It’s interesting how quickly and easily an item on Facebook can make its way into the pages of a newspaper such as the Optic.
Feeling ornery last week, I posted a note on the Internet disclaiming any love for mayonnaise.
Yes, I enjoy some of the jokes about that creamy, tasteless stuff that some people call food. I like the one about how the largest shipment of Hellman’s mayonnaise was loaded on to Titanic, back in 1912. It was headed for Mexico, where its residents love that squishy stuff.
But the super ship, on its maiden voyage, hit an iceberg, sinking and killing many, including Leonardo DiCaprio. It was in early May. The Mexican people were disconsolate and soon declared a National Day of Mourning, which has for years been called Sinko de Mayo.
And I laughed many years ago when on our absolutely last date, Maya told me she routinely coated her hair with mayo each night before bed. Surely nobody’s ever done that. That would give us Stinko de Mayo.
And an online entry on my laptop described “a safe way to kill head lice. … Massage mayonnaise into your hair and cover it with a shower cap before you go to sleep.” Could my erstwhile date also have been trying to fight head lice with mayonnaise? That’s a lousy thing to do.
As some readers may know, we Trujillos are hosting a pair of foreign exchange students for the school year. Phaedra Wouters, from Belgium, and Ana Granado, from Spain, are enrolled at West Las Vegas High School. Phaedra knows her way around and into a jumbo jar of mayo.
Ana, not so much, but she certainly has never turned down a dollop of Nutella, that chocolate and hazelnut spread that goes on bread. So much does Ana wish to savor Nutella that she’s likely to go after the last vestiges in the jar by using toothpicks.
As for Phaedra, she appeared on Facebook cradling two large jars of mayo at Wal-Mart. I placed it on the page, and since then, I have received a number of comments, most of them taking Phaedra’s side or making other comments implying that I enjoy (or should enjoy) the stuff.
I posted the comment with the youngster’s picture. It read:
“There are only two kinds of people in the world: 1) normal people and 2) mayonnaise eaters. What category does our foreign exchange student from Belgium, Phaedra Wouters, belong to? At Wal-Mart, her heart raced and a huge smile appeared as she cradled two huge jars of that weird white stuff. What do you all think? Do you agree with me on this?”
At about the same time, I posted a photo showing Phaedra having made her first tamale, an unknown food in her hometown of Antwerp. Some readers’ comments were diabolical, conflating the ingredients of tamales with those of mayo.
It took little time to collect responses, but I can’t understand why so few readers agreed with me. Nevertheless, these are some of the remarks:
Chad Boliek, a retired minister: “Train them well. Tamales best when served with a dollop of mayo!”
Ron Querry, our local horse parade organizer: “My abuela made mayo-tamales that were treasured throughout northern NM and, indeed, the world! Surely even Art Trujillo has tasted them!”
Diana Chavez, a children’s counselor: “People who don’t like mayo are missing out on one of the best things since Jello.”
Gary Wilson, an author from Chicago: “That much mayo I worry about. But it does substitute for catsup for fries in France. Don’t know about Belgium, but am suspicious.”
Francisco Apodaca, Las Vegan, on a Christmas party we held after the New Year: “How was the mayo dip?”
Mark Delwiche, from Idaho Falls: “Mayo. The staff of life… But I admit, I am half Belgian.”
Jake Yara, retired teacher: “People who eat that stuff need to go to the Mayo Clinic.”
As for preferences across the Atlantic, my wife and I noticed that people at a hotdog stand ate the food in three stages: first, a bite of the meat, then a taste of the bun (the buns we saw were not split but were whole), and then a taste of mayo. That’s what we observed in Denmark.
• • •
A couple of columns ago, I mentioned having received a card at a party for my retirement, in 1999. The inside of the card contained an image of a remarkably well-arranged and scantily clad woman named Edith. The cover of the card showed an equally well-arranged three-layer cake.
And the message was that I could have only one of the items, so I asked readers to apply a common expression to provide after-the-fact guidance. Retired Highlands professor Sara Harris wrote to explain that obviously, the expression that comes to mind is, “You can’t have your cake and Edith too.”
And just like Rush Limbaugh, who we understand married again — but just for the cake, I chose the same thing, as I had skipped breakfast that morning and was exhausted from emancipation.
• • •
One of the enjoyable things about writing a column whose theme often deals with language and its applications is my inserting occasional misspelled or just plain wrong words.
In a recent column, a “your” appeared where there should have been a “you’re.” That caught the attention of Ted Herberger, who mentioned it in an email.
I admit that the wrong word appeared, but getting me to admit whether the “your/you’re” matter had been planted may be more difficult. You see, I can always claim that the error was deliberate, “just to see if you were paying attention.”
Some errors are deliberate, some accidental, and my response to Ted is, “Thanks for you’re email. Your very observant!”