Happened to get lucky and snap a quick shot of Finley hanging out watching traffic go by. She usually hears me coming but I guess something kept her captivated. A squirrel, perhaps?
Every once in a while, I get out of the house and do something fun. True, there are people (friends, you know who you are) that say that this occurrence is usually less frequent than a blue moon hence my vague original statement… every once in a while.
Last night, I spent the night out with Jamie Oliver. Sort of. I’m pretty sure we’d be best mates if we ever met. See? I even said mates. Thus proving irrevocably that I am half-British and BFF-worthy.
Jamie was in town for a one night open-mike type of show down at Roy Thomson Hall and I made sure I had tickets. Six rows from the front. Pure awesomeness. Think of it as an extended unplugged session without a script, some audience participation (via questionnaire cards), and a really cool take home message — fresh food & inexpensive meals: it can be done.
Oh, and boxers or briefs… though that question was cleverly evaded and there was mention of plastic wrap and the like.
What really hit home with me was Jamie’s response to a question about impoverished families and the (in)affordability of fresh food relative to the processed kind.
His response? That he has yet to go into a home of lower socioeconomic means without a big screen TV, a cable/satellite subscription, kids with brand name labels on their feet or a mobile phone in hand for every member of the family. It’s not about the lack of means or wealth. It’s about the lack of priorities and the absence of education that could cause those shifts in priorities, especially with food.
Hello nail. Meet head.
Now excuse me while I go cook every single one of Jamie’s recipes in Jamie Oliver’s Food Escapes. And never mind the food, the photography in this book is drool-worthy. So chuffed (and that right there makes me officially British — minus the accent).
Bad haircuts. Corny messages. Overly baggy clothes and Scarborough ghetto-fabness from back in the day (or was that only me?). Just some of the few gems you glimpse when flipping through old high school yearbooks. You can’t make up memories like these.
I met with Malaika & Kelvin this weekend to go over album options, when a different kind of album made an appearance. Every once in a while, Kelvin would flip through Malaika’s high school yearbook (what up, Churchill!) and flip it towards me and ask, “Is this you?!” I would groan, hide my face in shame and wish I could go back in time to tell my old self not to get that dreaded haircut or buy those awful clothes — Self, short haircuts that make us look like a boy… not a good idea. Ever.
No. I will not be showing that photo. But, I did say I would show the ridiculousness of my yearbook signing habits in a previous post. In particular, when I decide to take up an entire page and continue the note for the next 65 pages along the bottom margin. The kind of stuff I did in high school. Good times.
Happy Random Sunday!