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coldsandfluff · 3 years

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Friday Night Fever (F/M, Original, Illness Care-Taking Fluff)

Wrote this little original F/M care-taking fluff fic inspired by something that happened to me when I was in college (basically, caught a cold, three friends came over unannounced and insisted on me coming with them to the bar until one of them noticed the thermometer on my nightstand and realized I really was too sick to go). I've changed all the characters personality/appearance (including myself) so that we are completely unrecognizable, and added more to the story of course 😚

So if you like group of friends, platonic to maybe romantic care-taking fluff and F/M illness, read on!

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Annabel left the sandwich shop at the end of her evening shift, feeling the cold autumn air seep through her jacket. Darkness had blanketed the town hours ago, and college students were already filling the streets on their way to the bars to celebrate the end of the week. Not that they’d really needed a reason to drink, of course.

As she launched the trash bags in the large dumpster in the back alley, Annabel felt an uncomfortable shiver running down her back. She’d been feeling under the weather for a couple of days, downing vitamin C fizzy drinks to stave it off. What she’d hoped would end up being a little annoying cold was turning out to be more than she’d bargained for. She could feel the icy tendrils of a fever crawling on her skin, and all she wanted to do was slip under the covers of her warm bed and sleep all weekend.

Her phone pinged as she started making her way back to her apartment.

Finn: We’ll be there in 40 minutes. Zack wants to pick up some pregame vodka from the store first.

Annabel sighed. She’d met Zack, Finn and Alex at her second job—a fancy new restaurant in the heart of town where she’d been waitressing part-time for the past two months. They’d hit it off on opening day, when Zack had accidentally broken a whole stack of plates. No one had seen what had happened but the four of them. Zack had gotten his dishwasher’s apron stuck on the door handle, and his hands had slipped at the sudden pull.

The crash had been deafening.

Right before the owner had rushed in to ask what had happened, Zack’s best friend, Finn, had kicked the wheel of the cart where the plates had been sitting a few moments ago, giving Alexander and Annabel a knowing look.

They’d all told the owner that the cart was broken and had tipped over without anyone touching it. Somehow, the owner had bought the lie. That night, Zack insisted on paying them a round of shots at the bar, and a tradition was born: The four of them. Every Friday. With lots of alcohol.

It was the only time Annabel let loose. With her two jobs and college, she was struggling to find free time, but Friday nights had become sacred. There was nothing like downing drinks and letting the buzz take over, following her three new friends wherever they wanted to go. It was always an adventure. Especially with Zack at the helm.

But tonight, there was no way she could make it.

Annabel: Actually, I can’t come tonight. Sorry.

She walked past a group of friends laughing and hollering, wishing she’d felt as good as they did. But the headache growing behind her eyes wasn’t going to let up, and adding alcohol to the mix would only make it worse. Not only that, but her nose had started running in the past two hours. She’d had to go blow it in the restroom every half hour, getting herself banished from the front of the store by the manager. She’d washed her hands so often that her skin was almost raw.

Just like her nose.

Finn: Nah, you’re coming. Nobody cancels Friday night. Come on.

Annabel couldn’t hold a smile. She typed back, sniffling. Her sinuses were prickling like crazy, as if she’d accidentally inhaled a cloud of tiny fireworks. She stifled a sneeze in the crook of her elbow, mid-word. “Ehh—Ehh’KSHHeeww!” Her eyes watered from the force of it. She wiped the tears away and resumed typing.

Annabel: I’ll make it up to you guys next weekend. Drinks on me.

She grabbed a crumpled tissue from her jacket pocket and dabbed at her nose. Her apartment was only a few blocks away, beckoning her. As she crossed the last stretch of sidewalk to the entrance, she kept checking her phone.

No reply.

Shrugging, she unlocked the front door and took the stairs.

***

Back in her apartment, she made a beeline for the bathroom to the right and used toilet paper to blow her nose, finally free to make as much noise as she wanted. She winced from the roughness of it on her chapped nostrils, but it was all she had. She wasn’t exactly the planning type. Her idea of a grocery list was memorizing the first three items and hoping the rest would come to her as she walked through the aisles. Most often than not, she’d have to make a quick run at the convenience store down the street to get what she’d forgotten.

She gathered her thick curly hair into a bun and looked at herself in the mirror. It was enough to confirm that she’d made the right decision. Her eyes were glazed over, her skin was so pale that her freckles popped like they did in the summer. Except for that slight flush high on her cheeks, of course. She popped a thermometer under her tongue and removed her work clothes, leaving them in a pile in front of the bathtub.

Shivering from the sudden change in temperature, she covered her arms with her hands and ran to her dresser. Her warmest, softest sweater was the first thing she grabbed and put on, before throwing on a pair of comfy leggings and wool socks. The thermometer beeped.

100.8 °F. Figured.

