I have nothing to say about grilled cheese.

I do, however, have a history request. Where were we talking writing prior to GWW the first here? Did we have a WX GWW?

I'm trying to look up an old poem of mine that I'm pretty sure I posted somewhere in the Buffistasphere, but I can't remember where. Sometime in 2002, maybe. Anyway, it started out, "like blood, you are pervasive behind my eyes" and that's all I remember.

Blargh. I'm sick of being on the road. I know I have it in my notebook at home, but did I bring that notebook? No, I did not.

Another meaning of cooking.

Feast

"Ladies and gentlemen....

Showtime.

House lights are down, and here's the band. The frontman's got the mic in his hands like his lover's breast or his own dick, man, it's all about the rub and the power, the stand between his legs. The drummer's the heart of the mix, everything up to that, backbeat, high-hat, oh baby...

Bass and guitar, burning it up from the first note. And here's the keyboard, swelling deep and low, up the line to the high end until the crowd's weak in the knees, breathing hard, shaking their hip thing.

Oh yeah. They're cookin', now.

I think there was a WX GWW. . .

The first time I attempted cooking, I was confident. After all, Mom always seemed to be able to take the most unlikely collection of ingredients and transform them into a meal—why shouldn't I be able to do the same? Besides, I was starting simple: stew. Homemade, of course, since I wanted to impress a certain blue-eyed blonde I'd invited over.

Start with onions. Simple enough.

Peel. Hm. That doesn't look right. Maybe another layer? Huh. No, still not right. Another. Another. Anoth...

How many layers down does this thing go? I'm afraid I'm about to find out.

Oh, dog, Kristin. I've been there, so...there.

(blinking at Kristin)

Your eyes didn't explode, peeling all those layers? Dealing with onions is the only thing in cooking that makes me nuts, because my eyes burn out within seconds.

Kristin - really? Or is it fiction? Do you guys not do Home Ec at school? 'cause if not - wow. Bless you.

Dad let me peel my first few onions on my own, I think just to enjoy watching the effect. Then he showed me what a difference it made to do it under the running cold tap. I was mad at him at first, but I certainly learned the lesson.

Then he showed me what a difference it made to do it under the running cold tap. I was mad at him at first, but I certainly learned the lesson.

Right up until the point that the person showing you the cold running water trick neglects to mention what happens when you drop wet onions - even damp onions - into a frying pan containing sizzling butter or olive oil.

The burn healed eventually, but I was seriously pissed off.

I didn't get burned, but Dad thought it was pretty funny when the pop!crackle!sizzle! made me jump. Not something to forget, though.