Pumpkins Don’t Have Ankles

That didn’t want to be made into a squash casserole, that is.

The apples and cinnamon and brown sugar didn’t seem to mind, but the butternut protested. I did it anyway, though.

But after all that, the squash had the last laugh, because despite all the butter and sugar and such, the casserole tasted too squashy. Or was it too squishy?

At any rate, I think I’ll stick with squash as apartment decor. (and the 14 squash in my living room breathe a sigh of relief, which is quite a weird thing to hear.)

Another e-mail conversation between me and Becky

BECKY

i’m the map, i’m the map, i’m the map, i’m the map, I’M THE MAP!

EMILY

Stuck with Dora the Explorer on again?

BECKY

naw. just doing some soul searching.

EMILY

Search no longer! Here is a sole:

BECKY

you have just solved the mysteries of the universe. thank you!

So. The time has come.

I’m moving in a week (just across town … but that is a story in itself). And I’ve decided to avoid transporting junk I don’t need. This has initiated The Purge.

I went back to my files of memorabilia and other such useless junk I’ve been saving since college. I took a cue from the book of Hosea, chapter 1, and renamed the container of folders and files “Lo-Ruhamah” because no mercy would be shown.

Sound harsh? Well here’s a sample of the treasures I ended up disposing of:

• A chapel seat assignment.
• A certificate of award for being a “faithful badminton player.” Please note this is code for “loser.”
• Pay statements from 2004.
• Programs from student recitals in which I don’t even recognize the name of the student.
• A Walmart receipt from 2006. (I bought peaches)
• My term paper from my Structure of Modern English class, on the topic of phrasal verb usage in English.  (Most. Painful. Paper. Ever. I shudder just thinking of it.)

And of course, old college notebooks. I mean, I saved several of them, especially from my writing classes. But I really don’t need my outlines from courses like Food Preparation. (She lectured on how to poach an egg. I don’t know if I’ve ever poached an egg because I have a vague sense it is illegal in Africa.) Sometimes it’s just time to let go. But I’m a little sad to part with some of these notebooks for one reason:

I had some pretty awesome doodles in the margins. These include:

• Studies of hands in different positions (hands fascinate me)
• Characters from my novel-in-progress
• Baby octopi
• Sentences in Braille which I can no longer interpret
• The calendar date and snatches of poetry written in cool Tolkien-esque font
• Silhouettes of giraffes
• A moose playing a bassoon. (and in case I couldn’t identify it, I wrote underneath it “a moose playing a bassoon.” Wish I could remember why that was so important at the time.)
• A boy being chased by a giant slug and leaving a trail of salty potato chips behind him as a deterrent. (Yes, I was bored that hour)

So now there is a Pile of Desolation in my living room in the form of–and I’m not even kidding on this–at least 40 pounds of paper headed to city recycling tomorrow. Only a small remnant has been spared destruction.

Next task: cleaning out my closet.

Bring it on.

Yes. I am sorry to inform you that this is what you fear it to be. Sushi made in the shape of Hello Kitty.

Yes. Those cutsey hearts are indeed made of wieners.

This at once both horrifies and fascinates me. Horrifies, partially because I can’t stand sushi (not that I’ve eaten much … I’ve chewed but never swallowed). Fascinates, because in America, adorable cat-shaped delicacies would only be eaten by girls below the age of 6.

In Japan, I believe this would also appeal to 30-year-olds.

From what I understand, in Japan the principle of “kawaii,” or cuteness, is a major part of modern pop culture–appealing to more than just young children. (If you’re interested in knowing a little more, see this Wikipedia article on cuteness in Japanese culture, where you can learn about giant Pokemon painted on jetliners, police stations with their own manga mascots, and “Anomalous Female Teenage Handwriting.”)

It seems that Sanrio, the corporation behind Hello Kitty and all her adorable friends, has been a major influence of kawaii culture in Japan. Again, this is why I have a mild fascination with Hello Kitty.

