{{{meara}}} I'm sorry.

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{{meara}}

sendong out the job ma~~~ and things are looking hopeful in Matt's direction.

Today I just finished makeing eggnog icecream ( Matt doesn't want to wait to eat it until it is set) and I am finishing my mom's present

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Oh meara, I'm so sorry.

Much primo jobma to MM and Suzi. Contract-ma to CaBil. And work-ma that's prosperous to Beej, and a damn good job without killing hours and demanding assbosses for Matt.

Beej, if you're going with an uncooked eggnog recipe, use Egg Beaters or a similar egg substitute. I've made homemade eggnog on Christmas morning for decades. Until one year everybody, including the cat, who always had a small amount of Christmas eggnog in her saucer, got sick with salmonella. The commercial egg substitutes are pasteurized, which eliminates the salmonella risk of using whole "fresh" eggs, which may have sat around in too-warm storage areas for too long before being shelved.

My receipe:

Two quarts whole milk, 2 tsp vanilla extract, 1 tsp rum extract, 1/2 cup sugar (more or less to taste), half to two-thirds of a pint of egg beaters. Dump one quart of the milk and all the other ingredients into the blender and hit "high". Pour half into your serving bowl or pitcher, add the rest of the milk to the blender and blend again. Add to your serving container, and serve. Set the brandy and rum bottles on the sideboard so folks can spike their own. I put ground nutmeg in a pretty silver-topped pressed glass shaker alongside the booze, but to me, nutmeg is more important on Christmas morning than the spikeage.

Edited to put in the freakin' "eggs".

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{{{meara}}}

Eggnog icecream sounds yummy.

Oh! The salon where I had my hair cut had a painting on the wall that, while I'm not positive, I'm almost certain was Samson and Delilah. Rather odd choice, I thought.

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Rather odd choice, I thought.

"Let us cut your hair and strip you of your power!"

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Winter storm. 100 mph gusts on the coast. 60+ in Portland. Power is ... unstable at best. I have FIRE. Oh and wine. Let it blow, let it blow, let it blow.

But let's not let a tree sway into the wall again. Cause that didn't seem good.

I'm sorry about your friend, meara.

I've been thinking how starting now a year ago, I lost so many people in my life. And some of them still don't make sense to me, a year later.

The salon where I had my hair cut had a painting on the wall that, while I'm not positive, I'm almost certain was Samson and Delilah. Rather odd choice, I thought.

But certainly funny. My stylist can have my strength if she wants, she's just that wonderful. I shall have pretty hair instead. And pretty hair is its own power.

The security on the wireless will randomly stop the page from loading in the middle of posts once the "number of questionable words exceed[s] the limit" or if there is a "prohibited word." So then i have to play "Up the post number in the address!" until I get past the naughty word. It's fun in a funny way.

Telling us this might be considered a dare, Gris...

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I am having an Egg Nog White Russian because that's the only mixer I've got in the house. Surprisingly good. I feel very Santa Lebowski.

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Sent a message to my parents with a "It is a dark and stormy night" subject.

Dad replies: "Please get the start right..."Twas a dark and stormy night" however we are watching with baited (whatever that is ) breath"

Yeah, I teased back.

I come by my snark genetically. Unless he's a seal and then I have other genetic issues to worry about. Like how to wrap anchovies for Christmas.

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wrap them in bacon. its the best way to wrap anything

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Mia (our resident Puppycat, in true Puppycat fashion, though never as Puppycattish as the original) had an adventure tonight.

When I got home around 5, I let Byron out for a little run-and-pounce. Since he is primarily motivated by his stomach and had not yet been fed, I was not worried about getting him back in. Unfortunately, I didn't notice Mia sneaking out a few minutes later. When we were ready to leave for dinner about 30 minutes later, Byron came right in. Supper time! Mia, however, was nowhere to be found.

We combed the house and the yard and did our best here-kitty-kitty calls, but no luck. We were about to give up when T., our back neighbor and landlord, called out from the garage where she'd just parked, "I think she's in my back yard!" I raced back...

...and found Mia nose-to-nose with her new friend, Pepe. Yes, that's right, a skunk. A SKUNK. Just think about the possibilities, people. Not good.

Let me tell you, trying to separate a cat and skunk while attempting to startle neither? Not easy. I really don't recommend it. I did succeed to some extent--the skunk ran, Mia gave chase and then changed course and darted the other direction, and I breathed a sigh of relief. The relief lasted exactly long enough to see her dart into an open grate and under T.'s house.

A lot of older houses out here have these raised foundations. The space beneath is just large enough to worm through when doing plumbing or electrical work, but it is really not accessible by humans. Cats, on the other hand, fit just fine. We tried calling and coaxing, but nothing worked. We finally gave up and went out to do our errands and ate. We figured she'd be waiting by the door when we got home.

We were wrong. What she was doing was meowing piteously from behind one of the foundation grates. One of the closed foundation grates. When ND pried it open, though, she panicked and darted back into the blackness. A flashlight revealed her about six feet back under the house, crouching miserably in the dirt and covered in cobwebs. More calling and coaxing and food rattling and toy throwing had no effect. We finally went back inside.

About 15 minutes later, the piteous meows started again. Thankfully? This time they were coming from the back porch.

She is in now and is NOT GOING OUT AGAIN any time soon.

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