Wednesday, February 22, 2006

Dog for Dinner

A friend of mine from boarding school sent me the cutest photos of her pregnant self... WHICH IS JUST KIND OF WEIRD AND WRONG?! BUT GREAT AT THE SAME TIME! When I think of all the times I listened to her snorting lines and chasing them with a bong hit in college...and now, there she is, burgeoning with the future leader of liberal America. I'm really going to have to get her a stunning present, something in smocked linen that she'll have to IRON a lot. Heh. I'm so cruel.

She was the one that got married in June in Quebec, and now, here she is, less than a year later, pregnant. That scares the shit out of me. A.S. and I have been doubling up on birth control, because the last thing I want to be is knocked up on my wedding day, not only because I intend to consume vast quantities of sangria, but because honeymoons are for relaxation, not fertilization. Gross.

So A.S. and I are going to Napa for our honeymoon. I think we’re staying at the Honor Mansion in Healdsburg, which is less touristy than other parts of the wine country. We’ll have our own private porch with hot tub, access to the pool, couples’ massages in the garden pavilion, French toast for breakfast, wine tastings, and don’t forget the CHEESE! God, I can’t wait. I wish we were going now. We’re also taking our surfboards, because we’ll be spending a few days in San Francisco (hopefully, our future home) on the way back.

We have our second meeting with the minister next month. Did I TELL you what he said during the first one? (The...horror...oh...the...horror) Apparently he once gave a sermon at Foxcroft, my old boarding school. in the 50s or 60s, which he remembered with grim clarity. All the little girls in the front row flapped their legs open and shut to flash their panties at him. And, the minister, he flapped his legs and said "panties" to me.

TO ME!!!

I think I threw up in my mouth a little bit. Curse those girls, and curse Miss Charlotte, the school founder, for letting the little tarts sit in the front row. I hope they all got beaten with wet brooms and made to lie on the snow-covered sleeping porches with no blankets. Let me tell you, I clamped my thighs together and crossed my legs at the ankle with deep concentration for the rest of the counseling session. THE HUMANITY! A.S. thought that was hysterical, and you should have SEEN the stink eye I gave him.

Anyway, I'm taking the minister and his wife and A.S. on a picnic next time around, out to the country church where we're getting married. Hopefully a little wine and some very good cheese will make him forgive me for having attended that slutty school. Is it wrong to bribe a man of God?

In other news, I have a dog. A brown one that looks a lot like this, mainly because this dog, Belle, is her mother.



Belle belongs to my parents, and Beulah (I didn’t freakin name her that, okay?) was born in my parents’ kitchen on Christmas Eve about seven years ago. If you’ll recall from my last blog, a friend of mine lost her husband, and she has decided she can’t keep the two babies and Beulah in the same house, since Beulah isn’t so keen on the children. So I’ve been wanting a Boykin Spaniel for ages, albeit a puppy, but now that the heavens seem to have listened, how can I refuse to take her on, just because she’s older?

Oh, and bad.

Did I mention that she’s The Devil? This morning, while I was gone running for an hour, she got in the trash, dragged out my knitting, ate some chapstick, dragged all the Tupperware off the counter, jumped in the bed, pulled back the comforter and knocked off the pillows and wallowed around, I guess, judging from the fur. It must not have been comfortable enough, because she was reclining on the couch when I got home. And the damned dog actually bared her teeth at me when I screeched at her. Next time, I’m turning the couch upside down (it’s wicker) on her and making her sit under it for at least 15 minutes. That might work with the trashcan too, come to think of it. At least she’s starting to look ashamed of herself when I find her nub-deep in the trash...which is much more satisfying than shrieking at a dog who merely looks annoyed that she’s been interrupted. If she has to sit there with a trashcan on her head for half an hour, she might not find it so intriguing.

Anyway, A.S. hasn’t met her yet, and I’m desperate to break these bad habits before he comes home on Friday. I want him to let her stay with us, but there’s no way he’s going to like a B-A-D dog.

I also hosted my Sixth Annual I Hate Valentine’s Day Dinner Party Extravaganza this past weekend. Holly from Nothing But Bonfires was there, as were Sean, and Pete from the magazine, and all my neighbors and close friends, about 12 of us in all. This year, I made it a little easier on myself and had everyone bring an hors d’oeuvre. I can’t believe what a difference it made! And I actually had time to sit around and drink some wine with people rather than dishing up food the whole time. I think it’d be different if I had a larger kitchen, but mine is so small, I have to do everything one at a time, which takes longer. I made, with The Wench’s help (A.S. was at school working on a big project), three different kinds of ravioli: crab with red pepper and basil; butternut squash with ricotta and cinnamon; and Swiss chard with golden raisins, pine nuts, kalamata olives and garlic. They were so divine, but (surprise, surprise) the squash was my favorite. We also had tomatoes provencal and mesclun salad. Then we had chocolate espresso pots du crème for dessert. THAT was fabulous, and unbelievably easy...although the water bath was a pill. I highly recommend them. There’s something about individual desserts in their own ramekins that cheers people so.

Well, this blog is very long, and interesting to no one but me, so I’ll quit now.
Tralala

6 comments:

Nothing But Bonfires said...

Your honeymoon sounds like it could be on the Bachelor! With the couples' massages! Make sure you ask AS if he'll accept this rose at the end of every date.

Also, Sean is on the werge of leaving me for you because of those fucking pots de creme. Please give me the recipe or I will have to look after these two cats by myself. AND CHANGE THEIR LITTER TRAY.

And when you're in SF, try to find a nice little upstairs-downstairs house for the four of us!! Think of all the cups of sugar we'll be able to borrow from each other.

Jemima said...

What are you doing up so late! Aren't you supposed to be soused in wine from celebration?

I sent you the pots du creme recipe today, you slag, so don't act all hoity toity with me. YOU WHO HAVE NEVER SHARED THE PORNCAKE RECEIPT!

And about the upstairs-downstairs, I'm totally on it...

roo said...

Well, I have to say I found your party menu very interesting-- drool-inducing interesting. Glad you were able to sit and enjoy some of it, too.

I cannot BELIEVE your Reverend said the word "Panties" to you during your counselling session. I would have to scrub my brain out with a stiff brush afterwards. Ick!

Anonymous said...

I want the butternut squash recipe please!
The honeymoon sounds DEVINE!

R

Marcheline said...

Sorry, I thought I could comment, but apparently I can't, because I'm too busy laughing and snotting and weeping and gnashing my teeth.

AAHAHHAHAHHAAAARRRRRGHHHHHHHHHH!

*sniffle*

- M

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