On Salads

Oh, the evil of salads. I think to myself that I'll just make a wee salad and all will be well, but NO!! There's tomatoes and feta involved. I suck at making salads. I once had friends who could only make one type of pizza. I am the friend who only makes one type of salad.

I start out by freaking out. I get way too many green things (think lettuce and whatnot). I chop a tomato. My creativity ends. I scrounge around the fridge until I find feta and then toss the tomato and feta on top of the salad. Voila! Salad! Anyone who has invited me to bring salad recognizes this three-color masterpiece of green, red and white.

I made my salad tonight and found that Jeni had brought the makings of many salad toppings. She had things like cherry tomatoes, tofu and sunflower seeds. Amazing!

An Erinku in honor of better-salad-makers-than-me:
Dalmatian, so spotty
So familiar, so inbred.

On Fine Lines

Today, it occurred to me that there is a very fine line between being frugal and being cheap. I was peripherally involved in a topic that evolved into someone crossing that line. Today's example was boring. A funnier example happened last week when I was on a boat. A co-traveller with our group stepped on a spiny sea creature. I think an urchin of sorts. This urchin was understandably pissed for being squashed and left some spiny presents in our friend's toe.

Luckily, our ship had an emergency medical person/hospital/pharmacy and in other countries an emergency situation is cheaper than here. Our friend's toe visited this hospital and saw that for 100 Euros, she could lose the spines. While she was waiting for her turn, she saw further down the list of choices that it only cost 80 Euros to amputate a toe. She thought about how important saving 20 Euros was to her. She decided to splurge.

An Erinku:
Past time
creepy
old photos
appear.

On Evil Post Offices

Imagine you want six postcard stamps. Imagine you work two blocks away from the Boulder Valmont Post Office. Imagine the line to see a teller extends out the building. Imagine the line to use the automated postage machine intertwines with the line extending out the building. You want six little postcard stamps to buy with your little fistful of quarters.

You march past the lined-up masses because you have cash and only need six little stamps. You need a stamp vending machine! You walk to where they live only to find a little note posted: "Sorry! We no longer have vending machines! If you'd like to purchase stamps, please see a teller during business hours or use our automated postage machine to your right!"

If you have an exclamation point after the word "SORRY!" then you aren't.

The line to see a teller is a 45 minute wait. You choose the automated postage machine. Twenty minutes later you discover two pleasant little facts:
1. the machine of evil does not accept cash...not even quarters.
2. the unholy machine of corruption does not sell postcard stamps.

Teeth grinding, you pull out your bank card, purchase a whole book of $0.41 stamps and get a happy little receipt asking for your opinion at their website.

An Erinku:
seeds of evil look
innocently like postcard stamps.

On My D

Alas, my D is flat. It is flat every time. My fingers are tired and my D is still flat. Perhaps I will blame Bach again. He is good to blame as he is dead and can't complain.

Moral of today's story: when you've lost your library card, check your friend's pockets.

An Erinku:
Scooby
Doo
is my friend
too.

On British Folk

I was in London for a bit of time this past week (think a ten-hour layover and than a five-hour layover). I enjoyed very much the British people talking. I didn't enjoy so much having to walk on the left side of corridors (walking on the right is swimming upstream). I absolutely thought their coffee disgusting. I think they never got over our little tea party a while back and make shitty coffee in retribution.

The one coffee exception was at a little kiosk that was selling "Froffee." It was a coffee milkshake. Even though it was awesome, I felt like an ass ordering a froffee. Go on, say it out loud "I'd like a froffee, please." Don't you feel dumb, too?

During my various layovers, I was thinking a lot of British habits/culture/what-have-you are there to make me feel dumb: their left side of the walkways/driving, their froffee, their accents, their ordering chips (fries) at the bar but not tipping the waiter, their putting beer in a wine glass and their absolutely shitty coffee on the flights. Plus they are way funnier and have royalty bopping about town. Lovely.

The moral of today's story: if you wake and dress at 5:00 a.m. due to jet lag, you'll notice at 10:20 a.m. that your shirt is on inside-out.

An Erinku:
Clean
Fridge bins
drying on
table.

On Home

After hours on buses, planes and cars, we're home. I've wontonly flushed tissue down the toilet, had a big glass of water and took another shower (water-wasting American that I am). I've a massive pile of laundry that needs done and am in my pajamas even though it's still single digit time.

An Erinku in tiredness:
I will not
see singers
for two months.
ah.

On Sleep

In the past few days, I've slept about ten hours. I've boarded many planes, buses and a boat (as of tomorrow). I can't keep anything straight and the fact that it's almost bedtime here while it's 11:00 a.m. back home is throwing me into massive confusion. I've learned many things in the last two (?) days. One of them is that many of my favorite phrases seem to come from Britain, though I've never been and the people I stole the phrases from haven't been either. "Brilliant" and "wicked" are two of my favorites and they are apparently popular in England as well. Humph.

I've also learned that people in Greece don't flush toilet paper, they throw it away. Getting past the intense grossness of this is difficult. I end up wrapping my tissue in more tissue. Like a little tissue present. When I get back, I'm going to flush toilet paper down the drain for fun.

Then there was a whole big bathtub drama, which I can't even think about right now. Traveling is odd and I have funky tan lines on my toes.

The moral of today's story: if the world is as blue as you think, you're right.

An Erinku, in tiredness:
Little
puffy
feet move
upstairs.