Three failed FETs this summer. One last ditch effort this fall sometime. Work is kicking my proverbial ass. Hold on to your hats, my friends.
Oh, camp… I can’t even remember what day it is….
Oh, yeah, day 8. Teaching. Um, well. That’s what I do. For work, that is. And also because I generally love it – the money’s not good enough to make anyone stick around; you have to love it at least a little bit. Or, if you’re me, you also stick around because you have no other marketable skills. My kids are two, and don’t yet read (although they are great a picking their noses), so blogs mean very little to them.
Shall we play catch up? We shall.
Day 7. I don’t think I have a favorite for any meal – weird, considering I also had no guilty pleasures. Wow, do I love food blogs, though. And, yes, I would totally write one if I had enough motivation to do anything at all. Note my tumblr, which is all about lunch and hasn’t been updated in forever, and the last post wasn’t even my lunch. Maybe I should get back on that… or you could! You, too, could half-ass-ed-ly fulfill your food blogger fantasies and log your lunch!
Day 6. I never try new things because I hate new things. For real.
Day 5. Ummm…. I don’t know what I like best to do on my birthday. (See why I need to be kicked out of camp – can’t answer the damn questions.) Usually, LB and I have a party of sorts, because our birthdays are so close together.
Day 4. Being an adult surprises the shit out of me daily. What is this leaky pipe and why do I have to deal with it? Where did these bills come from? And who are all these damn cats and to whom do they belong?! I think the world of blogging has taught me about generosity. How to have it and how to be on the receiving end of it. Thanks for that lesson, Cali. For real.
Look! It’s summer camp!
Day Three. Guilty Pleasures.
- Popcorn in bed with a book.
Shit, I am late for camp. What a surprise.
So let’s play catch up, shall we?
Day 1 – Provide a photo or sketch or dramatic rendering of the space where you normally blog.
Home. I usually blog at home. Sometimes when I travel, but mostly at home. In the chair by the fire, or on the couch or on the porch swing that you can almost see in the far right of the above picture. I don’t think I have ever blogged at my desk, which is really more storage space than work space. This picture is from long ago, before I ripped out all those bushes and the droopy fence.
Day 2 -What were you like in high school? What extracurricular activities, if any, did you take part in during high school? Did you consider yourself a writer?
What *was* I like in high school? Umm…. much like I am now? Short, sort of brown, but without any tattoos. Nice, I hope?
I didn’t really take part in any extra-curriculars. A lot of my friends played field hockey, so I went with them to games because it was fun. I was the manager. Sort of. That meant I braided everybody’s hair and stored their jewelry on my person during games. I did some costuming, which sort of started by accident when the husband of the woman who taught me to sew was brought in to direct the school play one year and she was the costume designer; she had me help her with alterations and then the next year I sort of stuck with it. Otherwise, I spent a lot of time with my friends, doing things I probably shouldn’t commit to permanent record.
Oh, summer camp… now can we sing songs by the fire and then go make out in the cabins?
Come on y’all. Log your lunch. Or your cocktails, as the case may be. Tumblr misses us.
Or, “I don’t need to take the little pips out, do I?”
Oh, come on. You know you’ve missed live blogging with The Food Crafters.
9 pm. Maths. Math is hard. LB is cutting citrus for infused vodka and Elsie is commiserating about mL and numbers of limes, slicing and doing maths while the rest of us sit on our collective ass and talk about a new fabric store. Vodka is filtering, so as to see like higher quality, a la SJ.
9:17 pm. Cho-girl begins lavender salt. Smoked paprika is the shit this season, you know. So we’ll be doing that next. And macha which is good on eggs. Vodka still flitering. T of Tuesday Fame is packaging some cleaning shit for us. Terra Scrub if you must know. You must know.
9:25 pm. Pic of sliced citrus as we wait for vodka to filter. Again.
9:35 pm. Lavender salt done. Vodka update: first bottle, 3rd pass through the filter.
Live blogging is hard. I’m passing this shit on.
9:40 pm. Where is the shamwow? Cleaning utensils-salt flavoring change.
9:45 pm. Kermit crab status-mass murder and painting.
T of Tuesday Fame: “did you calculate for the displacement of the citrus?”
SHG: “fuck no.”
9:50 pm. New salt is smoked paprika and moving on to matcha which smells like green tea ice cream.
9:55 pm. Smells like a tea house.
10:00 pm. Four cycles of filtering the vodka is our max. around here, pouring it in with the first citrus mix, grapefruit.
10:05 pm. V-Bottle two, pass one. S-done for now, we will be drying citrus and doing that later.
Or, Sunday To Do:
Oh, fuck it. Let’s make a list.
- laundry the first (Oh, laundry, how do I love you?)
- start sponge for bread (Got late start, so there really is no time for the no-knead stuff – it’s back to my old bread bff, Tassajara. I do love you though, Mark Bittman, I really do.)
- mop the kitchen (Blah. Mopping, I dislike you as much as I love laundry.)
- work self into a snit over current events/sexism/state of the yard.
- eat something (Note to self: recent bad habit of 2 cups of coffee before breakfast = not good.)
- anticipate visit from the kids from the Valley (!)
- mirate very clean stove and oven, don’t think about how long cleaning said stove and oven took, don’t notice spots that will never be really clean because the fucker is at least 60 years old if not 70.
- laundry the second (*sigh* laundry….*sigh*)
- get sidetracked talking to LB
Ok, so the real fun is over on my lunch blog. Really, y’all. If you’re not logging your lunch, you’re missing out. Highlights include serious panda bento boxes, repetitive but delicious beans on toast, food fights between prominent London lawyers and peanut butter crackers stolen from small children. Ok, just kidding on that last one. And the one before that. But really. Go log your lunch.