Saturday, July 31, 2010

Don’t Cry for Me El Cajon

“I used to think that everyone was just being funny but now I don't know. I mean, how can you tell? “
- Andy Warhol

Charlie Rangel and Maxine Waters are fighting ethics charges (13 and 1, respectively); so I readily admit I’m not the only person who is worrying about things beyond my control. Wait. Ethics violations ARE within the control of the alleged violator! Unless we want to all agree that we are all victims of the vast conspiracies swirling around our collective ankles like we were wading through trash swirling around a plugged sewer. Why would we do that?

Since I live SoCal, I’m stressing about my horoscope that says I’ll be hit by a falling piano tomorrow. I’m also updating my dream journal - which reads more like a nightmare journal these days - and wondering what Noah would have said about global climate change if he wrote a column for

On the upside, I’ve just put some sweet peaches fresh from yesterday’s farmer’s market in a concoction of Jack, 10-year-old Portuguese port, and a splash of butterscotch liquor, together with a bit of grated ginger and sugar. (First cut a small cross on the bottom of each peach; then pour boiling water on them and let them sit about 2 minutes; then the peel comes neatly off without taking any of the fruit). The stuff has to sit and yummify for 3 months, so it should be ready for Thanksgiving and Xmas (if it lasts that long).

In other news, I’m trying to decide whether watching the 7-minute Toytanic video HERE is the second- or third- best 7 minutes of my life. Let’s just say this re-enactment has characters that are stuffed animals, it includes some profanity; and it is much quicker to sit through than James Cameron’s version. I think it also hits all the major plot twists Cameron does, so you don’t have to trade two un-recoverable hours of your life in order not to miss much of the actual story. Spoiler alert: the boat sinks.

I picked a few of my very own tomatoes spared by the rabbits. Tomorrow we roast! It occurs to me too late that the upside-down hanging planters simply give the rabbits better access to the fruit. If I put land mines below the tomatoes to deter the bunnies, my tomatoes would probably be tainted by a stew of C4 and exploded bunny parts anyway. So, when life hands us half-eaten, almost-ripe tomatoes, I suppose we could just agree to make lemon-drop martinis.

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