Today was a banner day for the Idiots.
First, of course, was the Slate article (Part One of THREE!).
We basically sat in that exact position from 7:30 this morning until, well, just now. Our children are dehydrated on the floor somewhere, but what are spawn in the face of this?:
(Let it be known that our previous spike was a referral from the illustrious Kate Beaton, who seems to have at least half the world domination that Slate does.)
Then, of course, was the FedEx delivery I have been waiting for with bees in my ears (“bated breath” is just so tired, though I have no idea what I mean by bees in the ears):
Yes, Adobe Creative Suite 5 has arrived! This is probably incredibly boring to everyone except for Nick, but what can I say – I loves me the new software. I even save the packaging, I like it so much. I have CS2, CS3 and CS4 boxes in my filing cabinet, because I love them so much I just can’t throw them away.
Then, there was the fact that our agent wangled a deal with a real live publishing company for us to work on a book (more torrid details later, once the contract is actually signed). This is Super exciting for Super reasons we will tell you about Super later.
So – things were looking really good (except for the dehydrated kids, but oh well). We decided to celebrate by cooking some pasta (I know! Pasta! We sure know how to live it up, here in the barn). But then, tragedy struck. While Matthew was using his parmesan cheese-grating contraption, the handle broke.
That cheese grater was the only thing that has kept this marriage alive. When we first got together, I found it in Matthew’s kitchen drawer and thought to myself, “This guy is sophisticated. This guy likes to cook. This guy likes to grate his cheese.” It was, quite frankly, one of his main selling points. Little did I know that he actually liked to eat all of his meals wrapped in tortillas (be they peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, canned clams and cottage cheese, spaghetti, or kim chee surprise) and that the cheese grater was a remnant of a bygone relationship (poor girl was trying to enact reform). And now that it’s gone, I’m not sure there’s any reason left to love the guy. You can see that, in his heart, he knows this is true.
Little did Sir Shenk know that the secret to our collaboration was a cheese grater. I’ll start processing the divorce papers tomorrow.
What a day! I’m so excited for, and proud of, you both — AND I’m sure your relationships can survive pre-shredded cheese (maybe).
Sarah:
I like your optimism, but the problem isn’t the source and texture of the cheese itself, but the significance of the sophisticated culinary tool and the ways in which its presence in my drawer inspired Robbi to irrational delusions that, for a while at least, worked in my favor.
What I’m saying is that I’ve been exposed, and the jig is likely up. You guys have a guest room, right?
Matthew
Congrats to the Idiots! I am proud to be a subscriber today, although I think I’d like being one any day. Can’t wait to hear about the book!
Robbi,
Surely you can muster up the confidence that Matthew will find another way to cut the cheese.
Besides…very cool happenings for you folks. I’m not surprised, but am enjoying it all nonetheless. And FYI, babies are very moist creatures, so no worries if it’s only been 24 hours or so of neglect.
Looking forward to more festivities!
Move on. Get one of those micro graters. Takes up less drawer space anyway — and it always makes it seem like there’s more cheese. (We all like cheesiness, right?). Turn the broken grater into a sculptural object — you could make a pencil holder, for example, or something (come on, you guys are supposed to be the creative ones — help me out). Reimage the cheese grater relationship in the process.
Correction. Save all this for a much slower day when retail therapy and fiddling will be more welcomed/necessary.
Can’t wait to read part 2.
The math (8 + 14, below) sure is getting hard. I don’t have 22 digits (I think).