Lessons in Juggling

28 Jul

Today, I learned how to juggle. A coworker decided that I needed to join the ranks of her masses and indulge her in the art of learning how to juggle. I sit at a desk and answer phones. I was only too happy to oblige.

Honestly, I figured it would be a short session, and I could then go back to my restaurant review reading. I’ve tried juggling before. I’m horrible at it, or so I thought. My hand-eye coordination is about as good as a one-eyed toad’s and well, I thought that would be that. Apparently, sometime between puberty and my dirty 30, I worked out the kinks in that hand to eye link. That’s right, folks, I can juggle. Well, I don’t know if you can actually call throwing one up in the air and catching it “juggling” but I am better than I used to be.

I can’t really take too much credit. Senorita Fancy Pants Teacher happens to be a fantastic instructor. She’s patient and constructive with the “you sucks” and her tool of choice: Marshmallows. Yup. Three little squishy marshmallows that tempted me to revert to toddler-hood and shove them all in my mouth. But I refrained and instead furrowed my eyebrows and set about conquering physics and physical limitations.

So there I am in the office, tossing marshmallow’s around in the air, working up a sweat. At one point, I even had to disrobe and shed the huge granny sweater I wear during my hours in the underground Antarctica in Tucson.  The lessons I took away from the juggling: 1. Throwing light things around in the air can be considered a workout and don’t let anybody tell you different. 2. Not putting food in my mouth is a challenge, even if it’s been dropped on the floor several times and mushed around in people’s grimy hands. 3. I should eat soon.

All this marshmallow talk reminds me that I love them in my tomato soup. You read that right. Marshmallows in tomato soup. It’s the best thing this side of heaven. Well, okay, only one of the best and kind of midway down the list. But I like my tomato soup pretty garlicky and there’s something about the taste of tomatoes and garlic and sweet artificial goodness that goes well together. Quit making that face and just try it. You’ll like it, I’m sure. And if not, to hell with you. You have no taste anyway.

And with that, I leave you with several links to tomato soups that I hope you make so you too can indulge in the art of marshmallowing. Hopefully it will be more successful than my attempt at juggling. I am off to find lunch. Preferably without marshmallows. Unless there is tomato soup involved. Venga.

101 Cookbooks


Sassy Radish


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