My friend Amy, however, does not particularly appreciate this point of cultural significance, and finds the Hello Kitty thing just strange. So one day I happened to see this picture of 26-foot Hello Kitty balloons in a Japanese city, and I emailed it to Amy:

EMILY:

So cute you could die! Kawaii!!

Amy did not seem to appreciate this.

AMY:

Now deleting message …

So I sent her another e-mail a little while later, with the subject line of “tonight,” knowing she’d think it was about us having dinner together or something.

EMILY:

Subject: tonight

Inside:

I lied. It’s a picture of Keroppi!

(from the Sanrio website): “Keroppi loves adventure, and his bubbly personality makes him popular around Donut Pond. He has a brother called Koroppi and a sister called Pikki. Keroppi is a fantastic swimmer and singer (but not at the same time!)”

AWWWW!

AMY:

YOUR COMPUTER WILL SELF IMPLODE IN

3

2

1

EMILY:

As opposed to imploding something else?

Evil Hello Kitty penguin for you:

So at any rate, Amy doesn’t seem to appreciate Sanrio. Which is a shame because there is a Sanrio Theme Park in Japan. Maybe I can get her to go sometime. Just think … giant Hello Kitties and Keroppis coming toward her and trying to hug her? Wouldn’t that be fun?? Kawaii!

The best part is, I didn’t even make that title up. It’s a part of traditional Irish folklore, as my friend Christin shared with me earlier this week. (She’s also the one who first showed me the Irish Dirt website.) Here’s part of our instant message conversation:

CHRISTIN:

I just came across another great piece of folklore—the “Salmon of Knowledge”

ME:

lol

CHRISTIN:

“Long ago there was a famous salmon. Its skin shone like silver. The fish was called the Salmon of Knowledge. An old poet Finnegas said that the first person to taste it would see into the future.”

ME:

Oh my word. the Salmon of Knowledge. BRILLIANT. please send a link

CHRISTIN:

It’s on this page: http://www.squidoo.com/Irish-Myths-And-Legends

ME:

what I love is that it doesn’t even try to explain WHY there is a Salmon of Knowledge or HOW the poet knew it would give these powers. It just assumes this is normal. hahaha

CHRISTIN:

Are there multiple types of fish that have these powers? I would like to proclaim that there are Goldfish of Slightly Lesser Wisdom.

ME:

and the Tuna of Gracefulness

CHRISTIN:

YES! Herring of Red Herrings

ME:

haha. The Swordfish of Violence

CHRISTIN:

This is great. It’s almost like a chinese calendar—year of the swordfish of violence!

ME:

HAHA. I was born during the year of the Eel of Sneakiness, so you can’t trust me.

CHRISTIN:

hahaha. We should make a line of cheap placemats for Irish eateries.

ME:

BRILLIANT

Today my friend introduced me to the website officialirishdirt.com.  Yes, take a minute to go back and separate those URL words out. It’s Official Irish Dirt dot com.

What do they sell, you ask?

Why, Irish dirt, of course!

That’s right! For a mere 10 dollars (plus shipping and handling), you can be the proud owner of 1 pound of dirt. But not just any dirt. The site boasts that this is “guaranteed to be Official Irish dirt, right from the ground of County Tipperary.”

I suppose this is kind of like that bottled water that promises it’s from some mountain spring in upper Saskatchewan. Except you can’t drink dirt.

Now I’m as much of a Celtophile as anyone else, but seriously?

My friend and I discussed all the many things you could do with authentic Tipperary dirt. Here’s what we came up with:

• Making things dirty
• Growing shamrocks (the site also sells Official Irish Shamrock Seeds)
• Growing non-shamrocks
• Soiling things
• Blowing $148,000 so that you can build your US home on real Irish soil
• Making … um, other things dirty

Now if the pound of dirt also included a dehydrated leprechaun (just add water for hours of mischievous fun!) then maybe I’d consider. Otherwise, no way. My porch plants will die just as quickly in good old American soil.

