" Came the reply, "Off we go!"


Soon daughter's hair was washed, her head flipped upside down, and her mother, with deft and experienced chops of the scissors, cut her upside down hair off in a straight line.  The luxuriant red locks fell to the floor in a shining heap, which would have brought tears to the eyes of both the participants, had they not been so absorbed in the project.  Finally the mother, after surveying the finished project with a practiced eye, told daughter that she may now flip her head right side up.  Daughter obediently did so, and looked at her mother's face.  The shocked and horrified look frozen on mother's features caused daughter's beautiful smile to slowly melt from her face as she turned towards the mirror.  A stunned silence ensued, lasting the full duration of ten seconds.  Then hysterical laughter burst forth from daughter's lips, she being young and finding humor in all things at that age, and hysterical weeping burst from mother's.  She had ruined her model child.  For there, in the mirror, was a girl with a beautiful face, but her hair was... (heaven save us!) a mullet. 


The mother had forgotten that angle was a very important thing when cutting hair, and daughter's head had been tilted to just the wrong angle, which caused the before mentioned mullet.  It caused much despair and mirth as word of daughter's misfortune circled throughout the family.  The worst part was that it was Saturday night, and there was no time to take the unfortunate girl to get her hair professionally cut.  So, her mother sheared it off the best she could, and daughter went about for a long time afterwards with shortish hair.

Daughter in that day grew older and wiser.  She trusted nobody with scissors near her locks once they grew out, and she soon proved to have an amazing talent for cutting her own hair.  The few minor blunders (Which may be related in later posts) did not discourage her from continuing to improve.  Soon her shining, red, self-cut hair was the envy of all the other girls nearby. So this story, sad as it may be in the beginning, has a happy ending.

The End!

Accident Prone

I am beginning to suspect- this is only a inner feeling by the way- that I happen to be a bit accident prone. This suspicion has been growing on me for a while, and, in a moment of curiosity, I confided my thoughts to my friend while we were walking outside.  Her immediate answer of "A bit accident prone!  Ha!  More like you are a gigantic amount accident prone-ness!" confirmed my suspicion.  I cocked my eyebrow at her, and while attempting to assemble a suitable comeback, stubbed my toe on the only rock in the whole road.  I therefore gave up replying to her and resigned myself to being accident prone. 

I thought on it for a time and while doing so, it brought forth many circumstances where it did indeed appear that I was accident prone. There is the time where my mom sent me to the store to go get some milk for breakfast. I was quite tired, and I got in the car and shut my door preparatory to backing out of the garage.  Then, and I can not explain this action, I re-opened the car door and stuck my hand out, holding onto the top of the car, and slammed the car door as hard as I could.  On my hand.  Do not ask me to explain, it must have been the work of some mischievous spirit.  But my poor little hand was quite swollen and it hurt for some time afterwards.

I also tend to trip over things that everybody else avoids with ease.  It is indeed a problem. I am in a play, and at a practice we were discussing ideas, one of which involved me stealing a stick horse. I, getting into the spirit of the thing, pretended to ride a stick horse across the stage, and conveniently tripped over a plug-in heater, the only thing on the whole stage.  I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and putting a superior look on my face, attempted to make a dignified exit. But twas not to be.  I was wearing a tutu, part of my costume, and it slid down and tripped me again. Ahhh, the sadness.

My friend came over once to give me a Christmas present.  It was a lovely little decorative bag of candies.  We sat there and talked for a while, then I, thoughtlessly, tossed the bag up in the air. I who have never missed catching something in  my life, missed it.  And of course it fell on the ground and broke open, spilling the lovely candies all over the ground.  My friend and I stared at them for a while.  How sad! 

I do not tell you this to complain. I tell you this because all the individuals that happen to be present when I preform my accidental antics find them most amusing.  So there you are.  Such are the trials of accident prone-ness.

Apology To All

So, as I am sure all of you trillions of faithful followers have noticed, I have been of late ignoring this wonderful little blog. I happen to be a single minded creature, who, when engaged in other activities, often forgets that I own such a nice little thing.  Whenever I remember, I am filled with pride over my wonderfulness, and vow to update it!  Sadly, the only time I remember is when I meet fans who tell me that I need to update it more.  And at those times I don't have my computer with me. So I remember for about twelve seconds, until something else claims my attention. But fear not, I may recommit, and keep you thrilled with accounts of my adventures! But on the other hand, I may not. You never know.

Left and Right

 Ahem.

I have a confession.

I have never been able to tell my left and right apart.

"Gasp!" you may say. That is fine, I do not mind. Gasp all you want, I believe in freedom, but gasping will do nothing to change or fix the truth, so I suggest that you use your time and energy for a more constructive and helpful purpose.

Now, if you are like the vast majority of the people that I have told about my problem you will now look wise and condescending and will suggest that I hold up my hands with the thumb sticking out and the pointer finger pointing up and see which one looks like a letter "L". "And that one is the left hand" you say, smiling.  This does not work. In my brain there happens to be some strange quirk, and this quirk makes it so that I can read backwards as well as forwards, so to me they are BOTH letter Ls. Sorry to not use your wise suggestion, but it is simply unsuited for what a unique individual I am.

I have gotten in trouble many times because of my problem, particularly in drivers ed, where I learned that they consider this information very important. My time in drivers ed was riddled with such quotes as: "Your OTHER Left, Bleep you!!!" and "Somebody your age should really not come here to waste our time unless you know your left and right." and "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!! You bleeping bleep of a bleep!" when I turned into oncoming traffic.

I finally started putting a bracelet on my left arm, so when they said "Turn Left" I could look down, turn toward the arm with the bracelet, and seem smart. This fooled them for a while.

Then came the day of my one great triumph! I had forgotten to put on my bracelet that morning, and I was worried as we hopped into the car. Scarcely had I started driving, when there came the dread command "Turn right!" Taking my best guess, I swung the car in that direction. 

"I said turn right!" Exploded my drivers ed teacher. I said nothing, being not at all sure what direction I had turned. He continued ranting for a few seconds, then stopped abruptly. I glanced over at him, wondering what had stopped the tirade. He was sitting in deep thought, then he said slowly "Girl, that WAS right. You DID turn right. I was wrong."

Haha! I had been right! I had humbled the teacher, and redeemed myself. A good days work, if you ask me.

Now I always wear a bracelet on my left arm,  a very useful tool

Phenomenal Things

Throughout my life, though I admit it is short and insignificant, I have observed many unique and phenomenal things.  Some of these things, though I say so myself, have probably been seen by nobody else. Let me give you a list:

Phenomenal thing #1:
One of my little brothers happens to not appreciate pain a whole lot, so when he experiences the unwelcome sensation he makes it known to the world in no uncertain terms.
One time he fell and banged his nose. After he had wailed and gnashed his teeth for a period of time he arose, and, I kid you not, he LIMPED with his NOSE! Do not ask how it is possible, but I say to you that it was something that I am glad to have seen in my life, providing me with the new and refreshing feeling of sharp sympathy mixed with excessive mirth. Limping with his nose. A phenomenal thing indeed!


Phenomenal thing # 2.
Once Ace was sitting on the couch. Me and my little sister were sitting beside him. He happened to be showing us his six pack, when my little sister suddenly said "Ace! your belly button blinked at me!" I had seen it too! His belly button had blinked. Few have seen such a rare occurrence.


Phenomenal thing # 3:
Once somebody thought that I had done something wrong. Ha! The fact that somebody could be so entirely disillusioned ranks as a phenomenal thing in my book. Something wrong, Ha ha!

Now that I think about it, none of those things are incredibly phenomenal. Darn, and there are only three. So I will need to look harder.