Dec. 6th, 2011 02:06 pm
jmtorres: The arch-elf from the movie Santa Clause, with pita. (Bernard)
Does anyone have any recipe recommendations for scallops?

...ooh. Maybe I'll do the lemon pasta recipe with scallops as the meat. (originally called for shrimp.)


Aug. 14th, 2011 03:26 pm
jmtorres: From Lady Gaga's Bad Romance music video; the peach-haired, wide-eyed iteration (Default)
I went to the Asian market today, which is always an exciting adventure of "Oooh, I can't get that anywhere else!" and "Buns/samosas/mochi balls! What filling is in them? That sounds tasty" and "I would not have thought to combine those ingredients into a soup but I will assume this is a tested recipe and give it a try."

I've been enjoying lychee martinis at the froofy sushi restaurant recently (I especially enjoy telling unwitting companions when they ask "What's that" re the skinless, from-a-can lychee in the drink, "An eyeball." People of the approximately 147 countries represented by foodstuffs in this market, I apologize for exoticizing your cuisines.) Anyway, today at the market they had fresh lychees, and though I had earlier resisted the lure of a can of lychees--I should not make lychee martinis at home, I should not--I could not resist buying a bag of fresh lychees, because fresh fruit is this AMAZING thing and anyway this bag is huge. Like, it contains dozens of lychees. I don't even know.

Okay, I have never met a fresh lychee before in my life. Advise me, oh droll. At what color/texture have they achieved peak ripeness? Does one eat the skin, or remove it? (After all, canned peaches are usually skinless but that doesn't mean you can't eat their skin.) If it's advisable to remove the skin, what is the recommended methodology? How many of these fruits does one eat at once? Does one eat them with other things or totally on their own? And lastly, is the "y" pronounced long "I" or long "E"? I had a waiter correct me on that the other night but he was Anglo like me so I don't trust it necessarily.
jmtorres: movieverse Steve Rogers with dorky grin. Text: The future is awesome! Who else is a robot? (awesome)
Managed to be rational enough about depression to do things for myself, both things requiring energy (hard to find in depression state) and things of a wallowing nature, which--frankly, when I'm depressed, I sometimes need time to just be depressed off in a corner. And that's okay, as long as I let myself. It's when I beat myself up about it and feel like a failure for hiding in a corner that it spirals and gets out of control.

(It feels so weird to be in a depressive funk and not be a million miles behind on everything. Also to be in a depressive funk and also be mellow and at peace with myself instead of hating either myself or everyone else in the universe.)

And I drank. I drank enough to get giggly, and it was pleasant, and I am somewhat concerned because... because I took DARE twice when I was a kid so I'm still shaking off some brainwashing and because my grandmother says my grandfather was an alcoholic and because it seems unlikely that a depressant would be a good treatment for depression and because drinking doesn't to much for my productivity, just my mood, and on a temporary basis.

But this is how I know how to take care of myself, worked out haphazard-experimentally over years: eat something to make my brain function; eat something that, being delicious, brings me joy; let myself be alone when I need to hide but ignore the impulses to sabotage all human relationships; spend time with my friends, even if we are just being antisocial together; dye the streak in my hair new colors, for joy and redefinition and self-esteem; occasionally get dressed up in platform boots and a push-up bra and relish being tall and busty; and drink, to the point of silliness, with friends I trust.


Apr. 8th, 2011 03:03 pm
jmtorres: Castiel speaking on his cell phone: "Even as we speak, it's... going... down." (supernatural)
I just read a Supernatural fic, off a rec, no less, from an author whose work I have frequently enjoyed, and it...

It sort of got peanut butter on my, hmm, asparagus.

And I kind of want the fic I thought it was from the description. Which, by the way, was neither peanut butter nor asparagus, but more like... sashimi.

This metaphor may possibly be getting away from me.

