Pepper Shaker Quotes

People said the towers looked like giant salt and pepper shakers, but I’d always thought they looked like Daleks from Doctor Who.

Did he break it off? Were you too tall for him?” “We’re the same height. Actually.” “Really. That’s adorable. Like salt and pepper shakers.

Frank grabbed a tourist brochure stuck under the napkin dispenser. He began to read it. Piper patted Leo’s arm, like she couldn’t believe he was really here. Nico stood at the edge of the group, eyeing the passing pedestrians as if they might be enemies. Coach Hedge munched on the salt and pepper shakers. Despite the happy reunion, everybody seemed more subdued than usual—like they were picking up on Leo’s mood. Jason had never really considered how important Leo’s sense of humor was to the group. Even when things were super serious, they could always depend on Leo to lighten things up. Now, it felt like the whole team had dropped anchor. “So then Jason harnessed the venti,” Hazel finished. “And here we are.” Leo whistled. “Hot-air horses? Dang, Jason. So basically, you held a bunch of gas together all the way to Malta, and then you let it loose.” Jason frowned. “You know, it doesn’t sound so heroic when you put it that way.” “Yeah, well. I’m an expert on hot air. I’m still wondering, why Malta? I just kind of ended up here on the raft, but was that a random thing, or—” “Maybe because of this.” Frank tapped his brochure. “Says here Malta was where Calypso lived.” A pint of blood drained from Leo’s face. “W-what now?” Frank shrugged. “According to this, her original home was an island called Gozo just north of here. Calypso’s a Greek myth thingie, right?” “Ah, a Greek myth thingie!” Coach Hedge rubbed his hands together. “Maybe we get to fight her! Do we get to fight her? ’Cause I’m ready.” “No,” Leo murmured. “No, we don’t have to fight her, Coach.” Piper frowned. “Leo, what’s wrong? You look—” “Nothing’s wrong!” Leo shot to his feet. “Hey, we should get going. We’ve got work to do!” “But…where did you go?” Hazel asked. “Where did you get those clothes? How—” “Jeez, ladies!” Leo said. “I appreciate the concern, but I don’t need two extra moms!” Piper smiled uncertainly. “Okay, but—” “Ships to fix!” Leo said. “Festus to check! Earth goddesses to punch in the face! What are we waiting for? Leo’s back!” He spread his arms and grinned. He was making a brave attempt, but Jason could see the sadness lingering in his eyes. Something had happened to him…something to do with Calypso.

I get very tired of the precious intellects who must speak diamonds every time they open their mouths. I get tired of battling for each space of air for the mind. that’s why I stayed away from people for so long, and now that I am meeting people, I find that I must return to my cave. there are other things beside the mind: there are insects and palm trees and pepper shakers, and I’ll have a pepper-shaker in my cave, so laugh.

You two look like salt and pepper shakers. That's what my mom use to say when we both had long hair. You're a couple of salt and pepper shakers. And now here I was, just a stupid lonely pepper shaker. What was the point of a pepper shaker without a salt shaker? I didn't even like pepper.

List any ten speeds for time: summer morning, winter dusk, boring lecture, first time making love with woman you actually really love, drunkenness, moment of death, car crash, heart attack, any and all meetings of more than seven people, childhood, and not one happens at the same speed as the others, some are blindingly fast and over instantly and others drone and moan on until you contemplate removing your spleen with a pepper shaker just for entertainment’s sake.

The day of Amma’s arrest, the day it finally, completely unraveled, Curry and Eileen parked themselves on my couch, like concerned salt and pepper shakers.

My old man 16 years old during the depression I’d come home drunk and all my clothing– shorts, shirts, stockings– suitcase, and pages of short stories would be thrown out on the front lawn and about the street. my mother would be waiting behind a tree: “Henry, Henry, don’t go in . . .he’ll kill you, he’s read your stories . . .” “I can whip his ass . . .” “Henry, please take this . . .and find yourself a room.” but it worried him that I might not finish high school so I’d be back again. one evening he walked in with the pages of one of my short stories (which I had never submitted to him) and he said, “this is a great short story.” I said, “o.k.,” and he handed it to me and I read it. it was a story about a rich man who had a fight with his wife and had gone out into the night for a cup of coffee and had observed the waitress and the spoons and forks and the salt and pepper shakers and the neon sign in the window and then had gone back to his stable to see and touch his favorite horse who then kicked him in the head and killed him. somehow the story held meaning for him though when I had written it I had no idea of what I was writing about. so I told him, “o.k., old man, you can have it.” and he took it and walked out and closed the door. I guess that’s as close as we ever got.

