Some Firsts

I have gone to what may amount to be an unreasonable amount of colleges and for majors that are quite thinky. Also, I have worked for many years in blue collar environs and readily identify with working class people. My background is a strange mix of intellectualism and working class ethos, the kind of guy who can do grunt work for ten hours and then come home and work on a new kinematics system to replace Newton's. (And that's how I spent the summer of 2003, by the by, trying to figure out why cubic Hz's are everywhere at night after days setting tile.)

While I've never been in a position of controlling any real amounts of capital to be considered bourgeois, and I'd firmly self-identify as proletariat, I find it funny that Corrie and I had this problem the other night:

Baby's first quinoa.

He smashed it into the table and into the folds in his hands and wrists.

But "Baby's first quinoa" is a decidedly bourgeois situation.

For full disclosure: in my time working in restaurants in Manhattan, the first time I saw quinoa written on our prep lists I incorrectly pronounced it "kwi-noa" before being corrected with a respectful "keen-wah."

I also thought salisify was a verb, like to "salsa-fy" something, before being corrected: "salsa-fee" is a light-ish root vegetable.

We recognize the inherent problem with just handing the Boy some food to gnaw on. He mostly can't get anything into his mouth, but he looks so longingly at us while we eat. I think only banana has made it into his mouth at all. Most make it onto his face.

We ordered some blender heads for our busted hand mixer and await their arrival.