@Marre_Svensson@LedleyKingsKna Absolut inget fel, städare är osjungna vardagshjältar. Men ingen växer upp med drömmen om att en dag få städa toaletter, vilket är poängen i tweeten(om jag inte missförstått).
@SlafOutLoud@NHLPR@NHL@NHLMedia We won't get to see more NHL, Viaplay previously had all the rights, but is sharing it with Disney from now on. They did the same with Premier League in soccer, where Disney has one game a week.
@HansDiabethics Det är i grunden en ovilja, eller ett oförstående för vad yttrandefrihet är. Att en journalist på public service inte har greppat den fundamentala rättigheten är otroligt.
A small cup of white sauce arrived with my pizza in Ohio. I had not ordered it. Nobody at the table found this alarming but me.
White. Cold. Herbed. Unexplained.
I stopped the waitress. "We did not order this."
"That's ranch, hon. It's for dipping."
Ranch. In my land, a sauce is married to one dish. It serves that dish for life. It does not wander.
Two days later, ranch appeared beside carrots at my neighbor's house. Then beside chicken at a graduation party. Then at a drive-in, beside my fries, where a boy of maybe seven watched me hesitate and said, "You gotta dip it, dude."
I dipped. I chewed. Then I apologized, out loud, in the middle of the drive-in, to every fry I had eaten undipped in my life.
The boy accepted my apology on their behalf.
I began to test its borders. Fries. Accepted. Pizza crust. Improved. Salad. The bottle claims salad is ranch's actual job, as if everything else were charity work.
On my third visit I asked the waitress what ranch does not go with.
She thought about it. Real thought.
"Fish? No. Wait. Fish is fine."
There is no border. I went looking for the edge of ranch and found only more ranch.
I bought a bottle. Then the restaurant jug, because the bottle insulted my pace. Last night at 1 a.m. I dipped a slice of watermelon, purely as reconnaissance.
I finished the watermelon. Then I stood alone in the dark kitchen and bowed to the jug.
It seemed correct.
I was not conquering this sauce. I was being annexed by it.
A sauce that welcomes everything can refuse nothing. I have met entire armies with less confidence.
This country puts its welcome into everything. Even the sauce turns no one away.
I tried to write a rule. Ranch is for vegetables and pizza. Nothing else.
Then I learned the truth. There are only two kinds of food in this country: food that has met ranch, and food that is waiting.
I run a merciful house. Nothing waits.