Dora babysits for two kids, as well as their grandmother who suffers from dementia. If you've never known anyone with dementia, it's old people doing shit that would be high-larious if they were a drunk college kid. But since it's an elderly person who is neither drunk nor an asshole who deserves to bust their lip on a sink, it's less funny, more heartbreaking. So Dora and I made a pact to kill each other in case of dementia. But, in retrospect, the only way that Dora and I could be any more fun is if we both had dementia, so maybe we should just force our children into a different pact, vowing to videotape our highjinks. Gah, being an adult is going to be awesome.
I was very upfront when I interviewed and made sure I told Bobby Habibi very loudly that I cannot cook. They hired me anyway. (That sentence has been uttered many-a-time in the past year.) Sometimes, though, I feel guilty about throwing frozen pizza, chicken nuggets, and hamburgers at my kids day after day. So sometimes I like to do something a little crazy: cook.
Tonight I made vegetarian chili, using this recipe from Whole Foods. I think Vuboq would have liked this, since word on the Beltway is that he spends the majority of his unemployment checks at Whole Foods. *burn*
So after I'd given myself carpal tunnel from opening cans and stirring, guess who ate that shit. Me. Only me. Francois Phillipe had a hotdog sandwich, the twins had a banana, Dash had meat (his favorite food), and Trixie had string cheese. I sat at the head of the table, very calmly eating my chili, luxuriating in the halluhpeenyuhs and sour cream, pretending like FP's hotdog sandwich wasn't a fucking slap in my ruddy face (my face is actually ruddy, I'm not just looking for funny adjectives).
PS - If any faithful readers see my My Older Man Friend wandering around My Alma Mater, tell him to drop his favorite nanny(me) a line. I ain't heard from that boo in a hot minute.