Or, that's what Jody calls it; I can't say that I've had the pleasure of tasting this particular recipe yet. When I mentioned that I had been a little lacking on writing material lately, I found an email from Jody waiting on me the next morning with the following statement:

"I am sending you my all-time favorite recipe. My family routinely goes through 4 bowls of this stuff at gatherings. It so rules."

So, in my ongoing effort to diversify things a bit around here, I present yet another famed recipe from Jodyland.

"Best Damned Cobb Salad In History" part 1: the greens

• ½ head chopped Napa cabbage (bok choy in a pinch...but find Napa if you can)
• ½ head chopped romaine lettuce (pick off the outside big leaves)
• ½ head chopped cored iceberg lettuce (don't use the inner rings ... they are kind of bitter)
• 3 large green onions, chopped

News agencies (and my husband) are reporting that a 4.9 earthquake delicately nibbled at the toes of northeast Alabama just before four a.m. local time. Initial reports from news agencies contained the phrase "seismic event," prompting many sleepy Alabama residents to call 911 to inform the local police "There weren't no size-mic event - would you please tell my neighbor to quit playing with those damn explosives he stole from work last week? If he don't stop I'm gonna shoot his redneck ass."

Two quickie changes: now that it's late April, I think we can declare the holiday season officially over with, and move 'mint' back as the default skin for this site. Sleigh bells is still around, and you're welcome to stick with it if it's what you like, but the distinct lack of snow in north Alabama suggests that I move on to something that's a little less...snowy.

Penzeys loves me. I don't have to ask. I just know. Spice companies have to adore customers like me, who, like clockwork, place 2-3 enormous orders per year and turn all their friends into customers as well.

So, I sit here yet again, trying to convince my hands that even if I don't know what to write, if I sit here long enough, my fingers will tap out something that resembles an entry. Too much of my time lately has been taken up with inconsequential mundane things: salsa-making, minor carpentry, more episodes of Sex and the City and The Prisoner.

In other words, it's all so desperately boring to outsiders that even I can't find anything to write about. Barring earth-shaking changes in the next 48 hours, I doubt that things will change.

Five-thirty.  The needle of my speedometer was arguing with the signs on the side of the road; the needle argued sixty and the sign argued fifty-five.  The needle won, as it usually does.