Live From Nilbog

Emma had a birthday. We drank; then, later, Katharine and she and I watched Troll 2 together. I hadn't known what a gold mine that fucker is in terms of bizarre dialogue and delivery. You don't piss on hospitality -- true, that.

There were a lot of fruit flies in the kitchen recently, and I couldn't figure out why -- I couldn't blame it on Sophie any more, and, while I'm not great about doing the dishes, having an empty sink didn't seem to mitigate the problem. What happened, though, was that Nina was cooking steaks on my stove and went looking in the cupboard below the counter, in which Randy's got space allotted for his dry goods, for a saucepan. Next to his stash of Cheddar Bunnies was a bag of potatoes I'd left down there a month or two ago, and there were flies buzzing around that thing like nuts. It was sitting in a swamp of its own putrefaction -- something had gone terribly wrong, and, when I gaggingly hoisted the sack into the garbage, I noticed that it left a viscous trail that was bubbling and seething with a pupal host. Indeed, said ichor had spewed forth out of the cabinet onto the floor below a day before. I had assumed it was cat food gravy. It smelled like old cat food gravy! Nina dubbed the whole scene "the horror," and we determined that the remaining pool should be left for Someone Else to deal with.

Then there was The Game -- you know, when the big football teams play each other. I came up on the train after work on Friday and met up with The Friends at Rudy's. Maggie and Cliff were there -- it was great to see them! I ate some Alfie Bread (they've introduced a new Alfie Bread that has pepperoni!) and then we all crashed at Ted's house. For some reason I petitioned to share a bed with Ted, forgetting that he's a snorer. Greg and Ted made everyone breakfast in the morning, which was delicious, although my stomach was doing a thing. Around 10:30 we headed to the tailgate, which was as about the same as usual. We drank whiskey out of a thermos. The game itself was boring and Yale lost, rottenly; like Yankees fans, we left after about thirty minutes and then waited for another thirty to board a bus back to campus.

I got to pee in that trough urinal, though. Whenever I'm peeing into an unfamiliar thing, I have a second or two where I think, "Maybe I shouldn't be peeing into this!" And then I look around to make sure other people are peeing into it, and they are and I'm sorry I checked.

Master Krauss was having a party when we got to Silliman College, and Ron took us on a tour of the new, renovated dining hall and basement. I can't really think of a way to describe it to people who don't know what I'm talking about without making it sound boring, so I won't try, but suffice it to say that it was very different and kind of a strangely emotional experience. Not with tears or anything, mind you, but it's always surprising what an effect place has on you. I opted to drive back to Pelham with KT that evening instead of staying another day, because I was feeling run down. I'll get to the why a bit later. Pictures are in the photostream.

For Thanksgiving I made chorizo and spinach soup, as per this recipe. I realized part way through making it, though, that my big pot was not going to be big enough to hold it all. So, with the soup simmering on the range, I ran down to the hardware store on my corner and bought a really big pot, like, that a restaurant might use. So I finished making the soup in that (it barely filled it half-way) and then lugged the fucker on the subway over to Eve's, who was also cooking in preparation for the festivities at my parents' house. I was so exhausted when I got there that I had to eat a piece of bread and drink some whiskey. Eve made a vegan chocolate cake and some apple stuff. It was delicious! So was my soup.