The rules:
1) Copy this list into your blog or journal, including these instructions.
2) Bold all the items you’ve eaten.
3) Cross out any items that you would never consider eating.
4) Optional extra: Post a comment here and at Very Good Taste, linking to your results.
I've parenthetically added a few comments and definitions to the list.
The VGT Omnivore’s Hundred:
1. Venison
2. Nettle tea
3. Huevos rancheros
4. Steak tartare
5. Crocodile
6. Black pudding
7. Cheese fondue
8. Carp
9. Borscht
10. Baba ghanoush
11. Calamari
12. Pho
13. PB&J sandwich
14. Aloo gobi
15. Hot dog from a street cart
16. Epoisses (that's unpasteurized cheese, I just discovered)
17. Black truffle
18. Fruit wine made from something other than grapes
19. Steamed pork buns
20. Pistachio ice cream
21. Heirloom tomatoes
22. Fresh wild berries
23. Foie gras
24. Rice and beans
25. Brawn, or head cheese
26. Raw Scotch Bonnet pepper
27. Dulce de leche
28. Oysters
29. Baklava
30. Bagna cauda (sort of an Italian fondue)
31. Wasabi peas
32. Clam chowder in a sourdough bowl
33. Salted lassi
34. Sauerkraut
35. Root beer float
36. Cognac with a fat cigar
37. Clotted cream tea
38. Vodka jelly/Jell-O
39. Gumbo
40. Oxtail
41. Curried goat
42. Whole insects
43. Phaal (wicked hot curry that I never heard of)
44. Goat’s milk
45. Malt whiskey from a bottle worth £60/$120 or more
46. Fugu (poisonous pufferfish)
47. Chicken tikka masala
48. Eel
49. Krispy Kreme original glazed doughnut
50. Sea urchin
51. Prickly pear
52. Umeboshi (pickled fruit)
53. Abalone
54. Paneer
55. McDonald’s Big Mac Meal
56. Spaetzle
57. Dirty gin martini
58. Beer above 8% ABV
59. Poutine
60. Carob chips
61. S’mores
62. Sweetbreads
63. Kaolin (not that I'm aware of)
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
66. Frogs’ legs
67. Beignets, churros, elephant ears or funnel cake
68. Haggis
69. Fried plantain
70. Chitterlings, or andouillette
71. Gazpacho
72. Caviar and blini
73. Louche absinthe
74. Gjetost, or brunost (more cheese, this time from Norway)
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
77. Hostess Fruit Pie
78. Snail
79. Lapsang souchong
80. Bellini
81. Tom yum
82. Eggs Benedict
83. Pocky
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant
85. Kobe beef
86. Hare
87. Goulash
88. Flowers
89. Horse
90. Criollo chocolate
91. Spam
92. Soft shell crab
93. Rose harissa
94. Catfish
95. Mole poblano
96. Bagel and lox
97. Lobster Thermidor
98. Polenta
99. Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee
100. Snake
Link snagged from karan.
Bad hair day. Need haircut, badly. Need hair colored, more badly. (Worser?) Need coinage to pay for cut and color. Meantime, if you cross my path, please say hello to me, my shaggy 'do, and my grey roots.
It's Sunday. I'm at the office, trying to make a dent in the piles. Also trying to keep my mind even partially off of the latest death of someone I love.
It's not supposed to be like this. I mean, I get that the parents of us 40-somethings are gonna die, even when they were in great health and all that. It's not easy, whether it's my own dad or that of a dear friend, but I do get it. It's the Circle of Life 'n' Shit™.
But what's this bull$%!* with friends and the siblings of friends dying in their 30s and 40s?
For me, it started about 2 months ago with the death of a (high school/temple) youth group friend's brother after a 5 year battle with cancer (of which I was unaware). I would see the friend and her family at temple on holidays and the occasional Friday night, and the friend and I would make noises about making plans to get together that never materialized. I only knew the brother vaguely; he was younger and joined our youth group when I was a senior/co-president and the sister was a junior and more actively involved. There were no other siblings.
About 3 weeks ago, I learned that another high-school/youth group friend lost a sibling. This time, it was an older sister, the same age as Never-Blogging Sister Ju, and she had lived with Type I diabetes from as far back as I can remember. Her transplanted kidney (donated by her sister/my friend a couple of years ago) gave out and the rest of her organs ultimately failed from the ravages of the disease. She was only 46. NBSJ and the deceased were Sunday-school and public-school classmates; they were friendly but not close. The mother of these two (there's also an older brother) was also a friend of our family. She was involved with the temple board, as was my dad, and she and Father Ju gabbed and strategized together a lot in the years when they served together. The sisters had lived in NYC for many years and the parents moved to Florida a number of years ago but, again, I would see them at holidays and always enjoyed these visits.
These two deaths weren't terribly close to me, but they still struck a painful chord.
At 11:15 last night (Saturday night), I got a call from my mother. She had called the previous morning as she headed out of town with friends for the weekend, so I knew this wasn't just a "Hey-I'm-home-where-are-you?" sort of call when I picked up immediately. "I have terrible news," she said. "Mrs. Marshall called tonight. I'm sorry, honey, but Pedro is dead."
