When I got home from my fantastic afternoon drive with the Professor, the Butcher and my car were gone. I don’t mind. I just wonder where he’s gone and if I have time to knock one out before he gets back. I know you all wonder the same thing when faced with an empty house and an hour to yourself, so don’t judge me.
Anyway, the drive. God, talking to the Professor just does my heart good. We have these big sprawling conversations that range from philosophy to popular music to racism to banking to the driving habits of young people and whether the I-74 bridge crossing the Mississippi is the scariest bridge ever. We both think it may be.
There’s something about driving while we talk, somehow the ground we cover in conversation seems to warrant the ground we cover in the car.
And so we covered a lot of ground.
She also told me about this colleague of hers who is working on this theory that you can look at Augustine and his talk of faith, hope, and love and use them to talk about a right relationship to time and to each other–that we have faith that people in the past were working for our benefit, we hope that our work will benefit the future, because we look towards and love the future. I’m probably not expressing it well, but it blew my mind.
Also, my Mother’s day present arrived at my parents’. They called to complain. I got my mom the new Bruce Springsteen, which I am totally in love with. They hate it. My dad thinks Springsteen owes an apology to Seeger. My mom says, “Well, at least you don’t have to worry about singing along. You can’t sound worse than him.”
They are one step away from getting nothing but McDonalds gift certificates from here on out, let me tell you.
My other roommate in grad school would occasionally make this potato salad so good that Dr. J and I would wait for her to leave and then sit out in the porch swing and get drunk and eat it all. She never would share the recipe.
I forgive her, though, because her Jesus would want me to.
Plus, I think I’ve approximated it.
And so, I will share it with you. Here’s what you need:
6 medium boiling potatoes (about two pounds) cooked and cubed
1 1/2 cup of mayonnaise or Miracle Whip
1 tablespoon of mustard
1 teaspoon of salt
1/4 teaspoon of pepper
1 medium onion, finely chopped (you can cook the onions in the bacon fat if you don’t like raw onions)
4 hardboiled eggs, chopped.
1 tablespoon of relish (I like sweet, but play around)
1/2 a package of cooked and crumbled bacon (the secret ingredient)
Here’s what you do:
Let the potatoes slightly cool. Mix the mayo, mustard, salt, pepper, and relish all together. Add the bacon and onions. Then the potatoes. Toss all this together. Then carefully stir in the eggs. Let it sit in your fridge for about four hours. If you can. Because, believe me, this tastes so good, it will be an effort just to get it into the fridge.
Eat up. Feel slightly sick to your stomach over the amount of potato salad you’ve eaten, but continue to eat anyway.
Read this blog. I think you will like it.
It’s just the day of reviews here at Tiny Cat Pants, what can I tell you?
Anyway, the Butcher and I just got back from seeing Ovid’s Metamorphoses over in Germantown and holy fuck, folks, if you are looking for something to do this weekend or the next, go see this play. Where to start? First, they perform it in an old warehouse with these huge windows and the play starts just as the sun is setting, so there’s all this beautiful, fading, natural light.
And then, there’s this huge pool right in the middle of the room, which is the central feature of the stage and most of the action takes place in the water. It’s all retellings of Ovid’s tellings of old Greek myths and the water and the music and the way the actors seamlessly flow from one character to another, from one myth to another, gives the whole thing this dreamlike feel.
It was really one of the most beautiful spectacles I’ve seen in ages.
The Butcher had no idea what we were going to see and when we got in the car to go home, he kind of quietly said, “It really makes a difference to see that stuff acted out, instead of just reading it.” And it does. It’s just amazing.
And then, at the end of the play, when the gods are revealed for their true selves, and wishes have been granted and ungranted and loves have been won and lost, the cast takes small bowls filled with lit candles and sets them adrift in the pool and we all exit out into the crisp night air and there are the moon and the stars arranged all with names that echo the sounds we’ve just heard.
It just gives me chills to tell you about it.