Saturday, January 21


This week has been a most unruly combination of chaos, joy, carbs, and malfunctioning email.

I think I'll decompress with a little ramble, if you don't mind. Care to join me?

Firstly, I would estimate that I've eaten six heads of garlic in the past seven days. But isn't that an awful phrase, "heads of garlic" (never mind the phrase "I've eaten six of them")? Almost creepy enough to put me off my appetite for it, I tell you. I peel the papery outermost layers, then lop off an inch or so from the top to expose just the tiniest peak within (she is a saucy minx, that garlic head).

Butter her up, or rather, olive oil her a little bit -- or a lot, no one's watching, except me in your bushes -- snuggle that beauty in aluminum foil, and pop in a 400 degree oven until she reaches creamy, dreamy, sweet perfection (about 40 minutes). Slice/chop/mush up, nestle into the nooks and crannies of the best snack on earth, the English muffin, sprinkle quite liberally with salt and pepper... bliss, plain and simple, yinz.

Come to mama.

Also, it's very healthy. Without the English muffin. I might never get sick ever again if I keep up this rate of garlic consumption.

Also, for those of you who are feeling bad for Kyle because his wife is eating a head of garlic almost every night... don't. Roasting/steaming/whatever-I'm-doing to the garlic mellows its intensity and zaps the little thingys that cause bad breath (how's that for a scientific explanation?)

At least that's what I read. Although Kyle has been spending a lot of time with his nose in a book lately, as he is most certainly not wont to do, so perhaps I'm mistaken...

I guess I'll brush my teeth for before bed tonight. (You ruin all my fun).


Secondly, someone told me the other day that she thinks I'm funny (and she didn't mean it in a bad way, like one would say "special") (at least I don't think so). Aside from making me embarrassingly happy, it made me think. What makes someone funny?

Gosh, I've been asking a lot of deep questions on my blog lately.

Seriously though. Last weekend, I told my dad that an article I'd read was really, really funny -- as in, I read it at work and tears of ugly-cry laughter were streaming down my face (poor Jennifer has to put up with me laughing/snorting/crying every few weeks or so) -- but when he read it, he didn't laugh at all. Not once.

This is what you get when you Google "ugly cry."

Maybe I found the article hilarious because I was a transfer student (not one as sad as the author describes, mind you, but I saw where he was coming from). But my dad was a transfer too, so that doesn't make sense (my mom, cousin Katie, and uncle Andy can all sympathize too -- perhaps my entire family just doesn't fit in? Nahhhhh).

Maybe, in hindsight -- and as I'm rereading the article now -- it isn't in the best taste to share something this lewd with your dad, though in my defense, I didn't remember those parts of it (still hilarious).

Or maybe we just have different senses of humor. Similar, sure, but not exactly the same. Separate shades, that kind of thing.

Wordy humor is my favorite kind. I laugh a lot more often and much more heartily at stories and articles than I do over standup routines or movies. Hyperbole and a Half is one of my favorite blogs because it consistently makes me laugh, the kind where you lose your breath and try to muffle your chuckles and start to feel incredibly giddy (seriously must stop reading funny blogs at work).

PS -- if you visit her blog and the top post is still about her depression, don't think I'm some sort of sick weirdo. Here are three of my favorite posts of hers, but she is consistently hilarious.


Thirdly, my husband bought stock last night. My, doesn't that sound grown-up! Is that the proper way to phrase it, "bought stock"? Some things are best left unlearned, and for me, the world of finance is one of them.

But oh no, not Kyle. He is now a proud member of AmeriTrade, with plans to research stock options and keep track of "the market" and most likely end up with billions of dollars.

At least, that's what I'm hoping for. It's so hard to be elegant and sophisticated on a budget, isn't it?

Yes, we are a very distinguished household indeed.

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