Random Esquire

I used a mandolin this weekend to slice something.  You know what I ended up slicing?  The tip of my thumb.  Not clean off or anything. Instead, I had a trashcan lid of flesh hanging off the end of my thumb.  I put band-aids on it.  And then I decided my thumb was lonely and I managed to slice open the tip of my middle finger. Worse than my thumb.  Again, I left a hanging chad.  Again, multiple band-aids.  Then, at some point, after it had stopped bleeding,  I decided to peek under the flap on my middle finger.  That was a mistake.  More band-aids.

I had to put clean sheets on my bed.  So I took the sheets out of the dryer and made the bed.  And my band-aid mysteriously disappeared during that process.  Didn’t find it.  More band-aids on finger.  This time made sure they couldn’t come off.

The next day – today – I realized that the band-aids had been on my middle finger for more than 24 hours.  Wet, dry, whatever.  I decided to peel them off.

No bleeding. That’s good.

And then…

I noticed a smell.

I brought my finger up to my nose and took a hesitant sniff.

holy.

crap.

Well, now, look, here’s the thing.  If you smell something bad, what’s the first thing you do?  You have someone else smell it, right?  Except, no one else was around.

Except Little Filthy.

Okay, now, lemme just explain what you’re about to see.  I had been relaying the unsavory nature of my rotting finger on twitter.  The result was many suggestions that I had gangrene.  However, I can tell it’s just wet-fleshy-open-wound-band-aid smell.  But none the less, I thought it would be funny to take a picture of the dog smelling my rotting finger.

No.  I have no idea why these things occur to me.  I can not explain it.  I realize it is ridiculous.

So I grabbed my camera phone, pointed it at my finger and then called Little Filthy.

He jumped up on the couch, leaned in and I snapped the picture.

And then I yelled out loud.

See, I intended for him to *smell* it.

But this is what happened right when I snapped the shutter.

(more…)

I come from a family in which everyone cooks.  While my mother prepares the dinner on Thanksgiving, on Christmas, everyone brings along additional food.  The result is that we have roughly 5 times the amount of food actually consumed.

This year, I was tasked with dessert.  I am more of a savory type (har har) but I gave it a whirl.  Result?  Banana bread pudding, chocolate sauce, fresh berries, dulce de leche ice cream, and a caramelized banana.  Picture below.

I hope you had a great dinner!

Torchin’ a banana.

Here’s my eye.

Here’s a piece of Toffifay candy.

Now you know.  Toffifay is made out of eyeballs.

Little Filthy has tried corn.  And peanut butter.  Today, he tried watermelon.

A sniff.

Give it to me, please.

Looks promising.

(more…)

1.  It’s been a nice weekend.  Besos and I had a very nice dinner of French food with another couple on Saturday night.  And we woke up this morning to a beautiful day in Chicago.  Within moments of waking, we decided to walk to a nearby breakfast restaurant and eat outside.   Here’s Little Filthy under the table hoping his sad faces will convince another diner to give him something to eat.

2.  I sent Besos a text message tonight to let her know that CMC wanted to know what color lipstick she is wearing in her pictures here and here.   Then I asked her what I should write about tonight.  Here is how that conversation went:

RE:  What should I write about today?
Besos:  I don’t know. What has happened?
RE:  I molested you.
Besos:  Yeah, yeah, but that’s not news, especially in QT’s blog!!!!!!!!! Don’t think I did not notice!

Oops.  Okay, so, I may have said something in the comments here.

RE:  I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Besos:  Poking my colita!
Besos:  I am over chocolate.
Besos:  Ok, so brand is Estee Lauder, the color is 732 Darling Diva.  Heh, that’s the name.
RE:  No more coffee for you at breakfast.  How about I just blog this conversation? Okay? Okay!
Besos:  Hey! What part?
RE:  You know.  Molest, colita, lipstick, chocolate, and coffee.  Just the standard stuff.

*pause*

RE:  You love me.

Besos:  Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you’re not rotten.

3.  I suspect that Little Filthy may have licked my sandwich tonight.

A friend, upon hearing this news, said, “Five second rule!”