She rolled her eyes and shuffled over to the “kitchen” of her studio apartment, which was the size of a matchbox and only contained a mini fridge, a microwave and an old sink. She poured herself some water and walked over to the bed, placing her glass and the thermometer on her nightstand. She would have brought over medicine as well, but she’d run out last semester after catching the flu going around campus, and had forgotten to replenish her stash. No matter. She could sleep this off. It was just a cold.

She suddenly sneezed twice in a row, as if her body wanted to protest her minimizing her illness, then got under the cover. Just as she was getting a little warmer, propping up her laptop to watch a movie, there was a knock at the door.

Annabel sat up, startled.

“Anna, open up!” a voice said behind the door.

Zack.

Annabel chuckled. Of course they wouldn’t give up that easily. She groaned, getting out of the warmth of her bed. She considered rushing to the dresser and putting on cuter clothes—they were her friends, but they were still boys, and she didn’t want to look like shit in front of them—but the thought of it was enough to drain her energy. Screw it. She walked over to the door and opened it.

“Finn told us you don’t want to come,” said Zack as he walked in. It was her friends’ first time coming up to her apartment. They’d usually wait for her downstairs. “So we’re here to change your mind.” He didn’t look at her, too busy checking out her place. He was dressed for the night—a buttoned-up shirt, navy blazer, jeans and dress shoes. His casual chic style always stood out in the local bars filled with broke college students, but he liked it that way.

Finn walked in after him, a crooked grin on his lips. “See, I told you you can’t cancel Friday night.” His shaggy blond hair half-covered his eyes, as always. Finn and Zack had been best friends since high school, and couldn’t have been more different from each other. At least physically. Finn was tall and lanky, Zack was smaller and worked out a lot. But they were both party guys, always ready for a crazy night—even though Finn was a bit more mellow than Zack.

Finally, Alex came in, and Annabel closed the door behind him. He had a sheepish look on his face, as if apologizing for the other two. He was a lot more like Annabel. Quiet, chill, along for the ride—whatever it may be. His deep brown eyes held her gaze for a second too long, and Annabel noticed one of his eyebrow raise ever so slightly. She bit her lip, feeling self-conscious about her appearance. They’d never seen her in such a state before. Thank god she hadn’t had the energy to remove her makeup yet.

“So this is where you live, uh?” Zack said, sitting on her desk chair and spinning it around and around. “I like it. Dorms suck.”

Before she could reply, Finn tsked. “Wow. So no love for your roommate, uh?”

“Dude, I love you,” Zack said, “but between you and an apartment all to myself, the choice is obvious.” He stopped spinning and turned to Annabel, crossing his arms over his chest. “So what’s so important that you can’t come with us? Do you have a date?”

All three boys turned to her. Annabel almost laughed. Could they not see the condition she was in? She cleared her throat. “No, I’m just not feeling well.”

Finn sat on the edge of her bed and examined her from afar. “Like what? Stomach thing? Flu?”

“Probably a cold, I guess.” Annabel could feel Alex’s gaze on her at her side. She glanced at him, then looked down, feeling silly. Now that she was saying it out loud, it sounded like a poor excuse. But she did have a fever, after all. She just didn’t want to start listing her symptoms.

Zack clasped his hands together. “You know what will make you feel better? Alcohol!” He grinned, as if proud of his solution. “Didn’t they used to give brandy to people when they were sick? We’ll make a special mix for your throat. Something with lemon and orange juice. You’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know, I already have a headache…” Annabel said.

“Just take a couple of Tylenol. It’s like a hangover in advance,” Finn said with an encouraging smile. “One time, I went out clubbing with an ear infection and everything was fine. Actually felt better the next day, weirdly enough.”

“I don’t know guys, I won’t be much fun if—” Annabel was interrupted by a fierce tickle deep in her nose, spreading like wildfire. She ducked to her side, away from Alex. “Ehh’KSSHeeew! ‘KSSSHeeew!”

“Bless you,” the three boys said almost in unison.

“See?” Annabel said, pointing at her nose and sniffling. “You want me to sneeze all over you guys all night?”

Finn shrugged. “We’ll bring tissues. Whatever.”

Alex walked over to the bathroom and grabbed the toilet paper roll from the counter, then handed it to her. “Here.”

Annabel ripped a piece off and wiped her nose. “Thanks,” she said, sheepish.

Alex’s gaze paused on her for a few seconds before he turned to the other two. “Guys, she’s obviously sick. Let’s just go and let her sleep.”

“It’s just a cold,” Zack said. “She’s young and healthy. It’s nothing.” He got up and put his arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Give it an hour, and if you’re not feeling better after a few shots, we’ll walk you home.”

