October 6th, 2006 by Blythe
The Interweb tells me that there’s a new television network on the American airwaves. It’s called the C.W. and someone there must have some taste because it hosts Veronica Mars and Gilmore Girls and guiltiest of guilty pleasures America’s Next Top Model. (“The next name I’m going to call is…” So go ahead and call it, Tyra. Or get a grammar coach.) Though all that girl power hipness might be canceled out by the new episodes of 7th Heaven.
None of this matters to me on a daily basis, since my satellite dish doesn’t communicate with the right signal. But every time I see or read something about this happenin’ new network, all I can think about is this guy I knew when I was a kid. His name was (all together now) C.W. and he was long and stringy and hyper and lived way out in the country. We went to 4-H camp together when we were ten, and one day we were playing volleyball, and he fell down and got back up again, and I said, “C.W., you have dirt in your teeth.” And someone else said, “That ain’t dirt, that’s chaw.”
October 5th, 2006 by Blythe
I spent yesterday morning with two Franconian bodybuilders.
I live in Franconia, a proud and historic subsection of Bavaria, where people speak with a particular accent and eat a lot of bratwurst and gingerbread. I was invited to join a group of women to make a special Franconian pastry in preparation for upcoming church festivals. Of course I signed up immediately when I heard the word “pastry.” The item in question turned out to be a square yeast donut, deep fried in butterfat and sprinkled with powdered sugar. They’re even better than they sound; I devoured the half dozen that I brought home in less than 24 hours.
The best part of the outing, however, was spending time in a traditional German kitchen, with two seventy-year-old women. They kneaded a giant wad of dough with upper body strength that could qualify them for an Olympic berth. I just sat next to the floury table and sweated.
October 2nd, 2006 by Blythe
I couldn’t have said it better myself. Though I think she, like me, has read one too many mommyblogs.
I read this post this morning, after visiting the maternity ward secretary at a local hospital. She also needed talk-fight. I am now angry like volcano. I’m going to talk to Jeff about moving to Japan.