Sunday Funday, So They Tell Me

My theories on Cafe World were right. This morning, i poached an egg. The yolk broke on the slotted spoon and i didn't care. (Normally, i'd throw a fit. The yolk's the best part!) So silky, runny and yummy. BTW, poaching an egg - i've come to realize, is so easy, i should've been doing it for years.

And now i have baby back ribs slow-cookin' in the oven, the longest slab i've dealt with to date. It barely fit in the baking dish diagonally. I was so happy to be cooking (real food) again, as easy as this "recipe" is, i had to Tweet. It really is ridiculously easy. As the kids would say these days, it's stoopid. Season, put in oven, no flipping or basting required. You don't even have to check on it. (Unless you want to. It's kinda like watching a baby sleep.) 4 to 5 hours later, you're done. Easy breezy.

While i'm glad to be back to (semi-)normal, i have to admit this day is long without something mindless like Cafe World to keep me occupied. But the carpel tunnel syndrome in the making is not worth it. Besides, it turns my brain to mush. Me thinks mine brainz mushing just fine on its own, kind sir.

Sundays can feel dead anyway, but on this particular Sunday, it really feels like nothing is going on in cyberspace. Everybody must be out in the real world doing something real. RJ is at a performing arts event. I was ardently invited but i let my laid-back, don't-wanna-get-dressed Sunday self (a.k.a. the antisocial side) get the better of me and opted to stay behind. It's been years since i've been to one of those. This could've been a life-altering experience. But no, it's safer in the shell.

I thought i'd feel relieved once Mother's Day had passed in Asia, but stateside there are still reminders galore. It'll soon be over now. There are other things to dread.