Annabel considered it for a second, trying to fight the shivers. Maybe if she wore something warm and took a few shots, she wouldfeel better. Numb the pain a little, at least. While she pondered it, Finn laid down on top of her bed spread and locked eyes with the thermometer on her nightstand. He frowned and sat up, picking it up.

He looked at her, thermometer in hand. His voice softened. “It’s that bad, uh?”

Annabel blushed. Why did admitting that she had a fever feel so vulnerable? She looked down and nodded. “Kinda.”

Zack looked at the thermometer, then back at Annabel. He narrowed his eyes and put a hand on her forehead. “Ooof,” he said, a hint of concern slipping in his tone.

Finn got up. “Let me see,” he said, walking up to her and placing his own hand on her forehead. His eyebrows shot up. “Yikes.”

“Yeah, you need to be in bed,” Zack finally said, guiding her back to bed. “Why didn’t you say you had a fever? Jesus, Anna.”

She shrugged, sitting on her mattress. “I don’t know. I just get fevers with colds. I guess it’s normal for me.”

“Fevers suck,” Finn said. “Last time I had one, I stayed in bed for two days and everything hurt.” He walked over to the front door. “We’ll miss you tonight, though.”

Zack followed. “Hope you feel better. We’ll text you all the crazy shit that’s going to happen so you don’t miss anything.” He followed Finn out of the apartment, leaving the door open for Alex.

Alex watched them walk by, then grabbed the roll of toilet paper on the counter where Annabel had left it. He brought it over to her nightstand and gave her a sad smile. “Do you need anything?”

Annabel shook her head, relieved that she was going to be able to stay in bed. “I’ll be okay.”

He seemed to hesitate for a second, then nodded. “Let us know if you want us to get you food later. I know I can never sleep when I have a fever.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. Her nose scrunched up, overtaken by another annoying prickle. “Ehh… Iihh’KSSSHHeeww!”

“Bless you.”

Zack’s voice sounded from the hallway. “Alex, you coming?”

Alex snickered. “I guess I should go.” He walked to the door, then turned back. “Feel better, okay?”

“I will. Thanks.”

***

Annabel tried to sleep, but her fever and runny nose kept waking her up, leaving her floating halfway between dreams and reality. It was clear that she wasn’t going to get any rest in her state. She needed cold medicine.

It took her a long time to finally convince herself to get out of bed and go to the convenience store, but she managed to push the covers away and get up. She shivered, causing another tickle in her sensitive nose—it had only gotten worse in the hour since the boys had left. She ducked at the waist in an exhausting triple. “Ehh… Hehh’KSSSHeeeew! ‘KSSHHeeew! Hiihh’KSSHeeew!”

Just then, another knock sounded at the door. Annabel frowned and made her way to the door, cracking it open.

It was Alex. Alone.

“Bless you,” he said with a shy grin.

Annabel let him in. “Aren’t you supposed to be out with the guys?”

He shrugged, closing the door behind him. “I thought you might need this.” He showed her a plastic bag filled with tea, tissue boxes, ramen, cough drops and—she gasped—cold medicine.

Alex chuckled. “So I was right. You don’t have any medicine, do you?”

Annabel laughed. “How did you know?”

“Your nightstand. You only had a thermometer on there. When I’m sick, I take Nyquil everywhere I go.” He handed her the bag. “And I wanted to make sure you had tissues instead of toilet paper. Your nose will thank me.”

Annabel touched her chapped nose, smiling. “That’s so sweet of you. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing.” He stood there for a second, as if not knowing what to say. “I’ll uh—I’ll let you rest.”

Before he could go, Annabel put her hand on his elbow. “Wait. Do you want to—” She stopped halfway through her sentence, her nose scrunching up yet again, her eyes fluttering. She spun around and sneezed, covering her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. “Hehh’KSSHH! Ht’Ksshht!” She turned back around, blinking away the tears and laughing. “Sorry!”

Alex laughed, too. “Bless you.” He held her gaze, then looked down. “What were you going to say?”

“Oh—I was just wondering if—maybe if you’d like to watch a movie with me. I don’t think I can sleep until the medicine kicks in.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted saying them. Of course he didn’t want to watch a movie with her. This was Friday night. What kind of college guy wanted to hang out with a sick, sneezy, nose-drippy girl on a Friday night instead of getting drunk with his friends. “Sorry,” she added quickly, “I forgot that the guys are probably waiting for you. I guess I’m kind of loopy from the fever.”

Alex took a step forward and placed his hand on her forehead. The gesture was so gentle, so soft, that Annabel closed her eyes, appreciating the coldness of his palm on her hot skin.

“You are definitely burning up,” he half-whispered, frowning. “I was wondering if the guys were exaggerating. Guess not.”

Annabel bit her lip. “I’ll be okay after I take the medicine. You don’t have to stay.”

Alex removed his hand. “I do,” he blurted. “I mean, I do want to watch a movie with you. And stay.”