He hated the blue platter his mother served from, and the salt and pepper shakers, which were glass with red tops, and he hated the silverware designed in flowers, some pieces scratched almost beyond recognition. He even hated the round table and the succession of tablecloths, one pale blue with yellow leaves, one white with red and orange squares. He hated the uncomfortable chairs, particularly his own, where he sat squirming, and he hated his family and the way they talked.

I'd probably put those salt and pepper shakers away now, David, because we're about to be visited by dribbling cannibal psychopath and we wouldn't want to tease these fellows. Of course, if they're very hungry, I do have this left arm that I don't use all that much.

Sifting with a sifter, artifacts after artifacts after artifiction that was ruled out as planted by some teenagers that were trying to pepper the site with pepper shakers that were from millennia ago, failing to take into account that those items were created less than 200 years ago.

I’ve never needed a bodyguard, Evan.” His hands stilled on the glasses. “Maybe that isn’t such a bad idea now.” “It’s a terrible idea. I would never want anyone watching every move I make. It’s unnerving. There are fresh lemons in the bottom drawer.” Evan squatted and tugged open the vegetable crisper inside the refrigerator. “You know,” he waved a piece of the yellow fruit for emphasis, “you may want to think about it, though.” Morgan smacked the table so hard the salt and pepper shakers jumped. He grinned and stood. “Haven’t lost your temper, I see.” “My temper wasn’t burned.

We must look good from a distance: picturesque, like Dutch milkmaids on a wallpaper frieze, like a shelf full of period-costume ceramic salt and pepper shakers, like a flotilla of swans or anything that repeats itself with at least minimum grace and without variation. Soothing to the eye, the eyes, the Eyes, for that’s who this show is for.

Chess is a very interesting game, and like so many interesting games, it is not in any way fun. It looks like four horses lost amongst a variety of pepper mills and salt shakers, and the objective is to remain awake longer than your opponent.

So I thought it might be interesting, for the length of a book, to consider the ordinary things in life, to notice them for once and treat them as if they were important, too. Looking around my house, I was startled and somewhat appalled to realize how little I knew about the domestic world around me. Sitting at the kitchen table one afternoon, playing idly with the salt and pepper shakers, it occurred to me that I had absolutely no idea why, out of all the spices in the world, we have such an abiding attachment to those two. Why not pepper and cardamom, say, or salt and cinnamon? And why do forks have four tines and not three or five? There must be reasons for these things. Dressing, I wondered why all my suit jackets have a row of pointless buttons on every sleeve. I heard a reference on the radio to someone paying for room and board, and realized that when people talk about room and board, I have no idea what the board is that they are talking about. Suddenly the house seemed a place of mystery to me.

then they walked back to the wicker picnic basket and sat on a plaid blanket eating cold fried chicken, salt-cured ham and biscuits, and potato salad. Sweet and dill pickles. Slices of four-layer cake with half-inch-thick caramel icing. All homemade, wrapped in wax paper. He opened two bottles of Royal Crown Cola and poured them into Dixie cups—her first drink of soda pop in her life. The generous spread was incredible to her, with the neatly arranged cloth napkins, plastic plates and forks. Even minuscule pewter salt and pepper shakers. His mother must have packed it, she thought, not knowing he was meeting the Marsh Girl. They talked softly of sea things—pelicans

The next morning I drove to an antique store and asked them if they had some of the old tin salt and pepper shakers. Back when Kiowas were made prisoners of war and placed in concentration camps, the U.S. government didn’t allow us to practice our culture. The only thing we had were government rations called commodities, and in those commodities were tin salt and pepper shakers. Most looked at them and saw salt and pepper shakers, but we looked at them through Kiowa eyes and we saw gourd dance rattles. In secret, out of the military’s sight, we practiced our culture, and we modified the rations we had at our disposal. When Kiowas danced with rattles made from tin salt and pepper shakers, it was a proud act of resistance.

