What is it with people and Cindy Loo Who? Of my last one hundred blog hits, forty have been direct visits from regular readers, and fifteen have been as a result of people searching for "Cindy Loo Who," the little pixie from Seuss's How The Grinch Stole Christmas . A couple of years ago, I posted an image of the original Seuss illustration as compared to the TV cartoon image, and for some reason, that post is bringing in the crowds, relatively. Maybe it's the weather. It isn't even November yet, and already we've had frost and have had to dust off our winter coats. When it gets cold like this, I start to think about Christmasy things like listening to Nat King Cole and decorating the tree. It's ironic because I am offended when retailers start pushing holiday stuff early, but I don't mind my own private celebrations. When my sister and I were much younger and still living with our parents, we would pick a day in July, close the curtains to darken the ...
OK, just one more post for today. Since I reported on the delightful dinner we had the other night, it's only fair that I report on tonight's dinner. Gosh, do I ever get tired of being the food source night after frieking night--so this is what we had. I feel so ashamed. I will not picture the actual finished product because it is entirely too unappetizing. Too hideous to look at. Too inedible.
Comments
thanks for sharing as always
Rich
I will share with you my embarassing experience at Mexico in the hopes of lifting some of the taco-bake-doldrums.
It was the day before my birthday and friends invited me out for Mexico and games. I had the feeling it might possibly be a surprise (which it wasn't) so I dressed up (which I shouldn't have done). It wasn't church/wedding fancy but I had on more make-up than usual and as my mother would say "was quite put together".
Anyway, I digress. When the waiter came, I had the brilliant notion that I could order my meal, if not entirely in Spanish (like my linguistically gifted father who speaks 8 languages), at least by the proper name. It disturbs me when fellow Small Townians point and the menu and grunt "I'll have this 'un." It irks me nearly to the level of hearing the word "yuh'ns". So I ordered La Mejor. La-May-hore. The waiter stared. I repeated it again. LA-MAY-HOR. When his eyes widened even father and kept drifting south of the border, it dawned on me that he thought I was saying "I'm a whore."
In mortification, I pointed at the menu and said, "I'll have this 'un." Oh the horror.
Rich, I was branded with the term "food source" years ago, and I can't seem to shake it. I'm afraid it will be on my tombstone--"dearly departed. now we'll starve."