Absolutely Not About Food (Much).

That's right, nothing I say here will include food. You're not even going to learn about the kick-arse chicken soup I made last night for din-dins. From now on, no talking about food!

H. and I were taking out the recycling yesterday like responsible people do, and our pile happened to include a very old and unyielding coffee maker. It never made coffee the way we wanted it to, and now its time had come. H. was walking in front of me, carrying said coffee maker, and just when I thought, Hey you know what? I bet that coffee pot could fall right out of the plastic grooves, it did. It fell to the ground at ten times the pull of gravity and shattered into a million pieces. I told H. to go throw his stuff in the recycling while I picked up the larger pieces and put them into a cardboard box I was carrying. He told me to be careful as I gingerly placed each piece onto the bubblewrap from one of our wedding gifts.

When he came back to the scene of the crime, I suggested we hike down to the front office and get maintenance to pick up the shards of glass on the ground. The pot broke in the middle of the road, there was no way we could pick up all the pieces without some help, and we figured it was in their job description to take care of stuff like this. H. stood watch while I drove over to the front office. I opened the door and ran into a little old woman.

Me: "Hi there! I've got a problem. My husband and I shattered glass all over the road."
Oldie: "Oh dear, is anyone hurt?"
Me: "No, we're fine, but we were wondering if maintenance could clean it up, since it's in the middle of the road."
Oldie: "Oh dear ... Um, well ... (turns to adult male coming out from behind a door, wearing a shirt with a stitched detail of the apartment complex's parent company) ... Oh hello. Can we ask maintenance to clean up some glass?"
Man: "What?"
Me: (tells story about glass) "... but we can't clean it up, because we don't have a broom."
Man: "You serious? You don't have a broom?"
Me: "For shizzle my nizzle we ain't got no broom-dizzle."
Man: (condescending tone) "Wow. You really need to get a broom."
Me: (perturbed) "Well, we don't have one, so we can't clean up the glass."
Oldie: "Oh! I do believe we have a spare broom here you could use!" (leads me to a janitor's closet)
Oldie: (hands me a broom - just a broom)
Me: "Um. I'm going to need a dustpan. To sweep the glass into."
Oldie: "Oh of course, dear." (searches around for a dustpan, hands it to me)
Me: "Thanks! I'll be right back."

The guy left the office after me, and I wonder who he was and what he was doing there. We rarely hear anything from the parent company that owns the apartment complex, so he must've been called in on something serious. At least, that's what I would like to think. There's no way someone is that rude to a stranger just because they don't have a broom. And for that matter, why would we need a broom? The only linoleum we have is in the kitchen - four feet by six feet of linoleum, most of which is covered up by the fridge and the oven. So you can take your broom advice and sweep up the remnants of that awful life of yours. Shoo!

Anyways, we cleaned up the mess, returned the broom, and went on our merry little way. Until we were at the grocery store, in the 15 Items Or Less line, and one person in front of us decides she wants to buy patio furniture. Really. Who the hell buys patio furniture at a grocery store? In the 15 Items Or Less line?! Yeah, it took forever as our cashier went outside with the lady to see which one she wanted, came back to look it up in a booklet, call over a manager to approve the order, call over a strong young lad to carry it out for her, and then the final straw was that her credit card wasn't working and she threw a fit over that. The only reason H. and I didn't hop out of that line like a cat out of water was because we already had our 15 items on the conveyor belt, and there was someone behind us. Talk about ridonkadonk.

Today, H. and I are looking for a slow cooker to call our own. We'll be kind to it, and treat it with love, and it will produce bountiful feasts for many years to come. Amazon has a couple that look interesting, but we're also going to shop around locally to see what the products actually look like in person. We're also wondering what size to get (4 quart, 6 quart, 18 quart). I am looking forward to making roasts and such in it, and H. is looking forward to me making him food.

I finished that book I was reading, To Serve A King. Without ruining the book for you (as I know all of you will run out and purchase this fab book immediately), here's how the book goes. Reader meets heroine, reader follows heroine around, heroine gets tangled up in medieval action, actual interesting stuff lasts two pages, book ends. I wouldn't be so angry with the ending if it weren't for the misleading number of pages in the book. I like to know where I am in a book percentage-wise by seeing how many pages there are. In this book, there are roughly 400. The last fifty are split up into biographical information about the heroine (she was a real-life figure in France at the time), a few pages of questions for people in a book club, and two chapters each from two of this author's other books. It's not like the author could've written a couple more pages to lengthen the ending. She claims that's how it ended up in the history books. Hey lady. If I wanted to read about actual historical crap I would go buy a nonfiction book about the historical feud between King Henry VIII and King Francois. So disappointing.

Want something not disappointing? Here's a video for you. It's got a statue.