Wednesday, December 10, 2008

layne muses, larry king-like

I tried the "Pasta with Butternut Squash and Sage" recipe from this month's Cook's Illustrated tonight. I have to say it was pretty good. The children renounced it and all its dark works, but I sort of couldn't stop eating it. It said to dice the squash into 1/2 inch pieces, but I rejected their reality and substituted my own, because I was running short on time. So 3/4 to 1 inch pieces it was, but of course they took longer to cook and I suspect that the resulting texture was therefore inferior. Shut up, thermodynamics!

Traci is on her date this week, and Catwoman is destitute, despondent and forlorn. Since goats are herd animals, you don't ever want just one of them, unless it's a house goat. And I don't know how easy they are to crate train, but I'm guessing: not. When I was young my parents got a goat named Bruno from somewhere (hey . . . it's their fault I have goats!), and put him out on the ditch bank to keep the weeds down. And that was the noisiest animal I have ever had the misfortune to meet. (And then came Finola.) He just bawled all day long, and now I know, it's because he was terribly lonely and probably a nervous wreck from recognizing that if a slavering wolf came creeping, he was on deck.

I think it's important for you to know that I ate an awesome omelet for lunch today composed of eggs, Midnight Moon, and sauteed spinach.

Some person flushed a marker down the downstairs toilet. I'm guessing it's the same person who flushed a toothbrush down the upstairs toilet. Freaking kids.

I am working like a little coal miner getting the soap ready for the drawing next week. Or is that swearing like a coal miner? I think it's working like a coal miner, swearing like a mule skinner. Those are both pretty intense jobs, though. I'm guessing you can get a nice sweat on no matter which one your career aptitude test aims you toward.

I bought a second pair of cowboy boots. It's so gross of me, but they are super comfortable, and pretty low-key. I hate me a rhinestone cowboy, but I guess animal husbandry entitles me to wear them. That wasn't the case when I was ten (old enough to know better) and I got a cowboy(girl?) outfit complete with high-heeled boots and spurs, which I wore to school. Not so much with the zero tolerance policy then.

If you haven't entered the drawing, be sure to comment on the previous post! Real-life acquaintanceship is not necessary, and dudes can win, too. I'd be willing to try a rosemary or pine scent if you're too afraid that grapefruit is a chick ride.


Sarah said...

Yummy foods, cute boots, and bummer toilets. Must our children INSIST on trying everything?!


rosemary sounds good!