Come on. Let’s go get coffee, get your mind off it,” Silas says soothingly as I begin to take my frustration out on the bag of bread, violently twisting the end of the plastic into a knot. “I don’t like coffee,” I grumble without looking at him. Silas reaches forward and puts his hands over mine. Goose bumps erupt on my arms. He raises his eyebrows, voice gentle. “You can get chocolate milk, then. But let’s get out of here before you bend the entire loaf in half.” I sigh and look at him. Funny how he can go from being “just Silas” to Silas in a matter of seconds. I release the bread and follow him out the door, my frustration and the flutter feeling fighting for control of me. The diner Silas takes me to is just a few blocks away, a dingy but classic-looking place with black and white tile and red neon signs blinking things such as “Apple Pie!” and “Specialty Hash Browns!” We slide into a booth, and a waitress who is missing several teeth grins at us and asks us for our order. “Just a cup of coffee for me. You, Rosie?” “Chocolate milk,” I reply with a snide look at Silas. He laughs and the waitress hurries away. Then, silence. Silas rearranges the salt and pepper shakers, and I pretend to read a piece of paper outlining the history of the diner. Right. “So,” I blurt out, a little louder than I meant to, “I guess you didn’t get much time at home, did you? Back from California and now stuck here with us?” Is my voice shaking? I think my voice is shaking.

BEE’S KNEES COCKTAIL ½ ounce honey simple syrup (recipe follows) 1 ounce lemon juice (about ½ medium lemon) 2 ounces gin Lemon peel Fill a cocktail shaker with ice. Add ingredients (except peel) and shake; strain into a martini glass. Twist the lemon peel and set inside glass. HONEY SIMPLE SYRUP In a small saucepan combine ⅓ cup honey and ⅓ cup water. Over low heat stir the mixture until honey starts to dissolve. Let cool and pour into a squeeze bottle or glass container. Will keep for several weeks. PORK WITH HONEY-LIME MARINADE (Serves 4) Juice of two limes ¼ cup honey ¼ cup olive oil 1 garlic clove, grated 1 teaspoon hot sauce (you can use red pepper flakes for less heat) Pork tenderloin, trimmed (1 pound) Whisk first five ingredients together. Pour half of marinade into a ziplock bag and add pork tenderloin. Marinate for at least 1 hour. Preheat gas or charcoal grill for indirect grilling. Brush grate with canola or vegetable oil. Cook pork indirectly 4 to 6 minutes per side until a meat thermometer registers 145 degrees. Remove from grill and brush with remaining marinade. Let meat rest for 10 minutes before slicing.

One of the reasons Kay laughs so much now is because in the beginning, when Phil was drinking and they didn’t have much money, there wasn’t a lot of laughing going on. But now we laugh at almost everything together. On our birthdays, Kay likes to send us very random cards, like Earth Day or graduation cards. Her favorite thing to do at Christmas is to give us gag gifts. After we’ve exchanged gifts as a family, she’ll give everybody a joke gift. Kay will often forget why she thought it was funny when she bought it. She’ll give someone salt and pepper shakers and won’t even remember why she gave them! Of course, Kay’s gift always say they’re from her dogs. If you get a present from her rat terriers-or some random famous person whose name is on the tag-you know it’s actually one of Kay’s gag gifts. Every one of Kay’s rat terriers has been named Jesse James or some version of his name, because if one dies she’ll still have another one with her. Somehow, that helps her cope with the trauma of losing one of her pets. She’s had like twenty of those dogs and they’ve all been named Jesse, JJ, or Jesse James II. She calls one of her dogs Bo-Bo, but his real name is Jesse James.

In the Holiday Room, the frozen, blackened drapes were pasted against the window frames. The white tablecloths were so stiff they looked as if they were made of painted wood instead of fabric. Bits of burst balloons lay among the soot-coated silver and glassware on the tables. The room was haunted by ghosts - ghosts of all the New Year's party guests who'd never come. It seemed to wait for them yet. THe room itself could not understand what had happened. It would wait forever, with its silverware and glasses and salt and pepper shakers and icy, immovable tablecloths and napkins.

