Tag Archives: mess

tohubohu.

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today, someone decided

to quietly dump every single puzzle out onto the floor

mix the pieces together

then head up to the loft to play.

it was left in a perfect state of tobubohu

but somehow i couldn’t think of that word

at the moment of discovery

 tomorrow we will work on it together

and with it will come a new word.

toh-hoo-BOH-hoo

part of speech: noun

origin: hebrew, unknown

1. a state of chaos, utter confusion

examples in a sentence:

“The mayor’s unexpected announcement left the press in a tohubohu.”

“After recess the students were always in a tohubohu.”

anyone else ever achieve this perfect state?

grounds on the ground.

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when the coffee falls

right as everything is ready

water boiled

waiting to be poured

about to brew 

soon to be sipped

it becomes precious

 so you laugh or cry or both.

 

==

“The coffee was never served. It boiled over, spattered them all,

and wet a costly tablecloth and the baroness’s dress.

But it served the end that was desired for it gave rise to many jests and merry peals of laughter.”

― Leo Tolstoy, Anna Karenina

one hot mess.

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french-onion-soup

made a big pot

of bubbling hot

french onion soup

ladled it into little bowls

topped it with

buttered french bread slices

gruyere cheese

broiled it until it was just so

fully enjoyed it

though i knew

my big pan

was going to be tough to clean 

after caramelizing the onions

and 

cooking it for

such a very long time

to create a rich flavor

so 

after our meal

and

emptying out

the rest of the soup

i remembered 

an old kitchen trick

 reheat the pan

on low

with a little

water and dish soap

to unstick the brown bits

making for an easier cleanup

and

went off to work

on an art project

in the other room

music playing

windows open

nice breeze on a hot night

a familiar scent filled the air

wondered why the neighbors

were grilling out so late at night

took a break from the art

to get a drink of water

realized the 

‘grilling’

was going on right in my own kitchen

apparently

i’d forgotten about

my clever cleanup trick

that was fully in process

the water had cooked down long ago

the pan was almost on fire

inside was black and crackling

IMG_0866i quickly turned off the heat

grabbed the pan

with hot pads

put it into my sink

too hot to add any water

let it cool down overnight

in the morning

finally decided to

tackle the scrubbing job

now made so much harder

with the ultra char-grilled pan

went to pull it out of the sink

it seemed a bit stuck

wrestled with it a bit

finally used all of

my upper body muscle power

snapped it out of there

 flipped it over to see why

it was sticking

and

voila!

it had been so hot

that it had melted right to my sink

IMG_0864

and when i yanked it out

it took some of the ceramic with it
IMG_0874

 now

i need

a new pan

and

a new sink

but

damn, that soup was good.

“the only real stumbling block is fear of failure.

in cooking you’ve got to have a what-the-hell attitude.”

― julia child

 

the jackson pollock of the cereal world.

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IMG_0784

j: ‘i think i should eat outside, i’m kind of messy.’

b: ‘he is.’

me: ‘it’s unanimous then.’

‘yep, that food really is kind of messy.’

b: ‘that’s not food, that’s art.’

me: ‘it is.’

“life is a great big canvas, and you should throw all the paint you can on it.” – danny kaye

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strangebeav.com

not me or anyone i know,

but we do share the same room painting technique. 

paint project

in

my loft bedroom 

up high in the cottage

paint clothes on

sweat pants with lost drawstring

falling down

somehow rear end 

gets painted

and

lying back

on my tarp covered bed

moved to the center of the room

painting

the low arched ceiling above

paint on my face 

in my ears

in my hair

nacho the cat not the food

crying downstairs

the whole time

finally coming up

 getting wet paint on him

tracking downstairs

must have been

raised by

depressed

coyotes

he does not meow

like a cat

it is more of a

soulful mourning 

bug flies

into the whirlwind

and creates

a textured wall

head hit

on angled walls

time and time again

arms covered

in splatter

i stand

on tippy-toes

balanced precariously

on the edge of the stairs 

 to reach tiny corners

paint dripping and drying

on wood floor in kitchen below

chip it off

curtain downstairs 

taken off 

to avoid paint

but

rod broken in process

painting quickly 

before the dark of night

when it’s impossible to see up there

in the mood lighting

wow

that’s a lot of color

i can’t wait

to see it

in the daylight

out of paint

put empty can in car

paint gets on seats

goo be gone 

leaves a mark

i’ve decided 

not to become

 a professional

house painter

‘one must act in painting as in life, directly.’ -pablo picasso