Which really makes you have to wonder how liberally people apply this rule.

And the answer to your question is yes.  Yes, I did.

I decided to indulge a little this morning.  This means I decided to eat a breakfast sandwich.  The ‘a little’ means it was on a whole grain english muffin, had turkey sausage, egg white and low fat cheese.

I can deal with this.  It tastes just fine to me.

But you know what ruined it very quickly?

That little bit of toenail you sometimes find in sausage.

GAH.

1.  I sounded pretty awesomely brave in my earlier entry on Costa Rica.  Let me work toward dispelling that image.  While in Costa Rica, Besos killed all the bugs.  I am not ashamed.  Hey, I’m rarely anything other than rational.  Grant me this.

2.  On to the bridge jumping, also mentioned in that earlier entry.  After I had climbed up the rocks and out of the water, grinning at Besos, I said to her, “I clearly jumped in to impress you with my bravery.”  She grinned.  I said, “Yup.  That was all to impress you.”  She smiled.  She politely said that she would never have done it.

From the family that was with us, the daughter and son in law jumped in the water after I did.  It was later that evening that Besos told me that she suspected, from overhearing some of the conversation, that the daughter is pregnant.

*Blink*

Lemme get this straight.  I climbed and  jumped off a bridge in the Costa Rican jungle into a swirling mass of water and congratulated myself on my bravery …

only to have a pregnant woman do it after me?

Boo!

3.  While in San Jose, Besos convinced me to eat at a little food stand in one of the markets.  Oh, and by ‘market’, I mean an open air tin building held together with bubblegum and picture wire.  And by ‘food stand’, I mean an open flame.  (Okay, sort of exaggerating… )  Two bad things happened here.  First, Besos happened to glance down she said, “I haven’t seen one of those since Mexico!”  I looked down.

…at a cockroach about 2 inches long.  I am pleased to report that I had no reaction other than to lift my feet a foot off the ground.

The second bad thing that happened was that Besos noticed a small child shoveling beans and rice in his mouth faster than the asthma kid sucks on his inhaler.  His shirt was full of holes and he was skinny as hell.  She wondered aloud, “I wonder if he’s homeless.”  I got up to pay the bill and said, “I’m going to buy him a soda.  And a sweet bread.”  I then went to the counter and tried to motion with hand signals to the boy and did he want a soda? or a pastry?  I’m making drinking motions with my hand and pointing under the counter as a sweet.

He stared at me and hardly moved.  I looked at Besos and she spoke to him in Spanish.  He hardly looked at her, eyes locked on me and then he responded to her.  I asked, “What did he say?”  She said, “That he’s not allowed to speak to strangers.”  It was about that time the boy’s father showed up and they had a whispered conversation.  The father looked at me.  I sighed.

In about 60 seconds, I went from friendly diner to creepy stranger offering soda and sweets to children.  Awesome.

1.  My nose is running.  It sneaks up on me.  When my nose runs, it feels like my face wet its pants.

2.  The last time I was ill, I saw Besos only one or two times in three weeks because I tend to hole-up when I don’t feel well and am not really comfortable with someone taking care of me.  She more or less told me that that would not be acceptable this time and would I prefer she bring over soup or a break-up kick in the pants?

I chose the soup.

3.  I took pictures at Moto which are forthcoming.  At one point, Chef Cantu asked me, “Have you seen plasma in a microwave?”  I stared back.  He said, “Find a beaker!”  He rushed me to the microwave and propped the beaker upside down on three cups inside.  Then, he placed a bit of what he called plasma inside, under the beaker, within the small triangle of cups.  Mind you, I’d just eaten a bit of that white plasma in the form of a wick on a chocolate bomb that they actually set on fire (picture coming).  He closed the microwave and hit start.  The white bit flashed and flamed repeatedly and Chef Cantu said, “Hotter than the surface of the sun!”

4.  Besos arrived with soup.  She smiled and looked satisfied as I began to eat.  I glanced up and said, “Honey…I am a little self conscious because I have to chew with my mouth open because I can’t breathe through my nose.”

