Kimberly (kimberly_a) wrote,

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Pomograntes ... or ... The Sad Decline in Restaurant Menu Proofreading

Yesterday at lunch, Lisa and I went out for tapas at César, and one of the dishes we ordered was pork ribs in pomegranate (which the menu mysteriously spelled "pomogrante" -- can a relatively trendy, expensive-ish restaurant not afford to hire a proofreader?) sauce with sesame seeds and cilantro. I was the one who suggested we order it, because I just couldn't imagine what pomegranate sauce with cilantro would taste like. Answer: not very pomegranatey. Mostly ribby. Maybe that's 'cause it was actually made with "pomogrante" sauce, not "pomegranate."

The weather was super duper hot (by Bay Area standards), and so I wore my much beloved new tank top (you can see a photo of the same shirt here), which is covered with tiny owls. Lisa said it was very appropriate that I started my day with a trip to the library while wearing a shirt covered in owls.

Lisa and I played three games of Dominion, and I got absolutely spanked all three times, but it was still great fun.

Then early this morning I was lying in bed, thinking, "It's way too early to get up. I must try to sleep some more," when my silly mom phoned at 7 frickin 30 a.m.! Who phones at 7:30 a.m. on a Sunday when it isn't an emergency? I mean, I haven't listened to the message yet (as doing so would only wake Shannon up even more thoroughly), so perhaps the world is ending, but Mom didn't sound all serious or worried or urgent or anything (from what I could hear upstairs as she left the message). She sorta sounded like when she's in a store and she sees something she thinks I would like and so she calls me and asks if I want her to buy it. Not terribly urgent, probably.

Ah ... time differences! Also, ah ... moms who get up at 6 a.m. and think everyone else must obviously also be awake!

Anyway, the ringing of the phone and the leaving of the message (and the straining of my ears trying to hear the message without my having to get out of bed) combined to wake me up, and then I realized that my wrists are hurting like a bitch (Wait ... do bitches hurt? Perhaps when they are giving birth to puppies. Or when they have been kicked by unkind dog owners. Lisa pointed out yesterday that I often make these parenthetical asides while talking, and not just when writing. I wonder if it annoys people.), and so I got up to ice my arms ... which I shall now do. First, though, I had to finish the journal entry I had started last night, because an unfinished journal entry, just sitting there on my computer, is an abomination.

EDITED TO ADD: My mom called again a few minutes ago, and this is a pretty close record of our conversation:

Mom: (teasing, like we're big sleepyheads) So ... were you still asleep when I called earlier?

Me: Um ... Mom? It was 7:30 in the morning.

Mom: (screams in disbelief/amusement/embarrassment/realization) I forgot I was in Florida!

Me: So, yes, Mom. At 7:30 a.m. on a Sunday, we were still asleep.

Apparently, she was in a store and saw some DVDs she thought I would like, and they were really cheap, and so she was calling to ask if she should buy them for me. Did I call it or what? Do I know my mom or what?
Tags: arms, clothes, food, friends, games, mom, proofreading, restaurants, rsi, sleep, weather

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