Many people tried to teach young me how to cook & mostly they just terrified me. Then I had a dream about an elderly Creole woman teaching me, & she's been with me since.
Tonight, I made a roux & when I was just a half-step too slow gettin' my stir on, I imagined her behind me saying, "You gotta WHISK, baby! Whisk for Jesus!"
She did not know what was so funny. Neither did the family members who heard me cracking the eff up in the kitchen.
In the Before times, I did #CrossStitch & #BlackWork & the occasional unholy union of them both. I stopped for a handful of reasons, & one of them was that the embroidery floss situation got so out of hand that I could not even, nay, not the littlest bit.
I have thunk & thunk, & I have decided that before I consign the entire hobby to the dustbin of history, I will restore order to the floss & see how I feel about it then.
Aww, man. Our author's gone & gotten smitten. We've been stuck for 10 chapters while the author gazes adoringly at an idea. Meanwhile, the Big Twist has become obvious & there's 7 chapters to go. Ah, well.
questionable disposition of canine remains in folklore
Listening to a ghost story in which a ceiling caves in & the carcass of a dead dog stuffed with gold falls from the rafters.
On one hand, that's a pretty macabre piggie bank. On the other hand, it IS some A+ theft prevention. Nobody's gonna look there.
Morning discussion with my bestie began with oohing & ahhing over a farmer's market & ended with us deciding that God has to keep doing the marketing hustle (the Bible is a PowerPoint presentation, church is a weekend getaway that's actually a time-share scam, etc) because his product is inferior. Satan gets to chill because sin sells itself.
My mother has once again demanded that I give her the log-in info for her banking accounts & relinquish the task of paying her bills & balancing her checkbook. I have done so, knowing full well she will be handing it all back to me in a week because she can't handle it.
My whole life is just a series of bullshit productions, in which we all pretend various things aren't what they are. It is exhausting.
I love Terry Pratchett, Dylan Moran, & the podcast Old Gods of Appalachia. Do with that what you will.
I am made up entirely of trauma responses & coffee.
The social network of the future: No ads, no corporate surveillance, ethical design, and decentralization! Own your data with Mastodon!