Chrisonomicon

Wednesday, November 13, 2002

This morning I woke to an empty refridgerator. No orange juice or milk or yogurt, staple breakfast items of mine, and so I baked a loaf of crusty French bread I'd kept in the freezer and topped it off with some Strawberry preserves and butter I'd managed to hold onto. Felt like I was in Germany again. Carrying that memory with me into the day, I convinced my mom to meet me at a local German restaurant where we ate schnitzel and took pictures of her new grandson.

I know, technically that would make him my nephew—or step-nephew, as it were—but I don't feel related to her new family, no matter what the law says, added to the fact that she's already technically my step-mother anyway. Step-this, step-that. Do-see-do. My family is like a square dancing convention or at the very least, a huge, spiraling staircase.

Like my fridge, the week has been sparsely populated leading to tasty, albeit less-than healthy television frivolity. Pizza for Monday Night Football, naturally. Last night, X Files and cook-whatever-you-can-find-in-the-kitchen. Frozen pizza and Cowboy Bebop tonight. I'm set, although you may want to help Jodi decide what to cook tonight.

See you Space Cowboy.