Yatter yatter
I gave blood and got another t-shirt.
Two months ago, I had an iron level so high it was considered toxic. At the blood-mobile today, first it tested low. I told the blood-mobile woman that, no, I had very high iron, and I was trying to lower it so I could return to using my cast iron pans. (Not donating blood out of the selflessess of my heart but wanting only another free t-shirt and to again use my cast iron pans, I'm afraid of what revenge the Universe might have in store for me. But, trust me, the Universe is way ahead on doling out revenge. The score is something like eighty bazillion jillion zillion (for the Universe) to ten (or, yeah, maybe 20, but certainly not more than 50) (for me).)
Back to my blood, ...
The low reading gave the blood-sucking blood-mobile woman pause (and, apparently, the low reading would have prevented me from donating). So she tested it again. Perfectly normal, she told me. Everybody just make up your mind, will ya? I twit over a high reading, I twit over a low reading, and now I'm bloody (no pun intended) twitting over a normal reading. Which blood-testing test am I to believe? Anyway, yes, I gave blood. (This was while I had chicken roasting in the car. I did not want to expend the gas to travel approximately one mile to refrigerate the chicken before returning (that same one mile) to give blood.)
Once home, I got this going.
Fermenting spicy carrots and onions. I believe there's only one other--oh, wait, two--fermenter(s) on my list, so I won't bother with the recipe (unless, of course, you one or two fermenters want it!) or the fact that I added an ever-so-slight dusting of tannins to see if that would help the crunch factor stay put. (Oh, and, note to self: If you don plastic food-handling gloves to slice the ... (er, I'm really trying not to swear here) ... jalapenos, do not rub (no matter how lightly) an itch (especially on your face) after having handled the jalapenos but still donning said plastic gloves. It renders the gloves useless. (Not true, I suppose. I don't have burning fingers; I only have a burning face.))
I'm sorry to bore all of you non-fermenters, but I must tell you that the doohickey at the top of the jar ... it's called a dunker. It's handmade by someone on the mailing list that is driving me more tizzified than I already am.
As soon as I shut up here, I'm going to go make brined mushrooms. And then do a bunch of other things. One of them being to cut branches (yeah, the ones that were so offensive to the neighbor woman's sight) to strap my tomatoes to.
I am pleased to report that, after a 6 a.m. stroll to look for my bag yesterday, I found it. (It's true, even I can have good luck.) Up against a chain link fence. Sort of under a ... not a bush, really, but a plant that was, ... I don't know, sort of bushy. But not so bushy that I couldn't find the bag. I said lots of thank-you prayers, even though I'm not the praying sort.
I am also pleased (and exceedingly nervous) to report that I ordered another camera. (This is in large part funded by my mother. Most of you probably already know that.) It's being shipped from Montana. Rather than take advantage of the free ground shipping, I so desperately wanted to take advantage of the $50 next-day shipping. But I didn't, of course. By horse and buggy it shall come. And I shall be twiddling my thumbs (as much as I can twiddle them) and attempting to will my toes to twiddle while I await the arrival of this gorgeous hunk of a camera that I probably will not know how to properly use ... I would say until Christmas, but, truth be told, it will probably be ... ever.
Two months ago, I had an iron level so high it was considered toxic. At the blood-mobile today, first it tested low. I told the blood-mobile woman that, no, I had very high iron, and I was trying to lower it so I could return to using my cast iron pans. (Not donating blood out of the selflessess of my heart but wanting only another free t-shirt and to again use my cast iron pans, I'm afraid of what revenge the Universe might have in store for me. But, trust me, the Universe is way ahead on doling out revenge. The score is something like eighty bazillion jillion zillion (for the Universe) to ten (or, yeah, maybe 20, but certainly not more than 50) (for me).)
Back to my blood, ...
The low reading gave the blood-sucking blood-mobile woman pause (and, apparently, the low reading would have prevented me from donating). So she tested it again. Perfectly normal, she told me. Everybody just make up your mind, will ya? I twit over a high reading, I twit over a low reading, and now I'm bloody (no pun intended) twitting over a normal reading. Which blood-testing test am I to believe? Anyway, yes, I gave blood. (This was while I had chicken roasting in the car. I did not want to expend the gas to travel approximately one mile to refrigerate the chicken before returning (that same one mile) to give blood.)
Once home, I got this going.
Fermenting spicy carrots and onions. I believe there's only one other--oh, wait, two--fermenter(s) on my list, so I won't bother with the recipe (unless, of course, you one or two fermenters want it!) or the fact that I added an ever-so-slight dusting of tannins to see if that would help the crunch factor stay put. (Oh, and, note to self: If you don plastic food-handling gloves to slice the ... (er, I'm really trying not to swear here) ... jalapenos, do not rub (no matter how lightly) an itch (especially on your face) after having handled the jalapenos but still donning said plastic gloves. It renders the gloves useless. (Not true, I suppose. I don't have burning fingers; I only have a burning face.))
I'm sorry to bore all of you non-fermenters, but I must tell you that the doohickey at the top of the jar ... it's called a dunker. It's handmade by someone on the mailing list that is driving me more tizzified than I already am.
As soon as I shut up here, I'm going to go make brined mushrooms. And then do a bunch of other things. One of them being to cut branches (yeah, the ones that were so offensive to the neighbor woman's sight) to strap my tomatoes to.
I am pleased to report that, after a 6 a.m. stroll to look for my bag yesterday, I found it. (It's true, even I can have good luck.) Up against a chain link fence. Sort of under a ... not a bush, really, but a plant that was, ... I don't know, sort of bushy. But not so bushy that I couldn't find the bag. I said lots of thank-you prayers, even though I'm not the praying sort.
I am also pleased (and exceedingly nervous) to report that I ordered another camera. (This is in large part funded by my mother. Most of you probably already know that.) It's being shipped from Montana. Rather than take advantage of the free ground shipping, I so desperately wanted to take advantage of the $50 next-day shipping. But I didn't, of course. By horse and buggy it shall come. And I shall be twiddling my thumbs (as much as I can twiddle them) and attempting to will my toes to twiddle while I await the arrival of this gorgeous hunk of a camera that I probably will not know how to properly use ... I would say until Christmas, but, truth be told, it will probably be ... ever.