The wings were successful. All three pounds were gone by 3pm. I even got to eat some.
I was a bad Diana and cheated horribly on my diet today. Ate a couple sugar-free muffins, a couple small not-sugar-free cupcakes, one not-very-good chocolate chip cookie, and a chocolate-dipped strawberry, all in addition to the “real” food I ate. I was half-high for part of the day, half-asleep for the rest of it, and half had a headache while I came down from my sugar high. That’ll teach me, I guess.
In other news, I’m kind of bored. I’m going to go play Civ III for an hour.
What’s with people who blog about their blog? If I surf to one more blog whose last four posts have been about how 6Apart are sellouts and are now charging money for Movable Type and how everyone should switch their blog over to WordPress or something… gah.
For God’s sake, people, blog about something! Blogging about your blog is counterproductive.
…of Diana’s cooking.
Tomorrow is the First Annual Building-Wide Potluck at the Sky Service Center in BG. It’s a fundraiser for the Relay For Life team—they’re participating in the upcoming relay at BG City Park to fight cancer. The organizers had wanted everybody to sign up for the potluck last week, so they’d know how many participants there would be, but only four people signed up by the deadline. So, to keep the thing alive (hey, I like food, even if I can’t eat half of it), I asked Aaron what I could make, and he came up with crock-pot chicken wings with low-carb BBQ sauce. Good idea! So, I signed up.
Of course, as soon as I signed up, the event organizers took the list around to all the departments and specifically asked if anyone was planning to bring food to the potluck. Turns out that half the building actually was planning to bring something, but didn’t want to commit to a specific dish a week in advance. Now there’s something like thirty different dishes in the potluck. Hey, that’s cool.
So, I just got done browning the wings, and they’re now sitting in my spiffy crock-pot with the removable crock, waiting to be smothered in Carb Well BBQ and put on to cook overnight. I really hope they turn out OK.
I always have a “thing” about my cooking not being very good, even though most of the time whatever I make turns out just fine. I had a couple mishaps in high school (how was I to know the pasta pizza would keep cooking if I turned off the heat and left it in the oven to keep warm?) and during the beginnings of my relationship with Aaron (mental note: corn starch only thickens if the heat is turned on; and upon turning the heat on, all the extra corn starch you put into the sauce in your confusion will create a fascinating tumor in your chicken paprikash). But, for the most part, I do OK when I cook. I leave most of the cooking to Aaron, though, and he seems to be fine with that. For now, anyway. 🙂
I will return tomorrow with a report on the success of my crock-pot chicken wings.
OK, guys—well, girls, probably. I don’t sew, but I’d like to. I have a project to complete. My plan is to attend Ohayocon in January all decked out in a homemade Totoro cosplay outfit.
This could take some explanation.
Totoro = wonderfully cute creation by Hayao Miyazaki, featured in his film Tonari no Totoro (My Neighbor Totoro). One of my favoritest movies. If you’ll recall, I did some sketches of some totoros back in November.
Cosplay = where otaku (psycho crazy anime / Japanese pop-culture fans) dress up as their favorite character at a convention.
Ohayocon = the only anime convention I’ve been to so far, located in Columbus. (It’s punny—”ohayo” means “good morning,” as well as the name of our state. Erika from the Bluecoats taught me that—it was my very first word in Japanese.) Aaron and I will be attending Ohayocon for the third year in a row next January.
So, I want to dress up like the crazy people. There’s a plushie out there of Mei, one of the characters from the movie, wearing Totoro pajamas. Instead of making a giant, ugly, deformed stuffed Totoro costume, I want to make some Totoro jammies. Several months ago, I drafted an initial plan of what my costume would be like, but I’ve revised my ideas since then. Instead of a more simple sweatsuit-type outfit, I’m looking at more of a one-piece footie pajama made out of plushie pile material, with a hood attached (or separate, if necessary).
I guess my big question is, does anyone know where to get a pattern for grown-up footie pajamas? I’ll need to modify it by a.) making it out of plush instead of fleece, and b.) adding a white panel to the front belly, besides making it big enough for my fat ass. I’m starting on this project way early, because I know I’m in over my head.
Oh, yeah, and I need to thrift myself a sewing machine. And learn how to use it. D’oh!
I really need to stop going to bed so late, being tired all day, and taking hour-long evening naps after work. It’s just not working out.
So, on Sunday I was in a parade in Birmingham, Michigan. Why was there a parade in the middle of May in Michigan, you ask? Well, let me tell you: it was the Basset Hound Parade. I shit you not. Upwards of 500 Basset Hounds brought up the rear of this relatively short parade (and those of us who marched in it were glad they were at the back of the lineup, so as to avoid any… surprizes).
