Tonight was a Chilean feast, featuring an argument with my 8 year old about the proper pronunciation of Chile. “Chil-lay” says I, and not even with a thick Jimmy Smits on SNL accent. “Mom. It’s Chilly,” he informs me. No, I tell him, it is Chil-lay and if you go to that country I assure you they are not calling the place “chilly” (in fact, they may be calling it El chupacabre for all I know, and I don’t call Germany “Deutschland” so who knows why I’ve taken this stand, but still). He informed me, complete with eyeroll, that his teachers call it Chilly and that is correct. Grr. I am the Mother. I know all! When those teachers feed you and step on your damned legos trying to come read to you at night, THEN they can determine how we shall pronounce the names of South American countries!

The food was less obstreperous (I feel like I’ve just used that word recently in a post…did I ? It’s a good word, but mustn’t over use. Esp when mis-using), I made Empanandas from the Sundays at Moosewood cookbook. And the salsa and Mushroom Stuffed Eggs from the same book. All were super yummy. Pretty far off my current course of eating, but I tried to show restraint. Steve declared the salsa the Best Ever, so that was a hit. All hail Muir Glen Fire Roasted Tomatoes!

In other news…I’m currently listening to Jonathon Strange and Mr. Norrell by Susanna Clarke. I’m enjoying it well enough, but it was praised to the heavens when it came out. I’m not loving it and I wonder if it’s partly due to the fact that I’m listening. I think I’ll go get the book tomorrow and see if that enhances my enjoyment. It’s a great conceit with really interesting characters. It’s set in England in the early 1800s, and the basic notion is that in the Renaissance or there abouts, magic was real. It disappeared, for reasons not yet revealed to me, and has begun to re-emerge. It’s gothic and funny and mysterious. When I listen while driving (for example the nearly 3 hours I spent driving to get a guinea pig to and from the vet to have a cyst removed. A wee little growth that was causing no harm. Oy.), I can pay full attention, but when I try to listen while I do things in the house, I lose part of it. I can listen to podcasts of The Bugle or Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me with no trouble, but I think I need to hold weightier books in my hand. I just got some P.G. Wodehouse to load onto the ol’ ipod, that’s light enough to listen to.

Lord, I feel like Andy Rooney is blogging for me lately.

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