My wife and I made an awesome seven-layer nacho dip this morning to bring to my family's Easter Pot Luck up in Saint Cloud. My job was to make the guacamole, dice the tomatoes, and chop the onions. I used the kitchen fan and one of those "As Seen On TV" chopper-dealies that you put on top of whatever food need chopping, and pound down on the top lever, which looks suspiciously like a contestant buzzer from any 1980's-era game show, which chops the food into tiny bits, in hopes that my eyes would be spared the punishing effects of the onions. I was, like Obi-Wan Kenobi, wrong. Within a matter of seconds my eyes were leaking fluid much in the way a pair of Oops I Crapped My Pants does not, and it was several minutes before I was able to locate the kitchen countertop with my sense of touch alone and dump the onions into their proper place in the aforementioned seven-layer dip.
After a beautiful Easter church service, we got into the car and noticed the rather pungent stank of onions, no doubt emanating from the red Pyrex keep'm'cold storage container in which our dip was secured. We quickly loaded it into the trunk and hightailed it to my aunt and uncle's house for a super fun afternoon of comestibles, cards, computers, and crosswords. It was a great time, as usual, and not even the ever-present I-94 traffic jam near Albertville on the way home could dampen our spirits.
But as we got home, we were hit by an overpowering scent of, what else? Onions. Despite my efforts to cleanse the kitchen before we left, the smell lingered. Even as I type this, I can taste the onions from the four helpings of chips and dip I had this afternoon.
And yes, the dip was awesome. :)
Hallelujah, Christ is Risen. He is risen indeed, folks. The tomb is empty, the veil is torn, and our sins are forgiven.
Hallelujah, Happy Easter, and God bless us, everyone!
A journal of positive thinking and uplifting commentary where the glory of God is revealed through the oft-overlooked majesty of the mundane.
2 comments:
My tip: Put a match in your mouth (unlit, of course). If you bite down on the wooden part and do this as you're cutting, you won't weep.
I was really suspect ... but it worked. No kidding. Maybe it was all mental, though. Who knows.
That's so cool it just has to be true. In fact, the next time I chop onions I'm going to put a fistful of matches in my mouth and see if I can make the onion itself start weeping.
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