Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Just call me Grace . . .

Picture this . . . Vestal Vespa, carrying laundry up the short stairwell in the back of her 1950's tenement-style apartment building. As the door begins to shut behind her, a thought crosses her mind . . . what if she left her keys in there, behind the rapidly-closing, self-locking door? Crisis! In panic, she turns to grab the knob just as the door latches, trips down the bottom two steps, and rolls her ankle over with a sickly snapping sound.

Yep. Sprained my ankle doing laundry. Just think, if this acts up again, I'll have to say, "oh, dear, that's just my old laundry injury."

At least I didn't lock myself out.

To add to this, I have a nasty cold and it's just now getting nice out. So I'm laid up, laid out, and quarantined. Teh Suxor.

I took yesterday off and today it's back to work. But payday is coming, as well as the vacay (check the countdown) so, as my friend Megan says, there is a light at the end of the ass crack.

Until next time . . .


  1. Ouch.

    I'd send you some of my great-grandfather's chicken gumbo (4 times more effective than chicken soup, according to family mythology. And from what I've experienced, there's a reason for the myth.) but, for some strange reason, my family won't let me have the recipe until I can prove that my cooking skills are up to it. Which I can't do until I can get my butt out of state for a visit.

    But I hear Krispy Kremes are just as good, at least in the comfort food department.

  2. Gumbo can be tricky. I've yet to attempt a roux, since it is basically some kind of a controlled burn. But I'm dying to try.

    I'm thinking of setting up the crock pot tonight to percolate some of my green chile matzo ball soup. That usually fixes me right up.

  3. "green chile matzo ball soup"? Now isn't that an... ODD combination.

    Judeo-Fusion TexMex?

  4. My Momma's childhood nickname for me was "Grace". One might think that calling a red-blooded young boychild a name usually reserved for a girl would cause said lad some embarrasment, but no. The name was earned. I fell out of more trees, tripped over anything lower than my knees, and generally careened through my formative years with all the sure-footedness of a buzzard on mescaline.

    One of my cousins still calls me Grace, and frankly, it's still earned. I've quit climbing trees, but I still manage to loose my footing on dry, level ground, walk smack into doors, and generally give authority figures good reason to worry about the level of possible toxins in my system.

    Course, my brother had it worse. Momma called him "Blossom".

  5. off colfax-

    you should try my black bean latkes!

  6. We did gumbo once. Took me two tries to get ther roux right but it was worth it. I was able to do it in the micro whammy.

    Take 'er easy!


  7. You want to make gumbo, sugah? I'll throw you a dinner party when you're in S.F. and we'll do a pot of duck and sausage gumbo. Those be my people down there on da bayou.