Fiddley Gomme - Food

Grand Opening

Pete — Tue, 13 May 2008 01:37:00 -0400

There's a new fast food place opening near our house. It's nothing special, just a chain burger place. But something about this place has caught the girls' fancy. They are transfixed and completely caught up in the excitement of a big-time fast food opening.

This is more than a little strange. A few years ago, we took a day-after-Christmas road trip to visit my brother in Seattle. On New Year's Day we watched the Morgan Spurlock documentary "Super Size Me". The girls swore off fast food forever.

You have no idea how much fast food you really eat until you have a fourteen hour drive where your children make vomit noises every time they hear you planning a quick stop at the golden arches. Very convincing dry-heave noises.

But stale meat patties and potatoes fried in animal fat are the Sirens to their Odysseus. So, as the opening date of the new restaurant approaches the kids come home with reports of progress on the building... or the landscaping... or the drive-thru menu... and on and on. And each day, just before bed, they open their little Advent calendar and eat another little chocolate in the shape of a hamburger... figuratively speaking.

They dream of one day working there.

"Dad, just think. It's close enough that I could walk to work. And the sign says they pay seven dollars an hour!"

These children have obviously never cleaned a commercial grill with ammonia.

Filicide, Anyone?

Pete — Mon, 02 Jul 2007 17:16:25 -0400

I think my mother may have poisoned me. This is only unusual because normally it's my mother-in-law who tries to kill me with Sunday dinner.

Yesterday, in preparation for my younger brother's visit, mom cooked up his favorite meal. Pot roast with mashed-potatoes and gravy. A crowd favorite to be sure. Oh, and pie for dessert.

I'm not sure of the exact kind of pie she made but I think it was lie-as-still-as-you-can-all-night-to-keep-from-vomiting-while-feeling-both-hot-and-cold-at-the-same-time-berry.

Really, the dinner was great. I didn't feel any ill effects from the roast until after dessert a few hours later. Perhaps it was that I ate it just before going to bed or the fact that I had two pieces of pie, a brownie and two glasses of milk. Or my strongest suspicion, that my mom is trying to kill me so she never has to compete with me for Donna's time on Saturday afternoons and they can spend the rest of their Pete-free days spending my life insurance at Ikea and Tai-Pan.

Either way, as soon as I laid down, the room started to spin and the hot and cold flashes hit me in full-force. It was like I was on a cruise ship without all the fabulous destinations.

I felt better this morning, and I did make it through the night without vomiting. Which is nice because when I vomit, I do it with my entire body leaving me feeling like a motorist on the wrong end of Mike Tyson's road rage. Also, it comes out my nose which, to be blunt, is no damn good. But, even without vomiting, I still spent most of the night awake, either in bed or in the bathroom with visions of everything I'd eaten dancing through my head, leaving me with about 2 hours of sleep. None of it in a row.

Today, I'm running on cruise control. Later on, my mother is taking me brothers and me for sushi. Sushi. How could that go bad, I wonder? It's not like it's raw fish or anything.

Write Me A Letter

Pete — Thu, 21 Jun 2007 17:09:26 -0400

Eleven year-old Cindy makes one hell of a sandwich. It's her own personal concoction. Wheat bread, turkey, pickles, an ample helping of cheese, mustard, sliced pepperoncini peppers, some more mustard, a little more cheese, then some more mustard. Oh, and a tomato slice... and some mustard.

It's a pretty damn tasty sandwich.

Last night, knowing I would be leaving a little early for work today, I asked her if she would make one of her special sandwiches for me to pack in my lunch. She bounded off like a monkey on a spring. Not too long later, she was back.

"The sandwich is in a baggie in the fridge and the rest of your lunch is in a brown paper sack on the counter. Don't forget to take it with you."

After what could only be described as a hectic morning, the kind that really gets you really in the mood for a tasty meal, I got the paper bag from the fridge in the break room. Wait. Indulge me on a brief tangent... you know that smell you get when you leave a Band-Aid on for a couple of days and it gets all moist and ripe? The fridge in the break room smells like that. A bad compressor, I think. Not cold enough.

Anyway... lunch. I laid the contents of the sack on my desk to take stock of the feast Cindy had purveyed. Everything on parallel lines on a folded napkin, of course, because I'm OCD like that. Special sandwich, bag of potato chips, stalk of string cheese and a Fiber One bar.

