Second Week, Second day
He's never, ever ever going to stop coughing. I know it. I did let him know that the kind folks who don't know him have advocated for not bludgeoning him to death with the toaster. He was grateful for your support. I need another scotch...
I've been spending a lot of time at Apartment Therapy. How old is too old to not want a pirate ship bed and a chandelier to swing from?
This evening I took a solo trip into The Beloved City to Lush for Mix's birthday gift, lovely girly girl stuff. The whole place smells to high heaven. Outside the shop, the scent-phobic husbands huddle wincing when the door opens, errant drifts of jasmine engulfing them.
When we lived in Seattle, we'd drive north to Vancouver for the hand-cut noodles, the gelato and Lush. More than once a funny look was delivered by the Border Guard when we revealed the only purchases to be $200 worth of soap. Once I had an enormously tall beautiful olive colored Canadian clap his hands and insist that there was nothing he liked better than Butterball Bath Bombs and Red Rooster soap. I could have kissed him but insisted on tipping him a chunk of coconut bubble bath bar he had not yet tried. Makes me happy just thinking of it. Honestly, the solid bubble bath bars are so the way to go: big heavenly dense clouds of suds* and they don't leak in your luggage and get your socks gooey.
Alton Brown insists I need a pie bird. Maybe this one, but $50 is of steep when we are discussing less than 2" square of ceramic. It's stupid, you don't have to say it. Oh no! Oh god: ebay has a whole dedicated section for pie birds. Fuck! Mindy! Do I need a pie bird?!
Mark Bittman of the New York Times has a blog: Bitten!
*For crying out loud:
I've been spending a lot of time at Apartment Therapy. How old is too old to not want a pirate ship bed and a chandelier to swing from?
This evening I took a solo trip into The Beloved City to Lush for Mix's birthday gift, lovely girly girl stuff. The whole place smells to high heaven. Outside the shop, the scent-phobic husbands huddle wincing when the door opens, errant drifts of jasmine engulfing them.
When we lived in Seattle, we'd drive north to Vancouver for the hand-cut noodles, the gelato and Lush. More than once a funny look was delivered by the Border Guard when we revealed the only purchases to be $200 worth of soap. Once I had an enormously tall beautiful olive colored Canadian clap his hands and insist that there was nothing he liked better than Butterball Bath Bombs and Red Rooster soap. I could have kissed him but insisted on tipping him a chunk of coconut bubble bath bar he had not yet tried. Makes me happy just thinking of it. Honestly, the solid bubble bath bars are so the way to go: big heavenly dense clouds of suds* and they don't leak in your luggage and get your socks gooey.
Alton Brown insists I need a pie bird. Maybe this one, but $50 is of steep when we are discussing less than 2" square of ceramic. It's stupid, you don't have to say it. Oh no! Oh god: ebay has a whole dedicated section for pie birds. Fuck! Mindy! Do I need a pie bird?!
Mark Bittman of the New York Times has a blog: Bitten!
*For crying out loud:
- Clean tub with baking soda. Ideally, have Slave clean tub.
- Rinse out once throughly just for good measure. (naughty, sloppy Slave!)
- Wait for water heater to recoup. Survey bookshelves. Skip anything by anyone Russian. Plug drain.
- With an empty tub, place bowl under taps for aeration.
- Turn all taps full blast and immediately pour 1 - 2 ounces into bowl (or crumble 1 T. bubble bar) under taps.
- Halfway full, adjust water temperature. Ponder gin. And magazine. You need a magazine.
- Pour drink. Grab fluffy clean towel. Remove bowl. Lock door. Disrobe. Climb on in. Answer to no one unless they offer to freshen your drink. But you've locked the door, so you're screwed. Consider a bigger glass next time.
Comments
But I keep trying anyway
Sometimes Alton Brown is a little too into gadgets.