How many posts make a Sunday?
Jun. 17th, 2012 10:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
desperanceThere are, I suspect, numerous things that I should blog about, or else write blog-posts for and hold 'em back.
There was yesterday, when I went - rather reluctantly, let me confess - to my first SCA event. I don't do dressing-up and I hate role-play, so. But m'wife insisted, as she does; and I buckled, as I do. And I had a Really Good Time (she is, I find, usually right about these things) and it was Really Hot (possibly over 100F, which would be the second time in my life, the first being last summer in the very garden just out there), and there were friends and dogs and curious teenagers and wild turtles and mostly I did cooking. And drinking. I wrapped meatballs in caul fat and fetched them home, and now I am wondering if they can be smoked?
There is today, and the very garden just out there: our California poppies are out (my first flowers! if you discount the flowers of vegetables, which are but a point in the process and not the actual point of the thing), and there are sugarsnap peas and green beans and tomatoes and chillies and possibly tomatilloes and cucumbers and broccoli-being-eaten-by-caterpillars and a beetroot and and and. Today being Sunday, I purpose to spend a lot of it out in the garden. It is possible that I should not have spent so long yesterday in the sun, but hey. Today will be cooler, so I must seize all the sunlight that I can.
There is Stranger in a Strange Kitchen, where I mooted this notion of a blog series over at BVC and my colleagues picked it up and ran away with it and now there will be a lot of foodblogging over there, but I should probably still hang in there with my own. Only I don't quite know how to begin, so.
And I should probably say something about writing, which is something that I am supposed to do, although you'd never guess it.
And yesterday morning I only wanted to sleep (and couldn't, on account of see above), and this morning I would have liked to have been just as slumbrous again and just wasn't, from the moment bloody Mac woke me up at 4.30. So I have been up since half six, and I do most earnestly wish that wasn't the case. But I have drunk two pints of coffee, which is better than the other thing. So.
So a post about unwritten posts: does that serve to obviate the necessity of posting? Does it render posts redundant? There is too much; let me sum up.
There was yesterday, when I went - rather reluctantly, let me confess - to my first SCA event. I don't do dressing-up and I hate role-play, so. But m'wife insisted, as she does; and I buckled, as I do. And I had a Really Good Time (she is, I find, usually right about these things) and it was Really Hot (possibly over 100F, which would be the second time in my life, the first being last summer in the very garden just out there), and there were friends and dogs and curious teenagers and wild turtles and mostly I did cooking. And drinking. I wrapped meatballs in caul fat and fetched them home, and now I am wondering if they can be smoked?
There is today, and the very garden just out there: our California poppies are out (my first flowers! if you discount the flowers of vegetables, which are but a point in the process and not the actual point of the thing), and there are sugarsnap peas and green beans and tomatoes and chillies and possibly tomatilloes and cucumbers and broccoli-being-eaten-by-caterpillars and a beet
There is Stranger in a Strange Kitchen, where I mooted this notion of a blog series over at BVC and my colleagues picked it up and ran away with it and now there will be a lot of foodblogging over there, but I should probably still hang in there with my own. Only I don't quite know how to begin, so.
And I should probably say something about writing, which is something that I am supposed to do, although you'd never guess it.
And yesterday morning I only wanted to sleep (and couldn't, on account of see above), and this morning I would have liked to have been just as slumbrous again and just wasn't, from the moment bloody Mac woke me up at 4.30. So I have been up since half six, and I do most earnestly wish that wasn't the case. But I have drunk two pints of coffee, which is better than the other thing. So.
So a post about unwritten posts: does that serve to obviate the necessity of posting? Does it render posts redundant? There is too much; let me sum up.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-06-17 07:37 pm (UTC)