Some Updates and BLAMS

-Also, 'muh tree is up. Yes, it's November. No, I don't care. See Cid the Cat? Cid cares. Cid basks in the righteous glow of a Christmas tree put up the day after Thanksgiving.-

Hey all, sorry, but I have no proper post this week. I've had about as much time to sit down and write this week as Glee has time to develop well-rounded character arcs. Which, if you watched anything past season 2, means absolutely none.

It's not that I encourage dealing out excuses for my short-fallings of which there are many - both valid and otherwise - but I sorta just got wrecked from all sides this last week. My new job has had me developing a database of every single counselor and financial aide officer in every high school and college in Northern California and Colorado, which has been sort of all-encompassing (read: suffocating). A million days later and a few more relatives later with the fact that Brian and I hosted a rather packed family Thanksgiving and I am drained. This also included keeping said family members entertained and occupied for three days.

Oof. I have been freebasing Advil for days.

Needless to say, blogging fell by the wayside a bit. It's not that the blog is unloved this week it's just, "Blog, go away and leave mommy alone for a minute because she needs a drink goddamnit." Let me tell you that once I hit the publish button me and this bottle of Zin next to me are going to bake some scones and be all swagger next to the Christmas tree that is already up in my living room because I loves me a tree up in November.

Don't judge me on this. I will end you.

Anyways... I have some updates and you like those right? BLAM! So here they are:

God Damn It: Pumpkin Butter

-Sigh.-

So today - this day that I am writing this and not the day this post is going up - is one of those days. One of those days where a string of unfortunate events all seem to connect and painfully pull each other along like a anal beads out of a virgin butthole. Let us go over the last few hours:

1. Decide to make pumpkin butter.

2. Hack open pumpkin and begin processing it. Somehow completely forget that I am totally allergic to raw pumpkin flesh. Hands, understandably, begin to swell and burn. The skin on my palms begins to peel away as if I have been scourged with leprosy.

3. Wash hands thoroughly with plenty of soap and vinegar - which stings like a bitch when you don't have a lot of goddamn skin - to get the proteins and amino acids that are doing this to me off.

4. Now wearing latex gloves, I rub the pumpkin flesh with olive oil. Pumpkin roasts in the oven. Mini-migraine now sets in. Rest for a while.

5. Dog finds errants pumpkin seed. The dog, apparently, is not keen on pumpkins either and promptly throws it up along with the rest of his stomach contents onto the bathroom rug.

A Case for Handwriting: Candied Chestnuts

-Chestnuts, a treat that demands a bit of sweat.-

So what happened to handwriting? It's a good question to ponder and after reading Philip Hensher's recent article from The Guardian, I think we all should. Handwriting is a task that involves a steady hand and practiced thought, and it's quickly disappearing from our world of electronic correspondence.

Everyone prefers to print these days, or so it seems, and that's fine. It's almost guaranteed to be understood, so that's a plus. But I feel printing lacks real and true conviction. I see it as a means to an end.

(Plus, I must admit, my printing is atrocious. Just... it looks like a third grader with Parkinson's. I am ashamed of it, so I never use it. Too much cursive crippled my print.)

While most of my classmates quickly abandoned their scripts like pets left behind after a move and cruelly put out of sight and mind I nurtured mine. For me, the strange looped G's and terribly affluent "z's" of cursive handwriting were a gateway. Cursive was a key to adulthood. A way to show sophistication and maturity. It was a means to set myself apart from my peers. But, most importantly, it was to model myself after my parents.

Halfway There: Lemon, Yogurt, and Almond Custard Pots

-I AM so lucky!-

Done, done, done.

So done.

A finished draft of the book with all its pictures, appendices, intros, and recipes tested by over 85 people has been turned into our editor at Little, Brown & Company. All 409 pages of it.

Four. Hundred. And. Nine. Pages.

So excuse me if my posting has been a little, short as of late. It's just, you know, 409 pages. The last two weeks I have done nothing but read-tinker-edit-futz-delete-edit-again-add-change-and-putz-with those 409 pages. I can recite whole recipes and headnotes to you from memory.

If we were to take an MRI of my brain all that grey matter would somehow resemble elbow macaroni and globs of melted cheese.

*oof*