Ebony and ivoreeee live together in perfect har-mo-neeeee side by side on my formica kitchen table, oh lord, why don’t weeeeee?
For the record, I thought the grilled-cheese sandwich thread was hilarious. Tacos. Ha. Otherwise I didn’t keep up with much news yesterday. My day was full to the brim with activity and hostessing, so I didn’t really learn about the Holocaust Museum shooting until this morning, not to mention the David Letterman kerfuffle among the rightbloggers, and you know what? There’s nothing like a day away from the news to let you know what’s important. Of course, any day that begins with a trip to one of the automotives is always well-spent, especially when they take you driving on one of their proving grounds. You learn the most amusing things, like the names of certain stretches of test pavement — “sine wave,” for instance, and “pitch and jounce.”
But the best thing was the entrance and exit ramps, which were banked. Seriously banked. Nothing like flying through a banked turn to make you say wheeee.
Then it was lunch in Mexicantown and a stop at the Honeybee Market for mangos, and home to make agua fresca and wait for John and Sam. The New York Times featured agua fresca in its Recipes for Health column a few days back, Laura Lippman Facebooked it and credited it with all sort of miracle-working powers, so I thought, OK, I’ll bite. I even made two pitchers — one mango, one watermelon. And both were fabulous, but the mango went dry first. I’m old enough to have relatives who think a mango is a green pepper, and here they are, years later, readily available in any old Kroger. I think, how long did Latin America keep these fruits to themselves, and can we bring action for this in some sort of international court?
I also think: You know what would go well with this? A shot of vodka.
Tip: Make it with the smaller, yellow mangoes. They’re sweeter. Although I’m sure the big red ones would work splendidly, too. You really can’t go wrong with mangoes.
Agua fresca was only one thing on the menu, however. The other beverage was wine, which may explain why I forgot to make a salad. Also, one of my students stopped by — long story, not interesting — and when he left, his clutch failed, so there was 10 minutes spend bleeding the air out of something under the hood, and long story short, dinner was sort of a blur. But a fun blur! Who cares when your friends are in your kitchen?
Oh, and for all you Detroit haters? The car with the bum clutch was a Honda.
After dinner we ate ice cream and watched the first two episodes of “Nurse Jackie.” Edie Falco is great, isn’t she? They really worked to wash the Carmela off of her — that frosted-tips haircut is just inspired — although her scrub tops looks suspiciously…fitted. But she transcends the costume, I’d say. Our one-year arrangement with Comcast expires in August, at which time I figured I’d boot Showtime and Starz, the two premium channels they threw in gratis when we switched our phone service. Not being a fan of either “Dexter” or “Weeds,” I thought this would be easy to do. Now? Damn.
So what happened in your neck of the woods yesterday?
If you didn’t see Connie’s husband’s heron pictures, you are missing a treat. Big file, long download even in broadband, absolutely worth the wait.
Look, the museum shooter thinks the president isn’t a natural-born citizen. How shocked I am to learn this.
And now I am off. But I’ll be back.