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Having Dinner, Being Dinner.

The weekend started early, Thursday evening, to be precise. I am not including it in the weekend because I took Friday off, but for the purposes of being at least mildly entertaining in this post. Ken and I went to dinner and after the kitchen obliterated my grilled salmon into a tiny, charcoaled mess, not only did I get another, perfectly prepared version, it was also free – I presume from the need to assuage the emotional damage and ensure positive PR. Which it certainly did. Go to The Keg on Lower Church Street. They make great food (99% of the time) and when they don’t, they fix it. Afterwards, we wandered through the sultry streets of Toronto and parked ourselves by a fountain for a chat. There, it later became obvious, I served as a buffet for a particularly finicky mosquito, which tasted a sip here and there (right knee, right index finger, right eyelid by the lashline – oh, so attractive – and right eyebrow), leaving just enough of that vile itch-and-bump creating substance to be noticeable, before finally finding a vein which produced a vintage to its liking:

That or I’m growing another head. Or maybe…. who remembers a movie called The Manitou? (pardon the fuzziness – it’s the best I could do by blindly pointing the lens at my forehead)

Not Worth Mentioning. We’ll skip right over Friday, which not only wasn’t very interesting, but, in addition, was actually very irritating.

Archaeological Dig. The lovely Michele visited again for the purposes of attacking the next step in the Mission Impossible: Cleaning Out Lene’s Landfil… erm, Apartment. On the agenda: the kitchen cupboard (please imagine ominous-sounding music and gathering storm clouds). Note that this wasn’t plural. It is The Cupboard. The one that contains canned goods, spices, various food-prep necessities, mugs, containers… you get the idea. It’s also the one that hasn’t been cleaned out in 5 years. We found enough cans of tuna to feed the entire building, 3 boxes of cornstarch (each succeeding box bought when I “didn’t have any” because the one before had disappeared into the black hole in The Cupboard). We also found the tiniest mystery guests – no idea what they were, but they were so small, they looked like a Times Roman ‘l’ at font size 8. This meant that in addition to throwing out items appearing to be older than dirt, anything that had been opened or looked like it had even thought about being opened also went straight into the trash. And then we (i.e., Michele) washed all mugs, containers, plates, bowls, etc., to ensure no bug cooties remained. If you are capable, please help me give her a standing ovation. And if you do so at work, please leave a comment to tell us how that went.

Patent Pending. The least I could do while Michele was slaving away, was to feed her. For that purposes, I introduced her to one of my SSB. An SSB is a term lifted from an episode in Sex and the City, wherein the women discuss having to give up Secret Single Behaviour when a boyfriend movies in – weird things you wouldn’t necessarily want other people to see. One of my favourites is this:

Ingredients:
Potato chips (regular). Lays works well – they’re thin and similarly shaped (why this is important will become clear momentarily).
Hummus. Whatever flavour works for you. I like the combination of regular chips and lemon-dill hummus (served directly from the fridge, naturally).

Method:
Dip one chip in hummus and smear on other chip. Place first chip on second chip, the hummus in between. Repeat if desired, creating as tall a multilayered chip sandwich as you want. Eat.

Only keeping in mind the effects of too much hummus makes me use moderation with this snack.

Sloth-like Behaviour. Of which there was much on Sunday. I did move somewhat faster than a sloth – not hard to do, as their ground speed is somewhere around .1-.2 mph, but in terms of doing nothing, I rivalled the best of them. Doing nothing with great abandon is just about my favourite way to end a weekend.

Do you have any SSBs?