I should probably go eat something.
jmtorres: The arch-elf from the movie Santa Clause, with pita. (holidays)
[personal profile] everysecondtuesday TUESDAY DEAR. I want to send you baked goods. I need to talk to you about things that can and cannot go into food you eat and also I need your address. I have emailed! Email me back! PS sorry I haven't been on IM much, work was hell this week.
jmtorres: Aya from Weiss Kreuz gets petted, text: Everyone needs a kitten (kitten)
I have two cats. [personal profile] niqaeli and [personal profile] traykor have four. Mine are named* Buttface and Little Miss. Theirs are named Bratmonster, Grumpykitty, Snugglebutt, and the fourth, to my knowledge, does not answer to his name, only to his mistress.

In any case: theirs like human food like ice cream and chicken. When Bratmonster went after some turkey [personal profile] niqaeli had after Thanksgiving, I mocked him and she rolled her eyes and said, "Obligate carnivore."

Mine do not appear to know they are obligate carnivores. Unless pumpkin guts actually are offal.

Buttface is always in the underfoot when I am cooking; I have stepped on his tail more than once (by accident!) and it does not deter him. Finding this inevitable, I do, I guess reward the behavior. I'll hold out a bit of whatever I'm making at waist height and watch him hop up on his hind legs to sniff it longingly.

Tonight I am roasting pumpkin, and if you are going through the trouble of roasting your own pumpkin then it would just be a waste of a good salt delivery system not to collect, clean and roast the seeds as well. So having put the main part of the pumpkin in the oven, I was sorting pumpkin guts from pumpkin seeds and letting Buttface sniff chunks of pumpkin guts. Only tonight this went: sniff, sniff, lick, lick, CHOMP. And then he would fall back to the floor with a few strands of pumpkin guts to devour. Oh, well, I thought, a little vegetable** never hurt anybody, and it's not like he's the one who pukes in the hallway on a regular basis.

(Little Miss is a longhair. She can't help it.)

Buttface in the underfoot in the kitchen is absolutely normal. I think if I were cooking something and didn't almost crush him at least once, I would start to wonder if he'd escaped the house or something. Little Miss, on the other hand, does not like interacting with standing humans: she is afraid of feet. She started out the pumpkin adventure a ways away from the kitchen, but in sight of it, and occasionally yipped to me. I find the best way to answer her vocalizations is to vocalize back--it's like she wants to be reassured that you know she's there. I'm not sure if vocal attention is all the attention she wants or needs or if she's trying to make sure no one's about to almost step on her.

But she edged closer. So I bent over to hold some pumpkin guts out to her. She sniffed at them from a reasonable distance of a few inches, not the nose-in-your-palm way Buttface does, and then she backed off. Ah, normal kitty, I thought.

Except she continued to yip whenever I let Buttface have a sniff-lick-CHOMP. So finally when I was just about done I left the last few bits of pumpkin guts on the plate and set the plate on the floor. I watched them come up and sniff it--both of them, how odd--and I honestly expected that would be the extent of it, because heaven knows when I offer them things like salmon skin they turn their noses up.

I turned my back on them to wash my colander full of pumpkin seeds and when I turned back around they were both sitting on the floor in the middle of the kitchen by the plate, which was entirely clean except for half of a pumpkin seed.

"Freaks," I said.

They each twitched an ear at me.

*whereby I mean what they actually answer to, because this is what they are called all the time.

**where by I mean fruit
jmtorres: Purple boots. Love me, love my boots. (boots)
Oh, my god, I'm tired, I'm exhausted, I can't stand up--literally, my calves are like jelly, my hamstrings keep deciding to cramp, and I resent how sore my feet are given I wasn't even wearing my ridiculous boots--but I'm not tired.

I wish I had enough brain left to write fic, but I don't think I do. Contemplating reading a novel, or fanfic. Really wish I could think of something to make my feet hurt less.

