Quayles and Potatoe

Tags

dinner, humor, opinion, potatoes, quails, recipe, riddles, soy sauce

(Trust me, there are two excellent recipes at the end of the post.)

I sent a quick e-mail to hubby at work asking him to stop by the market on the way home and see if they had quails and if they did to please buy them. So I could make him quails, like Tita made for Pedro in “Like Water for Chocolate.”

The intoxicating imagery of personifying Tita in the kitchen cooking quails in rose petal sauce for her lover must have befuddled my intellectual capabilities. Or it could have been the wine, sipped between the flipping of the pages, actually, that caused the inebriation.

Whatever it was, I saw that I had misspelled “quails” when hubby’s reply came. His standard one-word “ok” was this time replaced with “You mean the birds? How many?” In my haste, I had spelled the word as “quayles”. I was quite beside myself when I saw that. I studied journalism. Misspelling words was a big no-no, a cardinal sin, so said Professor Frederickson.

He used to put big Xs on my paper. “I HAVE FAITH THAT ONE DAY YOU WILL LEARN TO USE YOUR DICTIONARY.” Yup, he wrote that on one of my papers. Geez, how wrong was he? There is now what’s called auto-correct. There is no need for a dictionary.

But, so what if you misspell, anyway? My injured amour-propre predictably turns into indignation. What’s the harm? Does it even matter as long as your readers understand what you mean?

Case in point, I used to work with this guy who constantly spelled “speek” when he meant “speak’. He was only the General Manager of the company. And who can forget Dan Quayle spelling “potato” with an added “e” at the end. He was the Vice President of the greatest nation on earth. I’m speaking as a proud American, of course.

So you see, these people at the top? They can’t spell. Didn’t seem to put them at a disadvantage one bit. Me? I agonize constantly about the possibility of making errors, and I’m writing a blog. There is nothing wrong with being a blogger, I assure you, fellow bloggers. I was just trying to make a comparison. Forgive me.

Maybe I should be less inhibited about spelling. Maybe it doesn’t matter all that much. If I had given you a recipe, and it reads like this:

Can you read this?

Would you be able to make it out? I have reasons to believe that you would. Your brain can do much more than you think. Unless of course you are sipping too much of that wine like I was. In which case you might have read “gralic” as “gaelic”. And you certainly wouldn’t want to peel the gaelic. Or maybe you would.

He is gralic (source)

‘Nuf said. I’m making you Quayles and Potatoe.

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Happy Valentine’s Day! (also Fiesta Friday #3)

Tags

blog event, DPchallenge, Fiesta Friday #3, humor, link party, Valentine's day

Valentine’s Day can be the most exciting day of the year for you, or the most miserable, depending on your situation. But Valentine’s Day that happens to also be a Fiesta Friday day should never be a miserable day for anyone. Whether you receive a valentine or not today, you should see to it that you celebrate the day with us.

Look what I made for you:

If neither of them makes you happy, how about a story? That’s what I’m bringing to the party. I hope you’ll like it.

***

This happened when I was in college. Remember those happy, carefree days, when you didn’t have to do anything? No waking up early to go to school, no homework to turn in the next day, and no studying required? Sigh… college was heaven.

On Valentine’s day one year, my roommate and I decided to have a contest on who would receive the most roses. The winner got to wear a tiara for a week. It was her idea. Trust me, I was not into that sort of thing.

Well, she won. She received more roses than I did. I think she sent some of them to herself. Really, how many secret admirers can you have? Besides, while I received less roses, I had a poem written for me. So, in my mind, I won.

Okay, it was a lame poem. Short four-liner that went kinda like this:

I see you!
Hi!
It’s me!
Surprise!

With all those exclamation points! But it came from this really sweet guy. He enjoyed making my day by giving me surprises like showing up in front of my apartment door unannounced and uninvited. I had no idea how he gained access. He didn’t live there so he didn’t have a key and I never buzzed him in.

But still, it was so nice of him to go through the trouble of waiting for someone to let him in.

Sometimes he even showed up with flowers. Flowers that he stole for me. Yes, how sweet was that? He went on his bicycle in the middle of the night and cut tulips from campus gardens to present to me. So considerate.

And one time, he took a picture of me while I was throwing away my trash. I found out about it when the photo showed up in my mailbox. Accompanied with a four-liner poem, of course.