Anyway, it was the first public performance of the full Lakeshoremen Drum & Bugle Corps, and we did fairly well. I did discover that I need to do some more aerobic cardiovascular-type exercise, because after the first run of our parade tune, marching uphill—hell, remembering how to march at all—I was pretty winded. But once I remembered how to breathe properly and pace myself, I did OK. I’m not really muscle-sore at all, except for my shin muscles. The… gastrocnemeus, is it? I seem to remember that from stretching and calisthenics in the BGSU Marching Band. Yeah, my shin muscles. The ones that crank your toes really high when you march in a parade. Those are still sore today. Other than that, my face got a little sun, despite my application of sunscreen, and my bare forearms got a little toasty.
But worst of all: the part in my hair got sunburnt. My scalp. A teeny little strip of my scalp.
Last night, I sat watching TV, and realized that it kind of hurt and was a little moist, like it wished it could blister, or like it had. I picked away the few gummy nasty parts I found, thought little else of it, and went to bed. This morning when I woke up, I had freaking little crystallized crusties growing in my part. It was like rock candy or some shit, kind of crusty but gooey and clingy to my strands of hair. Really, really gross. I managed to get it all out and look presentable, since I didn’t have enough time this morning to shower before work, but all day it was still sore. In a while, I’m going to go upstairs and take a cool shower and ever so gently massage my scalp. Maybe I’ll put some lotion or something on my scalp, although I’m not so sure how that’s going to work out…
I was sick of the cat bugging me a while ago, so I closed the door down here to the basement for a little peace and quiet. I’d better go open it now and make sure the cat isn’t causing havoc.
This is a plan of my new garden.
The Better Homes and Gardens website kicks ass—they have this nifty Flash application that’s kind of like the Tony Hawk Pro Skater park building feature, but with gardens. That’s how I put this loverly design together.
This depicts my back yard, by the way. From left to right, I have planned: lavender, hydrangea, coral roses, yellow roses, ground cover in front of said roses, a rose of sharon, forsythia, catmint, more lavender, and butterfly bush. In front there, on the curve where there’s still a bit of dirt with no plants, that’s where the herbs go. Three varieties of basil, parsley, catnip, creeping thyme, coriander/cilantro, and whatever else tickles my fancy.
I’ll provide photos when I have some stuff planted. Until then, wish me luck… I hope I haven’t bitten off more than my little first-time-homeowner self can chew.
Gas is not only expensive—it is motherfucking expensive. Never since the first Gulf War did I ever believe that I’d be paying $2.039 a gallon for gas. Ten bucks barely got me half a tank of gas. That’s not too far from normal, I guess, but it’s just the principle of the thing. I mean, holy shit.
At least we don’t live in California. God knows what we’d be paying there.
#1 – Rent any “Faces of Death” video.
#2 – Download the Al-Qaeda video of the slaying of Nick Berg.
I have experience with both, and I wish I didn’t.
That is all.
Saturday was the Waterville Community Garage Sale. We had a pretty decent haul—some cast-iron shelves, wooden knick-knack shelves, a big shelf/table for my plants, a Ventures record, and some other stuff. Fun day, got some sun on my neck and shoulders.
But on Sunday… we adopted our kitty.
We got our kitty from Planned Pethood. They don’t have a shelter, but do foster homes instead, so we met one of the foster “moms” at a local vet’s office in Maumee. She was showing a litter to someone already, so we hustled to meet them there. We had a choice of two kittens: Mel, a black male, or Mia, a grey tabby female. Aaron and I held and petted and swapped and hemmed and hawed and decided on Mia, the grey female. For what we paid, she was already spayed and had her first set of shots. She also comes with a 30-day guarantee; if she gets sick, we can take her to the vet’s office where we adopted her and they’ll treat her free of charge. Not a bad deal.
We’d already bought kitty implements last weekend, so we were set on that front. Outside of having to fashion a new kitten-sized litter box out of a cardboard box, that is (don’t worry, we have cat box liners). She was a little skittish at first, but after a while, she calmed down and ate her kitten chow and drank her water and used her litter box.
Aaron and I decided that we needed to name her ourselves, instead of taking the name the Planned Pethood people had given her. So, we threw around some names all evening, and finally settled on Mei, after the young girl in Tonari no Totoro. The final decision was between Mei, Neko (Japanese for “cat”), Rei (from Neon Genesis Evangelion), or Troi (from Star Trek: The Next Generation).
It’s been a full day now, and she seems just fine. In fact, she’s laying on my lap as I type this.
I do have a whole kitty picture page up on my site already, so go check it out! It’s under the Photographs section.