foolish behavior
It's 1:30 in the morning and I just put a large fruitcake in the oven. I followed a recipe -- more of a method and notes -- linked to by Teresa at Making Light. I made some adjustments: he calls for whole spices fresh gorund, which I could not do except for the nutmeg. He calls for mace which I forgot to get so I used two tablespoons of chopped candied ginger. My fruits were mostly "lightly sugared" ones from Staff of Life because the brown dry ones were ugly and they don't taste so good, but only the golden raisins fess up to sulphur. My whole list of fruits is long, because I got everything pretty there was: cranberries, pineapple, mango, dark and golden raisins, papaya, dates, apricots, prunes,and some caramelized lemon peel I had accidentally made when I set out to make lemon marmalade (I did succeed shortly afterwards). I didn't get anything dry or fossilized looking. The persimmons were dry and pale so I didn't get them, though they can be wonderful dried. The figs were also dark and hard, so I didn't get them. I figured the prunes and the dark raisins would add counterpoint to the riotous colors of the rest. I soaked the fruit in a mixture of okay brandy and fairly fresh orange juice (orange juice is Your Firend in the Kitchen). It's promising tasting and smelling and looking, but it all fit in the commercial half-pan, so for gifts I have to slice it up.
I might, since I have to be up anyway, actually clean the kitchen and maybe even make Gorgeous Apricot Jam Cookies. Maybe. Maybe not. I've never made enough of those to give away except on the one by one basis before.
On other fronts I wrote a very uncharacteristic story today. It begins like one of the high school romances on the nifty erotic archive, but as it progresses . . . they don't. The pov character is a kid who's been writing these steamy stories with characters which are clearly based on him and a schoolmate, and he's been submitting them to an online archive under the pretense of being old enough to do it, and he gets caught out by the boy who is the model -- and they almost -- but they don't. Because the young pornographer isn't ready to actually do it.
Nobody's looking for a story like that but it was satisfying to write, for no reason that I can determine, though the trope of avoiding the beloved is one that appeals to me because I think I do it with my life, you know? Like if my life were the beloved and I was avoiding it because I'm afraid it will reject me or consume me if it doesn't?
But nobody's looking for a short short about two boys who don't.
I might, since I have to be up anyway, actually clean the kitchen and maybe even make Gorgeous Apricot Jam Cookies. Maybe. Maybe not. I've never made enough of those to give away except on the one by one basis before.
On other fronts I wrote a very uncharacteristic story today. It begins like one of the high school romances on the nifty erotic archive, but as it progresses . . . they don't. The pov character is a kid who's been writing these steamy stories with characters which are clearly based on him and a schoolmate, and he's been submitting them to an online archive under the pretense of being old enough to do it, and he gets caught out by the boy who is the model -- and they almost -- but they don't. Because the young pornographer isn't ready to actually do it.
Nobody's looking for a story like that but it was satisfying to write, for no reason that I can determine, though the trope of avoiding the beloved is one that appeals to me because I think I do it with my life, you know? Like if my life were the beloved and I was avoiding it because I'm afraid it will reject me or consume me if it doesn't?
But nobody's looking for a short short about two boys who don't.