Steve and I were chatting on the phone this afternoon, and I was pondering to him what I should put into my salad for lunch. I recall saying that I wanted to use up some leftovers and be thrifty, but not go over the line into "let's all get food poisoning."
So I was listing my available ingredients.
"Ok. I've got some breakfast sausage. Some rigatoni. Bell peppers? Oooh -- ricotta!" and so on.
He mentioned that ricotta is always good. I blathered on a bit, mentally walking through the crisper. "Broccoli? Carrots? Hey! I have some cooked whole oats. Yogurt?"
Suddenly, Steve said, "Well, I've lost focus on this conversation. Goodbye."
And he hung up.
And that's how we do it here at Sibling Ribaldry.
[Steven here: It must be noted, nearly all our phone conversations are 15 minutes or less, because Kate only answers her phone when she is in the car and on the way somewhere. And because she's in a smallish 'burg, she never has to drive anywhere for longer than that length of time. From my perspective-- and Mom's, with whom I discussed this just a day or so ago, so it must be true-- this is the true way all our conversations end: "Okay, I'm here now. Love you!" The only exception is when Kate is bored with the conversation and doesn't want to say so. So she'll come up with something like, "I have to wax the cat now," or, "Oh, my shellfish is having an allergy, and I need to give it an injection." Or something. It doesn't matter what she says, really, because it's all just, "Blah, blah, I'm tired of talking to you now, blah, blah." I've decided to cut to the chase and just say, "Okay, I'm done talking to you now. Love you, good-bye!" Saves on the elaborate and transparent lying. Don't you think, Kate? What's that? Can't answer because your heliotrope has a flat?]
[Kate here: It's "fifteen minutes or FEWER." Sheesh, grammar-boy. And sorry, I can't write any more now. I'm going through a tunnel. --click--]
[Steven here: I now include a gmail conversation between Kate and myself. This is why other people just don't talk to us anymore.
thehappykate: just responded to your response
me: NOT CORRECT. Because minutes can be subdivided, they can be LESS.
me: o yes, indeed
thehappykate: minutes can be COUNTED
me: anything can be counted, but not everything can be subdivided
without a chainsaw
thehappykate: But I have a chainsaw.
me: Well, then everything should be "less" for you.
thehappykate: But I have a chainsaw, therefore I will simply defend myself and my choice with it.
me: "I want less people to be here. Specifically, I want less of you."
Too bad you don't have an extension cord.
thehappykate: Hm. You may be right.
I DO. It's 50 feet
me: How many feet do I live away from you, again?
thehappykate: I could keep unplugging it and advancing.
me: I'm like Foghorn Leghorn, being attacked by the dog on the leash. Untouchable.
thehappykate: Until someone drops a piano.
me: So you'd just keep plugging in at gas stations on the way? Like if you were driving a Leaf?
me: Very scary idea. You could make a horror movie.
thehappykate: But not a Prius. Because they don't stop.
They run on damned souls.
That's how they get such great mileage.
me: (by the way, did you get the accent on the second syllable of damned? very post-postmodern literateur of me, I thought)
thehappykate: Priuses are the Official Pacecar of Hell
me: They are in the second ring of hell, which is the race course.
It's been certified.
It's where urban hipsters go when they die, condemned to eternal NASCAR races
me: it's where the monster trucks are REAL monsters.
Sent at 11:26 AM on Tuesday
me: Did you just unplug your chainsaw and get 50 feet closer to me? I sense a disturbance in the Force
thehappykate: that was just gas
me: I hate it when you have gas, and it disturbs the Force
maybe you should try less exotic recipes
Sent at 11:28 AM on Tuesday
me: YOU'RE STILL WRONG
"You should try recipes that have less spice," rather than, "You should try a smaller number of spicy recipes."
me: There are plenty of people who have better grammar than I have. You're just not one of them. Ptthtttptttpbbb.
thehappykate: that's what I thought you had written
me: I have nothing against Bob, and I do not include his name in my raspberries.