Why no love for Samuel L? (pie = yum)
Have made my first strawberry-rhubarb pie -- go me! (Ignored crust recipe, used my mother's.) I think next time I'll want to try the orange-and-cardamom variation.
Also made proper dinner the other day - lamb chops marinated w/ rosemary & balsamic, topped w/ a bit of red pepper and rasberry wine jelly, a nice salad, and mint juleps. (phillyexpat, I finally used the cocktail shaker you gave me! Not that that's quite correct procedure for juleps, but I'm not about to go run out and buy a wooden muddler and silver cups specially. I will, however, experiment next time w/ making a mint simple syrup.)
Achievement of the weekend: finding a strapless bra that's seamless along the top of the cups and stays up. Granted, it stayed up so well that I have slight blistering along the sides of my breasts from all the jumping around/dancing we were doing, but I didn't feel them at the time and they weren't bad enough to bother me the next day, so I'm counting it a win all 'round. And the topper? The bra only cost me $15 at Target. Halle-fricking-lujah.
I didn't post anything in particular during "Blog Against Racism Week" in part because I have no relevant life experiences, and in (larger) part because I had nothing insightful to say. (My brain is most frequently like a Western's establishing shot of the desert; only occasionally does a tumbleweed bounce dustily and desultorily across the empty plains.)
However, I just recently borrowed Snakes on a Plane from sheikh_djibouti and albatrosswoman, and I have this tiny observation to make:
What is up with Samuel L. Jackson and Julianna Marguiles spending all-movie developing chemistry together, only to part with a vague dinner invitation, while Other Stewardess and The Witness Guy (aka the MacGuffin Muffin) get an on-screen kiss? While I don't see SLJ as the sort to put up with any nonsense squeamishness from suits (especially on a movie that he had so much direct input into), it was very jarring to see that only the white couple, not the mixed-race couple, gets any bodily interface.
(However, I do have to give deep, abiding thanks for the cameraman who made the long, slow, loving pan up Taylor Kitsch's body while he was boning the bimbo in the bathroom. That is a gorgeously put-together young man.)
Also made proper dinner the other day - lamb chops marinated w/ rosemary & balsamic, topped w/ a bit of red pepper and rasberry wine jelly, a nice salad, and mint juleps. (phillyexpat, I finally used the cocktail shaker you gave me! Not that that's quite correct procedure for juleps, but I'm not about to go run out and buy a wooden muddler and silver cups specially. I will, however, experiment next time w/ making a mint simple syrup.)
Achievement of the weekend: finding a strapless bra that's seamless along the top of the cups and stays up. Granted, it stayed up so well that I have slight blistering along the sides of my breasts from all the jumping around/dancing we were doing, but I didn't feel them at the time and they weren't bad enough to bother me the next day, so I'm counting it a win all 'round. And the topper? The bra only cost me $15 at Target. Halle-fricking-lujah.
I didn't post anything in particular during "Blog Against Racism Week" in part because I have no relevant life experiences, and in (larger) part because I had nothing insightful to say. (My brain is most frequently like a Western's establishing shot of the desert; only occasionally does a tumbleweed bounce dustily and desultorily across the empty plains.)
However, I just recently borrowed Snakes on a Plane from sheikh_djibouti and albatrosswoman, and I have this tiny observation to make:
What is up with Samuel L. Jackson and Julianna Marguiles spending all-movie developing chemistry together, only to part with a vague dinner invitation, while Other Stewardess and The Witness Guy (aka the MacGuffin Muffin) get an on-screen kiss? While I don't see SLJ as the sort to put up with any nonsense squeamishness from suits (especially on a movie that he had so much direct input into), it was very jarring to see that only the white couple, not the mixed-race couple, gets any bodily interface.
(However, I do have to give deep, abiding thanks for the cameraman who made the long, slow, loving pan up Taylor Kitsch's body while he was boning the bimbo in the bathroom. That is a gorgeously put-together young man.)