Nothing funny about feldspar

You can learn a lot about a person by noticing what kind of spoon they choose to use to eat their cereal with when all of the teaspoons (the only proper size of spoon to eat cereal with) in the house are in the sink.

Plagioclase’s mother will take an iced-tea spoon, I think because it’s got the right bowl size even though the stem is unwieldy. Sometimes she takes a soup spoon, showing her indifference to the need for a proper cereal-eating experience.

Plagioclase said, “I just used a grapefruit spoon.” Heretic! Trying to stab your granola?? But it’s at least got mostly the proper proportion, so that’s not as bad as eating with an iced-tea spoon.

Me, I will wash a spoon. I’ll eat out of a measuring cup if I have too, but I’ve got to have the right spoon.

Why do we have so many different spoons anyway? It’s not like I’ve got infinite drawer space (or a domestic servant) to keep track of all these utensils. I blame the Victorians. And Oneida.

I was telling Plagioclase about an ad I saw for Tide with Vanilla and Lavender scent, and you can get matching Downy, too!

He immediately piped up: “Where’s the curry and fries scent? How ’bout grilled steak? That’s what they need — Man Scents!”

Proctor & Gamble, you can contact me by email so I can tell you where to send the check…

I once thought I could eat steak, no matter how “done” it is.

I was wrong. We had steak a few days ago, and Plagioclase’s mother (as is her wont) had hers burned, and then only ate half. Since she’s been feeling ill lately and not wanting to eat anything, let alone meat, I decided to have her leftover steak for lunch.

Oh, crap! It was so awful. There was not enough salt in the house to make it palatable — the crust! it was burnt and bitter. And she likes it that way. I had to eat a popsicle to clear my palate.

So now I know, don’t eat her leftover steak, even if wasting food is a sin. It was a sin to cook it that way, as far as I’m concerned. Bleck.

I’m finding it so hard to believe, yet this is the evidence of my eyes: we are out of table salt. Oh, sure, I’ve got a box and a half of coarse kosher salt, and I know that I used to have an extra canister of Morton’s… but alas, I’ve scoured the likely hiding places and it doesn’t appear.

Given our penchant for overstocking, I’m likely to get three or four pounds of salt over the next month or so, so that the next time this happens I know that I’ll still think I have plenty…

When I first went to the specialist clinic for my back, I had to fill out a 20 page form asking where I hurt and how did I get hurt and was it a result of an accident or am I in litigation or under workmen’s comp. and am I addicted to pain-killers and am I currently trying to bilk somebody out of their rightful inheritance…?

So I filled the whole thing out, saying basically: “No, I am not in any sort of litigation nor even in any legal or unsolvable financial trouble. I hurt my back by sitting in the wrong chair for too long.”

Now, 4 months after that first visit, I get a letter in the mail: “Dear Insured, are you certain that there’s nobody we can sue to get our money back? Fill out this two page form, and return it within five days (i.e. yesterday) and we may not bug you about it anymore. But we might, ’cause we’re your insurance company, and we save your money by suing others.”

*sigh*