Chefs Anonymous

So now, after having written a veritably depressing entry, I feel compelled to write something funny or uplifting. So here goes. I am grateful that I am currently gainfully employed, for this weekend my best friend is going to be hosting a Pampered Chef party. Normally, this would not be a cause for particular celebration, but for me it is as though Christmas has come early! My kitchen is a collection of gadgets and paraphernalia that Wolfgang Puck himself would envy. I have stoneware in several shapes and sizes; a little chopper thingamawhoozi that can chop veggies and nuts, and even has a little tray to hold them in. Not to mention the fancy platter thing that is reversible: one side is set up for a veggie platter, and the other for devilled egge. What makes this tray so nifty is the fact the central piece that lays along the bottom can go in the freezer, so that you may keep your eggs cold! Now ask me how frequently I make devilled eggs.... I think my next mission will be to acquire the entire stoneware set that Pampered Chef produces. I am almost tempted to become a consultant because for a nominal fee I can have just about everything they sell... then it occurred to me that I have already purchased most of those things. I am sure some sort of intervention or support group is in order. I do believe next I will move on to the knives!!!! They cut bone, you know.....

The Shizz Nazz

It would appear that my last entry was an ill omen. The adorable, often haphazard cat Ziggy met his untimely demise yesterday morning at the bumper of a speeding car. It is quite upsetting to be driving home from work, ready to go to sleep, only to find your cat in the road. Needless to say, I was (am) devastated. I find it interesting that we can become so completely attatched to, and dependent on our pets. The pain over losing an animal is (at least to me), often far more intense than losing a person. Granted, the ache is not as longlasting. After much crying (and two glasses of Scotch), I managed to get myself to go to sleep. Now I am at work, in the middle of the night, and not quite as hysterical as I was this morning. But it gives me a little pang to know that I will no longer be sharing my water with Zig, or that no feline will be waking me up in the middle of the night to come in through the bedroom window. The vet even asked me if I wanted to have him cremated and keep the ashes. It almost seems maudlin... the part of Ziggy that made him interesting has gone to some other where, and I see no reason to hang onto the shell that housed it. I think he has a much better place in my heart and memories than in an urn or in my backyard.