Diet of a Monk

The Diet of a Monk works on two principles:

1. If it tastes good, spit it out.
2. If a rabbit wouldn't eat it, niether should you.

We'd like to thank my father, Bompa Suave, for his contributions to this entry.

Salud,

P. Sano Suave

Correction

The Editorial Board of the Pepino Suave Blog, A Pickled Journal of Musings, Rants, Advice, and Ambrosia Recipes regrets the oversight of language published herein that is unsuitable for our fine readership. In the Tuesday, August 22 entry entitled "Marge Simpson", the author of this blog used terms that aren't consistant with the quality or theme of this blog. The language has been edited, the error corrected. We regret if any readers have been offended.
You kinda had to be there to get it, anyway.

No ofendo,

Pepino Suave and Co.

P.D. Will that do, Pepina?

You Say Tomato

Pepina is passive aggressive. She seeks retribution in sweet, yet effective ways. Take tomatoes, for instance. The other day, Bompa and I trapse over to neighbor Jardinero's house for a chat. Seems he's up to his elbows in the vegetable/fruit and asks me if I'd like a bag full. I says no, I have plenty, as I have my own tomato plants in the Suave Half Acre Estate. Thanks just the same. I says maybe my Pops could use a few, as tomatoes have little cholesterol, hydorgenated fats, high fructose corn syrup, dextrose, flavor; those things that are not part of Pops very limited Diet of a Monk (future entry). Pops obliges and takes the bag of plump, juicy, ruby jewels home to put next to other bland foods that contribute to a healthy life. Pepina finds out that I passed on Jardinero's bounty, and I don't hear the end of it. Neither does metropolitan Pepinoville. By the end of the week we have enough tomato donations from the gardens of family and friends that Pops and I had to build more window sills for storage.
Pepina, you made your point.

Perdoname,

Tomate Suave

Dear Pepina

Dear Pepina has a new post! Someone finally gifted her a handful of tomatoes, so she saw fit to return to the keyboard.
Click on Dear Pepina to your right, and enjoy.

Esposado,
P.S.

Marge Simpson

My li'l brother, Casi Italiano, is the brain o' the brothers. You do the math on who got the good looks. Pause. Anyway, Casi Italiano (CI) is a big fan of everything Simpsons. In fact, for CI, every real-life event has some kind of Simpson context to it. CI could link bubble gum on the sidewalk to a Simpson episode (CI, feel free to post the appropriate episode under "comments", below). Well CI and his wife, Super Italiana (cooks with real butter) paid a visit to bucolic Pepinoville last week. The villagers and I kicked in to buy him a blow-up Marge Simpson doll, instead of the usual key to Pepinoville. He cried. He laughed. He hugged the still-boxed-and-deflated Marge Simpson doll. Then he hugged Super Italiana, crushing the box.
America, there ain't nothing like family. Happy family. Huggn' Marge-Simpson-doll-happy family. You can say that again.

Un hermano contento,

P. Suavecito

Chicken Salad

Pepina whipped up a chicken salad today that would smack you in the shorts. Man, it was good.

Buen provecho,

P. Suave

Grannyism

We like to provide our audience with linguistic support. It is one of the many free services our readers receive, thanks to Bob el Gorila's Mobile Laboratory of Yippee-Skippe Games, Songs, and Stories.
Grannyisms are the words and gestures of wisdom or rancor attributed to our maternal grandmother, Granny.
Granny's lexicon was unique. It was a hodge-podge of the rich experiences of her life - from Bay City ("A good place to be from"), to Coram avenue, to the shores of Lake Erie.

Today's nugget:

Goodness Gracious - An exclamation of surprise, dissapointment, or disgust.
Ex.: 1. "Goodness Gracious! How did you get that bike into that tree?"
2. "Goodness Gracious! Get your hand out of there!"
3. "Goodness Gracious! What's that smell?"

Me hace falta Bingo,

Pepinazo

Boise Joe

Boise Joe sent me a hat in the mail. It's a Great Lakes Storm baseball cap. Ironic, a Great Lakes hat sent to Michigan from Boise. I'm going to send him a potato(e).
Boise Joe, if you are out there, here's a shout out.
Remember our Cowboy days in Durango? Remember the guys bbqing inside the Gigante supermarket? Can you say Carbono Monoxido? Remember the kids from the rival school that kept following me and yelling nasty English at me? Ah, to be a cowboy, again.
Hey, it's still summer vacation. Think you could sneak those kissing cowboy pictures on the Pepino Suave Blog before students and their parents start reading my entries again? Give it a try. Dare ya'.