“Are you sure?” Annabel asked through her blossoming smile. “Aren’t you worried you’ll catch my cold?”

“Actually, I have a confession to make.” Alex led her to the bed and placed the content of his bag on her nightstand. “Last Friday, I kind of had a cold. It wasn’t as bad as yours, pretty minor, but… Zack convinced me to come out anyway and I—I think I might have given it to you. You drank out of my glass and I didn’t have time to stop you.” He looked at her, his eyes wide with guilt. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Annabel laughed. “I can’t believe Zack didn’t rat you out earlier. It would have been the perfect example of someone going clubbing with a cold and ‘being fine’ anyway.”

“He probably knew it was partly his fault that you’re sick and didn’t want to admit it.”

Annabel shook her head. “Well, you owe me a Friday night.” She got into bed and patted the spot next to her. “That means I get to pick the movies.”

Alex grabbed the throw blanket at her feet and draped it over her. “That sounds fair.” He walked over to the other side of the bed and settled next to her. “But when you fall asleep, I can’t guarantee I won’t change it.”

“Deal.”

After taking a dose of Nyquil, Annabel started the movie, snuggling under the blanket. She wondered what kind of crazy adventures Zack and Finn were getting themselves into. She expected to feel FOMO, but instead, she shot a glance at Alex next to her, and realized she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Maybe it was the fever, or maybe it was Alex’s shoulder touching hers, but it felt like this was the start of a different kind of adventure. Maybe not alcohol-fueled, but Nyquil was pretty close.

All because they’d shared a not-so-secret cold.

And Annabel had a feeling it would be worth the fever. And the countless sneezes to come.

THE END

#caretaking fic #care-taking fic #sneeze fic #sneeze kink #care-taking king #sickfic

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dontlookdown · 5 years

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Nick’s Favourite Music of 2018

In the time that I’ve been doing these yearly round-ups (ten years(!), although my first list was literally just a list), they’ve gotten a bit easier to write. It probably helps that I’ve done actual planning-ahead for the last couple of turns. The one thing that doesn’t get any easier is these introduction posts.

2018 was, and I don’t think this is a controversial stance, shit. I joked this time last year that 2017 was best summed up as “further complications”, but 2018 was fucking something else. I’m resisting the urge to list my grievances, because I doubt I’d ever stop. It’s exhausting to even think about attempting to take stock of everything that happened. To cap it all off, the website I’ve published these posts on since the very beginning had a panic attack regarding the sexual content that some people were uploading, and decided to address the situation in the bluntest way possible. This isn’t something that affects me directly (there’re no nudes in my blog. Hell, I felt anxious about including a photo of myself with clothes on that one time), but it affects people I look up to and care about, and a good portion of my audience for these things. I’ve considered leaving the site entirely in solidarity. I still might. It might be time that I focused more energy on writing a bit more frequently anyway, and setting up a new home for my work is a good starting point. Demi Lovato believes in me. We’ll see.

But for now, let’s focus on the reason that you clicked on this link in the first place: the music of 2018.

It was a good year. It was also a strange one for me. Whereas in previous years there were always one or two big standout albums or songs that held my attention for months on end, this year I really had to dig deep and re-listen to a heap of stuff to remind myself of what had actually left an impression on me. The critical consensus was all over the place too. The end-of-year lists I’ve seen from various outlets over the last two months have been the most diverse I’ve seen for as long as I’ve been paying attention. There were a few names they had in common, but they all featured a lot of unique choices. Hopefully you’ll feel the same about mine!

Sticking to my familiar rules (20 songs, no repeating artists) always means that there’s a couple of gems that don’t make the final cut. 2018’s wide breadth of musical talent means that this is the longest ‘honourable mentions’ list I’ve ever done! Here they are:

Beach House – Lemon Glow

Victoria Legrand and Alex Scally’s seventh album was probably my most re-listened album of the year. They’ve always been a band with a sound that rewarded repeat plays, but this release seemed to have its own gravitational pull that kept me coming back to reappraise it, despite finding it a little overwhelming on multiple occasions. “Lemon Glow” absolutely excels as a lead single. Those gravitational waves are in full force here, a light electronic throbbing acting as the thread I kept trying to follow to the end.

The Beths – Little Death

The Beths were a late discovery, and welcome breath of fresh air after I’d been deep in a fog of more ambient sounds. If you’ve been looking for a vibrant, punchy rock band to brighten your January, I highly recommend them.

Jenny Hval – Spells

Part of my planning process this year was learning to accept that I don’t always have the words or ability to explicitly pinpoint what I like about particular songs. This track is just nice. I like the way it glides along, building up ever-so-slightly as it goes.

Joey Purp – Elastic

Joey Purp followed up iiiDrops and “Girls@” with even-more-minimalist trap. This is straight no-nonsense fire. Add it to your dance playlist. And if you don’t have a dance playlist, make one!

