Now I want Jon Hamm to play Lex Luthor ALL the time.

Nilly! A rare Nilly sighting. Wish I could hug you from here.

When I could eat tomatoes, I loved them raw--scoop out the middle and fill the "bowl" with tuna, chicken, potato salad or cottage cheese, ummm, nom. Even with the wheat and tomato ban, once every summer I find the smelliest, roundest, reddest, most succulent home-grown tomato, slather two slices of bread with mayo, salt and paprika, lay tomato slices between them, and have myself an orgiastic 'mater sammich. And suffer the consequences--it's just once a year.

I chuck all my cilantro in Juliana's direction, as I share Sprog of P's opinion of it. Though H tells me he smuggles it into things occasionally. F olives, because they are occasionally nummy, and it's a sporadic sort of relationship. And M mayo because, while I don't like a lot of it, and not on everything, I would be devastated to know it wasn't there. And, FTR, I'm not fond of bacon. Or any pork product, actually. With an infrequent foray into rare-side medium rare steak, I'm a chicken and fish girl. ...though there were those exquisite rosemary pork chops.

Birthday Felicitations, tommyrot!

mmm our classic summer treat was sliced Delaware tomatoes with a little s & p and mayo. yum!!!

My friends' twins have been extra ridiculously cute recently. The other night at dinner (on the night they turned 3 actually) the boy Jack screamed at Zoe "STOP BEATBOXING ZOE!!!" She'd been sort of rhythmically puffing and sputtering while eating spaghetti. Jack must have overheard his mom commenting to his dad that she was beatboxing, and reprimanded her accordingly. She responded with an innocent, "But I like to be beatboxing!"

Hugging Beverly tightly through the internet.

I'm not fond of bacon. Or any pork product, actually

When I was in the USA, there was this kosher vegetarian ham replacement that I found in one of the supermarkets in LA. Of course, I had to try it, seeing as I never tasted anything of that family (of the real thing, of course). Then, I asked poor brave Perkins to taste some of it, too, to tell me how similar it is to the real thing. She said that the taste wasn't all that similar, but the aftertaste was almost spot on. So now I know what's the aftertaste of ham. It's something that declares "I'm meat!" very loudly.

I love how there's absolutely no sense in food preferences for different people. No sense, no chance of even making any sort of sense in it. Just a small sorta-technical yet somehow also a bit not, at how the world is a crazy interesting place.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, TOMMYROT!!!

I like this dress: Lavender Blue (from Fabulon - some other posts are NSFW)

Scroll to the second picture - is there a word for the poofy thing at the hip/butt?

But I like to be beatboxing!

LOVE.

(ETA: Is now my Facebook status)

Then this morning in the car on the way to school:

Jack: We're a big bad motorcycle gang! I'm gonna get a BLACK motorcycle!
Zoe: I'm gonna get a PINK motorcycle!
Jack: What kind of motorcycle you gonna get, Mommy?
Mommy: I don't know, Jack - what kind should I get?
Zoe: You should get pink like me!
Jack: NO!! Mommy gonna get a BLACK motorcycle. She don't like a PINK motorcycle. Daddy can get a pink motorcycle like you, Zoe.
Zoe: Yeah, Daddy gonna get a PINK one like me!

It's not a bustle, tommyrot. I'd call it a padded hip, because the bust is padded the same way. It's an intriguing engineering project, all those curving rows of stitching--like looking at agriscaping from the air.

Happy birthday, tommyrot!

Still coughing. My upper-respiratory system aches. I'm thinking soup for lunch.