About Me

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Bookkeeper, tax preparer, cat lady, blogger, organizer, mystery writer.

Welcome!

I've finally decided that I am a writer - all the other things I do just pay the bills. Someone eloquent once said that if you do what you love, the money will follow. Well, let's just see about that.

RIP Aggie

RIP Aggie
Aggie was my fifteen-year-old cairn terrier - or maybe I should say I was her 55-year-old person! She was my faithful companion, spoiled rotten and I am still trying to figure out what to do without her.

Peter the Cat...

Peter the Cat...
This is Peter the gingersnap tabby! He's seven years old and has just been promoted to Peter the Very, Very Good. He is working his way up to Peter the Great...

Bee - the Cat Who Came From Somewhere Else...

Bee - the Cat Who Came From Somewhere Else...
Bee is Peter's buddy. He's eight years old and has made himself right at home. I guess cats really do come in pairs or sets of three!

And Jasper makes three!

And Jasper makes three!
Jasper is our new guy - the Cat From Another Place. He's four years old and we think he likes it here - so far, so good!

Buzz about...

Tuesday, February 08, 2011

Beets sucks...

and I know that sounds grammatically incorrect to you, but if you went to Calvin College and happen to be reading this, you will understand completely.  For the rest of you, Beets is the name of a residence hall (named for Clarence Beets, I believe) and well, its residents were always dweebs of the highest order and consequently, Beets sucks.  I know this because I have been personally fined for shouting this very thing out my Eldersveld Hall window in the general direction of the open windows of Beets Hall.  And five dollars was a lot of money in the seventies.  But I digress...  I am not enamored of the vegetable either.  I've tried to eat them because of their iron value, but let's face it, beets suck.  Seriously.  Badly.  Almost as much as a rutabaga, which my grandmother always tried to pass off as potatoes.  Gag me.  Ariela has been telling me forever that the way they prepare beets in Nicaragua will cure me of my beet hatred forever.  As you can see, she tried to tempt me with grilled beet salad.  It's pretty, and I did try a bite while she was here.  Not too bad, but then it was only one bite.  One very small bite.  I put the salad in the refrigerator and decided that I would eat it for lunch today.  Figuring it would be at its optimum taste potential at room temperature, I put the container on my desk at about eleven where it sat menacingly for about an hour.  Lunchtime came and the moment of truth had arrived - my fork poised above the colorful mixture - the scent of grilled beets assaulted my senses.  I can do this, I thought to myself, as I speared a small sliver of beet.  Resisting the temptation to hold my nose in a juvenile attempt to avoid the noxious flavor of beet, I dutifully chewed the nearly microscopic portion of vegetable flesh in my mouth.  Yuck!  Yuck, yuck, yuck!  I swallowed and dropped my fork.  Beets in any form really do suck.  Completely,  Incontrovertibly.  I'm fifty-two years old and I've gone this long without eating beets - why start now?  Damn their nutritional iron content, I hereby denounce beets forever.  I'll just take an iron pill.  Sorry Ariela - beets are just as bad in Nicaragua as they are in the USA.

1 comment:

  1. I LOVE pickled beets and harvard beets. Guess you have to develop a taste for them, huh?

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