Kali Uchis - After the Storm (feat. Tyler, The Creator & Bootsy Collins)

Kali Uchis’s debut Isolation proved her to be an artist with fantastic taste. It’s a lot easier to nail a woozy sound that throws back to the work of Parliament-Funkadelic when you get one of the original members involved. I also want to highlight Bootsy’s use of the amazing line “Look both ways before you cross my mind” which, incredibly, is a phrase that no one seemed to have coined before George Clinton dropped it on To Pimp a Butterfly in 2015. It’s a line that perfectly encapsulates the P-funk mood, and it’s less than five years old!

Let’s Eat Grandma – Ava

Let’s Eat Grandma’s (no, I’m not sure how I feel about the name either) second album split focus between spacey synth-pop journeys and straightforward piano ballads. “Ava” is one of the latter, beautiful with lo-fi touches (listen closely and you can hear the rain falling on the recording studio windows). Enjoy this track now, before someone sticks it a Christmas advert for a shop.

Madison McFerrin – Insane

I’ll save you the Google. Yes, Madison McFerrin is the daughter of Bobby “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” McFerrin and, yes, she also has a unique talent for vocalising. Musically speaking, this track comfortably sits in-between the work of Sade and Solange.

Post Malone & Swae Lee – Sunflower

Among the many, many accomplishments of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse is this cut from its soundtrack, a Post Malone track that I actually like!

Robyn – Missing U

Robyn’s been one of my favourite pop artists for a while now, so I really, really wanted to love her big return. Sadly, I’m not quite there yet. The music on Honey is lot colder than I’m used to, most likely by design to reflect the change in Robyn’s (and the world’s) mood in the years since Body Talk. “Missing U” is the closest thing the album has to a big hook-y single like “Call Your Grilfriend” or “Dancing On My Own”.

Spiritualized – I’m Your Man

J Spaceman approached his final album as Spiritualized with as much brassy gusto as he did twenty years ago. A gorgeous send off.

Arctic Monkeys - Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino

I understand the disappointment some people had when was released and sounded nothing like AM, but I think those people lost sight of the bigger Arctic Monkeys picture. The lounge-y, Pulp-y sound of Tranquility Base is something that Alex Turner has been hinting at since the Submarine soundtrack. I heard the album several times and, while there isn’t any standout track that makes everything make sense, I’ve never been bored listening to it.

Jon Hopkins – Singularity

Bleeps, bloops, beats and bliss. Jon Hopkins continues his reign as one of the premier electronic musicians.

Pusha T – Daytona

The hardest, sharpest (and shortest) hip-hop album of the year. A reminder that King Push’s skills as an MC haven’t dulled, and neither has Kanye’s skill as a producer. Ye was crap, though.

Tierra Whack – Whack World

An interesting experiment to debut with, Whack World is a 15 minute album with 15 tracks, all unique in their sound, and all with their own music video (presented as one 15 minute film). Few of the tracks are long enough to stand as songs on their own, but they weren’t designed to be. These are concentrated blasts of pure creativity, and deserve to be supported. Besides, there was something really cathartic of seeing Tierra cheerfully singing “Fuck Off” while gleefully snipping balloons free of their strings. “Pretty Ugly” was my personal favourite.

Angélique Kidjo – Remain in Light

This was a nice surprise that popped up on my Spotify Discover. Remain in Light by Talking Heads is one of my all-time favourite albums, a moment when the band fully embraced an Afrobeat influence and stretched it as far as they could. But what if an actual Afrobeat musician had recorded that album? The answer is Angélique Kidjo’s full-length cover album, another Spotify Discover, uh, discovery. A fascinating, and highly danceable, rework. Tracks like “Once in a Lifetime” were already rays of sunshine. Kidjo’s arrangements turns them supernova.

Justin Hurwitz – First Man

2018 was an equally cramped year for films too. First Man seems to be getting ignored by the major awards, which is a shame as it was one of my favourites of the year. (Hey! If you’d like to see me expand on that thought, you consider subscribing to our film podcast, Sunshine Cinema Club! We’re about to cover our top ten of the year! First Man will be one of them!) I’m especially disappointed that people aren’t talking about Justin Hurwitz’s score, which combined the saddest instrument in the world (the theremin) and the gentlest instrument on the world (the harp) to create the loneliest soundtrack of all time. The perfect accompaniment to a story of a man, emotions dulled by grief, faced with the infinite possibilities of space travel.

As always, I’ll be posting about the twenty entries on my list across the next twenty days. Here’s the Spotify playlist of the final twenty, sequenced for musical effect.

