Potato Tits

I've been helping out in the kitchen lately. No, no...I'm not saying that I just recently started feeding my 6-year-old, I mean I've been helping out in the SCHOOL kitchen. Along with that comes the oven burns, flour hair, and local stories of other kitchen chefs.

One particular noteworthy one made it impossible for me to stay away from the blog (despite previous months and months of impressive sloth). Try to digest the following....Apparently, one unfortunate day, the head lady of the nearby school set about mashing her potatoes with particular fervor and zeal. In her haste to prepare the lunch, she neglected to don the required, provided apron. In fact, seemingly she must have been in a rush all morning, as she must not have managed to dress in a bra, or for that matter a shirt with coverage, because during the height of mashing her tit fell out into the potatoes. Yes, that's right. Go on re-read it, but it'll still say the same thing.

Now this hasteful woman could have tried to cut her losses and dip the tit in cool water, and get on with the mashing. Instead, she is suing the school for her burn and subsequently has had to produce said burned tit for her male supervisors. Frankly, it makes me wonder if there have been previous kitchen incidents involving head trauma....or maybe it's all down to natural genius?

Science and Religion

Current Biology: "According to a study published last year by the University of Minnesota, Americans distrust atheists more than any other minority group, including homosexuals, recent immigrants or Muslims."

YIKES.

But, the Englishman to the rescue of American politics.....

"The Democrats and Republicans may be preparing for battle in next year's presidential election but Richard Dawkins is on a new battle bus promoting atheism. (Photo: www.richarddawkins.net)

Dawkins appeared as one of the stars of the Atheist Alliance convention in Crystal City, Virginia, last month. He admitted that he was a little bit hesitant about being an Englishman talking to Americans and he showed “a certain amount of deference” when asked about US politics. “But I think that this country is so powerful and what goes on politically here is so enormously influential, the rest of the world is entitled to have a say.”

Although religious groups denounce him on websites and radio talk shows, he has not received abuse at public meetings; religious people tended not to turn up — “which in a way is a shame”, he said."

Yeah, basically because even the biggest religious zealots know that they would, as an old friend would say, be ripped a new asshole.

November 11, 2007

It began a very rushed, but somber, wet day. Remembrance Day. The British day that memorialized the end of WWI: when the guns fell silent on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, 1918. We traversed train obstacles and crowded London streets to watch the marching armed forces place their poppy wreaths at the Cenotaph. Then we meandered towards some guards for some photo ops and found ourselves heading in the direction of Buckingham Palace, so we went with it. I got a refill on my lavender scent at the Queen’s shop and we walked on, being led by our tummies now. We decided to alight at Leicester Square for a little romantic Mexican treat. It was the sight of one of our first dinners in England and one of the few places to get that ethnicity food in England. My, I felt so satisfied with our day, especially after the nachos and Mexican melon drink, a burrito with sides of beans and rice with guacamole and salsa, and topped off with some fried ice cream. I popped a fuzzy toothbrush in my mouth and then we rolled on.

But we didn’t make it that far. Yards from the restaurant-front the European premiere of Beowulf was kicking off—fire, furred drumming Viking men, big screen, red carpet and all. And then the stars came out. We watched as Neil Gaiman, Crispin Glover, and Anthony Hopkins strolled their way down to the Vue theater. Then Ray Winstone graced us with his gentlemanly presence. He kindly autographed a paper for Noel and called her a “Sweetheart” before generously continuing on to sign his name for a good portion of the onlookers. Then the (embarrassing) shrieking began. Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie emerged from the just arrived Mercedes and immediately became the center of attention. They waffled this way and that, signing for the demanding crowds as they went….until they drifted to our corner. When Brad spotted Noel, he stopped, took the notepad she offered, and after signing his initials collected Angelina in order to do the same. He pointed to Noel and she flashed a brilliant smile before autographing the notebook and handing it back to Noel. Brad Pitt is a good guy.

(Paul has an even better picture of Brad pointing at Noel to get Angelina to sign...)

The sweet moment

The sweet, sweet moment of finally being able to flush the toilet with a button after weeks of using a bucket....was lost so quickly when my glasses dropped from my face, bounced off my 5-year-old, and then straight into the bog....

Erm

Mom: "Remember for next time, OK?'

Noel: "I already stuck it in my brain."

....."but I think my brain's a little itchy."

Happy Birthday, Stefan

Tonight, at least 50 people assembled at the YMCA where my brother was a lifeguard for the past 6 years. We read a poem he wrote, sang a song written for him, sang an Irish Blessing, shared memories, and planted a sugar maple tree in his honor. We cried, got to know each other, ate barbeque, and missed Stefan together.

Still, there are moments when I feel like I'm in a movie, that this can't really be happening, that my Stefan can't be gone. I feel like there has got to be some alternate ending to my choose-your-own-adventure story. I just need to go back and re-read the path that I want...I just got sidetracked along an untrue, unwanted story-line.

I miss my brother so much

I still cry often, and sometimes daily for stretches of time. I've started running lately (in the hopes of playing football/soccer), but often tears start streaming down my face mid-run. These are the same sidewalks Stefan and I trained together for our Virginia Beach half-marathon.

I really hope that he can read my mind now….
Because there are way too many things that I never told him.
For example, although I don’t typically associate superheroes with the people that I know, whenever I would watch the newest Spiderman movie, I would feel as though I was watching my brother. He was always understated, underappreciated, undervalued. I never told him that he is the only person that I associate a superhero with.
I also never told him about the negligent lifeguard who did not move an inch while Noel struggled underwater and her 5-year-old friend attempted to rescue her and was pulled under herself. I was stuck in another room watching from behind thick glass and traversed the complicated maze of dressing rooms, shower rooms and other pools before getting there myself. That day I had written: “Now there is the lighthearted, “I need a drink” [giggle]. That was NOT how I was feeling. Instead, I had a rare bout of the other kind of need-a-drink: the kind where you have a pounding head and an image burning in your mind that you are desperate to forget.” I spent (it felt like) hours explaining to the young lifeguard and her supervisor how negligent that she had been and couldn’t help adding that my brother who lifeguards (and saved 2 kids-that we know of) would have been irate.
We never got to show him how Noel could ride her bike, sitting so straight with a proud smile on her face and wind whipping through her fine hair. My brother owned nearly a dozen cycles, in part so that he could loan them out while he worked on a new person to come along with him for a ride… He raced in the tri-borough bike race in NYC just 2 years back.

And I can’t help thinking: I want MORE. I want more time, more laughs, more memories, more conversations, more outings, more drinks, more, more, more with Stefan.