Cruel Wife said to my daughter as they were getting ready for her bedtime “Don’t forget to turn off the game controller.”
Sighing loudly, “Oh, okayyyyy…”
“Yes,” I said, “You should always remember to turn off the controller or there’s the possibility that three kittens could die if you don’t.”
“Daaaaa-aaaad, kittens won’t die if I don’t turn off the controller.”
“They might! Is that really a risk you’re willing to take?” I hollered after her.
Cruel Wife said reproachfully “A girl should always be able to look to her father as being a source of truth and trust…”
I glanced up “Yes, she should. Sad that she doesn’t, isn’t it?”
Later, as we were reading Harry Potter for her bedtime story she saw a picture of a popping soap bubble on my computer. “OH! Print that! Print that!”
“Girl, if we printed every picture you liked your mom would run out of ink and the printer would die. Best you just print it on your brain and let your friends at school look in your ear to see ‘em.”
“Daaaaa-aaad! You can’t put pictures on your brain and people can’t look at them!”
In my best dissenting voice I stated, “Oh yes, you can. Look in my ear. Get right up close and see.”
She moved within inches of my ear. “Dad, I can’t see anything. I can’t see your brain. No one can see it without an x-ray.”
“Maybe you just can’t see it because I loaned it out or something.”
“Dad, you can’t loan people your brain,” she said in an exasperated tone.
“Well, The Butcher of Lansing asked me just the other day, ‘Can I borrow your brain for a minute?’, so I think it perfectly possible.”
And from the background, with her trademark Betty Rubble laugh, was the sound of Cruel Wife enjoying the conversation… I live for conversations like that with my daughter.
And now I shall draw your attention to something culinary.
Known by many names, including hundred-year/thousand-year/millennium egg, a century egg is a preserved chicken, duck or quail egg. A paste made from tea water, clay, lime, ash and salt is packed around the eggs, then they are rolled in rice hulls to keep them from sticking together and left to sit for 3 years.
The result is a greening-brownish egg that smells like flatulence and urine, which is hopefully the only reason why it is called “horse urine eggs” in some Southeast Asian countries.
I found that on a blog entry “18 Stinky Foods from Around the World“. Sounds scrumptious.
What was peculiar is how many of them I either like and use, or am interested in trying. A few would make me gag if they were within ten feet of me. Guess which ones.
This also reminds me… tonight my daughter tried and likes fish sauce by the spoonful (I use Squid brand fish sauce, but to each his own), even straight… she makes me so proud. She put it on the sesame-ginger noodles I made tonight. I told her it probably wasn’t the best combination but then again, it’s not a revolting combination either, and gave her the caveat that fish sauce doesn’t taste anything like what most Americans expect food to taste like. Didn’t faze her a bit.
I will start her on vietnamese food soon then bounce over to korean for bi-bim-bap and chap-chae then back to thai and get her interested in son-in-law eggs (one of my favorites although it takes relatively more time and less people to eat it all).
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