Dammit, I love Julia Child!

It's utterly nasty (sleety and cold) outside, so I'm staying in tonight. So far, my night has consisted of breaking in my new winter boots (gotta wear them around the house a bit to see if I really like them before wearing them outside), doing my dishes, having chips and guacamole and fake chicken nuggets with barbeque sauce for dinner, and watching the Food Channel. When I'm done eating, I'll take a hot bath and then do some yoga. (My resolution this year was to do yoga a bit each day; like most people, I have fallen off the resolution wagon on more than one occasion already, but I'm trying to be compassionate with myself.) This post will consist of a few random things that have been jostling around in my brain.

A few weeks ago, I caught a snippet of Julia Child's old show, and she cracks me up. Brandishing a rubber mallet and a big-ass cleaver, she was "whacking up"--her words, not mine--a turkey carcass.She didn't once admonish us about food safety or wash her hands like an OCD-addled person, and she wielded massive knife after massive knife with her pale, mauve-painted finger. It was great.

One morning about a month ago, I watched a poor little grrl get drenched by a passing car as we stood at the bus stop. Her already somewhat grumpy morning face crumpled, and she looked like a surly Anne Hathaway. I felt sorry for her. Her navy blue coat and dark hair were completely spattered with muddy water. Not a good way to start the day.