If I'd had this advice before I started cooking, perhaps the tragedy might have been averted...But it remains painful to speak of these things, even unto this day.I won't even go into the lost digits. None of that would have happened had I known of the existence of the oven mitt.But now it is my best companion, stained, spilled-and spattered-upon and tarnished by the years as I am.Something tells me all would have gone so much better with From Our Wonder World by my side, through all that.But as they say, it is never too late. And for that I thank them (but who are "they", exactly? the gods? the humans?). As I do you, also, Nin, for this latest wondrously common-sensical extract.(WV = "blyped")
Oh dear. Yes, you needed help. I consulted Wonder World to see what it says about boys. There is a photograph of a boy watching his mother, and beneath it the words, Boys like cooking too. Nothing more, though. Perhaps another entry is in order?
Well, yes, there was a world of instruction-by-example there to be gained, had one only suspected.At one point I did take particular note of a sort of cooking-helper, a clear fluid in a short wide glass, with ice cubes in it.Eventually it occurred to me, through eavesdropping of course, that this was what was called a "highball".Now that I cook for myself, and pass the wee hours of the night in the throes of this curious yet obviously necessary form of toil, I often wonder what might be the secret to making it all a bit less taxing, here in Our Wonder World.I don't think I've ever experienced a veritable "highball," while cooking or at any other time, but as the crooked numbers pile up on the age chart, I come more and more to suspect that Mother was far more clever than was ever acknowledged.But I suppose that is always true of all mothers in all eras, with or without the "highball".(By the way, this I-Chinging with the word verifications is probably always more amusing to the verifier than to anyone else, but the hidden message in tonight's "ableagod" seemed laced with strange culinary portent. Can it be that the cooking gods are listening in, perhaps blushing shyly behind their cute little Wonder Aprons?)
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