Pots pans and ovens.
Washed dishes. Done in record time. It is not even past last call. This is getting too easy with my new +2 Dexterity, rubberized "Norwester" professional dishwasher/scooter boots. They might make the ladies cringe, but damn if they don't help get things clean. That and they cost $12.
There would be a picture of them but phone is officially fritzed from all the moisture in my life these days. When people call it trembles instead of vibrates and pictures are way beyond its humble means.
So, having reached the highest rung on the dishwashing ladder, I am sorry to say I will place my favorite scrubby on my bureau tonight and leave the house in the morning without it in my pocket. I am embarking on a new job, one that will have me working a schedule and cooking food. I will get to learn how to make pizza in a wood fired oven, and I will do it with some of the best in the business. I am enough of a food-theory dork that this really excites me.
It excited me more to hear that a certain "most eligible bachelor" from Barbaresco visited the joint the night before and declared the crust "so high it could only come from Naples." The was some thumb and forefinger gesture to accompany that was likely hyperbolic. Bless the Piedmontese.
I am apparently working my way through the elements this cycle of my life. First there was Earth. Chopping vines with my trusty cane knife, working my way through hot red hills of dust and stone. Next came Wood, barrel upon bacterial barrel salvaged from ruin and reeking of old oak. Water, obviously has been dominant for weeks now. Water inside, water outside, the world is made of water. Now my sponge-like skin will come to terms with wood fire, the sizzle your arm hair kind as you reach back with a paddle and dive into the mouth of 750+ degree beast that is their to do your bidding but might sooner look to take a bite out of your flesh. I seriously wonder if I will turn to ash.
I should get nice and waterlogged for my early morning adventure sans scrubby. My skin needs it, my body needs it, it's time to ride the scooter to the hills for a last look at this pure element.
There would be a picture of them but phone is officially fritzed from all the moisture in my life these days. When people call it trembles instead of vibrates and pictures are way beyond its humble means.
So, having reached the highest rung on the dishwashing ladder, I am sorry to say I will place my favorite scrubby on my bureau tonight and leave the house in the morning without it in my pocket. I am embarking on a new job, one that will have me working a schedule and cooking food. I will get to learn how to make pizza in a wood fired oven, and I will do it with some of the best in the business. I am enough of a food-theory dork that this really excites me.
It excited me more to hear that a certain "most eligible bachelor" from Barbaresco visited the joint the night before and declared the crust "so high it could only come from Naples." The was some thumb and forefinger gesture to accompany that was likely hyperbolic. Bless the Piedmontese.
I am apparently working my way through the elements this cycle of my life. First there was Earth. Chopping vines with my trusty cane knife, working my way through hot red hills of dust and stone. Next came Wood, barrel upon bacterial barrel salvaged from ruin and reeking of old oak. Water, obviously has been dominant for weeks now. Water inside, water outside, the world is made of water. Now my sponge-like skin will come to terms with wood fire, the sizzle your arm hair kind as you reach back with a paddle and dive into the mouth of 750+ degree beast that is their to do your bidding but might sooner look to take a bite out of your flesh. I seriously wonder if I will turn to ash.
I should get nice and waterlogged for my early morning adventure sans scrubby. My skin needs it, my body needs it, it's time to ride the scooter to the hills for a last look at this pure element.
posted by Jassmond at 12:25 AM
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