He must have used his tele lens to take the photo. That I could figure out. What I couldn’t figure out was how he was able to be in position to take my picture exactly when I was there. It must have been such a coincidence or he must have been waiting all day. Wasn’t that so sweet?

See, with an admirer like that, who wouldn’t feel like a winner? So, I didn’t feel jealous at all that my roommate bested me in the most roses received (some of which she sent to herself, I’m certain of it) and ended up with the tiara. Pfft…who cares about a tiara? I bought myself one and wore it whenever she wasn’t around, anyway.

Still have it, and still wear it (when no one is around). So there, Cherie!

Hump day joke

Tags

funny things children say, humor, jokes, out of the mouths of babes

No, I’m not introducing a new regular feature. Fiesta Friday is enough for now. I’m just sharing a little joke today to help you get through the week. Sometimes you need a little push to get to the finish line.

So, my son enjoyed being an only child for a few years before a sibling came along. Having a sibling meant he could no longer monopolize mommy. As much as he loved his baby sister, there were times when he got frustrated because he had to share his mommy, who was his best friend at the time.

Like this one time when he wanted mommy to play with him. Mommy would have been very happy to comply, of course. Except that baby sister had waken up from her nap and started crying.

Big brother threw his hands up in the air, let out a big sigh, and barked an order to mommy, “Why don’t you try milking her?”

Photo from La Leche League

He meant this, of course. You think I can submit this to Reader’s Digest for “Out of the mouths of babes” and get money for it? Is Reader’s Digest still around? 

How to tell you’re not dead

Tags

Andre Agassi, blogging challenge, funny, humor, Pete Sampras, Raphael Nadal, Roger Federer, sports, tennis, Zero to Hero challenge, zerotohero

Zero to Hero just got very interesting. Yesterday’s assignment was to leave a few comments on blogs we haven’t commented on before, and to remember where we left the comments. Supposedly it would all make sense the next day when the new assignment is revealed.

And it just did. Today’s assignment (#12, by the way, if you’re keeping tabs) is to write a post elaborating on one of those comments. Well, color me lucky, ’cause I happened to leave this comment on this blog:

Life vs. death is only the most important subject in the world, yes? Unless, of course, you’re a sports fan. Then winning vs. losing is more important than life vs. death. That’s exactly why I never root for a team or an athlete, anymore.

Seems to me that every time I do that, I always end up in disappointment. No amount of praying or holding my pee pee can reverse any jinx. The team or athlete I hate always wins.

For instance, my favorite tennis player is Pete Sampras. The best there ever is. Plus I’m deeply connected with Pete. Hubby’s former colleague’s wife used to hit balls with Pete before he became a pro. I was devoted to him from the moment I found out about that. No amount of hair shaggy-ing by Andre Agassi could dissuade me. Turned out Andre was wearing a wig, by the way. But that’s another story best told by his fans. See how easily I get distracted?

As Pete’s fan, I was elated when he broke Roy Emerson’s record for the most Grand Slam wins with 14. Surely, he’d become a tennis God with that kind of record. No one was going to be able to touch that, I thought. Imagine my irritation when Roger Federer started inching closer. But the more hatred I felt for Federer, the more wins he collected. Until he finally topped Pete’s record with his 17. I just died.

I have developed a strategy to work around it somewhat. Here goes, try to follow. I’m no longer fixated on Federer. Instead, I concentrate my energy by championing Raphael Nadal. He has now collected 13 Grand Slam wins. 4 more and he’ll catch Ferderer, 5 more and he’ll erase Federer’s top spot. Doesn’t matter that Pete moves to third place. Federer won’t be on top.

Besides, have you ever watched Rafa play or just watched him, period, playing or not? Now, tell me that’s not a beautiful face! Incidentally, check him out and cheer him on at the Australian Open, currently taking place. I think I’m back to being alive now.

Oh yeah, that was what I wanted to talk about, being alive vs. dead. Specifically, I have a question to ask you. When a person dies, does he or she know that he or she is dead? Anybody been dead before? Otherwise, please refrain from answering the question. You simply have no credibility.

As for me, I know for sure I’m not dead. I woke up this morning and looked sideways and I didn’t see Rafa. But I had paella (Rafa is from Spain, as is paella.) Recipe will follow one of these days.

Anyone out there has another foolproof way of telling they’re not dead?