...we had a party, I cooked a lot.
jmtorres: The arch-elf from the movie Santa Clause, with pita. (holidays)
I'm running ragged and behind on my cooking. Today I went to FOUR grocery stores (and still ended up unexpectedly short a can of pumpkin, see also, my braintwin's finger, three stitches thereon) and also Goodwill ($8 boots! With enormous chunky heels I can walk on! And I can actually zip them up!) and the booze store (lots of cider was acquired).

Things I have done:

--pumpkin filling for dumplings made
--sugar cookies made
--chicken stock and chicken for octopies prepared
--jello skull in the fridge

Things that need to happen tomorrow between when I get up and like, 5-6pm
--laundry (in the interest of having leggings to go with my TOS tunic)
--apple pie
--pumpkin chocolate chip cookies (for which I need more PUMPKIN)
--pumpkin apple soup
--assembly and cooking of pumpkin dumplings (for when I need to sit down?)
--chocolate beetles
--you know I was thinking I was going to unpack clear the table by the door but hahaha.

the good news is it's couple things for stove, a couple things for oven, so it's not going to be vying for time too badly. I think my sequence is going to be:

--start laundry
--make pie
--flip laundry
--when echan wakes up, send her for pumpkin (since SHE wants those cookies!)
--assemble wontons while waiting for pie to finish, and probably after pie is finished
--break for lunch at baja fresh, do car trade with [personal profile] niqaeli
--flip laundry
--zoop (is pretty readily reheatable, if it finishes early, which it MAY NOT)
--while zoop simmers away, toast pumpkin seeds and make octopie filling(s)
--pretend there is time for chocolate beetles in here somewhere
--put on a costume
--put octopies in the oven
--fry or steam dumplings
--have some fucking cider
--watch Beetlejuice like a boss.

Let me go check my white board...

Okay yeah that's everything. I should get some sleep. Like a boss.
jmtorres: Loki in dog form. Text: Yes? (Loki)
Mmm, cross-quarter days. Tempted to go read Perilous Gard or something; maybe even request it for yuletide.

I am not doing my party prep in the schedule I initially planned out, but I did get ravioli/dumpling filling made (and for some reason I was SHOCKED by how delicious the pumpkin smelled coming coming out of the oven, I don't even know). So I figured I'd take the short cut out of rolling pasta and use wontons as wrappers, but now I'm not sure I want to boil them ravioli style either--they'd probably be more flavorful if I cooked them dumpling style. Fried? Baked? Probably not steamed, as I'm lacking a steamer and unlikely to get my own when I suspect I may need to buy more ramekins (I'll end up with a few spare octopies if I double the batch, but I'd rather that than run out. And I'm contemplating for the spare batch, mushroomy potatoey vegetarian goodness.)

I think I should cook up some soy syrup for a dipping sauce for the pumpkin-cheese dumplings. Hmm, how spicy should I make it?

Tomorrow: Laundry. And sugar cookies.
jmtorres: Quinn from Sliders asleep with book open on his chest. Text: Sweet dreams. (sleep)
The "you went to bed early? that's a punishable offense" edition.

I think I am doing better. I got up early, went to class, though I didn't make anything up, and I wrote--I can't get any of the Glee crap out of my head, which is too bad as I am starting to annoy my nearest and dearest retelling them bits, but I wrote down some of Amita in space (on a hunch; the empty page was staring at me and wouldn't take ink for the stories of in-many-ways-normative white dudes, so I started writing Amita and got like, four pages down and only stopped for time). It's been a while since I wrote, this is good. Also I made a cheesecake and used up four of our multitude of apples (two more for the topping when I get around to it).

And that was my day. I am back to putting "going to class" in my list of accomplishments, which sucks, but I hadn't been doing it and I did it, which is good.

And: quiz due by 2:30 on Friday. Very doable.


Aug. 27th, 2010 06:16 pm
jmtorres: The arch-elf from the movie Santa Clause, with pita. (food)
Does anyone have any favorite baked good recipes that use yogurt? I have a bottle of banana something goat yogurt I won't be able to finish eating in a timely fashion and I was thinking I might bake something freezable with it.
jmtorres: The arch-elf from the movie Santa Clause, with pita. (Bernard)
Tasty things are still tasty even when in pieces.

