Day Ten

I ended up taking a half day today.  Showed up at eight thirty, finished my evaluations, and got out by one.  On the way out, I checked the fridge for updates.  There were several.  A second Post It had been stuck to the first.  It bore a prissy message, which (I felt) did not match the spirit of the other notes:  Whoever keeps stealing my Tupperware, please put it back.  It's EXPENSIVE!

Underneath and around that, in no particular order, I read:

Some of y'all could use a cooking class  -The Thief
Hands off my tuna!
TUNA = STINKY FOOD
No soup, one year!
I know who wrote this ------->
NO HEADCHEESE!

I looked over my shoulder.  No one was around, so I uncapped my pen, crossed out HEADCHEESE, and wrote CHEESEHEADS in its place.  I hovered my pen over the prissy Post It for a moment, thinking of a retort.  Nothing clever came to mind.  I recapped my pen and went out.

I've been thinking.  I started this thing, this project, eating paper raw.  When that didn't work, I mixed it with sauces and condiments.  Gradually, I got fancier and fancier with my preparations, until the paper began to taste good.  This morning, I had a strawberry-Neverwhere turnover with cinnamon custard.  Lunch was the last of the (STINKY) cabbage soup (whose flavors were at their most delicious, having had two days to spread and mingle).  I could hardly taste the paper at all.

And that's wrong, too.  It's essential that I enjoy my meals, but there's no point in eating Neil Gaiman's compleat works if I barely even notice I'm doing it.  I think I have the solution:  there should be more work put into the preparations.  My paper dishes should be works of art, in their own right.  There should be color co-ordination, and elaborate garnishes.  I could dye and sweeten tubes of paper, and fill them with chocolate cream.  Or I could substitute curls of paper for sprigs of parsley.  I could serve tiny delicacies on edible paper pads.  Sushi with soy-drenched paper instead of nori.  Puréed crab-and-paper rolls.  Cake with a torn-paper collage glazed into the icing.  Hot mint tea with carefully crafted paper leaves floating on top.  Boiled candy hardened around cinnamon-flavored paper balls.

I checked an origami book out of the library, thinking it might come in handy.  As soon as I got home, I fixed myself a little snack.

Pumpkin soup (from a powder) with crane garnish

Future attempts, of course, will not involve anything powdered.  I plan on laying in a supply of fresh ingredients tomorrow.

I feel like I'm giving Neil Gaiman's writing a funeral.  A long, ornate, laborious funeral.  I'm interring his worlds in my bowels.  I don't know what to think about that.

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Comments

[Hannah]

As far as the ornate, laborious funeral idea goes, the man did write The Wake. I'm sure he would approve.