In the past, I’ve updated the Spotify list as the entries go up, acting as some sort of musical advert calendar, keeping future songs under wraps. It’s since occurred to me that this method isn’t actually useful to anybody. Nobody cares about spoilers when it comes to this list, and it’s a big ask for people to keep tabs on a blog and a playlist for three weeks. So, consider that list a preview for what’s coming up and a chance to wonder how I’m going to justify sticking Drake and a black metal band on the same list! (I won’t. Accept my weird, varied taste in music!)

Lists from previous years can be found easily using the tag “best+of+20xx”. See you tomorrow!

#best of 2018 #music #beach house #the beths #jenny hval #joey purp #kali uchis #let's eat grandma #madison mcferrin #Robyn #spiritualized #arctic monkeys #jon hopkins #pusha t #tierra whack #angelique kidjo #justin hurwitz #First Man

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filosofablogger · 6 years

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Hey folks!!! Yep, it’s Monday again and this time I’m prepared! I have treats for all, even naked cinnamon rolls for rawgod, donuts for Steve, scones (not burnt this time) for David, and Ellen … your coffee is just the way you like it!

So, did you all have a great weekend? It was 95° here on Saturday with about 70% humidity, and the air quality so poor that there was a haze everywhere you looked. Needless to say, that is not air out there … I don’t know what it is, but it is not air and whatever it is, I cannot breathe it. I am grounded until further notice and nobody better tell me there’s no such thing as climate change!

Well, let’s forget that and find some fun to start our week off, shall we?

The world’s largest …

There used to be a saying here in the U.S.: “They grow everything big in Texas” I’m not sure where the saying originated, but the only thing I’ve seen that is bigger in Texas (other than the size of the state itself) are the egos. No, not you Steve. But to the point, I think Texas may be taking a back seat to Australia, if avocados are any indication.

It is called the Avozilla …

They look like an avocado and taste like an avocado. The only difference from the avocados you know is that these ones are about the size of your head. Well, most people’s head, anyway — some Texans have bigger heads. No, not you Steve. They weigh an average of just over 2.5 pounds, or 1.2 kg. (Why can’t the U.S. convert to the metric system like everybody else???) They are expected to sell for about $12 each!

The fruit (yes, folks, avocados are a fruit, not a veggie) actually originated in South Africa and emigrated to the UK in 2013, but the Groves family of Queensland just brought them to Oz this year. Now I learned something new here … I didn’t realize a country could ‘copyright’ a variety of tree, but any farmer that plants this giant avocado tree must seek permission and pay royalties to the South African company that owns the rights.

The problem I foresee here is that avocados go bad very quickly once exposed to air. By quickly, I mean a matter of minutes, although one can keep them fresh and green for a few hours with a bit of lemon juice and the avocado pit. I don’t see a huge individual market for them, though they might be popular in Mexican restaurants where large quantities of guacamole are served up.

Whodunnit?

Rob Morin and Paula Habib from Montreal, Canada, noticed in June that produce was going missing from their tomato and strawberry plants.

“We had a full set of tomatoes and then all of a sudden the tomatoes started going down. We didn’t take any ourselves; we thought it was the squirrels.”

But still, they found it odd that the squirrels weren’t leaving a mess, as squirrels typically do. OCD squirrels, perhaps?

“We first thought it was the squirrels, but normally the squirrels leave a mess and there was not a mess on the ground where the plants were.”

I don’t know what took them so long, but finally the couple got the brilliant idea to check the footage from their outdoor security camera, and guess what? It wasn’t a squirrel at all …

Yes, friends, it was the trusty mail carrier that was helping himself to the fruit each day. Seems a fair trade … a box full of junk mail for a handful of tomatoes and strawberries!

“It’s rude,” said Ms. Habib. “He never told us. He never came to the door and said, ‘I took one of your tomatoes and it was really good’ or made joke about it. He just did it and he couldn’t care less.”

Canada Post is aware of the case and has spoken with the family, but so far isn’t commenting on the matter. Habib said she does not want the postman to lose his job, but he could also offer some restitution – if he replaces the plants or offers the family a strawberry pie or some tomato sauce, all will be forgiven.

Dream job?

Mattress Firm, a mattress company based in Houston, Texas, has a job opening that I think would be just perfect for my daughter, who can fall asleep anywhere in under 15 seconds! The ad on the company’s website reads:

Pursuing a degree in catching Z’s? Would you rather carry a pillowcase instead of a briefcase? This Fall, you can snag the internship of your dreams as Mattress Firm’s first “Snoozetern.”

We are searching for someone who can put their rest to the test. If you think you’re a slumber star, apply to sleep on the job as our in-house bed tester, testing the best of the best mattresses. The back of your eyelids won’t be your only view. You’ll test the optimal head and foot positions on our selection of adjustable bases for Netflix binging, Instagram stalking *ahem* posting, reading, typing, eating…really anything that would be better in bed.