Hiding at the bottom of the sack was a note. It was adorned with a heart surrounding the word "Daddy".

A complete meal, indeed.

Dear Daddy...
I know I am takeing a risk Because I packed you a farty1 Bar and you might get fird Beacuse you fart so much I hope you have a great Lunch and enjoy your Sandwich I Love you
Love
Cindy Dunn

It looks like my work as a parent is going according to plan.

We're Really Drinking The Kool-Aid Now

Pete — Fri, 08 Jun 2007 18:08:29 -0400

Should it be of any concern at all to me that the LDS church actually makes their own fruit drink? My mother just had a box-load delivered to our house. Do you think it'll be enough?

If there's potassium cyanide, it isn't listed.

Deseret Brand Kool-Aid. Drink it up everybody.

I Will Suffer My Bowels To Be Taken Out

Pete — Thu, 24 May 2007 17:42:23 -0400

The last time I was inside a Mormon church was to submit my resignation of membership to the local Bishop a year and a half ago. Well, I guess that was the penultimate time. The actual most recent time was just a couple days ago.

Beth's pre-school graduation had been planned to be held at a nearby park. The threat of rain which never came put a damper on those plans. The always-thinking-on-her-feet teacher, Miss Caroline, quickly arranged for the event to be held at her ward house. She even managed to displace a blood drive. Not a problem though, since in this town there's always another church no farther than a block away.

And though I've made a deliberate effort to avoid specifically Mormon activities, I wasn't put off by attending this event at a Mormon church since this wasn't a church event. Though you wouldn't have known once you walked in the door.

Decorations just like we had at my wedding.

There were kids everywhere. No surprise, given the occasion. There were also the obligatory folding tables and chairs covered in the same stuff they make hospital gowns out of... paper, I think they call it. On one end of the room was a table with potato chips, veggie trays, condiments, hamburger buns and, of course, several varieties of Jello salad.

It would not have been hard to convince me that I had been transported twenty years into the past to a ward party in Sandy.

About ten minutes after the appointed starting time, or as I call it, right-on-time for a ward house, Miss Caroline called for everyone's attention.

"Julie, can we get you to say an opening prayer?"

Oh no she dih-uhn't. Seriously, people, can we actually presume everyone is comfortable with this?

"Pwease bwess dis food dat it wiw nouwish and stwengthen ouw bodies and bwess dat it wiw do us da good we need..."

No peeking.

Well, maybe God was busy smiting gays with AIDS or visiting the moon-Quakers or something but the prayer didn't really seem to take. Donna took several trips to the bathroom that night with an obvious case of food poisoning.

Off Your Ass, Fatty

Pete — Tue, 03 Apr 2007 17:39:11 -0400

I read the other day that adding just one twelve-ounce beer to your daily diet with no other changes to caloric intake or exercise will net an extra fifteen pounds of weight gain per year.

I guess I'm going to have to mix in some sit-ups now and then. Or maybe a squat thrust here and there.

Living On A Sympathy Diet

Pete — Thu, 29 Mar 2007 13:20:51 -0400

You know that thing they say about asparagus? I bear you this witness that I know these things are true.

In the Count of Monte Cristo, Ah man.

Ringing Endorsement

Pete — Wed, 14 Mar 2007 12:34:57 -0400

"Those Girl Scout Cookies are so good. I ate all of them and now I have diarrhea."

"Maybe you should send them a letter so they can put that on the box next year."

I Wanna Taste Pazzaz

Pete — Wed, 28 Feb 2007 05:22:00 -0500

Do you realize how much water I'll now have to drink just to get the required levels of caffeine I used to get from Diet Dr. Pepper?

The Worst Of Both Worlds

Pete — Wed, 03 Jan 2007 19:57:56 -0500

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for something to make myself for dinner."

"Is there something wrong with the dinner I made?"

"Nothing at all. It just isn't what I'm in the mood for so I'm looking for something else."

"I love when I work hard to have dinner ready and you turn your nose up at it."

Let me not keep you in suspense by drawing this out. The story ends with me eating room temperature green-bean casserole and spending the rest of the evening in silence.