I just got the keyboard fixed on my Mac. It was not more than a month ago that I schlepped over to Crabtree, waited my turn at the Genius Bar, and left my laptop with the nice folks there who replaced fixed it for me, for free.
Now here I am with a faulty delete and enter key, neither of which work at all, because I got the laptop a little too close to the sink while making a dinner recipe from Allrecipes.com.
It is a pain in the neck to attempt to type without a delete or enter key. Thanks much to my husband who three days into it, showed me that there was another enter key one over from the space key, and who, five days into it, told me about control H.
But these are in no way substitutes for the normal placement of the properly functioning keys and I have learned that a very fast typer does not an accurate typer make. What would I have done in the days of mechanical typewriters and correction tape? Gotten my ass fired, that's what.
Here's hoping the Genius people will take mercy on me one more time.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Pickles
I treated myself to a jar of pickles whilst in the middle of my regular grocery shopping last Thursday.
I love pickles, but no one else in my immediate family does. Hold the pickle is a regular and routine directive by my husband when we're out to lunch at the local deli, as is the mysterious appearance of an extra pickle on my plate on those times when they forget and give him one anyway. It's good for me, but an annoyance for him - he who has no tolerance for the crispy, salty, sour flavor of the lowly pickled gherkin.
When you're on a budget, as I am, items that we will all eat often take priority. So most often when I'm at the Super Target making my way down the first aisle, the condiment aisle where all of the peanut butters, jellies, mayonnaises and dressings live, I tend to linger in front of the pickle shelves and wonder if today will be the day that I buy some just for me, after which I always talk myself out of them.
But this past Thursday, with a little extra money in my pocket, I must have been feeling rebellious as I made my way toward the mustards at the other end because when I stopped in front of those pickles, I thought, 'what the heck,' and I decided it was finally time to bring a jar home with me.
As with most things these days, there are a gazillion varieties of pickles - sweet pickles, sour pickles, pickle chips, and sliced pickles. I don't like sweet pickles at all (what's the point???) so that was a no-brainer. Sliced pickles are okay, but not quite what I was looking for either. Finally, my eye settled on the baby dills, by some brands called "snackers." Perfect! Because that's what I wanted - just enough for a little snack here and there. It's like the marketing geniuses at the pickle companies had read my mind.
After some careful consideration, I selected a nice jar of Mt. Olive Kosher Baby Dills because they were cheaper than Vlasic and I couldn't imagine there'd be much of a difference in taste. Into my cart they went!
And once home, after almost all but forgetting about them, I remembered again as I made my way to the bottom of the last grocery bag. And even though pickles should ideally be eaten when nice and cold, I popped open the jar and ate a few right there on the kitchen floor.
Oh, what I had been missing - they were crunchy and sour and perfect! They reminded me of summer days in Baltimore in the hot kitchen at my grandmother's house where the table was set with a bowl of Utz potato chips, hamburgers and buns, orange carrot jello salad, baked beans, and pickles! They were so yummy!
And the best thing is, since I know nobody else likes them, I won't suffer the disappointment of throwing open the refrigerator door the next time the mood strikes me only to find an empty jar. I know that I can safely offer them up as a snack to my marauding daughters and they will not bite, and that my husband's fingerprints will never grace the side of that jar. They are my pickles, and mine alone and I think I will go and have one right now!
I love pickles, but no one else in my immediate family does. Hold the pickle is a regular and routine directive by my husband when we're out to lunch at the local deli, as is the mysterious appearance of an extra pickle on my plate on those times when they forget and give him one anyway. It's good for me, but an annoyance for him - he who has no tolerance for the crispy, salty, sour flavor of the lowly pickled gherkin.
When you're on a budget, as I am, items that we will all eat often take priority. So most often when I'm at the Super Target making my way down the first aisle, the condiment aisle where all of the peanut butters, jellies, mayonnaises and dressings live, I tend to linger in front of the pickle shelves and wonder if today will be the day that I buy some just for me, after which I always talk myself out of them.
But this past Thursday, with a little extra money in my pocket, I must have been feeling rebellious as I made my way toward the mustards at the other end because when I stopped in front of those pickles, I thought, 'what the heck,' and I decided it was finally time to bring a jar home with me.
As with most things these days, there are a gazillion varieties of pickles - sweet pickles, sour pickles, pickle chips, and sliced pickles. I don't like sweet pickles at all (what's the point???) so that was a no-brainer. Sliced pickles are okay, but not quite what I was looking for either. Finally, my eye settled on the baby dills, by some brands called "snackers." Perfect! Because that's what I wanted - just enough for a little snack here and there. It's like the marketing geniuses at the pickle companies had read my mind.
After some careful consideration, I selected a nice jar of Mt. Olive Kosher Baby Dills because they were cheaper than Vlasic and I couldn't imagine there'd be much of a difference in taste. Into my cart they went!
And once home, after almost all but forgetting about them, I remembered again as I made my way to the bottom of the last grocery bag. And even though pickles should ideally be eaten when nice and cold, I popped open the jar and ate a few right there on the kitchen floor.
Oh, what I had been missing - they were crunchy and sour and perfect! They reminded me of summer days in Baltimore in the hot kitchen at my grandmother's house where the table was set with a bowl of Utz potato chips, hamburgers and buns, orange carrot jello salad, baked beans, and pickles! They were so yummy!
And the best thing is, since I know nobody else likes them, I won't suffer the disappointment of throwing open the refrigerator door the next time the mood strikes me only to find an empty jar. I know that I can safely offer them up as a snack to my marauding daughters and they will not bite, and that my husband's fingerprints will never grace the side of that jar. They are my pickles, and mine alone and I think I will go and have one right now!
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