Gotta go see a man about a horse,
Pepino Vaquero

Hot Soup

Pepino Suave has got another hot new link for you cherished readers. It's called Hot Soup. Either double click on "Hot Soup" above, or under the "Pepino Picks" column to your right to view this breakthrough website. It defines itself as a site that:
"... will create a new community of influence among those in government, politics, business and entertainment who make the decisions and those who want to impact them. It will bring the inside world out and the outside world in, and create a richer dialogue and stronger connections between Opinion Drivers across the country."

That's us! Pepino Heads are Opinion Drivers by definition. We've found a home...

The editor of the site is the distinguished, award winning journalist Ron Fournier. Ron and I go way back. I got some smack on the guy that I might share with you all in a future entry. Maybe, maybe not...

Un hermano fiel,

Pepino Suaveeeeeeeeeeee

Tupperware

Li'l Pepinita and I have returned from our golf-light outing. The little knee-biter beat me by three points, and we lost in the go-cart race 'cause we were the only two-seater. The bumper boats weren't as exciting as they looked. Li'l Pepinita spent alot of time spinning in dizzy circles, shrieking a panicky, "I can't steer, I can't steer!"
We returned to Tupperware centeral at dusk. The smell of rubber based kitchen products mingled with scents of coffee and a United Nations of women's perfumes. Apparently, the celebration of burping food containers was a hit. At the peak of the bash, our parlour was packed with neighbors and other well connected V.I.P.s from the Pepinoville metropolitin area. Everyone who was anyone was at this gig, spending hard earned cash on products that will replace long lost containers from yesterday. I think sock makers and the Tupperware people have created a similar black whole where they maintain demand for their products by sucking previous purchases into oblivion. An incredible scheme. Alticor, eat your heart out.
Pepina and neighbor Cocinera scored a ton of free rubber for co-hosting the summit of plastic. Our shelves will be bursting with storage potential. We owe a big thanks to Tupperware for that. May you continue making what we really don't need, but might come in handy one day.
I can't wait to see my new lunch box with individual sections to seperate the veggies from the snacks, and the snacks from the entree...

Solo en America,

P. Suave

Stay Tuned

Got to go. Li'l Pepinita and I are headed for the links. The micro-links. Mini-golf. The house is being taken over by Pepina's gang of burpware babes. Next chance I'll update ya'll on:

• Boise Joe's package. Yes, many consider him The Package. Don't confuse.
• Pepina's Tupperware fest
• Miniature Golf
• A blow-up Marge Simpson doll, and her torrid relationship with my brother
• Grannyisms. This week's feature: "Goodness Gracious"
• The weather

Hasta pronto,

Pep

El Verano

Esparando Rubia....

Hey, anyone seen cousin Rubia? We here at Bob El Gorila's Mobile Laboritory of Yippee Skippee Games, Songs, and Stories have been waiting for her to call in her AMBROSIA RECIPE for weeks now. Thing is, we've got people calling all the way from Scabbed Knee, Montana wanting to know how to make the confection, and we keep putting them on hold.
Someone want to track her down for us? Gee whiz, at her age maybe it slipped her mind...
Soon as we hear from Dear Rubia, friends, we'll post her recipe. Stay tuned.

Un primo travieso,

P. Suave

Bob Dylan

• Bob Dylan is in Pepinoville tonight. He's in concert at the Pepinoville ballpark. We can hear his garbled voice as it drifts over town. Distorted by distance, rolling terrain, trees, and traffic, his lyrics are just as incomprehensible as when heard live. I remember seeing him close up and personal at Hill Auditorium in Ann Snob-bore some years back. My friend, Dead Head, got me a job as an usher for a few concerts that summer. Dylan played a few long sets, more music than most of the artists that summer. As close as I was to the stage and speakers, he could have been singing in Latin. Made no sense to me. Talk about a cult of personality. I get much more from reading his lyrics. His "Boots of Spanish Leather" is pure poetry. You can find it in literature textbooks.
• My idea is to get Bob Dylan to write songs for Pepina, our household songstress. She is relatively articulate. Together, they could sell some serious plastic. I'm going to have her audition "Watch Tower" for me tomorrow. Stay tuned.
• Li'l Pepinita has had a week o' cousins. Two Motown cousins are staying over at Bompa and Grandma's this week. Two days ago, the whole gang went to the beach and were joined by five more cousins from the other side of the family. Li'l Pepina esta bien contenta. She loves her kin.

