Several Keys on my keyboard are malfunctioning. I do not know why. I really don’t care. However, it is forbidden to misspell words. If I do not do something about my keyboard soon. Something bad will happen. I will be doomed to poverty to all eternity. All of Hades will freeze over and kingdom come shall see judgment. God have mercy on my soul. If I don’t do something about all these annoying people in my life telling me to spell correctly… I will make really tasty Italian food and make them all fall over with delight. Heh. Heh. Heh.
Everyone around me is on this thing called.. .The Paleo diet. I keep bumping into these people who eat only meat, but sometimes a vegetable like a raisin or something. That’s it. It is forbidden to eat an apple or even a slice of watermelon. God have mercy upon my soul. Watermelon is the forbidden fruit.
Are you kidding me? Watermelon is the nectar of the Gods. You can carve out a spot on the ground, fill it with peat moss and plant a watermelon seed in the ground. Nine months later you will have a watermelon and eat it while its still on the vine. It is delicious. It is the most amazing experience that I have ever known.
Speaking of the most amazing experience known to man…yesterday, I made New Orleans Olive Salad….just like the kind you get at that Italian Market in New Orleans. It was delicious. And do you know what I did with it? I spread it all over a big loaf of Tuscan bread and called it a Muffuletta. It had Provolone and a Trio of Italian meats including salami, procciutto, and cappicola ham. Then I topped the whole thing with lettuce and tomato, and let me tell you. It was not Paleo. It was not Atkins. It was gourmet heaven in my hands. I was going to take a picture, but the entire thing was devoured in no less than 13 seconds.
Tuscan loaf is this thick, chewy crunchy bread like they make in the firy ovens of Italy. I made a vow to make the most amazing bread ever. Moments later, a cookbook called…The Bread Bible…magically appeared in my hands. Once I tasted this bread, I couldn’t stop eating it. That’s when I had this idea. I can always have some of this on hand. That way, I can give it to people who angrily point out my mistakes by scorning me and putting me to shame.
For all who taste a loaf of Tuscan bread fresh out of the oven become weak at the knees. Tears of delight come to the eyes. They beg for more and fear upsetting the one who makes a the Tuscan Loaf.
This year is the year of perfection. I will not complain. I will not blame others. If I am blamed for anything that I can claim guilt for I will apologize and beg for mercy and swear to change my erroneous ways. If a member of the household demands something reasonable or becomes angry for any reason, I will do the best I can to please him or her.
(I am trying to be the complete opposite of a trailer park momma.) Anyway, this little mystical Zen mind control technique I am using had been working quite wonderfully for a few days when my boys invited Zebulon, son of Deborah, over to play. (This is not the same Deborah who nearly killed her husband. This is the Deborah who lives next to a frat house. She thinks they stole her dog, but I know the real reason her yappy little dog isn’t polluting the night time peace of my suburban utopia).
Manic Deborah with the missing dog has 2 children that are the same ages as my children. They play together at school. It is for this reason that my children knocked on Zebulon’s door one day when we were on our afternoon walk. This was not such a great idea. Zebulon and Andromeda ran to our otherwise quiet house and stirred up a commotion like a bonfire in a trailer park on Christmas. To make things worse, Deborah and her husband went out and didn’t come back for 5 hours. She called and said she was running late. I wanted to tell her to return immediately. My four children are enough to manage. But hers are a nightmare. It was like having spider monkeys in the house, fresh from Zimbabwe.
I didn’t say a word to upset this woman. I’ve heard stories. (From her, even). I know what this lady will do if she gets upset and it isn’t pretty. I have been around her when she gets angry or pushed too far (3 cm). I told my children firmly that I have black balled Zebulon and Andromeda from henceforth and forever more. My kids were not too happy about this. So I promised to buy them donuts every Saturday morning for an entire year if they would never ask those children over again. So far so good. Now I just have to figure out how to avoid all the Debbie’s in my life.
Some of them are Debbies, and some never go by Deb. Some are called Debra and some are Deb o rah. Some you never call Debbie, you can only call them Deb. But if you get confused, don’t worry, cause Debbie cant run that fast.
So, we walked by Zebulon’s house the other day and Zebulon chased us all the way home and demanded that we let him inside to play lego Batman on our Xbox 360. I admit. We have a pretty cool system in our house. We even have games that are considered both offensive and evil. It is for this reason that Zebulon put up a really good fight at the front door. I wanted to send him home, but his mother was sick in bed and his father drove off to get his sister (This is a 3rd, half sister from a previous marriage. He has several screwed up adult siblings, but that’s another story).
My husband works from home. he’s a software developer. It has to be quiet while he’s working. I told Zebulon this. He promised to be quiet. I have no faith in this child. So, I held him firmly while he kicked and screamed. One of my children (who is a year younger than Zebulon), went inside the house and brought back 15 gallons of Legos. Ten minutes of persuasion later, we were all building rockets with Legos on the front lawn. Loads of neighbors drove by wondering what the wacky lady was doing playing Legos in the front lawn.
I swear to holy Accalon almighty. What the heck is wrong with these people? I know why Zebulon is like this. He acts just like his mother. She is the same way.