Tag Archives: noodles

Delta, Science and The Bible

I believe that The Bible is incomplete. Each and every book should have ended with the sentence: “Well played, God. Welllll played.”

I speak from experience since I believe the point of my life has been to add a new chapter. Hint: It’ll be called The Book of Tom and it’ll be inserted right after Job. Howdy, neighbor!

Take today, for example. Seriously. Please take it.

Yesterday I had yakisoba noodles with chicken for lunch. I ate less than I wanted because I was saving it. For today.

I now read from the Book of Tom:

Tom’s Law #42
Look forward to something and you’ll get exactly what you deserve.

I was really looking forward to lunch today. I think we all know this isn’t going to turn out well. Let us prey.

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Al Dente

cat-spaghettiThis might be first in a series of post we’re calling Ten Years Of Marriage. We’ll see how it goes. –Ed.

Al Dente? Who the hell is he? LOL! No, he’s not a person. He’s a thing. Al dente is actually Italian. It means “this bites.” (Disclaimer: This is a guess. I was too lazy to google. –Ed.)

In honor of my wife asking me to think about what I’ve learned during ten years of marriage (our anniversary is next week) I thought really hard and remembered spaghetti.

That’s using the old noodle!

My wife, although technically not a “chef,” is nonetheless extremely accomplished and talented in the kitchen. She really knows how to cook. Naturally this is both good and bad. Good in the sense that there are a lot of good eats. Bad in the sense that every meal dirties every pot, pan and kitchen implement in the house.

It’s bad in one other small way. It’s such a slight of a trifle that it’s almost not worth mentioning. Almost.

Every single thing I do is wrong. In the kitchen, I mean.

So there I was this one time making spaghetti. That means I had dumped some packaged noodles in a pot of boiling water. To me that’s “cooking.”

As was often my wont, when the timer went off I picked up the pot and dumped the noodles in a colander in the sink.

My wife saw. “What the hell are you doing?” she yelled.

Oh shit. Little Tommy in trouble.
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