No one judge my experimental baking. I had a nightmare about that. DEAR BRAIN, SHUT UP.
jmtorres: The arch-elf from the movie Santa Clause, with pita. (Bernard)
coping mechanisms: food, ballet, might be disturbing )

Today I went to Whole Food's for cope and with one basket, not even a cart, a basket, spent twice the minimum exit fee. I don't even know how that happened. I guess that makes deciding about the contacts easier.

Anyway, I thought some folks might find it amusing to know what qualities as comfort food with me, so I'm going to type up my receipt (and cry a little). I am currently drinking a glass of pomegranate wine and eating almond goat cheese on crackers and cracking up over the fact that I associate that strongly with the pastiche fanfic Dr. Jackson's Diary and not with the book it was based on, which I would not be caught dead with.

food )
jmtorres: The arch-elf from the movie Santa Clause, with pita. (Bernard)
Dude, apparently I am subconsciously matching grains and legumes for protein. I realized the other day at work that when I can't get away to buy real food and I can only buy candy, my default purchase is rice krispie treat + something full of peanut butter.
jmtorres: 3D go board. Don't stand aside this time (don't stand aside)
Earlier today I very much wanted to completely quit my life here and go back to Cali and move in with [personal profile] ysobel and cook her grill cheese and curry and falafel every week. We could make dorky Merlin vids and I could find somewhere to work part-time and pay me crap to support my food habit, but I could stop worrying about the rent money and spend the rest of the day being her wife and writing fanfic that might be optimistic? Reading fanfic. And her library. Heh. Unfortunately I couldn't bring the children with me and through a bizarre quirk of bureaucracy I'm medically uninsurable if I don't complete another year at [current university] here and I do, actually, have a few commitments here that I can't walk out on. But isn't it a pretty fantasy?

I stopped off at Borders tonight to pick up my brother's birthday present and ended up taking home a pretty notebook, because while I found the Loki book, I've actually used all the pages up and the binding's coming undone. So. New year, new book. Paperchase makes a lot of pretty notebooks but I ended up picking not the one I thought was the prettiest but the one that made me happiest. It is very silly. It is covered in shiny flowers that look like they were drawn by a five-year-old and then preserved with tin foil. I just officially wrote the first words in it. They are I'M A FREE BIT, BABY, because that's how we're rolling this year.

(I, I do not know why blasting Bad Romance in my car cheers me up as much as it does. But at least part of it has to do with the radio edit version of the CD I have cracking me the hell up. You can't stop the signal, guys! She's a free bit! Whee.)

This entry will consist primarily of quoting people off my droll who made me laugh tonight. It's Follow... Tuesday? Sure! Why not?

[personal profile] thedeadparrot: I discovered after doing this one that apparently I am introducing each person I quote. Um, [personal profile] thedeadparrot! I have followed her for so long that I forget what awesome thing she did to attract me. It might have been FMA fic? I sort of went on a spree when I was reading FMA fic.
I believe that we should not be ashamed of writing fanfic. Yeah, I write romance. Yeah, I even write porn. Yeah, I did this as a teenage girl. And yeah, I sometimes daydream about characters. None of this should mean that my writing -- our writing -- is automatically worth less than that of some fanboy who daydreams about being Paul Atreides and about things blowing up and writes a script about his daydreams and then gets it turned into a movie. I am looking at you, James Cameron.

[personal profile] thefourthvine: I could quote all of every entry of hers, every single one of them make me laugh. She's been watching TOS for the first time and it is hilaaaaaarious. If you do not actively hate small children, ask to be on her Earthling filter, it is cuteness and awesomeness and wonderfulness and total quirkiness (they started calling him Earthling in the womb when they couldn't decide on a name, and I am still not sure they ever did decide on a name, because one of her worries was that they would just keep continuing to call him Earthling in perpetuity if they started then, and, online at least, they have). But most of the time, [personal profile] thefourthvine writes recs. Sometimes her recs go off on tangents. Here is one:

Benton Fraser has porn. I just want to repeat that, because I think it's a brilliant concept that deserves far more attention than it is currently getting: Benton Fraser has porn. Yes, this story is just as good as it sounds like it must be.

