Finger On The Pulse

July, right?

Man... oh man.

I haven't posted much this month, but it's been a madhouse down here. Totally mad. And a house? You bet. Totally, totally.

Shall I spill the beans now? Or shall I keep some of the beans? Shall I apportion the beans gradually? I don't want to shoot my wad in the foot, after all.

But no. I'll give everything to you now. You've been waiting so long. So, so long. So long for beans. You've dreamt about beans, and now your beandreams will come true. And then some! Am I right?

You've been living in the dark, occasionally eating the flesh of a smuggled coconut until the guards found out and put a crab in there instead.

That's a specific reference to the film Papillon, which I saw yesterday. It doesn't belong in the public sphere, but I thought I'd throw it out there. Private beans have become public. All cards on the table. I'm an open book. I'm a book about beans.

First off, there was that morning where I watched cooking tips on Youtube. This was the first one I saw:



And that is a slotted spoon.

I found it because I'm interested in slotted spoons (as anyone who follows me on Google+ knows [follows? is that the vernacular? is this square bracket/lowercase sentence format an appropriate one for this kind of discourse?]).

It's useful for people who don't know what a slotted spoon is, and aren't able to work it out.

This woman has similar guides for every aspect of kitchen life. Here she is on the subject of tongs:



And those are tongs.

She describes tongs as an "all-purpose utensil", so I've thrown away all of my steak knives.

Perhaps my favourite of these how-to videos is this one:



And that is how you soften butter.

That one is basically just "allow time to pass". Which is good advice, whether you're a novice chef or an experienced gastrophysicist.

There are more. I won't spoil the surprises, though (hint: ladle).

I'm glad that these videos are out there. I'm sure they've been useful to loads of people. And not just sarcastic bloggers.

I could have written several paragraphs of sarcasm on each of these, but I haven't. Because I respect people who want to help others. Sarcasm helps no-one. Tongs can pluck a struggling cookery student from the chip pan of failure.

So have some respect.

...

And that is sarcasm.

***

How d'ya like them beans? Delicious. Well, there's more where that came from. Beans are plentiful. Spill as many as you want. They will simply fall on the soil and grow more of themselves. I'm not an expert in "garden principles", but I'm reasonably sure that's close to the truth about beans.

Here are some more. Remove them from water with your slotted spoon and push them into yielding butter.

I went to the dentist on Friday.

I was registering for the first time (and only time, provided my records aren't wiped). On the registration form, one of the questions was "When did you last visit the dentist?". I answered truthfully: "2001".

I know that's a long time. I know I should have sorted things out before now. But I've been busy! You know how busy I've been, what with watching butter videos and so on.

My teeth just haven't seemed to be a priority. I've been too busy with manicures and manticores and panty gauze and all those other urgent rhyming things.

Before I wrote "2001", I thought about writing "9/11".

It's not true. My visit was after that terrible day, but I thought it might perplex the receptionist entering my details. They'd probably think I meant last year. But they'd wonder in the back of their mind if it truly was the fall of the towers that marked the end of my dental adventure.

Maybe my faith in humanity's ability to do the right thing was shaken. If such a horrific act had been committed on such a large scale, surely my tiny teeth were in jeopardy. I know that a fundamentalist terrorist destroying my teeth wouldn't have sent the same powerful message to the western world, but my teeth are as much a symbol of capitalism as the World Trade Center. They are, after all, made of enamel, of which all modern coins and credit cards are composed.

But you can't lie on a registration form. That's part of my code of honour.

Though thinking about it, I did describe myself as an eight-year-old wax woman. But that's vaguely true.

So, honest as the day is long, I went along to see the dentist, his assistant, the receptionist, and any objects that happened to be in my eye-line.

Luckily, my teeth were OK. I don't have to have anything done to them except a strange weekly ritual that involves a naked dentist apparently. God bless the NHS.

***

You must be positively bursting with beans! Have I got any more to spill to you?

Hmm..

Thinking...

No. I don't think so.

Oh, I trimmed my beard, and now my head is a different shape.

That must be a half-bean or so.

I hope you've enjoyed this hearty meal.

I'll try not to leave you eating millipedes with Steve McQueen for too long.

Routine beans keep the teeth and conscience clean.

I'm off to cover some tongs in Colgate and make my ancestors proud.

And that is dentistry.