Feb. 22nd, 2009 07:18 pm
Getting fatter while I still can
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muckefuckAs many of you doubtless know, this Tuesday is Fat Tuesday, a.k.a. Mardi Gras. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu is chairing a meeting on Tuesday so he wanted to acquire some beads to distribute. I suggested the Walgreens at Howard, which would be an excuse to pick up some other necessities and maybe browse a bit in the new neighbourhood. Turns out, Wally World was as bereft of beads as CVS, Family Dollar, and the other places he'd tried. But just down the street was a window stuffed with ticky-tack crap and ceramic saints. He thought he might find what he needed inside and he did: Eight hideous plastic necklaces sure to bring smiles to the faces of his fellow directors.
As we were leaving, I scanned the faces of the statuettes (I can't resist it when I see a display like that) and came up short in front of something I never thought I'd see. We need a name for the peculiar type of déjà vu which occurs when you read about something for the first time in Wikipedia one day and come across an instance in real life the next. Charbel was not a name known to me until I read about the Church of Our Lady of Lebanon in downtown St. Louis Friday night. The Order of St Charbel forms the honour guard for the presiding bishop. So what are the chances that, gazing into a store window, my eyes would rest squarely on a foot-high figurine of St Charbel himself? Freaky!
Walking back, we passed by the tamale place a co-worker recommended to us and the GWO suggested I pick up a couple to eat since I wouldn't be able to eat the leftovers of last night's lomo en mole without being red-eyed in the morning. Wonderful choice. To my surprise, they had not only the norteño version we're all familiar with, but also tamales oaxaqueños, corundas, and a mysterious variant called tamales de nejos. From the woman's description, they sounded like a kind I've had once before: A sheet of unfilled masa steamed between banana leaves. So definitely coming back for more--and not just because I was served champurrado by the most voluptuous Mario I've seen in months!
In other news, we've finally fixed the annoying problem with the audio input from our DVD player and rendered it suitable for playing movies on our new television. I'm no longer feeling so much like the nouveau riche jackass who pours money into pricey accessories that he's not bright enough to operate. Time enough before bedtime to watch Zodiac, methinks.
monshu is chairing a meeting on Tuesday so he wanted to acquire some beads to distribute. I suggested the Walgreens at Howard, which would be an excuse to pick up some other necessities and maybe browse a bit in the new neighbourhood. Turns out, Wally World was as bereft of beads as CVS, Family Dollar, and the other places he'd tried. But just down the street was a window stuffed with ticky-tack crap and ceramic saints. He thought he might find what he needed inside and he did: Eight hideous plastic necklaces sure to bring smiles to the faces of his fellow directors.As we were leaving, I scanned the faces of the statuettes (I can't resist it when I see a display like that) and came up short in front of something I never thought I'd see. We need a name for the peculiar type of déjà vu which occurs when you read about something for the first time in Wikipedia one day and come across an instance in real life the next. Charbel was not a name known to me until I read about the Church of Our Lady of Lebanon in downtown St. Louis Friday night. The Order of St Charbel forms the honour guard for the presiding bishop. So what are the chances that, gazing into a store window, my eyes would rest squarely on a foot-high figurine of St Charbel himself? Freaky!
Walking back, we passed by the tamale place a co-worker recommended to us and the GWO suggested I pick up a couple to eat since I wouldn't be able to eat the leftovers of last night's lomo en mole without being red-eyed in the morning. Wonderful choice. To my surprise, they had not only the norteño version we're all familiar with, but also tamales oaxaqueños, corundas, and a mysterious variant called tamales de nejos. From the woman's description, they sounded like a kind I've had once before: A sheet of unfilled masa steamed between banana leaves. So definitely coming back for more--and not just because I was served champurrado by the most voluptuous Mario I've seen in months!
In other news, we've finally fixed the annoying problem with the audio input from our DVD player and rendered it suitable for playing movies on our new television. I'm no longer feeling so much like the nouveau riche jackass who pours money into pricey accessories that he's not bright enough to operate. Time enough before bedtime to watch Zodiac, methinks.
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