In which I have my first experience with nudists and meet my future husband.
In last week’s post, I mentioned my college journal and how I failed at recording true events. One blogger commented — Claudette from To Search and To Find — that I should fill in the blanks now and not bother with the facts.
Do any of you listen to podcasts? I didn’t until recently and wow, I had no idea what I was missing.
My current obsession is Radiolab, from WNYC. If you enjoy learning, just for the sheer joy of learning, check them out.
Recently I listened to their episode on the gut. They interviewed Jon Reiner, a James Beard award-winning food writer who wrote The Man Who Couldn’t Eat. In the interview, he recounted the time he was being fed intravenously.
Hey gang, guess what I found out this week? I’m what is commonly referred to as an Office Manager. Imagine that!
Seriously, I didn’t know. I mean, I kind of just drifted into this position, so I didn’t think about what it entailed. Anyway, I work in an office with about … Well, let’s see … How many employees? … One, two, three … there’s another around the corner … can’t forget the one up there … Oh hell. I don’t know. They all seem to be doing their job well enough, so I’m not going to worry about it.
But it occurred to me that at some point, one of them might leave and then we’d have an opening. If that should happen, and if one of you should apply for the position — obviously I’d give my dedicated readers first crack at it.
After all, if you are the fine, intelligent readers I take you to be, I have no doubt you can handle any job duty thrown at you. So these tips will give you an inside track on how to stay on my good side, once you get the job. You’re welcome.
I’m willing to bet most of us have experienced this: At a certain age (and I think this is especially true for women), you become invisible. Department store clerks ignore you. Receptionists don’t see you standing two feet in front of them. Teenagers look right past you. (Actually, this last one is pretty much universal. Teenagers look past everyone.)
Back when I was 9 years old, I devised a foolproof survival plan in the event of a home invasion. It was a masterpiece. It took into account every eventuality.
Mind you, my neighborhood was not an especially dangerous one. It’s not like there were reports of these things happening to our friends or relatives. To my knowledge there hadn’t been so much as a bike stolen off a porch, so I’m not sure why I thought there was a need for a plan. Maybe I saw something in a movie or TV show? In any case, if it ever did happen to us, I was prepared.
The morning after Easter, I entered our kitchen and saw an unusually shaped loaf of bread on the counter. It was a cylinder, as many bread machine loaves are, but it clearly was not from a bread machine. This loaf was soft and delicate, and I’ve never met a bread machine that could accomplish that. Plus, it didn’t have the telltale hole in its bottom, where the dough hooks would have been.
Later in the day, I learned from Son that it was a gift from friends of ours. It was Blessed Bread. A priest had blessed it.
Son proceeded to tell me the guidelines, as they were told to him.
Basically, under no circumstance can we throw it out. We can give it away, offer it to a friend, a neighbor, a passerby on the street, but we cannot toss it. Not any portion of it. We can’t use half the loaf and toss the rest. In other words, under no circumstance should any portion of the bread be wasted.