Thursday, September 20, 2018

Friends Don't Let Friends Eat Zoodles

Today for lunch we went to a nice little Mediterranean place. I guess that's what you'd call it. August's grilled cheese was made on pita bread. So, yeah. Right? Mr. Moon joined us as the credit union he's got an office in now is right across the road and of course August wanted him to draw pictures. This is now a ritual, a routine, but not a rut. I am quite surprised at how well Boppy can draw. I had no idea! Today he drew a tractor with a harrow and a farmer and a barn. I wish I'd kept the index card with the artwork on it. I've taken to putting index cards in my purse to make sure that there is always something to draw on in restaurants. Whenever I see or use an index card, I always think of my grandfather who would put a few index cards into his breast pocket every morning along with a mechanical pencil and he would make notes all day long. Now people use their phones for note-making but I still think that pen and paper are best for notes and for lists, too.
And speaking of lists- I had a short one with me when I went to Publix after lunch. I kept it out, as I do now, and crossed things off, as I also do now, and as I went I actually added things to it after I'd determined what I was going to cook tonight because trust me- no, I will not remember that I need dry roasted unsalted peanuts which are on aisle ten or something when I am in the produce section. That is a lot of store to walk through which takes a lot of time which is all it takes for me to completely forget shit.
I can literally forget to turn the porch ceiling fan off in the space of about five steps after reminding myself to do it. 
Swear to god.
Things are getting dire.
So there I was, walking around Publix and checking things off my list and forgetting to check things off my list and adding things to my list and re-making a recipe in my head which required me to go back to the same place in the store I'd just been to five minutes before to return one thing and pick up another and if someone was watching me on the surveillance camera they must have been scratching their chin and wondering if they should call security to see if I was okay.

Which reminds me that August asked me today if I had a beard.


One would think that he might notice that I do not but then again, I don't look in the mirror very often.

But this led to a discussion about beards and why mostly men have them and women don't. This is not always true, trust me, thus the use of the word "mostly". This discussion involved hormones but it did not involve the use of the pronoun "they" but you can also trust me when I say that August will indeed meet people who do not identify as "he" or "she" and probably sooner rather than later in this family.
Anyway, I asked August if he was going to have a beard when he grows up and he said that yes, he was going to have one. I have no doubt that he will if he still wants one then but it sort of caught my heart a little, looking at that gorgeous child's beautiful little hairless, smooth, perfect-skinned chin and cheeks, thinking about some day a beard being there. About him being a man. Will he still have those incredible eyelashes?
Another question I asked him was, "Can I have your eyelashes?"
"No," he said. "They are tied on."
"You're right," I said. "And they look beautiful on you."

Levon is not yet concerned with things like beards or eyelashes or drawings on index cards. He is far more interested in where he can climb and how he can escape the clutches of his mama or his Mer. That boy wants to go. Up, mostly. He is not his brother. He is himself. At the age he is now, August would sit and listen to books for a long time but Levon is done completely after one page at which point he wants to climb over the back of the couch. He is like his brother, however, in his complete disinterest in being kissed. He gets a look on his face when I kiss him like, "Really? Why? Please respect my personal space."

Well, I suppose I better go in and cook that supper that it took me three hours to shop for. I'm making a Publix recipe called something like "Spicy Peanut Chicken With Zoodles" but I'm not using any zoodles. Or chicken. Tofu and broccoli. The spicy peanut sauce will be in evidence, though. A recipe with peanut butter and chili sauce? 
Oh hell yes! 
So. Time to go grate some ginger and mush up some garlic and all of that stuff. 
I will also be cooking some real goddam noodles. The day I start spiralizing is the day I start bedazzling my lady parts which is to say- cold day in hell, honey. Pigs will be flying. 

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. i've zoodled and i felt shame but then i just added a shitton of extra butter and it was all good....


  2. boy, you touched a lot of chords for me with this post. Index cards......I recall my Father always having them, and a pencil, in his left shirt pocket. Always. I carry a tiny spiral lined notepad with me for same reason.......I can't remember shit unless I write it down.....then I have to remember to look at it! Your August is priceless......Mr. Moon is a *lefty* (never noticed before) and I've never (and will never) spiralize in my life.......but your dinner sounds fantastic (even though it took a while to gather and plan!) . This slice of your day brought me a huge, huge smile- thank you!
    Hugs from still hot (but not humid) Calif
    Susan M

    1. PS.....I must be daft in the head because I couldn't figure out what a Zoodle was until I googled it! learned something new

  3. I make a list on paper and then sometimes take a picture of it on my phone in case i forget to take the list with me. We go shopping only 2 or 3 times a month, so the list is important. How did the spicy tofu turn out?

  4. Oh god, I hate the whole idea of spiralizing. I did like Spirograph, though, and I love pencil and paper and taking notes on notecards and why does all this stuff have to disappear? Your dinner sounds delicious. And do you know that I'm typing this from Big Sur where I am staying at this amazing rustic little place that has ridiculously slow Wifi yet I can ready your blog!

  5. Well, the man and I do eat zucchini noodles, which I am just realizing is the same thing as zoodles. If you saw our numbers on the scale, you'd applaud us for embracing this pasta imposter, which i have to say, i have become quite fond of. The man does wonders with it. I just will never tell him its called zoodles. That might kill it for him.

  6. What are zoodles? Is that really a thing?

    Oh, I'm just seeing Rosemary's comment above. I had no idea zucchini noodles were called zoodles. You learn something new every day!

    I love August's comment about his eyelashes -- "tied on." Ha!

  7. Ha-ha! Your last paragraph made me chuckle but I am too gentlemanly to remark upon the bedazzling of lady parts!
    There's a lot to be said for smaller supermarkets because if you forget something from one particular aisle then you don't have far to go back.

  8. Vivid memories are of when adults drew for me, on command. Other memories are not quite as vivid. Levon, that little baby face delights me every time!
    I love your life, your humor, little wonder that your family flocks to your house- a plus is that you cook! I had never heard of Zoodles- thought it might have something to do with mercy killing of caged animals and eating them, glad I was wrong.

  9. No zoodles here, either, I find as I grow older that simpler is often better. No need to stock two kinds if one will do.
    I am committing the sin of covetousness regarding your babies. Just a little bit.

  10. I learned to write all my notes on actual paper recently, when my iphone died and all of my notes ( and my very extensive list of books to read!) died with it! Oh the agony, I am not kidding...that was tragic. I do love note-taking, perhaps my phone had had enough of that! August and Levon are darlings.

  11. I didn't know what zoodles were either and no, I couldn't be bothered. I love noodles as they are.
    I shop much the same way and I need a list because things don't last more than a few seconds inside my head. Drives me crazy.


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