No, the title of the post is not the reason that I haven’t posted in so long.  Although it would be more excusable than my long list of non-excuses which I will not even bore you with now. All you need to know is … I’m back, and I’m bigger and badder than ever!! Minus the bigger and badder part.

Some time ago I gave a list of brilliant restaurant ideas that some of my friends and I have come up with. This time I’m going to share some equally brilliant ideas for coffee shops.

The first one is compliments of my friend Catherine. The name of the shop is “Shut Up and Drink Your Coffee.” Except that last word has to have a certain unpleasant nasally twang, so it would be more like “Shaddup and Drink Your Qwoffie.” The main attraction of the shop would be that the wait staff is horrifically rude to you. The coffee would be good, but they would insult everything about you from the time it takes for you to decide on your order to your request for extra sugar. But you’d know it wasn’t anything personal; they’d insult everyone.

And at that point it would be entertaining. In a twisted way. You’d go just to hear what horribly rude and yet hilarious things they’d say about you. It would be funny.

It will catch on. You’ll see.

My own idea for a coffee shop would be a place where the coffee’s really good, but all the employees look just a little bit shady. The men would all have scruffy facial hair and those ankle cuff thingies under their orange jump suits. They’d kind of just grunt at you when they handed you your latte through the drive-through window. The name of the shop?

The “Thug and Mug.” Or even just “Mugged.”

Mmm. Doesn’t that just put you in the mood for some coffee?

Just don’t forget your pepper spray.

An email conversation with me and my apartment-mate after I returned from the dentist.

AMY

hey, em, how did it go? any cavities? Did they say, “oh, do you mind smiling? we need to take your picture for the files …” I hate that. They always take my picture when I look terrible. *sigh* They really need to warm people.

ME

They really need to warm people??

AMY

AHHH! I mean warN. yeah, warn …

ME

I’m having somewhat odd mental images of giant people-warmers

AMY

SNUGGIES!!

ME

I can handle the drills, x-rays, and dental hygienists. But as soon as they bring out giant Snuggies, I’ll be screaming and running out of the room.

AMY

Kind of like one of those scary sci-fi movies.

Well, we’re barely surviving here in frigid Greenville, S.C. We have a few inches of …

… sleet. Yep, not even snow. Either way, the State of South Carolina has been cancelled until further notice.

We’re doing OK. We’ve lit a few candles just in case the power goes out.

But wait ... oh, no! We're out of milk! It’s snowing outside and we don’t have any milk!! All we have is a small jug of half-and-half. How will we make it?

An even if we could brave the roads, there’s no milk to be had. This is what the milk section looked like yesterday at Wal-Mart (photo compliments of David Lovegrove).

It’s a good thing we don’t need bread (photo from the same Wally World).

Things are looking bad. We’re down to the last of our rations … we’re eating canned cranberry sauce just to survive.

We’ve been forced to break into the gingerbread house, for just a little extra sustenance.

Oh, the desolation! Winter, you are so cruel! The official winter storm warning lasts until 6 this evening … will we make it?

Feeling blue because you haven’t kept your New Year’s Resolution to bench press six times your weight, cut out all carbohydrates from your diet or read through all of the writings of James Boswell*??

No worries! In a recent email, my friend Judith explained to me why this isn’t a problem:

ME:

I hear from a marginally reliable source that you have NOT kept your  New Year’s Resolution to be nicer to your brother. Consider yourself sternly reprimanded.

JUDITH:

here’s the thing with the resolution. You know how you can return stuff to a store? Well, January is the time of modifying and  changing resolutions–at least the first half of the month.  Therefore, I have not necessarily broken any such resolution. Ha!

It may not be the BEST excuse, but it is an excuse nonetheless. Thanks, Judith! I’m going to go eat some pie now and not even feel bad.

*Please note that all of the above examples are humorous yet extremely hazardous. Do NOT attempt.