Random blatherings....
Apparently, there is a new rule in all of the LJ cooking communities.
One is absolutely forbidden to share a recipe unless a dozen people beg you, with tears in their eyes and on knees bloodied from crawling through a mile of broken glass to get to your foodlike offering, to do so.
Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.
When pigs FLY will I do that.
I swear, I'm quitting every single one of them before I "loose" my frikkin' MIND.
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Daisy got out this morning, after I carelessly left the back door open (I opened the glass and didn't realize, in my pre-coffee stupor, that the screen was open). She happily hopped around in the wet grass and crawled under wet bushes, getting herself all hedonistically drippy and cool, and refused to even LOOK at me when I tried to call her in. She would periodically look over her shoulder and meow at me, I suppose in a kind of careless reassurance that she would come in when she was DONE, and then bound off after some random beetle or to sniff a Queen Anne's Lace nodding under a weight of raindrops.
I didn't mind. I don't even blame her--had I been a small cat, I would have done the same thing.
Her "brother" Rafiki, however, is a bit of a worrier, and he stood on his hind legs and put his front paws on my leg as I stood at the back door and watched her, mewing imploringly that I DO something, damnit--she's out there in the big scary and you're just standing there! Go GET her!
He's so good--I re-opened the screen door, because Daisy will most often come back in so long as the door is open and she thinks it's her own idea, and he lay by the door and watched, without even trying to make his own escape.
Good boy--or perhaps he simply knows what side his bread is buttered on.
In any case, after about an hour of sheer heathenish indulgence in nature and my sending an invitation by offering a couple of enticing raps on the side of the food bowl with my ring, she decided she had enough, and came back in for breakfast.
She makes me nuts...but you've gotta love her.
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Surgery day today.
I have a good book, and the air conditioning at St. Luke's is good, and there will be coffee-ishness in the lobby.
I'm a little worried, and I'm not looking forward to seeing my husband in recovery again, or to the idea of dealing with an overnight alone, but it is what it is, and it's one step closer to being DONE.
I should look at my laptop and see what's cookin' at work, but I really don't care.
I have other things on my mind.
One is absolutely forbidden to share a recipe unless a dozen people beg you, with tears in their eyes and on knees bloodied from crawling through a mile of broken glass to get to your foodlike offering, to do so.
Whiskey. Tango. Foxtrot.
When pigs FLY will I do that.
I swear, I'm quitting every single one of them before I "loose" my frikkin' MIND.
**********************************************************
Daisy got out this morning, after I carelessly left the back door open (I opened the glass and didn't realize, in my pre-coffee stupor, that the screen was open). She happily hopped around in the wet grass and crawled under wet bushes, getting herself all hedonistically drippy and cool, and refused to even LOOK at me when I tried to call her in. She would periodically look over her shoulder and meow at me, I suppose in a kind of careless reassurance that she would come in when she was DONE, and then bound off after some random beetle or to sniff a Queen Anne's Lace nodding under a weight of raindrops.
I didn't mind. I don't even blame her--had I been a small cat, I would have done the same thing.
Her "brother" Rafiki, however, is a bit of a worrier, and he stood on his hind legs and put his front paws on my leg as I stood at the back door and watched her, mewing imploringly that I DO something, damnit--she's out there in the big scary and you're just standing there! Go GET her!
He's so good--I re-opened the screen door, because Daisy will most often come back in so long as the door is open and she thinks it's her own idea, and he lay by the door and watched, without even trying to make his own escape.
Good boy--or perhaps he simply knows what side his bread is buttered on.
In any case, after about an hour of sheer heathenish indulgence in nature and my sending an invitation by offering a couple of enticing raps on the side of the food bowl with my ring, she decided she had enough, and came back in for breakfast.
She makes me nuts...but you've gotta love her.
******************************************************************
Surgery day today.
I have a good book, and the air conditioning at St. Luke's is good, and there will be coffee-ishness in the lobby.
I'm a little worried, and I'm not looking forward to seeing my husband in recovery again, or to the idea of dealing with an overnight alone, but it is what it is, and it's one step closer to being DONE.
I should look at my laptop and see what's cookin' at work, but I really don't care.
I have other things on my mind.