November 8th, 2006

good mris pic

Cleanliness is next to cookies.

I have put my finger on one of the things that bugged me about the appliance salesbeing we had. He kept trying to set himself up as our Only Friend. He made a big deal of giving us a direct number to call him so that he could intercede with the company for us, and if the delivery people didn't do it right, why, we could just call our pal and he would make it all better. And the thing is -- I have had better experiences with delivery people than with salespeople, in this arena. The delivery guys today were clean, quiet, efficient, cheerful, and considerate of walls and woodwork. And I would far rather have a salesperson who assures me that their delivery people are fantastic but gives me a contact number anyway than one who acts as though they're naughty toddlers who may scribble on my walls with green magic marker if I don't get him to intercede. No phase of this consumer relationship had to be adversarial in the slightest. And Only Friend attempts set off warning bells in my head -- not as severely in a limited and distant relationship like appliance salesperson as they would in a romantic or familial relationship, but still.

Anyway, there are clothes getting clean right now, this very minute.

I expect I'll finish at least one short story today. Two would be too much to ask for, but I have more than one story sitting around nearly finished. So. House tasks and short stories, is what, and then tomorrow morning back to book stuff. That's my current theory, at least; life intervenes, of course, but variety etc. etc.

And I just had a bit of Russian blueberry gel chocolate, so International Bonbons and Movie Magazines Month proceeds despite an abundance of practicality surrounding me.

We have determined empirically that the world will not cease turning if I don't make an apple crisp in mid-October and oatmeal sugar cookies for Reformation Day, but I'm still a little discombobulated by the lack and not sure where to go next in baking terms. I don't think I can catch up and still get Christmas baking to come out right, but I don't know what I want to do for Christmas baking this year, really. This is the sort of thing that takes many phone consultations -- the more so this year because we will have five bakers at Christmas, not four. Onie only does rosettes, so that's easy enough to work around, but for example I won't do oatmeal sugar cookies for Christmas because Grandma always does the regular kind and two kinds of sugar cookie is kind of a waste of cookie assortment when we could have apricot shortbread or something instead.

Hmm. Onie and the grands will be here for Thanksgiving. Maybe we will make krumkake. Mom and I press on the irons and Grandma and Onie roll on the cones. We're already doing lefse, so either we might as well or it'll be too much. See what I mean about many phone consultations?

What kind of baking do you want for your winter holiday of choice? And do you do it yourself or enjoy someone else's efforts or both?
borrowed plumage, plunder, reflected glory


So. I've made something of a dent in "At the Sign of the Fish and Amulet" but haven't actually gotten it anything like done. Which is fine; one short story today is enough, and "Pirates by Adeline Thromb Age 8" is done. And "At the Sign of the Fish and Amulet" is going well, and I just need a bit more fish in it and it will smell just right, and then it'll be a matter of texture instead. (Fresh fish, so not that off-fishy smell.)

If it wasn't unseasonably warm for November (where is my SNOW?), I wouldn't have the problem I just caused, which is to say, I went to pull the chain to turn the ceiling fan on in markgritter's and my bedroom, and I grabbed the light chain instead. And pulled it completely out, thereby darkening the bedroom. Umm. I poked in there with a flashlight and can't see where to reinsert the chain; something snapped, so it may just be impossible. Well, I can get another fixture tomorrow, but it was not originally on my agenda.

Life is like that: suddenly you find yourself searching the aisles of Home Despot for something that doesn't look like a giant breast, and all you can do is laugh at yourself and hope the mini-donut truck is at Home Despot tomorrow. Even though it's only ever been there once. Because, y'know, it could happen. They have successfully convinced me that mini-donuts are possible, so that it's my third thought after "how clumsy of me" and "oh dear, row upon row of giant light-up mammaries."

None of this has anything to do with matociquala's hat or stillnotbored's photography, but one needs an icon for plunder, or borrowed plumage, reflected glory, or...stuff. I'm sure Stuff will come up.