Atentamente,

Pepino Perdido

Fresco

The Cuke County heat wave drifted East two days ago. We have had dry (er), cool temperatures and have immensly enjoyed it. Our plans do not revolve around Where The Air Conditioning Is. You can only go to the library and the YPCA,and los abuelo's apartments so many days in a row.

The Suave clan took a bike ride on a local bike path two days ago, the first day of human-friendly weather. Yesterday we attended the outdoor birthday party of Calabacita, the sweet daughter of La Pastora and El Pastor, Los Pastores. There were poney rides, penny hunt in hay, and an icecream cake that puts the ice in cream. It was one of the finest social engagements of the Suave calendar year. In the evening, we went to the ball game. The Pepinoville Pickles played the Boogerville Loogies. We had great seats right behind home plate, thanks to Ingeniera and her mom and pops, Los Jardineros. They gave us their box tix, as they had other stuff to do. Mil gracias, to them. Bompa and Abuelita attended, as well. They scored standing room only tickets. They didn't even have to sit for the entire game. Bonus. We lost them after the third inning. We caught up to them after the eighth inning, walking to the car (it was parked in the next county), each carrying a loaf of the free bread which is traditionally handed out to each fan upon leaving the Pepinoville stadium.
Suave fans, stop by this week for bread pudding, french bread, various breaded meat products, various sandwich variations, or just to enjoy a slice of the spongy, encriched white substance. Nuestra casa es tu casa.
The Boogerville Loogies trounced the home team something like 9 to 0. It was a nice, cool night, though.

'ta fresco,
P. Suaaaaaaaaveeeeeee

La Prensa

The Pepinoville Press headline this morning "Carter: Bush Hurts Prospects for Peace". Our former president honored the Pepinoville Metropolitan area with a visit to some wealthy friends up in Pepinoville Heights. Gathered there were longtime friends and financial supporters. The purpose of the event was to raise cash for Pres. Carter's son, Jack, who is running for a U.S. Senate seat in Nevada. Apparently neither his visit to our fair town, nor the fundraiser, nor the fact that Pepinoville Heights is hundreds of miles outside of Nevada, was as newsworthy as his remarks about our efforts in the Muddled East. Go figger.

Just below that bit of enlightening news is an article entitled, "Your Grass is Fast". It is a shocking expose on why our grass is growing so fast this time of the year. The in-depth piece links both heat and moisture as the key culprits. The article even includes a graphic that shows average rainfall and temperatures over the past six years.

I can read the Press, eat my Cheerios, and become an informed citizen. Three birds. One stone.

Leo y aprendo,

P. Suaveson

Faltan 32 Dias

A mere thirty-two days must pass before our children return to the school house. What is on Pepino Suave's mind during these, the dog days of summer?

Here is a look-see for this blog's faithful reader (s):

• Nothing. Absolutely nothing, somedays. Somedays I can stare at a wall without a single synapse sparking in my melon. Truly remarkable. I think. Actually, point is, I don't think, sometimes.
• How long will it take for students to get it that summer is over, school is back in session, and it just isn't fair? My money is on September 5th, 3:00 p.m. You?
• How long will it take for teachers to get it that summer is over, school is back in session, and it just isn't fair? Put 20 clams on 9/5, 7:30 a.m for me, will you? Easy money...
• Who killed the mockingbird?
• Pepina and I could watch 24 hours, non-stop, of the Daily Show, and Colbert Report. To think we got cable for the soccer...
• Li'l Pepinita could listen to 24 hours, non-stop, of Radio Disney. Thing is, it's a weak signal, and it only comes in on the Pepino Suave Express radio. We've put on extra-miles just so the little pickle can finish listening to a song.
• My hips don't lie, either. So what's the point? I thought music lyrics were strange in my day...
• The Calabaza patch is taking over the back yard. It has a grip on the lilac tree like a sea monster on Captain Jack Black.
• Go Tigers

Faltan pocos dias,

Peppy

Todavia

Still hot.

Pepino Asado

P.D. See Pepina's new entry for details.