Tomayto, Tomahto

One word of advice to those of you who plan to pickle or "put up" as the traditionalists say green tomatoes. Green tomatoes are not a breed unto themselves. They are red tomatoes that have not yet gained their color. So, if someone, let's say their name was Zagetstone, were to buy a bag of green tomatoes during the week to pickle on the weekend, think of the shock Zagestone felt when she opened the bag of green tomatoes, eager to pickle them, but only to realize they had turned red. I...I mean Zagetstone was thoroughly disappointed. So, the word of advice is: When you get the bright idea to pickle green tomatoes, time is of the essence. Don't wait. Make haste and pickle the moment you get home from the market with your glorious bounty of green tomatoes. Don't put yourself through the anguish that Zagetstone faced.

Star

Pictorial essay.

I should have worn my lucky necklace.

Before I left for work this morning, it crossed my mind to wear my lucky necklace, the one I used to wear when I had to take a test in school, and the one I try to remember to wear when I have to drive long distances on the freeway. The thought to wear my lucky necklace wasn't strong enough and I decided against it. Here's what happened because of my inability to listen to my intuition:

1) I was denied coffee at a coffee shop and forced to drink espresso instead. They said that's the way they make their Cafe Americano drinks and they wouldn't budge, even though I told them I'd rather have coffee. How hard would have it been to put coffee in my cup instead of espresso? Why did I want coffee instead of espresso, you may ask. Well, dear reader, the espresso's bitterness forces me to add sugar to my drink, while I drink coffee without sugar. I was trying to be healthy by avoiding the sugar in my drink, to no avail.

2) I did the stupidest of stupid things. I can't say what I did yet, because we've yet to figure out if I'm upset or not. Three of you already know what I did including one of you who was witness to my stupidity (you now need a nickname Aimee.) Let's just say that no one was was injured and although it's 1:24 in the am, I just employed some duct tape to correct the problem until I consult with a professional.

See, what should be understood is that as a whole, today was great. I had lunch with a friend. Went to a concert with another friend. Bumped into the Breakfast Czar and was able to hang with her this evening. All in all, balancing everything out, more things went right today than wrong.

It's been a long time.

Sorry it's been so long since I posted. Things I'm thinking about:

1) Why do I keep seeing the bendy girl from yoga class around town? I see her at Whole Foods. I see her at the movies. She's everywhere. I wonder when she finds time to practice being as bendy as Gumby.

2) Pumpkin gnocchi is easy to make and it tastes good too...

3) So is/does gazpacho.

4) Why is restaurant Greek salad dressing better than the dressing recipe I have tried to make from an authentic Greek cookbook? I've never been satisfied with homemade Greek dressing. What kind of magic do Greek chefs put in their salad dressing. It irks me to no end.

5) Do you think the neighbors thought I was weird as I was lying on the ground this morning on an old purple towel, taking photos of all of the mushrooms that have sprung up in the lawn?

6) How do you stuff a cocker spaniel in a purse to sneak him into the movie theatre? The woman at the movies today did. I guess her dog is very Gumbyish, just like Bendy Yoga Girl. I mean, we're not talking about a chihuahua here. We're talking about a cocker spaniel.

7) Let's talk for a minute about our olfactory systems. I pass a garden shop every day, walking to the omelet shop for an omelet. Walking to the omelet shop for a cup of coffee. Walking to the omelet shop in hopes that they'll stop selling "healthy" desserts like fruit juice-sweetened brownies and start selling something decadent. Anyway, as I said, I pass the garden shop on these trips. I always detect the scent of...something. I'm not sure what. It's not boxwood, but it's similar. It's not an herb, but it's similar. No one else walking with me to the omelet shop has every detected this aroma. And, I even went in the garden shop and asked them what smells so good in front of their store. They thought I was crazy. They said there is nothing special in front giving off a pleasing aroma. But, I smell it every time I pass the place. I guess I will never know. But why am I the only one who detects this scent???????

8) I have a problem that I wonder if the Chocolate Whisperer can solve. I wonder if perhaps she can detect different tones of chocolate just by looking a piece. I have acquired an abundance of these Special Snooty Hershey Chocolate squares. They have individual names like Aruba Chocolate or Flanders Chocolate. But knowing that doesn't help me figure out if the piece I select is bitter chocolate, milk chocolate or my favorite: semi-sweet dark. Help, Chocolate Whisperer. Save the day.

Sicilio-Judaic

So, I was watching some stupid legal drama a couple morning ago and I realized that the lawyer was Jewish and the cop was Italian. And they were both very stereotypical. Why couldn't the lawyer be the Italian the the cop be Jewish? My inner Siciliana and my inner Jewish woman were both offended.

Employment opportunity.

I went shooting (cameras, not guns) last night in the City of Detroit at a new park. It was lovely. There were two of us. Even though we knew better, we were both shooting at the same time. In the city, I've been warned by photography professionals that one should shoot (cameras, not guns) while the other keeps an eye on said shooter. Well, our evening ended without incident, although we both commented that next time, we will bring a third and one of us will spot the others.

So, today, not heeding my own warning, I went out shooting again at lunchtime, without a spotter. A commotion occurred due to my lack of vigilance: I was run over by a kid riding a two-wheeler with training wheels. He had careened out of control and was far ahead of his German au pair. He aimed his lethal Shwinn right towards me. I didn't see him as I was shooting a photo of a pretty flower. All of a sudden, my ankle felt like someone had stepped on it. I said "ouch!" I turned, and an almost toothless six-year-old looked up at me and said "thorry." I said I was ok, but the German au pair began to apologize as well.

The kid on the Shwinn of doom careened away, undoubtedly aiming for another innocent soul in his bike ride of horror. I dragged myself back to work, looking forward to telling people that I got run over...by a kid on training wheels. I'm trying to milk it for all it's worth. I'm fine actually. I have a welt on my ankle and my skin is scraped, but otherwise, I am fine.

So, if you'd like to be a photographer's spotter, please let me know.

Agatestone