|Precipice - Tuesday December 3rd 2002, 8:35pm|
the golden-furred wonton, of course", I said. He expressed disbelief.
I countered, "Of course, silly. Surely you read about the effect
of the cultural revolution and Mao's creation of giant, state-run wonton
farms on the social fabric of the small mountain villages?"
Jeff and I went to Best Food in Town, our local Chinese restaurant for our usual wonton soup, General Tso's chicken, steamed rice and extra vego noodle dish for me.
I'd read him a couple of Chicago Wench's entries, in particular this one.
As he handed me the parcel of food, I mentioned to him that the "Chicken" wontons he likes are actually pork
"Not golden furred?" he deadpanned.
Smart arse journallers and smart arsed husbands, this is what I like.
Sunday night is our clean sheet night, not every week mind you (eww!), but it's nice to start the new week with clean, fluffy sheets.
The Sunday past we didn't, I was just going to slack and slide til next Sunday.
Until I got home from my yummy Indian food and found the remnants of a bird trailed from my hallway, through my bedroom door, up to the bed and then in the middle of the bed.
Nothing like the a bloody wing stump and other little red undefined lumps of ex-bird to make cleaning the sheets imperative.
Picking up feathers in the hallway I bent down to pick up what looked like string (Adelaide loves playing with string) and became deeply squicked to see it was a bird foot. No leg, no stump, just a neatly snipped off bird foot, all claws complete.
Adelaide is too small to have caught the bird, one of the bigger boy beasties must have done that, but she's the one who chewed and chomped with such gusto. I knew she liked chicken, now I know she has a taste for spoggie.
Speaking of Adelaide, here's some gratuitous kitten pics.
Adelaide and the feather duster. Which since the bird butchery in the bed incident has become a little less cute a pic.
Butter wouldn't melt. Or rather, would you fuck off with that flash, I'm trying to kip here!
My car has a leak, on the left hand/US drivers side. With the major rain we had a week or two ago, I got into my car to hear "squish". My floor mat was sodden, had to be a litre of water all through the side of the car. I've had to wipe down the inside window before taking off. If I try the demister (defogger), I get showered with droplets, not a fun way to start my driving day.
Cue today, heading out to my 2:00 meeting (big site, we're doing weekly progress/update meetings). The temp on the Weather Channel said 26F/-3F. Yes, I scoffed along with other Australians to first hear the US had a channel with just weather, what bunny'd watch that? This bunny, that's who. I know, internet, weather.com, but when I changing after my shower, it's a nice little luxury to know what to wear.
I rugged up in my spiffy new Jones New York coat, burgundy with chocolate brown fake fur collar and wrist trim, and bounded outside. Noticed the ice on the windscreen (windshield), remembering that anything below 32F is freezing. Jumped into the car and my feet hit the mat with a thud. My mat was frozen solid, and the thin sheet of ice on the windscreen was on the inside of the windscreen. Ever tried using an icescraper on the inside of the car? About as easy as you'd reckon, which is not so much. 10 minutes of demister and judicious scraping and I have a mosaic like circle cleared enough to see. We (we being Jeffrey, he's the mechanical one) need to do something about this leak, ice inside the car is not a good look.
Updated 4 December, 2002
Copyright Amanda Page, 1996-2002