2004-04-07

this recipe on Joelle’s site, and decided to give it a try. The only problem is that not only do we have no white wine in the house, but that we’re not wine drinkers (cannot stand the taste of the stuff, and yes – we’ve tried the expensive stuff and it still tastes like crap to us) and have no idea which kind of white wine would be dry. We were laying in bed talking about it the other night, and finally I said “Well, it doesn’t necessarily have to be dry – the recipe said ‘or whatever white wine you have laying around’, so I guess any white wine will do.” “Oh,” Fred said, then thought about it. “You should get a Cabernet Sauvignon. I’ve cooked with it before, and it’s a good wine to cook with.” Now, from that sentence, wouldn’t you come to the conclusion that Fred is recommending that wine because it’s a white wine? Apparently it’s a red wine. Who the fuck knew? (I substituted chicken broth for the white wine in the recipe and it came out just fine, by the way) While making his snack last night, Fred opened one of the little bottles of wine to give it a try. See, while we both just detest the taste of wine, we kind of wish we didn’t, because wine drinkers always seem to ADORE their wine. Our palates are too immature, I suppose. Anyway, he took a swig of wine, swished it around in his mouth, and then spit it out. “Yep,” he declared. “Still sucks!” The spud, who was standing there at the time, asked if she could try it. He handed her the bottle – call DHS! – and she got a tiny bit in her mouth, spit it out, and declared it “Nasty!” Heh. Hopefully she’ll feel the same about all alcohol!

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Speaking of alcohol, my mother said that the hotel she and my father will be staying at in Hawaii will have free Mai Tais by the pool on Thursdays. Now, Mai Tais I can handle!
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Fred has a new name for the Bean. Mister Boogers. He’s been calling him that for quite a while now, but I guess I wasn’t really paying attention until the other night when we were in bed, and Fred cooed “Hey, Mister Boogers, what are you doing?” For some reason, it made me laugh so hard I cried. It still makes me laugh. I have no idea why it amuses me so, only that it does. “If you write about it,” Fred said. “You MAKE SURE that you spell out ‘mister’, don’t abbreviate it!” Freak.
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Why is it that the cats can be scattered to all corners of the house, dead to the world, but the instant I start mopping, they come and tromp their little kitty paws all over my nice, clean floor? Bastards.
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Pet store kitties from Monday are hither.
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“Mister Boogers” seems an appropriate name, no?
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