But there is a down side to it, and it is this: after reading it, I could not stop imagining the porn collections of other fannish favorites. Rodney McKay likely has roughly a terabyte of porn, but really only uses three short clips and one still photo. He's just completist. Jim Kirk (Reboot) also has the terabyte of porn, but he's actually working his way through it - he jerks off to something new every time. It's all hot if you look at it the right way, you know? Batman's porn does not bear contemplation and is certainly not something I would ever want to see, so I am pleased and comforted to know that it is hidden somewhere no one will ever find it, and also it is designed to self-destruct if anyone besides Batman touches it. Clark Kent likes the underwear catalogs. He's never been able to bring himself to get turned on by anything more explicit; he's always afraid his mother will walk in. (Lex Luthor's porn, it goes without saying, is his extensive Clark Kent memorabilia collection.) Methos's porn is called his memory. Jack Harkness's porn is called everything in the world, because everything is hot. How can you put a plug in an outlet and not get turned on? And laundry! All those dirty clothes, shirts and pants and trousers all touching, writhing together: clearly the hottest thing ever.

[personal profile] dragonfly: I recently subscribed to her (? --my default assumption in fandom, though it occurs to me that in this case I don't actually know) because I am reading every White Collar fic under the sun, seriously, White Collar makes me happy like you wouldn't believe, every night I check to see if anyone has recced new White Collar fic, and, uh, I like hers. Yes. Also apparently we are both giant dorks who are trying to figure out where the hell Neal's radius is on googlemaps.
So Sunday I met with my writers' group and they were critiquing a chapter of Mom and my mystery book set in Arizona. The people around the table told me they wanted to know more about the Native Americans I had introduced. Could the main characters have more interaction with them? Were they going to show up later in the book? I said, uh, no, not really, but if they were really that interesting ... So we started talking about Chekhov's gun and how if you introduce a gun into a scene it needs to get used at some point. Likening my Native American characters to Chekhov's gun, I said, "So you're telling me if I introduce some Indians into the story, I have to shoot them."

Stunned looks followed by hoots of laughter all around. Er, that didn't come out right.

[personal profile] zvi is smart and opinionated and, I find, often leading serious discussions I find important and want to take part in. Also she started Ladies' Choice, an AO3 collection for stories in which women enjoy having sex and do not have shame about it. I could love her for this alone.

Helpful advice what I have learned from fanfiction: If I accidentally have sex with someone with whom I would, in actual point of fact, enjoy having an ongoing sexual or romantic relationship with, I should not hastily begin apologizing for the sex, calling it a mistake, or otherwise characterizing it negatively. Because if the other person had enjoyed having accidental sex with me and would have liked to intentionally have sex with me in the future, they certainly aren't going to say so after I declare that it was a terrible idea, having had sex with them.

And, uh, one more--I read this at about two o'clock in the morning so that totally means I read it tonight today. It might not have been on my droll, exactly? But I deeply wanted to share it with like five people immediately and none of them were online, so here we go. Homo Ex Machina by [personal profile] toft is Sherlock Holmes fic--apparently the 1984 version, which imdb informs me is the Jeremy Brett version, which I hear is very good; not having seen it, my brain is currently slotting in RDJ and Jude Law for all versions of Holmes and Watson. In any case! In this story, Holmes is anonymously notified that someone is writing and publishing smut about them. There's a manuscript and pages go everywhere and lines of lurid, purple description keep catching Watson's eye and he is dying of mortification because--because--oh my god, this is probably a story spoiler, but so is the quote I want to pull--because he wrote it. This is probably my favorite line of narrative in the whole piece:

What on earth could I say? Holmes, I accidentally published a pornographic novella in which you and I perform a number of illegal acts, and now I am being blackmailed into making it a serial?