The journey was more important than the place; most important was to return home, with crumpled maps, salt and pepper shakers shaped like clam shells, a sweatshirt with whales on it, and be able to say: I have been there, I have gone on a journey, I have come safely home.

for no less than thirty seconds and then immediately pour it, ice and all, into a mason jar with a salted rim, garnished with a wedge of key lime or meyer lemon or both. You can specify how hot you like it. For example, if you ask for “pleasantly spicy,” they’ll drop the pepper in a cocktail shaker, pour in the tequila, and then remove the pepper immediately. If you ask for “taste-bud abusive,” they’ll let the pepper sit with the tequila for a couple of minutes. Ask for “medical supervision advised,” and they’ll use a safely guarded reserve that’s been steeping for who knows how long. And here’s how you drink a spicy grapefruit margarita at Colonel Teddy’s Tiki Bar on Siesta Key: as slowly as possible.

The boy from that morning stood idly in the doorframe, once again wearing that maddening smirk. “Mort doesn’t really believe in cooking,” he said, swinging into the room. He opened the freezer door and nimbly transferred a pie from the box to the microwave. “He calls it a waste of time and sulfuric acid.” Lex attempted to disguise the mangled expression of intrigue and annoyance that had involuntarily appeared on her face. “And you would know because you’re his . . .” “Pool boy.” “There is no pool!” She turned to Uncle Mort, the ire rising once again. “What is he doing here?” Uncle Mort heaved an overdramatic shrug. “What are any of us doing here, really?” he said, waving his hands philosophically. “Jesus. You’re both evil.” “That’s no way to talk about your uncle,” her uncle said. “Or your partner,” Driggs added. “What?” Lex squawked, a whole new stew of emotions bubbling over. Not knowing what else to do, she grabbed the salt shaker and hurled it at him, followed by the pepper. “You’re my partner?” Driggs caught both items and began to juggle. “Yes, he is,” said Uncle Mort. “And in case you’ve forgotten, you still have a full week of training left—training that I can easily cancel and turn into a one-way ticket back home if you keep acting like a troglodyte.” Lex frowned, but lowered the sugar bowl she had readied. “So you two better find a way to get along. Now hug it out.” “No way.” She eyed Driggs. “I’m not hugging that.” “Oh yes you are.” Uncle Mort was enjoying this little show. “Befriend or else.” She had no choice. Careful to avoid Driggs’s gaze, Lex reluctantly entered into the frosty embrace. “You have no intention of befriending, do you?” Driggs whispered. “I’d rather take a bath with a toaster.

Spock & Captain Kirk Salt and Pepper Shaker Set

What d’ya think?” Fin asked, holding out a silver pepper shaker. Marrill scrunched her nose, considering the object. “Definitely something alive,” she finally pronounced. For the past several hours, the two of them had been playing a game of Drop Things into the Pirate Stream and Guess What They’ll Turn Into. So far they’d watched a shoe turn into a fish (boring), a towel morph into a small raft of tiger-roses (not boring), and a cup disappear into a high-pitched scream accompanied by the rattle of castanets and a driving bass beat (downright freaky). “I’m going with deadly,” Fin said.

The family got so used to finding the salt in the pepper shaker and vice versa that they would always shake a small amount onto their hand as a test prior to putting it on their food.

what technology could account for a living, breathing, bulletproof wolf, a beast that seemingly disappeared in midstride but left behind a chunk of its decaying flesh? What military or intelligence program can pull off a trick like that? What invisible soldier repeatedly slipped into Ellen Gorman’s locked bathroom (see page 239) and removed her towel and hairbrush? What Delta Force commando infiltrated her kitchen and unpacked her groceries from the cabinets? How many covert operatives did it take to surreptitiously invade the Gorman home for the purpose of taking the spatula out of the frying pan so that it could be hidden in the freezer? Which tough-as-nails marine was assigned the vital but routine task of switching the salt into the pepper shaker and the pepper into the salt shaker? To put it mildly, it’s a bit of a stretch.

