Chris Is Cooking For Me!
I don't mean for some of the things I've said about living with chefs to imply that Chris deprives me of food altogether. He fixes food for me quite often (things like grilled cheese and quesadillas, and he heats up tomato soup and makes toast points for me when I am sick. The times he really cooks for me, it's true, are few and far between -- but he's doing it tonight. He has several large, meaty, highly penile, delicious-looking oyster mushrooms left over from his St. James Cheese Company event on Saturday, and he went out earlier to get the special arborio rice that is the only kind he will deign to use, and he's going to make me a lovely, comforting, creamy mushroom risotto and some roasted asparagus tonight.
At Mass on Sunday, we sang a lovely hymn called "There Is A Balm in Gilead," a beautiful old African-American spiritual. So why does my horrible mind insist on regurgitating it as "There is a bomb in ziggurat"?
New eBay auctions are up: copies of The Seed of Lost Souls and Guilty But Insane; Issue #3 of Subterranean Magazine featuring the last (for a while, anyway) Dr. Brite story, "Crown of Thorns"; a first edition of Drawing Blood with an original ink sketch and handwritten text from the novel (the creepy bathroom scene in chapter 15, which I always rather liked).
At Mass on Sunday, we sang a lovely hymn called "There Is A Balm in Gilead," a beautiful old African-American spiritual. So why does my horrible mind insist on regurgitating it as "There is a bomb in ziggurat"?
New eBay auctions are up: copies of The Seed of Lost Souls and Guilty But Insane; Issue #3 of Subterranean Magazine featuring the last (for a while, anyway) Dr. Brite story, "Crown of Thorns"; a first edition of Drawing Blood with an original ink sketch and handwritten text from the novel (the creepy bathroom scene in chapter 15, which I always rather liked).