Because oh my god accidentally yes he did. But the awesome of this story cannot be contained in any summary, because the reveals keep coming. Holmes is always six steps ahead of everyone, right? So you can be well-assured that Holmes has even better secrets. I deeply want to quote some of Holmes' dialogue from later in the story, but whoa story spoilers, and really, part of the deep, deep awesome of this story is every time you think you've turned the twist there's a bit more. I just have to say: OH HOLMES. (Yes, that is actaully very like OH DEAN. Who knew?)
jmtorres: The arch-elf from the movie Santa Clause, with pita. (Bernard)
A year ago I moved out of my parents' house for the first time in a meaningful way; before then, I'd lived in dorms, which meant most of my books were at home, and I had no kitchen of my own. A pint-sized dorm fridge and a microwave, yeah--a kitchen? Not so much.

I remember the first year I went away to college I had a 13x9 pyrex baking dish. It fit in neither the microwave nor the pint-sized fridge, which is why it eventually got thrown away--disgusting leftovers had congealed in it, uneaten, because it was too big to save. (I had no tupperware. Seriously, my cooking life in the dorm was severely limited.)

But before that incident, I went downstairs to the dorm kitchen and made apple brown betty in that dish. I used the kitchen in that dorm so rarely that I can't picture where in the building it was, though I have a vague memory of how closet-sized I found it. I can't remember whether I walked to the Safeway for apples and flour and brown sugar and butter, or if my neighbor drove me--both happened, on occasion--but it must have been a specific trip, because even a staple like flour or butter, I didn't have. I'm not entirely sure I didn't have to buy a knife to peel apples. I made my apple brown betty without a recipe, because you hardly need one--arrange apple slices in a pan, mix flour and butter and spread on top of the apples, dot with brown sugar, bake until delicious. I remember the flour and butter weren't well-mixed, so there were white spots all over the crumble-crust.

Still, there were no leftovers.

My current 13x9 glass baking dish comes from IKEA; I bought it on a massive, scary stocking trip [personal profile] echan and I made. We were also buying things like garbage bins and sheets and I think the frame with fabric drawers she got to organize her desk. We were so unprepared for setting up house. I asked my family for a dozen kitchen things for Christmas, a frying pan (I was sort of hoping I'd inherit my parents' cast-iron, they prefer the non-stick these days), a food processor (my parents bought me a better model than they had, which I in turn headdesked and traded down on, because I needed the money more), pyrex loaf pans (my grandmother got me heavy gauge aluminum steel non-stick loaf pans which are still in their wrappers because goddamnit, I meant pyrex). They tried to give me a more expensive kitchen than I'd asked for. That's... honestly, for me, that's not what kitchens are about. I want the same kitchen my parents had when I was growing up. My mother makes fruit bread as gifts at Christmas--it used to be cranberry orange walnut bread, but now she's allergic to two-thirds of that, so now it's other things. She had a pyrex loaf pan and a couple of beat-up aluminum loaf pans, and she was making so many loaves she'd use them all in succession and turn them out and wash them and use them again. The pyrex was my favorite because it washed out easiest, and nothing you did scratched it up.

I've made brownies and fish in my 13x9 glass baking dish. I haven't made an apple brown betty, although I had a craving recently. I haven't made my mother's Christmas cranberry bread, though when I am overcome with the desire, I will probably go to the grocery store and buy a pyrex loaf pan or two and come home and ask the internets who would like a pair of heavy-gauge aluminum steel non-stick loaf pans, free to a good home with cost of shipping.