Say this saltshaker is me.” He picks up the pepper with his other hand. “And the pepper is you. To the outside world and even to us at first, we don’t seem like we should go together. I’m brash and hard. You’re soft and beautiful. But we do go together, Red.” He presses the shakers together. “We go together perfectly.

airtight container or shaker: • 1 tablespoon garlic powder • 1 teaspoon dried parsley flakes • 1 teaspoon dried basil • 1 teaspoon dried marjoram • 1 teaspoon dried thyme • 1 teaspoon ground sage • 1 teaspoon ground pepper • 1 teaspoon onion powder • ½ teaspoon ground mace • ½ teaspoon cayenne pepper

Here is a basic recipe for salad dressing which you can vary according to the flavorings or herbs you decide to use. Salad Dressing 1 cup apple cider vinegar 1/3 cup lemon juice 1 cup olive oil ½ teaspoon salt ¼ teaspoon pepper Mix everything together in a shaker jar. Variations: Add 1 tablespoon of Dijon mustard Add 1 teaspoon or more of red pepper flakes, or a dash of hot sauce Add 4 cloves of garlic, minced Add a handful of chopped herbs, either fresh or dried Add ½ cup of thick yoghurt to make a creamy dressing which can double as a sandwich spread. This salad dressing can also be used as a marinade for meats and poultry. The vinegar will tenderize tough cuts as well as add flavor. Marinate the meat for at least 3 hours or preferably overnight. Afterwards, you can reduce the marinade to make a flavorsome sauce.

Across many parts of the Western world, salt and pepper shakers take up a prominent space on kitchen and dining room tables. As everyone knows, most are uniform in appearance: three pinprick holes on the saltshaker, and a single one atop the pepper. If you live in Asia, however, the number of holes is reversed, with three on the pepper shaker and one on the saltshaker, thanks to the popularity of pepper in Asian countries and the cultural preference for soy sauce. This

I grabbed Finnegan’s Magic 8 Ball from behind the cash register. My thumb went for the red scuff mark on the back of the ball, trying to rub it out like I always did whenever I got bored. Tucker was now preoccupied with lining up a pepper shaker cavalry across from a hostile regiment of saltshaker footmen. ... While Tucker stepped out back for his break, I commandeered his condiment armies. Gus’s cigarette smoke wafted toward the ceiling, pulled into the vent. The oscillating fan on the wall made the papers on the employee bulletin board flutter. Halfway through my recreation of the Battle of the Bulge, I shook Finnegan’s Magic 8 Ball to find out if the German saltshaker would be successful in his offensive. Ask again later. Useless thing. If the Allies had taken that advice, the Axis would have won the war.

You, Reader I wonder how you are going to feel when you find out that I wrote this instead of you, that it was I who got up early to sit in the itchen and mention with a pen the rain-soaked windows, the ivy wallpaper, and the goldfish circling in its bowl. Go ahead and turn aside, bite your lip and tear out the page, but, listen– it was just a matter of time before one of us happened to notice the unlit candles and the clock humming on the wall. Plus, nothing happened that morning– a song on the radio, a car whistling along the road outside– and I was only thinking about the shakers of salt and pepper that were standing side by side on a place mat. I wondered if they had become friends after all these years or if they were still strangers to one another like you and I who manage to be known and unknown to each other at the same time– me at this table with a bowl of pears, you leaning in a doorway somewhere near some blue hydrageas, reading this.

On-the-Go Snacks An apple A banana with a squeeze pack of almond butter Your favorite sliced vegetables (such as peppers, celery, carrots, and mushrooms) with a small container of hummus A small plastic bowl of light air-popped popcorn Frozen grapes A piece of light string cheese Brown rice cakes with a smear of peanut or almond butter or a drizzle of honey Protein powder in a shaker—don’t mix it with water until you’re ready to drink it A snack bar with 5 grams of added sugar or less A Whole-Wheat Banana Wrap or Apple Wrap A Banana Blueberry Muffin A handful of Oil-Free Sautéed Almonds or Oven-Roasted Spicy Almonds Homemade trail mix with your favorite unsalted nuts and dried berries (one idea: raw almonds, reduced-sugar cranberries, and whole-wheat Chex cereal) A small plastic container of berries (so they don’t get smashed) Old-fashioned oats with fried egg whites and strawberries

But what if the sketches based on Jack Thayer’s account were right? What if Titanic had split open, the two halves plummeting, broken ends first? Then some of what was inside would have tumbled into the ocean like salt and pepper pouring out of shakers. I visualized the ship not just breaking in two but falling to the bottom, with the heaviest pieces heading straight down and lighter ones drifting in the current, just as I had seen with Scorpion and Thresher. It played out like a film in my head and, all of a sudden, it was as clear as a bell. I shouldn’t be searching for the ship. I should be searching for the debris trail. A mile-long trail would be easier for me to find than an 883-foot ship that was maybe in one piece, maybe not.