Of course, you’ll want your friends to know that you’re ‘sleeping your best life’ so regular appearances on Mattress Firm’s social channels will make the job of your dreams official. Feed your inquisitive nature by interviewing our sleep experts, finding out what the social sphere wants to know and determining the perfect amount of pillows needed for the ‘I’m-sleeping-but-still-taking-a-picture-of-myself’ selfie.

Help us help the sleep deprived by applying to join our team. Comfort and curiosity are calling, will you answer?

Among the required qualifications are:

– 18 years of age or older

– Proficient in napping, regardless of time of day

– Interested in exposure to different surfaces, textures and sleep positions

– Passionate about sleep and comfort

– Available to start snoozing in the Houston-area beginning August 15

The only one that could be a problem for Chris is that last one, but the rest … she’s got this!

The $67,000 squirrel …

In Almaty, a city in Kazakhstan, resides a sculpture of a giant squirrel … sculpted from straw! The squirrel, which stands 40 feet tall, is made from straw and wood attached to a steel frame, is part of an art project for a festival commissioned by city authorities. But Rocky is causing some problems for the city. First, some say he is a fire hazard … I suppose that is true, especially in a lightning storm. But the main argument is the cost … it cost the city some $67,000 (£51,000), about $44,000 of which was paid for from public funds. The people are, understandably, concerned that the money might have been better spent helping the struggling people of the city with medical or other costs. I can’t argue against that point.The artists, South African sculptor Marius Jansen van Vuuren and British artist Alex Rinsler, have said that the squirrel will change appearance during the nine months it is expected to be on display, but I have a feeling that Rocky may not outlast the first hard rain or windstorm. Still, he is pretty cute …

I just wanna be on da teevee too, dad …

Polish historian/political scientist Jerzy Targalski was giving a taped interview regarding the U.S. Supreme Court when his cat decided to get in on the act.

Well, friends, once again it is time for us to each get busy. I’ve really enjoyed our visit this morning … this is absolutely my favourite part of most Mondays! I hope you all have a wonderful week! Oh WAIT … before you go … please share those gorgeous smiles today and every day. A lot of people are pretty miserable these days, and a smile seems to just work wonders when somebody is feeling down. Hugs ‘n love from Filosofa & the Significant Seven!

Hot ‘n Jolly Monday! Hey folks!!! Yep, it’s Monday again and this time I’m prepared! I have treats for all, even naked cinnamon rolls for rawgod, donuts for Steve, scones…

#Avozilla #cat interrupts interview #giant avocado #giant squirrel sculpture #Guacamole #mailman steals fruit #Mattress Firm job sleeping

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doodlenomics · 7 years

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Food is comforting. Reading about food is as comforting if not more because as you read, you become aware of that feeling (which we often define as ‘comfort’) shared by others. In other words, maybe you had an omelette at a certain time of the day with some things on your mind or perhaps nothing at all, and you believe it to be the best omelette you’ve had. The reason for this, unclear but you just know it. And then you read something similar about someone else and think, “YES!” (because that overwhelming feeling is indescribable so let’s stick to ‘YES!’). A book that did something similar for me was My Life in France by Julia Child with Alex Prud’homme.

Julia Child needs no introduction but if you want to know a bit, the easiest, most charming way to know her is to watch Julie & Julia (again, one of my favorite movies. I love you, Nora Ephron), a movie based on a novel by Julie Powell who as a young New Yorker, tired of the monotony of her job, seeks to channel her love for cooking in a disciplined manner by setting up a blog about actually cooking ALL of Julia Child’s recipes! If you haven’t watched this movie, watch it later tonight with a bowl of onion soup (Julia’s recipe, of course!) or if you’ve watched it already, watch it again- I’m sure you do anyway. I know I do :)

Here’s an excerpt from My Life in France where Julia recollects her initial food experiences in France:

CHAPTER 1 – LA BELLE FRANCE, PART II – SOLE MEUNIÈRE

It was warm inside, and the dining room was a comfortably old-fashioned brown-and-white space, neither humble nor luxurious. At the far end was an enormous fireplace with a rotary spit, on which something was cooking that sent out heavenly aromas. We were greeted by the maître d’hôtel, a slim middle-aged man with dark hair who carried himself with an air of gentle seriousness. Paul spoke to him, and the maître d’ smiled and said something back in a familiar way, as if they were old friends. Then he led us to a nice table not far from the fireplace. The other customers were all French, and I noticed that they were treated with exactly the same courtesy as we were. Nobody rolled their eyes at us or stuck their nose in the air. Actually, the staff seemed happy to see us.

As we sat down, I heard two businessmen in gray suits at the next table asking questions of their waiter, an older, dignified man who gesticulated with a menu and answered them at length.

“What are they talking about?” I whispered to Paul.

“The waiter is telling them about the chicken they ordered,” he whispered back. “How it was raised, how it will be cooked, and what side dishes they can have with it, ad which wines would go with it best.”

