Nevergirl’s

I know I flail and fail miserably at cooking, but even I surprise myself sometimes. For instance, last month, I learned to make shrimp tempura—and now I can proudly add that dish to my grand cooking repertoire consisting of tadaaaah—exactly two dishes:

1. shrimp tempura
2. egg in all its glory: specifically fried, scrambled, hardboiled, or done sunny side up

The reaction I got from learning to make tempura is nothing short of ridiculous though. You would think I was trying to feed them a Fedora Hat. Or that I’d shown up in the kitchen wearing a psychedically colored shirt and spreading the gospel of Jesus.

“You’re in the kitchen,” people marveled. “You’re actually in the kitchen, chopping off shrimp tails, and nothing untoward has happened!”

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On days when my day is all spasmodic and squiggly, I shouldn’t be let out of the house even if it’s to buy jewelry gifts (though on second thought, you may be better off buying this online because some stores allow an amazing degree of customization! Think rabbit charms, baby shoes, a cabinet-shaped jewelry box—and no, I kid you not!) or dog food, if only for the sake of self, neighborhood, and country.

I tripped in the street thrice today, ran into a door twice, and hit my knee on a table leg more times than I care to remember. Then, on my way to the drugstore, I got splashed with slushwater by a passing tricycle or an overzealous puddlestomper—at least that’s what I assume happened because really, how else would you explain the dirty blothes on my dress? Unless a very low-flying, mud-bearing bird decided to defy the laws of physics just so it could shat on my dress.

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So, my sister passed the Nursing Boards recently, and now she’s back in school for language competency courses that require her to understand American English, Cockney, Irish, Aussie-speak, and just maybe Klingon, too. Since I have a relatively decent background at being interviewer (I did hiring and firing at the old think tank; I do the same for the present job), she figured I’d be the best person to practice her interview-answering skills on. Cut to an hour after when I’ve exhausted what little I know of interview questions and have decided to just go wing it:

“If you could be a fruit, what would you be?”

My sister gives me an incredulous look. I try to be helpful and say, “At this point, you should say you want to be a grape.”

“Because it’s cute?”

“Because it’s an antioxidant, you numbskull, and thus, useful to the rest of humanity.”

“Do you really want to be a grape?”

I thought about it for a bit. Be small, round, and purple? Not such a good idea, I decided, and so I dropped a more language-related question.

“Hoe koop ek goudstawe?”

“What does that even mean?”

“How do I buy gold bars?” I pronounce self-importantly, only to be whacked soundly in the head by a plump pillow.

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I’m obsessed with To Do lists. I don’t just make them; I make them constantly. And then, I stare at my list for a small eternity to admire my handwriting and how pretty my purple pen makes every letter look. This is a very dumb thing to do because the longer I stare at my list, the more overwhelmed I get by everything I need to accomplish. Ultimately, I end up googling diamond earrings for women, plotting an alternative ending to Gone With the Wind, and not finishing anything on my To Do list at all!

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