Daily piffle:

Older Entries
Find me elsewhere

Photos

www.flickr.com

RSS feed

Jul

25

The spoon of moo, and other assortments

Filed Under Uncategorized | 73 Comments

July 25, 2006

Bowls? Really? Bowls?

You guys should have told me how strongly you felt about bowls. God, here I’ve been going on and on about babies and ill-fitting jeans and lube and dog fur and getting all kinds of weird search engine referrals for things I swear I did not write (today’s freaky google hit as of 3 hours ago: “I wanna fuck my pregnant sister in law”; on a whim I just searched for that myself and would you believe the first hits are not porn related at all, but rather posts by, respectively, Julie, Julia, Amalah, and Jen? My personal blogosphere is taking over the entire internet, which is both awesome and faintly disturbing) when all along I should have been talking about BOWLS.

Like this one!

It’s enormously huge and I use it for eating vats of pho.

And this one!

It’s eentsy-weentsy and I use it for feeding Riley, or as a dipping bowl for soy sauce and wasabi, or for pretending I’m being dainty while devouring multiple servings of something super fattening.

Don’t forget my fanciest, most attractive-yet-spectacularly-utilitarian container of all!

Oh yeah. I totally eat out of plastic beer cups sometimes. None of this fussbudget Goldilocks too-shallow too-opaque too-candy-dish-70s servingware namby-pambiness for me, dammit, I’ll take a feedbag if you’ve got one.

I used to think JB was weird, not only for his distaste for our green glass bowls (you know…the UGLY ONES?) but also for his behavior regarding the larger of our two spoon sizes, which he refers to as “cow spoons” because they are tooooo big.

“I don’t want a cow spoon,” he’ll say, staring in dismay at the utensil, which is a perfectly normal sized spoon, a “place spoon” I believe, versus the smaller teaspoon sized spoon. It actually affects his eating experience in a negative way. A SPOON that is not misshapen, not a SPORK, not ugly or covered in spikes or dripping with antifreeze, but this exact spoon:

…instead of the preferred spoon, the superior spoon, the non-cow-spoon:

(See the difference? Oh, you don’t? Because it’s, like, MICROSCOPIC?)

Anyway, now I’m guessing that there are many of you who would wholeheartedly agree that the size difference would fuck up your entire meal and turn the creme brulée to ashes – yea, ashes! – in your mouth.

I’d call you freaks, but I guess we all have our own special issues: for instance, I can’t be separated from a tube of Burt’s Bees for more than twenty minutes without clawing at my mouth and screaming. Live and let live, I say. But if you come for dinner, do let me know if the COW SPOON bothers you.

:::

In other news, the last bugaboo of the remodel work is coming together this week. Behold, tile! Which we decided not to do ourselves, because while we may be picky about lip balm and glass bowls, we are not, as it turns out, completely batshit insane.