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The tough questions

You know when children go through that phase of asking ‘why’ more times a day than their life is worth? Some days I think I never left that zone. When I’m at work, I’d like to think that my ‘why’ questions are helpful or in the latest parlance, ‘value-add’.

When at home, sometimes I want to ask the tough questions. Things like:

  • why does traffic snarl?
  • why does some cat poo float and not others? and
  • what is the purpose of snot?

These critical questions shall have to wait, for tonight, I have a fourth more burning question.

Why does food which is bad for you taste good and ‘good’ food taste, well, bad?

If a carrot is so much better for you than a raspberry and almond muffin, why does the muffin win the taste war? And why is it that it’s the BAD item which is called ‘comfort’ food. No one says a salad is comforting. Take that muffin again for a moment. MUFFIN. Yes. Does it not sound more like a hug than a stringy, pathetic piece of lettuce? (Yes, those added adjectives give away my bias).

I used to fit here without issue

When I started lite n’ easy last week I tried to tell myself that food is fuel. Food is like sleep; a necessity but one can have too much of it. Of course, this argument sucked; it wobbled at the first sight of challenge; it fell quickly on its sword as I reminisced about how much I love my nana naps.

I actually think I’d fare reasonably well, were it not for stress induced eating. (That’s code for: ‘I had a bad day, now give me some chocolate.’) So perhaps I should focus less on the food and more on the stress?

Take today as an example. I wanted to call the person a short sighted, narrow minded fool. I did not. I ate the said raspberry muffin instead as the consequences of saying what I really thought were not as palatable.

If you’re thinking this is one of those blog posts with a neat beginning, middle and end, with the moral all sealed up and delivered, you’d be wrong. I don’t have an end to this post. I’m not quite sure what to do when I get stressed; I’m not sure how to avoid the chocolate slice; the corn chips or the naan bread.

My only idea is they should allow cats at work. Particularly 5 month old deaf ones. While the old girls are asleep on the floor, Gesso is chasing the invisible monster. He makes me laugh. Perhaps I could smuggle him in to my office… do you think anyone would notice?


Houston there’s peas in my korma

Week one of Lite n’ easy. Week one of carefully dodging evil ingredients. So far I’m finding that the chefs at lite n’ easy like to chop the food small. This does not bode well for the food separatists among us who feel compelled to remove the offending articles. The first night, I was trying to avoid the onion. Tonight, the peas were testing my fine motor skills with my fork. My dinner contained an obscenity of peas.

Knowing that obscenity was not the correct collective noun for peas, I googled it, only to be exceptionally disappointed. A murder of peas? A murmation? A mass killing or a mutations? No, it was a pod of peas. How outrageously dull.

While I was internet surfing for collective nouns, I checked out whether Andrew was fibbing regarding the clowder of cats. He was not. Evidently ‘c’ words are popular for cats… a clowder of them; a cluster, a clutter, a kindle. I think it’s time we used some poetic licence and got my favourite furry friends a better collective noun. I mean seriously, owls get a parliament, racoons a nursery and rhino’s a crash; surely cats desire better than a clowder.

I hereby call for suggestions. If I get one good enough, I’m sure that the Oxford dictionary will admit the current terms are pathetic and change it, yes?

What about a flea of cats; a hairball of cats, or a whisker of them? I look at Saffron and Licorice. Nope, they’re far too fat to be ‘grouped’ by fleas, hairballs or whiskers. Perhaps I should go with a donut of cats; a souffle of cats or a double whipped cream choc tart with a cherry on the top of cats (Licorice would almost certainly make it in the last one).

On a tangent (as if going from peas in my korma to a surfeit of skunks wasn’t enough) I wonder what the collective noun for blogs is? So I googled it. (Google answers all). It seems I’m not the only one who has been wondering. I found an old post from 2007 which invited readers to submit their suggestions; and submit they did. Among my favourites were:

  • bridge of bloggers
  • gaggle of bloggers
  • google of bloggers
  • an inbox of bloggers
  • an irrelevance of bloggers

More here. Then I moved on to Richard Watts’ blog: Man About Town to discover a few more.

There were a number in the self-depricating vein of ‘an irrelevance’:
  • an opinionation of bloggers
  • wanktative of bloggers.
  • an inbreeding of bloggers
  • a blot of bloggers
Then there were a host of ‘technical’ and ‘geeky’ attempts
  • a div tag of bloggers
  • a typepad of bloggers
  • a block-quote of bloggers
  • a cross-post of bloggers
  • a toggle of bloggers
  • a thread of bloggers
  • a flickr of bloggers
  •  a repost of bloggers
  •  a click of bloggers
and my favourite:
  • qwerty of bloggers
And just think! All this started because there was an obscenity of peas in my korma.