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Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Jacques Chitte who wrote (10351)	5/13/1998 7:46:00 PM
From: Janice Shell	Read Replies (2) \| Respond to of 71178

But I will put her tiny fingers to the delicate tasks of primer pocket uniforming and flash hole deburring. Women are indeed so much better at tasks requiring manual dexterity, are they not? Have been away... on the Crashco Crusade. It's great fun, but still I miss DAR, and find there are so friggin' many (oops, Crashco again) posts that I can't possibly catch up. Anyhow, a Story: Perfect Eric told me that this week, on Tuesday, which is when he comes to clean my house, he'd like to cook dinner for me. I didn't understand why, but then there's so much in my life I don't understand. Asking doesn't really help. So I just said fine. On Tuesday he arrived at two, as always, with his cousin-of-the-completely-horizontal-earlobes in tow. They'd brought a lotta bags of stuff, but I didn't pay much attention because I had to get to the archive. Returned at about six. Eric was doing the bedroom, Cousin (whose name I've never really grasped) the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, Eric announced that he would Begin to Cook. I though: Fine, they'll make something, leave at the usual time, a little after seven. So I came in here, got online, and waited. They went into the kitchen, closed the door. Time passed. Things began to smell awfully good. Eric called me into the kitchen to show me how he made the little pasta nests with incredibly fine noodles (he has an interesting wooden extrusion device) that he then steamed. Then he set the table. Tablecloth, silver, the Good China, the Nice Glasses. Then he called me to dinner. There I was, in solitary splendor. He explained to me what the dishes were: beef simmered with spices and coconut milk, shrimp fried with peppers and spices, peppers (sweet and hot), onions, and more coconut milk. All of which was of course served on the four dozen or so pasta nests he'd made. Enough for an army. I'd been wondering whether they planned to eat with me. No problem, considering they'd arrived at two and dinner wasn't ready till nine and they'd also cleaned the house. After I started to eat, Eric came back into the living room with a plate and asked if it was all right if he had some, too. I said of course, sit down, eat. So we ate and talked. But Cousin stayed in the kitchen, washing the pots and pans. Such is life. Hierarchies everywhere. When I'd finished I went off to the bedroom to get online again and have a ciggie. They cleaned up, and finally left at ten. Needless to say, I offered double the normal pay, but Eric refused to take it. It was a gift. And a very nice one. Eat your hearts out, Perfect Eric-less people.