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1.  I returned from the Nassau / Paradise Island yesterday after a few days in which the Bahamas decided to experience a cold front.  Not much sun was had but it was still a tremendous amount of fun.  It was, more or less, a family event with adjoining rooms and lots of time with my niece and nephew.  It’s good to spend time with them and the more time I have, the less child-stupid I feel.  Let me give you an example of my child idocy.

The last time I visited my sister, I walked down a hall and into the bathroom and turned to close the door just in time for my niece to have followed me in, eyes watching me closely.  I said, “Uh…um…”  My sister called out from the other room, “Tell her you need P-R-I-V-A-C-Y.”  Me, being the idiot I am, looked at my niece and said, “I need P-R-I-V-A-C-Y.”  My sister said, “Don’t spell it for her!”  I said, “Oh!  I need some privacy.”  And my niece promptly left and informed me that she’d be waiting just outside I wrapped things up.

2.  I did an interview for a podcast on some of my experiences taking pictures in some Chicago restaurant kitchens, particularly L2O, as it coincided with Anthony Bourdain’s latest episode of No Reservations in which he dined in the restaurant.  (Filmed while the Seattle folks were here and despite our best efforts, Bev was not able to stalk him.)  I downloaded it on iTunes and, I have to say, it’s really strange to hear my voice like that.  I was particularly concerned that I’d have pulled a Will Shortz who, while doing a podcast, breathes so loudly into the phone, you want to knock him down and steal his inhaler.

3.  Tonight, Besos came over and I fixed dinner.  We have not had much time together in the last few weeks as I had a cold and suffer serious cold-transference guilt.   I will be happy to crawl into bed next to her tonight and reach for her.

4.  I effectuated a break up between QTMama and one of her boytoys.  At her bidding, mind you.  I’m somewhat tempted to start a service.  Everyone should have his or her lawyer do their breaking up for them.

5.  I’m feeling write-y.  Prepare for blog bombing.

1.  Last night, I tasted sushi made by reality TV folks:  Road Rules, Survivor, Shear Genius, Project Runway, and the Bachelorette.  I’m not going to lie to you.  None of it was all that good.  I left one on my plate that looked a bit as though the roll from which it’d been cut had been shot through one of those tubes at the bank drive-up.  The girl who won?  She was Playmate of the Month a few years ago.

It wasn’t a blind tasting, folks.

Amen.

2.  Besos reminded me today that I woke her up last night because she’d been gently snoring.  I grinned and said, “Ohhh yeah!”  I had forgotten about it.  She said, “Although, I find it funny that you grabbed my butt to wake me.”

I didn’t remember that, either, but congratulated my subconscious on its ability to take matters into its own hands.

3.  Speaking of Besos, she spent some time the other day explaining to me why Mexican women make good wives.  She was not petitioning me, mind you, but rather explaining the cultural differences between Mexican women and American women (not that American women make bad wives but you get my point).  While she is an American, Besos grew up in Mexico and she was careful to point that she is not a Chicana but, rather, a Mexican woman.  She ended by saying, “We stand by our man!”

I, naturally, and despite my dislike for country music, got excited to introduce her to something truly American and so I asked her if she’d ever heard that song.  She said no.  So I crooned, “Stttannnndd byyy yoouuurrrr maaaannnnn…and show the world you love him!” in my best Tammy Wynette.

I won’t lie.  She looked horrified.

4.  Besos told me that Little Filthy is basically me but in dog form.   I squinted.  She said, “You know…He doesn’t hide his feelings,…it’s like you…no smoke and mirrors.”  At this point, he was crawling all over her and sticking his cold nose in her ear and chomping on her hair as she lay in bed.  I said, “We could probably both use a little smoke and mirrors.”

She expanded her point to add that he misbehaves and is rotten but you can’t help but love him and he asks for affection and company whenever he wants it and…he humps things if he thinks they’ll be taken away.

I’m not entirely sure where the flattery ended and the insult began but it’s in there.  Somewhere.