“Wine?” I said. “At lunch?” I had never drunk much wine other than some $1.19 California Burgundy, and certainly not in the middle of the day.

In France, Paul explained, good cooking was regarded as a combination of national sport and high art, and wine was always served with lunch and dinner. “The trick is moderation,” he said.

Suddenly the dining room filled with wonderfully intermixing aromas that I sort of recognized but couldn’t name. The first smell was something oniony – “shallots,” Paul identified it, “being sautéed in fresh butter.” (“What’s a shallot?” I asked, sheepishly. “You’ll see,” he said.) Then came a warm and winy fragrance from the kitchen, which was probably a delicious sauce being reduced on the stove. This was followed by whiff of something astringent: the salad being tossed in a big ceramic bowl with lemon, wine vinegar, olive oil, and a few shakes of salt and pepper.

My stomach gurgled with hunger.

I couldn’t help noticing that the waiters carried themselves with a quiet joy, as if their entire mission in life was to make their customers feel comfortable and well tended. One of them glided up to my elbow. Glancing at the menu, Paul asked him questions in rapid-fire French. The waiter seemed to enjoy the back-and-forth with my husband. Oh, how I itched to be in on their conversation! Instead, I smiled and nodded uncomprehendingly, although I tried to absord all that was going on around me.

We began our lunch with a half-dozen oysters on the half-shell. I was used to bland oysters from Washington and Massachusetts, which I had never cared much for. But this platter of portugaises had a sensational briny lavor and a smooth texture that was entirely new and surprising. The oysters were served with rounds of pain de seigle, a pale rye bread, with a spread of unsalted butter. Paul explained that, as with wine, the French have “crus” of butter, special regions that produce individually flavoured butters. Beurre de Charentes is a full-bodied butter, usually recommended for pastry dough or general cooking; beurre d’Isigny is a fine, light table butter. It was that delicious Isigny that we spread on our rounds of rye.

Rouen is famous for its duck dishes, but after consulting the waiter Paul had decided to order sole meunière. It arrived whole: A large, flat Dover sole that was perfectly browned in a sputtering butter sauce with a sprinkling of chopped parsley on top. The waiter carefully placed the platter in front of us, stepped back, and said: “Bon appétit!”

I closed my eyes and inhaled the rising perfume. Then I lifted a forkful of fish to my mouth, took a bite, and chewed slowly. The flesh of the sole was delicate, with a light but distinct taste of the ocean that blended marvellously with the browned butter. I chewed slowly and swallowed. It was a morsel of perfection.

In Pasadena, we used to have broiled mackerel for Friday dinners, codfish balls with egg sauce, “boiled” (poached) salmon on the Fourth of July, and the occasional pan-fried trout when camping in the Sierras. But at La Couronne I experienced fish, and a dining experience, of a higher order than any I’d ever had before.

Along with our meal, we happily downed a whole bottle of Pouilly-Fumé, a wonderfully crisp white wine from the Loire Valley. Another revelation!

Then came salad verte laced with a lightly acidic vinaigrette. And I tasted my first real baguette- a crisp brown crust giving way to a slightly chewy, rather loosely textured pale-yellow interior, with a faint reminder of wheat and yeast in the odor and taste. Yum!

We followed our meal with a leisurely dessert of fromage blanc, and ended with strong, dark café filter. The waiter placed before us a cup topped with a metal canister, which contained coffee grounds and boiling water. With some urging by us impatient drinkers, the water eventually filtered down into the cup below. It was fun, and it provided a distinctive dark brew.

Paul paid the bill and chatted with the maître d’, telling him how much he looked forward to going back to Paris for the first time in eighteen years. The maître d’ smiled as he scribbled something on the back of a card. “Tiens,” he said, handling it to me. The Dorin family, who owned La Couronne, also owned a restaurant in Paris, called La Truite, he explained, while Paul translated. On the card he had scribbled a note of introduction for us.

“Mairci, monsoor,” I said, with a flash of courage and an accent that sounded bad even to my own ear. The waiter nodded as if it were nothing, and moved off to greet some new customers.

Paul and I floated out the door into the brilliant sunshine and cool air. Our first lunch together in France had been absolute perfection. It was the most exciting meal of my life.

These days, I have been watching episodes of Julia’s show The French Chef on YouTube (Thanks to all the wonderful people posting meaningful content online!). Yesterday, while watching one of those episodes, more specifically, The Omelette Show, I began sketching as Julia instructed her viewers about which pan to opt for the perfect omelette and of course, what really IS a perfect omelette?

Here’s my sketch of The French Chef | The Omelette Show with Julia Child-

Watch the video of The Omelette Show here:

The most exciting meal of Julia Child's life. A morsel of perfection, she called it. Food is comforting. Reading about food is as comforting if not more because as you read,

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