Bitch on the Blog

April 4, 2011

And the fork ran away with the spoon

Filed under: Communication — bitchontheblog @ 14:47
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

This is what I love about my blog: One moment I steam ahead on that spleen of mine which is in urgent need of being operated on, the next hornets compete with rattle snakes, ankle weights are discussed and we all bounce on the trampolines of our lives into orbit.

Somewhere hidden in the comments BHB will ask you whether you are a fork or a spoon. If you were already given a knife. If that isn’t genius I don’t know what is. As implements go I’d prefer a fork to a spoon, mainly because forks double for purposes other than picking up your steak (particularly when you have forgotten to pack cap top bottle opener. No bottle is worth ruining your teeth on).  However, as Jean says, there are practical considerations. So, it’s got to be a spoon. Whether you like it or not. After all, soup might be the only choice on the menu. And where would that leave Tom, BHB? I myself prefer to eat with my fingers which I do unless I am in company easily embarrassed. The English are good that way. The length they will go to to eat chicken on the bone (with knife and fork) is sometimes excrutiating to watch. Pick up that wing or drumstick – yes, with your fingers – and gnaw away. I remember once meeting a Spanish guy who worked on the ground with father-of-son and as it happened I came along for the ride (I think it was Mallorca). Pedro doesn’t like Germans. Full stop. No exceptions. Poor man had to take me for lunch. After that he was converted. He volunteered to take me for lunch every day after (they were supposed to take turns since everyone working). He said to FOS: “You know what, I love watching your wife eat.” It literally changed his views of the master race by my picking up a lamb shank and licking my fingers. Yes, good old Pedro. Brings back memories of many a sun drenched happyness. He wasn’t the only. Even my father remarked on how one can taste the yoghurt or an icecream just by looking at how I devour it. Enough titillation there for Ramana.

One of my sisters takes a different approach: Used to drive my father quite unnecessarily mad. After all, we should all be allowed our idiot syn crazies without getting into trouble. When little she’d bring food, say, a bit of egg on the spoon, to her nose before putting it into her mouth. No idea where that came from. Like cats. They will sniff carefully and reject – just in case the sardine is past its sell by date. Yes, cats and their sense of smell. Fascinating. If I am not careful we’ll be pondering on sniffer dogs in a minute, and why dogs indiscriminately will slobber up their food unless they are dainty in which case they will elegantly accept the odd morsel from your very own fingertips. Flights of fancy and fantasie. Have to watch it. It’s actually such a pity that my fingers can’t hit the keyboard or pen and paper as fast as I think. Or maybe it isn’t a pity. Maybe it’s a mercy. Still. A lot gets lost just on the law of physics and speed. Sometimes when I wander around the parks and streets, go and see people in their offices I can’t help thinking how much we do not know of each other. And how often we judge people and have no idea whatsoever what goes on behind whatever facade they show to the world. You might meet a down and out, someone ‘people’ will ignore, yet start talking to him and it is amazing what his mind will come up with (by the same token speak to a non-bummer in a shiny car and trousers to match and you will be amazed at how LITTLE the mind will come up with).

So that was that. GM naturally has lived up to expectation. Or maybe she is still refining her prose. To give her her due: She did heed my advice to be careful of laws of libel/slander in this country.




  1. My daughter in Sweden told me in September that I eat with my fingers. She was complaining that I get her hand towels greasy. (We shouldn’t be eating greasy food anyway. Mainly vegetables, raw. And remember your mineral loaded sea vegetables, Nori, Dulce, Kelp, what’s that other popular one? Wak…that is hot & put on nuts=Wakame. I looked it up……never mind another subject.)

    And fork people you don’t have to worry about soup. You drink that. And lick the bowl when you’re through.

    U’s sister “brought food, say, a bit of egg on the spoon, to her nose before putting it into her mouth.” Don’t do that. Unless you got the egg when it was dropped from the chicken, you’d smell sulphur. Puke on your plate.

    Speaking of puke, I used to take my son’s friend’s dog to our cabin. He’d eat the cow pies & roll in the mushy ones. The smell is deliciously good to a dog.

    Comment by bikehikebabe — April 4, 2011 @ 15:52 | Reply

    • Damn you, BHH: Why didn’t I think of that? One DRINKS one’s soup. Of course. For god’s sake, let’s slurp. Ok, I will hand back to Tom his claim on intelligence. Am gutted. Will take my fork if you bring your spoon. We can always swap unless you are afraid of my germs. Jean will probably bring one of those implements – one end fork, one end spoon. Naturally, we will hate her for two seconds for being so clever.

      Apropos of nothing but since sharing cutlery: Do you remember those Seventies “Love is when…”? I hated them. Forerunner to smilies I suppose. However, there is one that stuck with me: “Love is when you share a toothbrush.” This will sort love from not caring about your friends’ cavities. And DO NOT put brush into solution of bleach before use.


      Comment by bitchontheblog — April 4, 2011 @ 16:14 | Reply

      • When the multi-family cabin was turned over to my brother, I took the 14 toothbrushes hanging on hooks behind the toilet & boiled them. The bristles fell out.

        Once I told Paul, my son, to go brush his teeth. He asked, “What color (colour) is my toothbrush?”

        Comment by bikehikebabe — April 4, 2011 @ 16:21 | Reply

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