So, what do *you* call kissing with tongues? (And I have really wondered this...do they think of it as French kissing, too?) Why or why not? (God, that's a fucking Turtle question. And I'm not high. D'oh.)

Hee. Suddenly, trying to think of flirty frenchy things, all I can picture is...Eddie Izzard. Which is a certain kind of hot, but possibly NOT what Allison or her French physicist are looking for, or wanting to be.

Oh Ginger, that is dreadful. I hope Mr. Peabody is okay soon.

Ciao, baby. (Meara, I second that emotion)

Get better, Mr. Peabody!

the cherries are no more. Brandy may have been involved.

::makes enthusiastic sign of the goat horns::

We called it goulash in our house, and it was delicious when my mother made it. A happy memory. Of course, after I grew up and discovered there was an entirely different dish called goulash, I could no longer call it that, so I went with mac and beans.

I feel all geek proud that I've submitted a definition to Wordnik for a word that didn't have one yet.

We didn't call it anything around our house because we never made it, nobody else's mom that I knew of ever made it, it never appeared in our cafeterias, and I never even knew it existed until the Buffistas. Am I just a freak (or someone with a really lousy food memory), or is it in fact just not a Bay Area thing since ever? Are there any other native localistas to confirm or refute?

I have never run into this either. We did live outside Oakland for a while, for whatever that's worth, although my folks weren't from there originally.

Thinking about it, my mom didn't make many casserole-y/one-dish meals, so maybe that's why I've never heard of it.

I'm finding more dead cockroaches. If ever there was a motivation to keep the dishes washed and the counters clean...

Do they get into things like mashed potato and pasta boxes? Oh dog, my cereal!

ION, Ply ran back in with a giant WTF on her face coinciding with a weird sneezing sound. Went outside assuming it was an animal, heard it a few more times out of sight up the hill. Started thinking it was a neighbor doing carpentry until I almost-saw something large dash by opposite of where I was looking, and then I saw it. The tall murky figure amidst the trees.

A deer. Making sneezing sounds. I never knew they communicated by sneezing.

We were once deeply freaked out while camping by a sneezing deer. (Should be a goofy mystery story: "The Deer Sneezed at Midnight."