Any number of things make a post
Jul. 15th, 2008 06:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceI am reading & scribbling on the opening pages of my next novel, to reacquaint myself withal before I dive back in (having written exactly one paragraph of it, all the weeks I was away).
Also I ampractising avoidance boiling a ham; also I am washing my luggage. I had a luggage disaster on my way home, and many things are now greasy with chilli-oil, including of course the luggage itself. Whether it will survive the washing-machine, I don't know; if not, well, hell. New luggage. I am a bag fetishist who lives with two other bag fetishists; this is no hardship.
Other things may be harder to replace. Bah, humbug. Leaky lids, may they be cursed with many curses.
Mac and Barry are helping me in all my endeavours. Mac likes the washing-machine, with a particular keenness for the drawer where the soap goes; Barry fancies the ham. They both want to assist with the manuscript. I did just take a couple of pics of Mac sitting on it helpfully; may post later.
My nibbles to see me through are pork scratchings and crunchy spicy peas, as peas'n'pork make a classic combination. Also, when Mac gets too annoying I can show him a pea and toss it over my shoulder. Vrooom!
My supper for later shall be chicken & mushroom risotto, except that it shan't, because I have no risotto rice: no carnaroli, no vialone nano, no arborio. This is extraordinary. However, I do have calasparra, which is close enough (shhh....). It's not a risotto, it's a paella. Made to, uh, Italian principles. Or something.
One of the joys about having a backyard full of herbs: I can stroll out on a summer's evening and pick fresh tarragon for my risotto. Paella. Whatever. And feed my rhubarb while I'm out there. I have maligned my rhubarb. I fed it before I went away, and it's erupted. Nom nom nom it says, and so do I.
Mac believes; he is a creature of faith, which in this cynical house is unusual. He believes that if he stares at the back door hard and long enough, sooner or later it shall be opened unto him. Whether he believes Ceiling Cat will do this, or me, or just the passing hand of fate, is unclear: but oh, he does believe. Sometimes he mews in prayer, but mostly he just exerts the power of his will in waiting.
Also I am
Other things may be harder to replace. Bah, humbug. Leaky lids, may they be cursed with many curses.
Mac and Barry are helping me in all my endeavours. Mac likes the washing-machine, with a particular keenness for the drawer where the soap goes; Barry fancies the ham. They both want to assist with the manuscript. I did just take a couple of pics of Mac sitting on it helpfully; may post later.
My nibbles to see me through are pork scratchings and crunchy spicy peas, as peas'n'pork make a classic combination. Also, when Mac gets too annoying I can show him a pea and toss it over my shoulder. Vrooom!
My supper for later shall be chicken & mushroom risotto, except that it shan't, because I have no risotto rice: no carnaroli, no vialone nano, no arborio. This is extraordinary. However, I do have calasparra, which is close enough (shhh....). It's not a risotto, it's a paella. Made to, uh, Italian principles. Or something.
One of the joys about having a backyard full of herbs: I can stroll out on a summer's evening and pick fresh tarragon for my risotto. Paella. Whatever. And feed my rhubarb while I'm out there. I have maligned my rhubarb. I fed it before I went away, and it's erupted. Nom nom nom it says, and so do I.
Mac believes; he is a creature of faith, which in this cynical house is unusual. He believes that if he stares at the back door hard and long enough, sooner or later it shall be opened unto him. Whether he believes Ceiling Cat will do this, or me, or just the passing hand of fate, is unclear: but oh, he does believe. Sometimes he mews in prayer, but mostly he just exerts the power of his will in waiting.