Anyway: do you have recipes for good cookies that don't have nuts in them in any form? I mean no peanut butter, no almond extract, no nothing. My mom has discovered that if she avoids all nuts, she doesn't get hives. Considering our Norsky affinity for almond extract, this hits the Christmas cookies pretty hard. Suggestions? (I'm still making spritz. I just want to serve my mom things that won't, y'know, kill her. Or cause her great discomfort. I'm silly like that.)
Also, what should we get timprov's dad for his birthday? He already has more unread, interesting books than he could read in the next two calendar years at least (and is not such a bibliophile that this would not faze him). He doesn't watch a lot of movies or listen to a lot of music (though some CDs might be an idea). He does crosswords, but doesn't have enough free time to far exceed the paper's allotment, so a crossword puzzle book is only a good present every so often. He isn't the sort of person I could buy clothes for, though I don't know why this is the case, since he clearly wears them and all. I might make some breads, cookies, homemade candy, that kind of thing, but I did that for Christmas. He plays tennis, but not so much in the winter here in MN. He and T's mom enjoy plays when they get a chance, but I don't want to buy them tickets and find out that he has an unavoidable conflict. Ideas? Help!
And again on a different note, if you had a friend who had gone and written a bunch of books, and you asked to read one, how would you prefer that your friend decide which one? Should she give you the one she thinks is best done first? The one she thinks is most concurrent with your interests? The one she's willing to let out of the house without immediately trying to dive on it and wrestle it open and scribble edits on the pages as you take the binder out with you? The first one? What's the magic formula here? If you read the best one first, will you be disappointed in the other ones? Because your hypothetical friend is a little spooked by sad disappointed faces in people who have just read her hypothetical books. In this entirely hypothetical situation that is sure to never come up again for the rest of my life. I think this is what other people are for, is what. Because C.J. didn't ask pameladean which of her books he should read first, he asked me, and then she didn't have to deal with it. (Er. Sorry if you wanted to deal with it, Pamela. I'll take them away from him and make him talk to you if you like.)
This is not a question at all: I don't like wearing glasses. I knew I didn't. Peripheral vision! Nothing fogging up, nothing getting rain on it, nothing getting smudged when I hug people. This is another case where "Big Yellow Taxi" does not apply: I did know what I had before it was gone. But it's only temporary, and I will be duly grateful when I get my new contacts.
It's still lovely and rainy and fall-like. I'm wearing a sweater. I wore a jacket over my sweater when I went to get lunch with Ceej, and I still got a little chilled through my jeans. So fabulous. So fall.