The kitchen that goes "buzzzz whir chunkachunka"

Darlings: Still no gig (I did find a few thing that are perfect and am waiting to hear back) and the green stuff that goes with it, but I do have a half bottle of Hangar One mandarin vodka in the freezer, a great man who buys the groceries, XM radio and no sense of rhythm or dignity at all. So no argument here. Cheers, darlings.

The Stoned and Heavily Medicated Insane Land Lady is now driving with a vengeance. She has insisted that she is an excellent driver, stoned or not (yeah, I had to ask if she drove under pot or her heavy medications). Deep ruts in the neighbors' yard (unearthing the irrigation and obliterating a rather hideous ceramic tortoise) and the parking strip say perhaps another story. She has shaved off one driver's mirror on the gate, loosened the other mirror and pried up the door panel a bit. There are a few mysterious new dents as well. And the car is filthy once again.

This week's cooking injury occurred tonight over sautéed pork chops, applesauce (which I love with pork), salad and mashed spuds: a whopping arm length grease burn. I am hoping that the aloe will ease it out. I am going to re-name this blog: What I do to Myself in the Name and Pursuit of Food. Here's what I learned. Sautéing in a tank top is a bad idea.

Woody Allen's movie is to be released tomorrow and I hear it's good. Oh, Hurrah!!!

Podcast addicts: Miette's Bedtime Story Podcast. Start with Wodehouse's Monkey Business and relish Miette's subtle cursing at mispronunciation in her wildly bandy Highlands accent. I love her. Looooove.

I am realizing that since December 25 there has been an encroachment on the counter space. New additions: wacky orange espresso machine (Steven's), stick blender (present), Cusinart blender/processor combo (present) and now a microwave (Steven's). What happened?

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