The Tall Guy has a new baby.
Well, an old baby.
An old baby with bench seats, lots of shiny shiny chrome, and a V8 engine that sounds like the hounds of hell have been unleashed, and would very much like their Meaty Bites now please. Oh, and fluffy dice. Can't forget the fluffy dice.
Its older than I am, and when people ask him what it is, he rattles off an incomprehensible babble of Holden blah blah Kingswood blah blah refurbished Colby blah blah VX78 blah air filtration blah blah. (When people ask me what it is, I say its red. And it turns like an oil tanker. But mainly red.)
I've noticed that when he drives it, he get approving head nods and wink and guns from manly looking blokey blokes driving other noisy oil tankers. We've even had the odd 'Nice ride, mate' when we pull up at lights. (I think, I'm still learning lip reading).
I'm bewildered why I don't get this reaction in my Rav? I've taken to giving people driving Corollas the wink and the gun, and they've shot away as fast as their 1.8 litre engines will let them. And I got slapped when I said 'Nice ride Mate' to a woman getting into her Starlet at the shopping centre....
Moral - Holden drivers more friendly than Toyota drivers.
I decided my mission for the week was to learn to cook beans. (As in dried pulses and legumes, rather than green, string, or broad variety, cos a) how hard is boiling water and creating steam really and b) the Tall Guy don't like em).
Why the sudden need to cook beans? It strikes me as one of those pioneery women things to do. I'm all about the budget conscious, living like my Nana, hippy chic lifestyle, dontcha know. Plus, I'm trying to avoid doing any work on my thesis.
Buzzing with that odd combination of virtue and guilt I get when I try to avoid doing something Really Important by doing something Really Healthy, I took myself to the library to research. This is of course after I Googled 'How to Cook Beans', and saw a dozen odd entries all reporting that I should soak them, then cook them. Or cook them, then soak them. Soak overnight. Soak in hot water. Soak in cold water. Add some random seaweed. Discard the water. Save the water for geraniums. Use the water in porridge. Wash my hair in the water, then soak the beans. I was confuzzled. Plus, I like books. So library ho.
Apparently either no-one has ever written the book "The Real Facts on Cooking Beans for Confuzzled People", or there are a stack load of Pioneery Budgeteering Nana Hippy Chic confuzzled maidens out there who had become bean curious before me, for I found no such book.
What I did find was the Star Trek Cookbook. And the Desperate Housewives Cookbook. And the Friends Cookbook. (Actually, that one I'm kinda intrigued by, I want to know if it features the Shepherd's Pie Trifle that Rachel made, cos I have some people I'd like to serve that one up to. )
I'm not sure why it strikes me as so random that people would want to eat things they have seen others eating on TV, because really, that's the advertising world in a nutshell.
Other things at the library that possibly only I would find amusing? The fact that the sexual health section lies right next to the public health section, so that in the 'Oversized Books' shelf, 'The Joy of Gay Sex' lies right next to 'Not Just One Little Prick' (a tome on mass immunisation). Tee hee.
The Tall Guy has a new baby.
