(no subject)

Saturdays, unless there's something happening on the weekend, are my "day off" -- I try not to do anything if I can help it, and I find it's remarkably easy. But that means that Sunday is my first "on" day of the week, where I do the laundry and bake bread and cook for the week. It's the day for taking care of business, and in the case of this particular Sunday since the bread is done and the laundry's nearly dry and I have stuff in the freezer I'm taking care of bills.

Which makes this, wait for it, my "taking care of billsness" day.

(It's a disease. When puns are outlawed, only outlaws will use puns.)

It also means grocery shopping, which means PeaPod. Which means SHOPPING FOR ADVENTURE.

I try to snag new and interesting-looking recipes and test them out, but sometimes instead I snag new and interesting-looking foodstuffs I have never encountered before. This can lead to blind spots in my culinary education, but it does mean that I know what to do with two eggs and a package of ricotta cheese if pressed. Door-Knock Dinners was my favourite television show evar when it was on. Surprise, wealthy stranger with a large house! We're going to be making you dinner tonight using only the contents of your probably extremely well-stocked fridge!

Anyway, this time round Adventure was a bargain at seventy-five cents, which is the amount I paid for one can of "Irish Potatoes". I've never encountered Irish Potatoes In A Can before. What does one do with them? Are they cooked? Are they even actually potatoes? Do they have anything at all to do with Irish culture? Nobody knows!

Are we going to find out the answer to these questions and more?

YOU BET YOUR SWEET KILLARNEY WE ARE.

The Long Hours Of Despair And Pancakes

Bored. Bored, bored, bored.

There are some things one can do without getting on one's feet, and I believe Jack's tried most of them on me this weekend, but that's beside the point. Inbetween pancakes and more Bird's Eye dinners than one can shake a sodium-laced stick at, I have:

1. Mended one of Gwen's skirts, two pairs of Rhys's trousers, and all of Jack's socks. I don't believe he's ever thrown one out. I'm fairly certain some of these are vintage, if not antique.
2. Made sock-puppets out of the less salvageable ones. I intend to make Jack put on a puppet show for me later. I've made three.
3. Played several rounds of "Keep The Ball Away From Ianto" with Max.
4. Seriously considered taking up knitting out of sheer boredom. I hear it's all the rage now.
5. Watched all of Jack's DVDs. (Three.)
6. Previewed all of Jack's "secret" DVD stash. (Thirty to forty. I think he loans them out.)
7. Loaned the really good ones to Gwen.
8. Read all the fanfictions that I ever wish to read. You people are warped on the inside. I say that out of love. Please don't send me more.
9. Allowed Gwen, under duress, to sign my cast. She surrounded her name with tiny hearts.
10. Allowed Jack to sign my cast. I won't tell you what he surrounded his name with.

I am now wandering round The Internet looking for suspicious activity and interesting flash games.

Monday, and I can't believe I'm saying this, can't come soon enough.

(no subject)

Wow. R must be really, really bored without TV.

He called just now, and I assumed he needed something because it's a little late to hang out and we don't usually phone much. So I asked him what was up, and he said, "Oh, I just called. You know, to talk about stuff."

So then we talked about the Ratpacker and how he needs to learn stage presence (?) and about R's crazy crazy mother (!) and also the food he was cooking. Which was apparently two of those one-dollar noodle packs they sell, like cheap hamburger helper, combined. Not two of the same noodle packs, though: he's combining Spanish Rice and Beef Stroganoff.

He needs saving from himself.

I told him I would come over and help him make meatloaf tomorrow except that I had groceries coming, so instead he's coming to my place. I suspect there will be meatloaf (possibly spaghetti with meat sauce instead, depending on how hungry we are) and Wheel. It's just as well; I actually have pans and bowls and ingredients at my place...

ETA: He just texted me. "The rice/stroganoff was better than Jamaican Sauce Grapenuts."

I texted back: "EVERYTHING is better than Jamaican Sauce Grapenuts."