Did you know that there are at least over 10,000 varieties of mushrooms, and probably even 10,000 more, even. They are everywhere, dear reader, and occasionally, in my tuna soup – ewww! Or yum, I’m not sure which at present. I will let you know when I decide.
Anyway, a lovely way to enjoy the little buttony ones, those that won’t give you the screaming heebie jeebies, is to fry them in a little garlic infused oil and add some roasted pine nuts, along with a handy handful of chopped spinach. Mix gently (people with opposable thumbs and forefingers) until the spinach has wilted and surrendered, and fling on top of a conveniently placed plate of fettucine. Add a garnish of roasted flaked almonds if you dare. Enjoy. You’re welcome. You may add some sliced, sun-dried tomatoes, too, if you’re that way inclined.
Yes, I love tiny houses. Their teeny, tiny cat doors? Not so much. However, I applaud the efforts of human and feline alike to reduce their carbohydrate or even carbon pawprints by practising minimalism, except for tuna. Tuna, tuna everywhere, and every steak a treat, that’s my mantra.
If you’re serious about joining the Less Is More movement, check out that wonderful guy Leo Babauta, the zen habits guru to the universe. Even Leo’s website is full of white space and no-thingness.
And yet, I can’t help thinking that a good quality 50+ SPF sunscreen would do those baconers far more good than any amount of mislaid mud. Especially down the track a little, when breakfast bacons, I mean, beckons. Is it not bad enough that one’s daily mullet is so frequently tainted by a silty, sandy scent? I think it’s something to do with the pond life here on Mars.
On the other hand, who wants to make a rash, or even rasher decision at a time like this?
So I made a quick trip to the third rock this weekend and look what I saw! And you, too, fellow, planetarians and Martians, can see it in its full splendiferous and colourful magnificence on SBS TV tonight at 8.30. Any minute now, in fact, if you live in the southern states with their funny hour-ahead cult of the sun. Probably on SBS on Demand, too, maybe, perhaps, check it out anyway. And if you need more about Mardi Gras – and who doesn’t? – check out the Mardi Gras website.
And don’t forget to remember as you count sheep to sleep tonight, and every night, that love is all there is, really, in the end, and forever and always. That’s what we kittens remember, and also, tuna melts on sourdough with just a hint of parsley and a sprinkle of freshly crushed peppercorn, yeah …
Too soon to revisit Selfieville and its strange inhabitants wherever they may find themselves? I think not. And the sooner little Brutus realises that, like Hermia in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, he may be little but he’s totes fierce, the sooner he can flee that rather gorgeous flytrap of an island and get his own Dogagram account.
Unless, of course, his human frenemy, Tasty McMeatus is about to become his very closest chum, if you know what I mean.
You may have noticed that I have a certain affection for the appealing peelable fruit. That’s because it’s so appealing and peelable, of course. It goes without saying, doesn’t it, so why say it? Why not? Why do we feel as though we are progressing in circles, or at least bendy bits. It’s the banana cult and its wily ways. Enjoy a mellow yellow banana now – you know you want to, of course you do.
For Eric the alien, and a lot of humans and felines besides, there is nothing at all more peaceful than to picnic at a cemetery, which is one of Stonehenge’s assumed reasons for existing. Being a cemetery, and then being a picnic spot. Also, it’s a great place to rest on your way to Avebury, infinity, and beyond, although I’ve heard that getting a park is difficult from time to time.
If you go, enjoy the greenery, the greyery, and the gruesome knowledge that human sacrifice was a thing even and especially thousands of years ago. Say hello to Eric for me.