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Monday, September 27, 2010

Oh no. Not the “constitutional”!

Sorry everyone, but I don’t have much time. I was just about to sit down and blog when Mrs. Davidson stuck her head in and told me that my Uncle Warner has decided that its time for another of his “evening constitutionals.” I’m supposed to go, as usual.

I have no idea where he gets these ideas. You would think that a “constitutional” was a walk or something, but noooooo. Its this once a month meal where he orders the table set for about fifteen and then eats all by himself or with me. It’s not as weird now as it once was, now that I know about the portals in the Tower of Worlds. I think he’s waiting for someone, but I don’t know who or why.

The food is still just as weird as was the first time, though. I think my favorite is the “sugar beats.” He insists that they aren’t spelled “beets” because we’re supposed whack them three or four times with a tuning fork before we eat them. He says it brings out the flavor.

One good thing is that he tells the most wonderful stories. I might try to tell some of them here. Well, I have my own stories to tell now, about Relois, about, well…. I probably shouldn’t say more right now. I don’t tell Uncle Warner either. There are times I’d like to, but something stops me. I’m not sure why.

Well, I hear Mrs. Davidson coming. Gotta go.

TTYL,

Meg

6 comments:

  1. I have to say that your uncle's constitutionals sound odd, yet entertaining. It is somewhat tragic to me that so many young people these days (I speak specifically of my unimaginative, macaroni and cheese consuming niece, Danni) are so suspicious of unique and exciting new foods. Why not put the mayonnaise on the waffles, I ask you? You never know what's a delicious new discovery until you try it.

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  2. Okay, so I have to say that mixing the green peas in with the mashed potatoes the first time was pretty good, but the honey mustard was just weird. And those beets don't taste any different no matter how many time I whack them! Bleah.

    I think that most things are normal for a reason. People LIKE them. They DON'T like mayo on their waffles.

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  3. So say you, Meg. But who decides what is normal? Have you tried mayo on waffles? Honestly, with a little parsley and nutmeg sprinkled on top? Heaven.

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  4. Your uncle sounds very much like an instructor I had when I was a student at Bastien Specialist Academy, Domnule Farlingroyer. Domnule Farlingroyer had a disconcerting habit of sprinkling chalk dust all about him before commencing a lesson, and he often would strike students in the head with their textbooks as a means for implanting knowledge. I never particularly cared for him, although Flavia did well in his class. I think Domnule Farlingroyer may have been afraid of her -- he found female students unsettling and tended to avoid speaking to them whenever possible.

    What, by the way, are waffles and mayo? I have inferred that mayo is perhaps a sauce of some sort, but I am befuddled by the waffles. Are they are plant or an animal?

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  5. Dear friend, you make my cry inside. Honestly, who doesn't know what a waffle is? Your world must be horrific.

    Imagine sweet bread that is excited to be there. It has a spongy texture and most traditional (boring) people cover it in syrup.

    Mayonnaise is much more interesting.

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  6. These waffles sound delicious! We have many wonderful sweetbreads which are similar, but I do not believe that we have anything that is the same. I am intrigued by this mayo. Edric and I were discussing it last night (we're getting along at the moment, probably because I am ill and he feels sorry for me) and we are not yet certain that we understand exactly what it is. Is it similar to syrup or is it more like a non-sticky type of sauce? I suppose our current plant diet is making us obsess about delicious foods a bit more than usual, but Edric and I would very much like to know more about this mayo. I wish we could eat these waffles you speak of as well; we're getting rather tired of the berries and leaves we've been having. Being on the run constantly is a miserable existence.

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