Well, if we're being completely honest, I'm also housebroken. I mean, twenty one years, you sort of train each other, or else you kill eachy other.
I swear, one of these times, you're gonna wake up in a coma.
Cordelia ,'Showtime'
The Great Write Way
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
deborah grabien - Jun 11, 2004 11:51:25 am PDT #5204 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Connie Neil - Jun 11, 2004 12:01:08 pm PDT #5205 of 10001
brillig
Gosh, Deb, you have such a violent approach to peeling. I was thinking someone much more friendly.
deborah grabien - Jun 11, 2004 12:11:59 pm PDT #5206 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
I was thinking someone much more friendly.
Details, please?
Connie Neil - Jun 11, 2004 12:25:04 pm PDT #5207 of 10001
brillig
Details? Sorry, far too busy with work.
deborah grabien - Jun 11, 2004 12:27:40 pm PDT #5208 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Details? Sorry, far too busy with work.
Tease.
erikaj - Jun 11, 2004 12:39:51 pm PDT #5209 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
Just kind of gentle, languorous, one piece at a time...
Connie Neil - Jun 11, 2004 12:45:54 pm PDT #5210 of 10001
brillig
While singing "Summertime". Preferably while decorative persons are fanning us with large fans.
erikaj - Jun 11, 2004 12:48:52 pm PDT #5211 of 10001
Always Anti-fascist!
My mom's ex put in a big fan for me...I guess I can't call him Bag of Hammers anymore, hmm?
Am-Chau Yarkona - Jun 11, 2004 11:18:34 pm PDT #5212 of 10001
I bop to Wittgenstein. -- Nutty
I don't know where they're from, but the apples in our fruit basket at the moment are addictive. They're light-flavoured, firm, and hard enough not to bruise, yet my fingers dripped with juice when I sliced one over my cereal.
I crush the crispy flesh with strong crunches, enjoying the feel of the rub along my gums and the almost-polish on my teeth. There's no sharpness; the sun has warmed and ripened them to sweet perfection, and although they have been inside for days, something of the summer sun seems to have stayed with them. Every bite is a kiss.
deborah grabien - Jun 12, 2004 5:45:52 am PDT #5213 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
Am, that's lovely! I wish I could digest raw apples, damnit; they always look so good.
Here's one, because I'm staring out my office window down into my garden, even as we speak.
The Witch's Garden
At the heart of the garden is a bush of English comfrey. It wasn't supposed to thrive in the California climate, but somehow, a small triumphant miracle, it comes back larger and hardier very year, throwing out small purple flowers.
The herbs surround it, rosemary, sage, basil, seeded oregano. There are flowers, as well, long-stalked roses, spectacular beared iris.
Guarding the heart of witchcraft are the trees, the sentinels: peach, apricot, fig, blueberry. The figs are huge and green, the peaches small and hard, the blueberries succulent. We're still waiting for the first apricots.
They are my perimeter, my protection.
edit: and erika, you have mail, bebe.