Today is my novel's first birthday. I started working on her in earnest exactly a year ago. At present, she is in her third-ish incarnation, some 73,000 words, 254 double-spaced pages. Happy Birthday Orson and Olivia, Roberta and Dahlia. Zaven, you came later, but such a complex guy you are. Goodness trumps money!
Tonight Bob and I are taking a "how to properly use a kitchen knife" class at the C-market. It is my gift to him for our anniversary. He's been talking about taking this class for a long time, so I signed us up. He even gets a new Wusthof knife out of the deal. We will learn to chop and julienne. I went back to sleep after Bob left for work (shingles takes a lot out of a bitch) and had this incredibly vivid dream about going to the knife skills class at some parallel universe C-market. We were duped into being sent to the elaborate C-market basement to enter a controlled area where we were served saucy eggplant chunks and given long surveys to fill out. "I paid for Knife Skills and this is not Knife Skills!" I exclaimed and snuck out, into the catacombs of subterranean C-Market. I passed by a special Kosher Quarantined area where a bearded rabbinical-looking man was giving a lecture on potatoes. There were escalators everywhere. Finally, I found the Knife Skills class, where everyone was wearing a beret and chopping lettuce. I broke down in tears. Bob was still down in the basement filling out surveys. I was walking around with this big machete, too, which I had brought from home. To chop. And fricasee. And julienne.
Oh, the brain is so creative!!
Posted by Zerd at September 5, 2007 03:03 PM