It took me two hours to get 20 loaves rolled out and baked... I'm already down by 3.

Let's see if I can get this to work...

Nope. Here's a link.

I hope you all are well. I've been travelling a lot with more to come, and may not have a chance to be here much until after the end of the month. I will try to read and post occasionally in others' journals, and post a few pictures in my own when I get the chance. In the meantime, don't let the heifers get you down, sweet peeps!

Laundry's done, bills are opened and set aside, sleeping schedule is screwed to hell... I had fun, went to Pike Place Market, the Aquarium, Lake Chelan, Mount Rainier(the only place I took any pictures, for some unknown reason), and the pinacle of the trip, dinner with ms_issicran! After a looooong walk, the restaurant I had planned for us to eat in(but neglected to call-um, oops)was booked for a party, the other on the list was full(double oops), the rest were quite a hike further(whimper), so we went to a nearby place which turned out to be pretty bad(my fault!), then on the long walk back we were accosted by a crazy lady(also my fault-don't talk to the crazy people, tig, they are worse than remora)-and in spite of that I, at least, still had a great time! If you ever get the chance to meet her, JUMP at it; she's sweet, interesting, a hell of a lot of fun, and soooo forgiving. Oh God, at least I hope so...

As a gen-u-wine Lefty McLefterson from Leftyville, Leftachusetts, I meant to ages ago, but this put me right over the edge. If it angers you, too, and you've been thinking about becoming a card-carrying member but haven't gotten around to it yet, let me be the little pitchfork-toting pinko devil on your left shoulder urging you on. If you already are, you can just gloat at my sloth*.

*I don't really have a sloth.

Welp, I haven't posted in a donkey's age, but I have a very good reason. It's because I have no life, and therefore nothing to write about.

Well, mostly nothing...
( abandon hope(of excitement), all who enter here )

The first pickles of the year are up! 3 pints of bread-and-butter fiddleheads(I really should've done 1/2 pints), 2 liters of French jardiniere style baby carrots, and 5 pints of asparagus. All store-bought, alas, I've gotten all of two asparagi so far. Of course, I can't actually try anything for several weeks, but everything I canned has sealed up nicely. What a messy nightmare pickling is, and damn if it doesn't take way more work than it should. Especially the fiddleheads, yeesh. I suppose when we eat them it will be like what one hears about childbirth memories - "it wasn't that painful, and it was so worth it! I should do that again!" And thus is insanity engendered in the human brain. Insanity with a side of home-made pickles, though.

I've also put the first plants in the ground, lettuce and kale. I had to restart the beans, pigeon peas, and hot and bell peppers; I put them out to get sun and some unseen evildoer, probably of a buggy persuasion, devoured my sprouts. It's enough to turn a mild-mannered gentlelady into a raving insecticidal maniac, if only gentleladies weren't so hard to find nowadays. Everything else is growing along rather nicely, and will probably be very happy to stretch their roots into the soil once I get the beds prepared(indeed, I haven't yet. I know, I am bad) and the risk of frost is over. I think this may be my best jump on gardening ever. No luck with sweet potatoes; I'll have to sprout them the traditional way next time.

Did I mention I got my haircut? Waist-length to mid-back, and I could easily have gone shorter. I think that's it for my exciting news, you can all breathe again!

I've got sprouts! SPROUTS! I started some seeds last week(brussels sprouts, cabbage, celery, lettuce, and parsley) and I have sproutage! Today I started carrots and beets. I'm using this book as a guide, as I have VERY limited space but want to grow as much as I can without turning the whole backyard into beds. I'm also keeping notes on when I plant and how many, so I can keep track of germination times and rates. So far it's been quite fun! I need a warm dry day to get what beds I do have into shape, then I'm in business! I think I got too many seeds, though. As usual. And so many things left to start and plant! I'm going to try growing luffa this year, and peanuts and sweet potatoes in pots! I'm even going to try growing my new favorite legume, pigeon peas! Mmmm, pigeon peas...

So, who else is gardening, and at what stage are you? Whatcha doin', huh huh huh?

in which your hostess learns valuable life lessons. The first of which is "if you overdo it, you WILL regret it." Contrary to all expectations, I got next to no sleep last night. I lay awake until at least 3:30, the addled pate a whir of useless yet unstoppable activity. Promptly at 7 I awoke with a migraine. Breakfast was a Zomig and a "please, God, I don't want to throw up" ginger beer. No painting, or stripping, or working with anything that has even the slightest odor today, and I can't even go into the rooms on the sunny side of the house. I did manage to put on one key-plate on one door, then had to rest. Man, this is going to be tougher than I thought.