A great deal of my everyday diet no longer has much in common with my parents' diet, partially because of my mother's allergies, partially because, while my commitment has wavered lately, I am still much more likely to cook fish or tofu than beef or chicken. My mother gave me the cookbook with our falafel recipe on "permanent loan" when I moved out--I make falafel much more often than they do, and I think they might have started making it when I was in high school and vegetarian for the first time. A lot of our family recipes have that sort of oddness to them. Pumpkin crescent rolls are a must at Thanksgiving and Christmas; they date to when my brother could not be convinced for love or money to consume actual vegetables, and are still his favorite food on the planet. We used to make pumpkin oatmeal cookies too. A little pumpkin here, a little pumpkin there, some Vitamin A down your gullet, mister. Orange is the color of our baked goods.

Every once in a while I ask my mother to email me one of our old standard recipes for baked goods. Gingerbread men, I asked for this week. Gingerbread boys, she corrected me. I can't find a cookie cutter, so I'm actually planning to cut my own shapes out with a knife and make gingerbread lesbians. I was inspired to write this entry about the family history of my kitchen because I had ginger, but I had to go shopping for allspice and nutmeg. My spice cabinet consists of everything my mother had two jars of when I moved out, plus all the grated orange peel, and a jar of this and that I bought as needed during the past year. I have bars of baking chocolate in my spice cabinet, but my mother rarely does anymore, because most brands of chocolate are produced in factories with nuts. She keeps a bag of chocolate chips a specific nut-safe brand in the fridge to munch from, but she rarely bakes with chocolate anymore. I have a giant jar of sesame seeds in my spice cabinet from the Asian market, where my mother has a standard spice jar of them from McCormick that probably cost twice as much, because I am far more likely to want them for sticky rice or tofu or what have you.

I'm making gingerbread lesbians as gifts to send across the country. I have one ball of regular gingerbread dough in the fridge right now, and one ball of experimental, because I'm trying to make a gift for [personal profile] viridian5, who has a gluten allergy. I started off with ground almonds instead of flour in hers, but the dough wouldn't ball up properly, so I ended up adding a bit of brown rice flour as well. I still expect them to bake highly biscotti-like, and I'm not sure how they'll roll out.

I want to cook more often, and bake more often, but I don't know how to do it in a vacuum. I don't know how to find the motivation to actually make dinner (as opposed to throwing something ready-made from Fresh and Easy in the microwave) without having family, blood or chosen, here to cook for. Food is a gift, food is something you make to share, food is an art you design to show off to and to please other people. The kinds of foods we make are expressions of our culture, both the broader milieu of our society and the closer traditions of our family. And when we sit down to eat a meal together, that's family. That's community. That's love.
jmtorres: From Lady Gaga's Bad Romance music video; the peach-haired, wide-eyed iteration (Default)
So I'm cleaning out dead things from the fridge and have discovered my onions sprouted. Clearly, they are not dead, yet nor are they in the grocery-approved form I purchased them in. Safe to use?
jmtorres: From Lady Gaga's Bad Romance music video; the peach-haired, wide-eyed iteration (Default)
me: [dinner suggestion]
echan: Sure. ...Did you want me to say no?
me: Why?
echan: Your face twitched. It was like a Vulcan expression.
jmtorres: sewing machine operation modelled (crafty)
I think I shall give myself a pass today for including two extraordinary pieces of business in my schedule (traveling by plane across the country at oh dark thirty and house shopping with [personal profile] jecook), but in general, I want to make a resolution to keep up with certain things. Every day I want to:

--work on vids (clip an episode, lay stuff on the timeline, paper vid, something)
--do something maintenance level around the house (laundry, taking out the trash, dishes, grocery shopping, picking up clutter etc)
--do something aimed toward the eventual move (sorting through a box, packing books)
--write a few hundred words
--make dinner (even if it is just throw it in the microwave dinner)

I figure, managed right, this adds up to about four hours of stuff. Daily as opposed to doing things in fits and bursts and incompletely because I don't sprint well. Allotting four hours a day to the above list should even leave me time to do homework when I have homework and sleep and read fanfic and other important activities.


jmtorres: From Lady Gaga's Bad Romance music video; the peach-haired, wide-eyed iteration (Default)

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