It's just not ... possible. Pedro? Dead? At 45, he was the oldest of the Marshalls' four sons. Only 8 or 9 years ago, the next oldest of the brothers -- my age and peer -- had died after a second bout with Hodgkin's lymphoma. (The first bout was successfully beaten, in keeping with the statistics, when we were in high school.) Pedro had taken brother Garrett's death particularly hard, finding himself unable to function and using alcohol and drugs to cope. When Pedro didn't show up to the second-youngest brother's wedding a year or so later, we learned he had been hospitalized. No details were given, but over the subsequent years Pedro confided that he was battling mental illness and had attempted to take his own life. For a while he stopped drinking and we knew he was in and out of treatment programs, transitional housing, therapy, and trying various psych0pharmac0logical cocktails. In the past couple of years I saw him drinking at family gatherings and knew that he had been unable to hold a job. Still, I knew he was taking medication for his illness and believed he was trying to take responsibility for himself and his disease. He was always incredibly sweet and, despite declining to stay in direct contact with anyone but his immediate family, I knew he cared deeply for me and my family. When we were together, he would often tell people that I was his sister, "or as close to a sister" as he had ever had, because we each grew up with siblings of our own gender and our families had always been so close.
In the years since my dad died, Pedro would tell and retell my favorite stories about his friendship with my dad when we were growing up, most memorably a tale of watching my dad work in the garden: Father Ju was working up a good sweat, tending to his beloved tomato plants. Pedro told him, "Mr. Ju, your garden isn't as big as my Grampy Marshall's garden." When my dad was noncommittal, digging, weeding, and turning soil, Pedro said, "Mr. Ju, your tomato plants aren't as tall as my Grampy Marshall's tomato plants." Dad was turning red, perspiring, shaking his head, working away, huffing heavily. Pedro went on, "Mr. Ju, your tomatoes don't taste as good as my Grampy Marshall's tomatoes." And just when the top of my dad's head was about to blow off, little Pedro jumped up and said, "Mr. Ju, I love you," gave dad a big hug around the legs, and ran off to play.
Mrs. Marshall told my mom last night that the cause of death had not yet been determined, but that he had died "in his sleep" and had looked "peaceful." Of course, I can't be sure that he took his own life, but I can't help feeling reasonably certain that if he didn't do it purposefully, it's probably not too much of a stretch to guess that he may have accidentally hastened his own death through confusion due to his illness and meds and/or unadvisable consumption of alcohol with prescription psych0troprics.
In any case, how does a parent cope with the devastating loss of not just one child but now two? How do the remaining brothers cope with becoming two rather than three, much less four. Not that it really matters, but what does a surviving brother say when asked, "Who's the oldest?" or "How many siblings do you have?"
I remember, in college, one friend of mine would respond to the question of how many kids were in her family more or less as follows: "I'm second to youngest of four. I have two older brothers and I had a younger sister who died as an infant." Honestly, I always thought that was sort of weird since the youngest died so young. My friend had really always been the youngest, for all intents and purposes, I thought, so why even bring up this information that was, well, awkward for everyone. Now, looking back, I think that it is incredibly special that she included that deceased baby as a member of her family ... because she was. No matter how long that child was in their lives, they had opened their hearts to her and her brief life forever altered them.
Two brothers now are dead. Two of my brothers -- as close as I have to brothers -- are now dead. Their lives, as well as their premature deaths, have forever altered me. My heart can't sustain any more.
I had a great time hanging out with her while she was in town, but Chapin has now departed Beantown in search of greener pastures.
In other semi-news, this past weekend I went to a six year-old's birthday party out in western Mass., then had to pay a condolence call to a former high school classmate whose dad passed away last week. (For those keeping score, that's two different friends whose dads have died within the past month.)
Saturday night I reconnected with a college friend with whom I had fallen out of touch for about 8 years. I won't go into it too much, but I have to acknowledge (mostly to myself) that her insights and her own journey in life were incredibly inspiring and motivating for me. I look forward to staying in touch much more regularly and I hope that the boost I got from our visit (insofar as dealing with my own "stuff") lasts for a while, despite her return to one of the "I" states.
This week, the boss is back from her vacation so things are back to the usual routine, for better or for worse. We're heading into our busy season, as we ramp up for the arrival of the new and returning cherubs after Labor Day. Wheeee.
I have a wedgie. Note to self: These undies really need to be retired from the regular rotation.
I heart my Crocs. Many thanks to Brian and wife-of-Brian for convincing me to try them out despite my statements about how ugly and stupid they are. (Fortunately, neither was wearing the offending items when said negative opinion was proffered.) They may look silly, but (a) I can spend a whole day on my feet in them without my legs getting tired, my feet hurting, or getting leg cramps afterward; and (2) I'm in with the cool kidz (at least, I'm in with the cool 6-year-olds) when we're all wearing 'em. Sure, theirs are pink or blue and mine are brown, but I'm still totally one of them.
Three pteradactyl-sized mosquitos tried to attack me in my car on the way to work today. I had to pull over TWICE (no kidding) to administer their punishment for misdeeds gone by or intended in the future. How did those beasts even get in the car? The windows were closed overnight. I think they banded together and laid in wait for me to open the car door this morning, and they all three went on their kamikaze mission to bust their way in when I was starting the engine with the door open for a fraction of a minute.
What is it with restaurants that don't have air-conditioning? I mean, seriously? This is not the Arctic, and you really need to accept the fact that I will never return to your establishment unless you install some serious BTUs.
I have managed to keep a 
bamboo plant alive in my office for a full two years. This is notable, particularly in light of my inability to keep any other green leafy items alive, pretty much ever. I've even killed cacti, so do not doubt me. As a confirmed Brown Thumb, I heartily endorse the keeping of "Lucky Bamboo" if you're ever looking for validation of your ability to not kill everything in your immediate vicinity.
So what's the semi-news in your neck of the woods?