The second, and more important, lesson is that THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS THE PERFECT HOUSE. It pains me to admit this, even to myself, but it looks like I jumped the gun. Vaulted it, even. I'd looked up the listing online, read the description and saw a couple pictures(nice foyer, good-looking exterior, a few field shots), and found it on the map. The map makes it look like the 10 acres is sort of a widish wedge, the house on one side, the lake on the other. Well, the spouse works with a guy who lives near the house, and house on one side, the lake on the other is correct, but the 10 acres is a looooong spaghetti-strand of land, with quite the long, brushy, overgrown, marshy walk to the lake. OK, that's certainly less than ideal. Also according to coworker, the neighborhood kids play in the yard. A lot. It almost sounds like it's treated like public parkland. Now, to my mind this kind of defeats the purpose of owning 10 acres, which is at least partly to allow the occasional complete avoidance of others. Then the spouse found another site with more pics, including the kitchen. The not-updated-since-the-60's-oh-Lord-it-looks-like-our-"before"-kitchen kitchen. And the bad wallpaper. In every room. The exterior looks great, the interior would need a LOT of updating, and with two newly house-poor inhabitants. Dammit, why do I DO this to myself?

OK, so my current thinking is to try to have more realistic expectations(contrary to my nature, at which I shake my tiny fist), and still get the house fixed up as quickly as possible without killing myself so we can be ready to move quickly. Also keep up the accelerated repayment schedule, so if we *don't* find a perfectsuitable house, at least this one will be paid off.

Jeez, next time I post something like yesterday, somebody please point out I'm in a manic phase, and that it won't last but will only end up with me achily nursing a ginger beer.

I found the perfect house. The. Perfect. House. Ten (TEN!) acres on a boatable pond, not much further to spouse's job than current house, walking distance to town center of cute little town, fireplace, maple floors, pocket doors HOLY CRAP IT IS THE PERFECT FREAKING HOUSE! So why am I so fucking depressed? Because we dawdled and now I am working my ASS off to see if we could get our house ready to sell. My right arm is attached by one over-worked tendon due to an all-day trim stripping(Hey! You! Out of the gutter!) marathon. Oh dear God, the pain. This is NOT what I had in mind for one-handed typing. Plus the list of MUST-do's is interminable, and it's mostly going to have to be done by little old underemployed me. By the time the work is even close to being done my perfect house may be long gone. I'm so depressed. Oh, well, back to stripping(I said to cut that out!)

My goodness, someone actually nudged me to post. This dear person obviously has far too exciting a life right now, and needs something to help her bring it down a notch. That or the fact of recent headaches turned her thoughts to me: "this pain is like an awl boring into my eyesocket! Hey, speaking of boring pains, I wonder how that tigrismus is?" I suppose I should just be grateful it was head pain rather than ass pain. Of course now I'm probably unalterably linked with ass pain in the minds of anyone who sees this. Ah, well, not one to deny anything to my fan, I present:

( Lifestyles of the Middle-Class and Unknown! )

( Personal quirks meme )

( and what I done while I was there )

( are just too much to ask, even from those who truly love this country )

( creeeeeaaaaakkk )

I don't know if everyone saw TheWrongCrowd's canning post a month or so ago, but I was inspired, and made bread-and-butter jalepenos. I opened a jar the other day, and Holy jumping Jesus those are the best freaking pickles I've ever eaten in my life. The first time, I cut five little slices of bread, five little pieces of extra-old Vermont cheddar, and placed a single jalepeno on each. the next time, eight little slices of cheese-topped bread with three+ jalepenos each. Goddamn are those good, a perfect balance of sweet, hot, and sour. This is one of the few times I'm glad most of my friends and family live far away, having to share these would just make me surly. OK, surlier.

( travel plans, books, etc )

In the good way, of course. I don't know if you've seen this, usually appended to this, but I've seen it too often, posted with chortles, guffaws and little giggly "no wonder men vote Republican" comments. If picking one's political party based on the quality of c*nt is the Republican way, I felt it imperative that I do my part to help and so made them a "get out the vote" poster featuring their lovely ladies. I present The Poster.

ABC news: "Both the FBI and CIA are calling it the first case of espionage in the White House in modern history." Doesn't that make you proud!

I had a horrible headache, and this damn thing was keeping me from sleeping. It actually burst out of my head almost fully formed, rather like the chest-bursting scene in Alien. Or not.

( here it is )

( Sydney Edition )

are the same that burn crosses