It's National Cheese Pizza Day. Seriously, I didn't even know that's a thing.
"You are free to eat."
Today I walked into a very hip neighborhood in Seattle to run an errand for my lovely wife. I was wearing the shirt Shan gave me.
I noticed a woman was looking at me. At first I thought, "I wonder why a pretty woman like that is looking at me." Then I realized she was staring at my shirt.
She was probably revolted by the idea that I would actually advertise that I eat the flesh of our animal brothers.
If I die in an act of eco-terrorism, you'll know why.
Several weeks ago we invited some friends over for Sunday morning breakfast. As we sat eating sausage gravy and biscuits, I was struck with the realization that combining sausage gravy with macaroni and cheese would produce something amazing. We tried it, and it was as incredible as we had anticipated. We call it "Jimmy Mac", it's basically macaroni and cheese, but instead of a white sauce, we use sausage gravy.
We made it again this morning, and I took pictures so that others could vicariously enjoy it.
If you haven't made sausage gravy, it's not that hard. Here's how I make it:
But since we intend to make Jimmy Mac, it's time to doctor the sausage gravy a bit:
So that's it: the marriage of sausage gravy with macaroni and cheese. Probably the most redneck food that's ever been eaten.
Life has been somewhat tempestuous for the last six or seven weeks. The details are boring and unnecessary, but the upshot of it all is that I've been sort of cloistered away in a haze of uncommunicative business.
One interesting feature of the last six or seven weeks is that my [new] employer wants me to have a disclaimer on any blogs to make it clear that my opinions don't reflect theirs. Of course they don't! But it's a simple enough request, and not unreasonable. So I've added a disclaimer block to the bottom of the page.
In other news, I've been reading a lot recently. I finally read Emma. I've watched several movie adaptations and listened to it as an audiobook; but it's only been in the last month that I read it. It is a delightful book. I find I like about half of Jane Austen's books. Persuasion is on the short-list of my favorite novels, but I couldn't make it past the fourth page of Northanger Abbey. It was simply too annoying.
Now that I think about it, that's why I never read Hunger Games. It's not that I haven't tried to read it, it's just I hadn't made it to the third page when I realized I completely hated it. Which says something, because I hated Wuthering Heights too, but I actually finished it.
At any rate, what I love about Jane Austen is how she can make me love, hate, despise, pity, or admire a character with just a few bold strokes. She leaves me despising Sir Walter, while at the same time patiently tolerating Mr. Woodhouse. It's not that her stories are terribly interesting: it's the characters who live in them. To be blunt, Jane Austen writes some pretty boring stories about people I find very interesting.
Since my acknowledgement of reading Jane Austen likely will cost me any claims to being a Real Man, I might was well go the distance and say I've been reading Georgette Heyer again too. Like Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer wrote some really boring stories. In fact, I wouldn't even call her characters interesting, but they are so terribly witty. One doesn't read Georgette Heyer for the story, nor even for the characters. One reads Georgette Heyer for the dialogue.
A week ago I rode my bike to work for the first time this year. It hurt and embarrassed me, so I thought I'd try again today. I went out to get my bike, and the rear tire was completely flat. Not "lost a little pressure sitting in the garage" flat, but completely, totally flat.
So I get to apply yet another patch to my rear tire. Sometimes it seems like I've spent more money on tubes and patches than the bike actually cost.
This morning when I was walking from the bus stop to my office, a guy asked me if I could spare a couple bucks so he could go and buy a coffee and some food. "Nope, I can't," I replied, "but we can walk over there together and I'll buy you some coffee and something to eat."
He accepted my offer, so we started walking over there together. Along the way, he asked me a couple times if I could just give him $5. I told him I don't like to carry cash, but I'd buy him some coffee and food.
As we walked up the street, a car parked next to us. I think it was a guy going to work at a nearby construction site. My companion stopped.
"Are you coming?" I asked.
"Maybe this guy can give me some money," he replied.
"C'mon, I'll buy you some coffee," I urged. But he wasn't willing to come with me.
"All right, I'm going to work then," I said. And I turned and left.
I guess he wasn't hungry after all.